Rebel Doc On Her Doorstep. Lucy Ryder

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      Annoyed that it was working, he transferred his attention to the contents of the glass and said tersely, “This is water. Don’t you have anything stronger?”

      “No. Alcohol exacerbates swelling and internal bleeding.” He looked up to tell her that if he had any internal bleeding she was responsible for it, and got caught in her gaze again.

      “But I can give you a shot for the pain if you like,” she announced, wide-eyed innocence totally belied by the laughter in her eyes.

      “Yeah, right,” he snorted. Okay, so maybe he’d got ahead of himself there for a moment, but the woman was clearly tougher than she looked. “I have my own meds.”

      “So,” Petersen interrupted, impatient with the delay. “Now that you’re all cozy and comfortable, maybe we could see some ID?”

      Ty considered telling him what he could do with his request but he was exhausted and knew any argument would just delay their departure.

      Collapsing against the back of the sofa, he muttered, “Front pocket.”

      Neither cop made a move towards him. In fact, they shared a stone-faced look until bossy faerie said, “I’ll get it,” in a voice that suggested they were all idiots.

      He stretched out his leg to give her room and sent Petersen a challenging smirk. He couldn’t exactly reach into his pocket with an injured arm and the other holding a glass. Besides, if letting her stick her hand in his pants annoyed flirty cop and got him to leave sooner rather than later, then Ty was game.

      But it had been a long time since he’d let a woman reach for anything in his pocket and much to his shock—and stunned bemusement—his body stirred.

      What the—?

      No way, Ty thought with a sharp sideways look. No way was he attracted to Little Miss Commando. It just wasn’t possible.

      Was it?

      Absolutely not. He didn’t like mouthy, bossy women and he didn’t like women who attacked defenseless people without provocation.

      Her gaze caught his and she flushed, yanking his wallet out and tossing it at Petersen as though it was a live grenade.

      Not meeting anyone’s eyes, she grabbed the glass out of his hand and downed the contents before shooting off the couch and bolting behind an armchair as if he was contagious.

      Amusement vied with insult. So, Ty mused, fascinated by the rosy flush creeping up from the gaping neckline of her T, she handles an intruder without losing her nerve but sticking her hand in a guy’s pocket freaks her out?

      She flashed a glare out the corner of her eye when she caught him staring. Her flush deepened and so did her scowl.

      Rubbing a hand over his face, Ty wondered what the heck he was thinking. He’d come to Washington to be alone. Yet here he sat—head pounding like a jackhammer—hugely entertained by his attacker while being interrogated by local cops.

      Déjà vu.

      * * *

      Paige slid a sideways glare at the man sprawled on her sofa like he belonged and everyone else were intruders. This was all his fault, she decided huffily. He’d broken into her house, scared her into a new blood group and now he was sitting there looking all impenetrable and imposing, pumping off waves of masculine irritation and blasting testosterone and pheromones around the room like a leaky nuclear reactor.

      Silent and deadly.

      Especially to unwary females.

      Except she was very wary. She’d grown up with three older brothers and knew how the alpha mind worked. Innately confident of their place in the world, they silently and arrogantly challenged the rest of humanity. Like her brothers, he seemed to dominate the room completely and effortlessly. As though he wore an invisible sign that said, “Badass territory, enter at own risk.”

      Curious, she took another peek and caught him still studying her like she was a new species of bug he’d just discovered and wasn’t all that impressed by what he saw.

      Her face heated and she shifted nervously because she’d caught a glimpse of herself in the foyer mirror and just had to look like a wreck the night a hot, rumpled guy broke into her house.

      Paige studied him as light from the nearby lamp cast his features in bold relief, highlighting his fierce beauty and illuminating stark blue eyes made bluer by tanned skin.

      A shiver snaked through her, promptly tightening her nipples.

      What the—?

      Paige quickly crossed her arms over her breasts, rubbing her arms as if she was cold. Stop looking at him, she ordered herself silently. He broke into your house and scared you. He is not yummy and he’s not harmless.

      No, he wasn’t harmless, he was trouble, she admitted. The kind of trouble smart women avoided. Fortunately Paige was very smart and could spot trouble at a hundred paces. But even battered and bruised he exuded an almost tangible authority that was pretty darned hard to ignore.

      He was one of those seriously hot men—like a Hollywood action hero women sighed over and men secretly wanted to be—with black silky hair tumbling around his lean angular features like a dark halo, highlighting his ice-blue eyes and the unmistakable gleam of intelligence and mockery.

      And yet...also unmistakable was a hollow-eyed weariness that made her chest ache. But he wasn’t one of her little patients. More like a hot grumpy warrior angel who’d lost his wings in a recent altercation with dark forces and had found himself stranded on earth.

      Paige gave a huge mental eye-roll at the fanciful thoughts and ruthlessly ignored the quiver in her belly. Guys with all that seething testosterone usually didn’t give her a second glance. Instead, they buzzed around the tall popular girls—girls with long legs and big boobs—like flies around a carcass.

      Fortunately the detective turned, interrupting Paige’s unwelcome thoughts. He tossed the wallet on the coffee table. “So. What brings a fancy LA doctor to our modest little town?”

      Interest caught by his odd tone—kind of confrontational and mocking—she looked at her intruder a little more closely. “LA? Doctor?”

      His mouth curled in a slight smirk as he coolly eyed the detective. “Yeah, and I’ve been sitting here wondering how the hell you became a cop, Petersen.”

      Petersen’s laugh was more of a snort. “Who’d have thought, huh?” He shoved his hands on his hips, jacket open exposing his gun and shield in a blatantly aggressive move. “Your dad know you’re here?”

      “No. I didn’t get a chance to call.”

      Bemused by the undercurrents in the room, Paige demanded, “Dad?” Her gaze bounced between the three men, hoping to get some clue about what was going on, but they were all wearing their let’s be macho and inscrutable faces.

      “Phone your father and get this sorted fast, Reese,” Petersen said, before turning away and heading for the door. “Oh, and welcome home.”

      “Not СКАЧАТЬ