Love Me if You Dare (2 page)

The trauma surgeon’s words echoed in Sara’s head, relief making her dizzy. They’d practically shut down the city to get Rafe to Lenox Hill Hospital.

Sara barely remembered having her leg X-rayed, iced and put into a brace. The pain from wrenching her knee running up the stairs was nothing compared to that of nearly losing Rafe. He’d saved her life at the risk of his own, and she’d never forget it. She hadn’t
left the hospital since she’d arrived by ambulance, waiting for news. “Rios!”

Sara turned at the sound of her captain’s voice. Almost the entire precinct had gathered, waiting for news on one of their own.

“Is this what you call lying low?” A large man with a spine of steel, Captain Hodges tended to sound gruff, but Sara knew he had the heart of a teddy bear.

“Sorry, Captain. Who knew an auction would lead to a hostage crisis?”

The man rolled his eyes. “You just like to be where the action is,” he muttered. “The D.A. is going to have my head on a platter for approving this off-duty assignment.”

“Better stay out of her way, then,” Sara joked.

To her relief, the big man smiled in return. “Good news on Mancuso.”

“Yes, sir.”

“How long are you out of commission?” he asked, pointing to the brace on her knee.

She swallowed hard. “I’m not sure. The X-rays were inconclusive.” If she called some evidence of early arthritis and degenerative joint disease inconclusive. “They scheduled an MRI for tomorrow.”

Sara already had torn-meniscus issues from an old high-school gymnastics injury. Periodic pain, clicking
and swelling of her knee were a normal part of her life. But now she’d been warned that by reinjuring the joint, she could end up with permanent problems, which would make doing her job impossible. Something she refused to contemplate.

Police work was all she knew. All she’d ever wanted to do. She came from a family of cops. Dysfunctional cops who couldn’t keep their marriages or families together, so being an officer defined them.

It defined her.

“Well, you’re officially on medical leave until you’re cleared to return. Go home and get some rest,” the captain said.

She bit the inside of her cheek, knowing better than to argue. “I will.”

“Good. Take care of yourself.”

She nodded.

“And this time,
lie low.
”

R
AFE WOKE UP IN A
sterile-looking hospital room, hooked up to an IV. He immediately became aware of a deep pain in his chest, and memories came flooding back. The auction, the hostage situation, realizing he’d been stabbed and a swarm of uniforms on the roof.

He blinked, but everything was still fuzzy.

The morphine, he thought, recalling that he’d awakened disoriented and in pain a few times before. He wasn’t as out of it now and wondered how much time had passed. “You’re up!”

He turned his head toward the sound of the familiar voice to find Sara sitting in a chair against the wall. She rose and maneuvered herself onto crutches before making her way toward the bed. Her hair hung messily around her shoulders, her face was makeup free and her exhaustion clear. So was the obvious relief in her expression.

Suddenly another memory surfaced. Every time he’d opened his eyes, she’d been there.

“How do you feel?” she asked, her soft gaze never leaving his.

“Like I was stabbed.” He cracked a smile.

She scowled at him. “Not funny. The knife nicked a pulmonary vein. They had to go in and close it up. At least, that’s what the doctor said.”

“Surgery?” he asked.

She nodded, her expression serious. “You needed blood,” she told him.

He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry.

“Here.” She reached over and picked up a cup of ice, spoon-feeding him chips until he’d moistened his mouth.

“I could get used to this kind of treatment.”

“Something tells me women would line up to accommodate you.” Her lips lifted in the first smile she’d given him since he woke up.

She placed the cup back onto the tray.

“But they’d have to fight off your mother, and she’s one protective lady.”

“My mother? She’s here?” he asked, shocked.

Sara nodded. “You know the drill. The captain made sure your folks were notified when things looked serious. They drove down from upstate and are staying in a nearby hotel.”

He closed his eyes and groaned.

“Are you in a lot of pain?” she asked, misreading the sound.

“I’ll live,” he said of the burning in his chest.

“Good,” she said softly.

But knowing his mother would be here hovering over him was enough to make a grown man cry. He loved his big, loud family, but he’d left his upstate New York hometown so he could love them from a distance.

“What about our waiter friend? What happened to him?” Rafe asked, changing the subject.

“The bastard’s in custody and not about to make bail anytime soon,” she said with a satisfied nod.

“At least there’s some good news.”

“More than some. You made it,” she said, reaching for his hand.

Her touch was warm, her grip soft and sure. Comfort filled him as she held on tight.

“You scared me to death. First there was all that blood, and then you passed out….” Her voice trembled, and she sucked in a deep breath. “The paramedics said your pressure dropped dangerously low, and you were bleeding internally.” She paused again for a few heavy beats. “You saved my life.”

Her gratitude made him uncomfortable. “We’re a team. I yelled drop, you reacted. It was no big deal.”

“Tell that to the newspapers.”

“They exaggerate,” he muttered.

“I won’t tell Coop you said that.” Sara grinned.

Rafe almost laughed but stopped before he could cause himself pain. He stared up at the white ceiling. “Do I want to know what day it is?”

She let out a sigh. “Monday morning.”

He’d been out of it for two days. And if he wasn’t mistaken, she’d been with him the whole time. The rush of emotion in his chest replaced the pain.

“What about you? How bad is it?” he asked her, staring pointedly at the crutches.

She waved away his concern. “I just wrenched my knee running up the stairs. I’ll be back at work in no time.”

“Then how come you can’t look me in the eye when you say that?” he asked her.

She frowned but didn’t reply.

A glance at her clothing told him she wore navy NYPD-issued sweatpants. Large and bulky enough to cover a brace. “Is it your bad knee?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re like a dog with a bone, Mancuso. I said I’ll be fine. Let it go.”

His worry increased, but she wouldn’t talk about it until she was ready. “I never even felt the knife go in,” he said, changing the subject. He still couldn’t believe he’d been stabbed.

“Adrenaline will do that to you.” She met his gaze, innate understanding in her expression.

Comfortable silence descended around them. He’d missed that, Rafe realized. His current partner, Jake
Riordan, liked to talk to pass the time. Rafe often wished for the peace and quiet that filled the car when he and Sara had been a team.

A knock sounded on the door, and a nurse walked in. “Good morning, Mr. Hero,” she said in a cheery voice. “I’m glad to see you really awake! It’s time for me to check your temperature and blood pressure. I also want to take a look at the bandage,” she said.

“Only if you cut the hero crap,” he muttered.

Sara grinned. “Behave and be polite to the nurses or I’ll sic your mother on you.”

“I like your sister,” the nurse said, pointing to Sara. “But she still has to wait outside.”

“My sister?”

Sara leaned closer. “I told them I was your sister so they’d let me stay as long as I wanted,” she whispered. Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Your mother seemed okay with it, since she didn’t blow my cover,” she added, reading his mind. “Now, be good and do what the nurse says.” She brushed a kiss over his cheek, and her hair tickled his skin.

He felt the tingle of both clear down to his toes. “You should go home and get some sleep,” he said, his voice gruff.

“Now that I know you’re okay, maybe I will.”

As she maneuvered toward the door on her crutches, Rafe was unable to tear his gaze from her behind. Even when they’d worked together, he’d never
stared at her ass. Yet she looked as good to him now as she had at the auction in the sexy, cleavage-showing dress.

The nurse waited until the door shut behind Sara to continue. “That’s a nice
sister
you’ve got there.” The older woman winked, letting him know she was onto them.

“Yeah. I lucked out,” he said with a chuckle he immediately regretted. He shut his eyes against the pain.

“Sometimes it helps if you hold a pillow to your chest, but let’s wait till we get you up and moving a bit.”

He swallowed a groan, knowing he had a rough few days ahead of him.

“That young lady hasn’t left your side for more than a few minutes since you were brought down from Recovery,” the nurse said as she adjusted the blood-pressure cuff around his arm.

A warm feeling that surpassed gratitude flooded through Rafe. One he wanted to keep with him for the rest of the day.

Sara stepped out of Rafe’s hospital room and exhaled a sigh of relief. Her body ached from the long hours in the chair by his side, but now that she’d seen him awake, had spoken to him and knew he was going to be okay, her heart finally beat normally again.

She shifted the crutches, getting comfortable for her trek down the hall to the elevator and then outside where she’d hail a cab to take her home.

As she passed the nurses’ station, the women were huddled together over the newspaper, all talking at once and gesturing toward Rafe’s room. When Sara paused at the desk, the women fell silent and pretended to look busy.

An uneasy feeling took hold, and Sara always trusted her instincts. “What’s going on?”

“I have to go,” one of the women said.

“Me, too.” Another one bolted for a patient’s room.

“Fine,” said the third and only woman who remained. “I’ll tell her.” The young nurse handed Sara a copy of the
Daily Post.
“The Bachelor Blog,” the woman said.

“Oh, no.” Sara drew a steadying breath and glanced at the paper, which had already been folded open to the correct page.

Rafe’s official department photograph stared back at her. It had taken less than forty-eight hours for his heroics to land him the spot. Rafe was a man who valued his personal space and privacy. He wouldn’t appreciate the attention, and Sara knew firsthand just what kind of attention he could expect. Ironically, she’d already had experience with the fallout when her neighbor, Coop, had been picked as the blog’s featured
bachelor. Pathetic women had sent perfumed letters, candy and underwear. All of which merely reinforced Sara’s belief that only a desperate woman would find the Bachelor Blog the answer to matchmaking in the new millennium.

With a sigh, Sara placed the newspaper back on the counter. “Do me a favor and try to keep this news from him as long as possible.” She pointed toward Rafe’s room. “He’ll just get upset, and he needs all his strength focused on recovering.”

The nurse nodded. “I’ll do my best and spread the word. Although between the newspapers passed around and the people walking in and out during different shifts, there are no guarantees he won’t hear it anyway.”

Sara nodded. “I appreciate you trying.” She turned to leave, but the nurse cleared her throat.

“Umm…did you read the blog article?” the other woman asked.

“No.” Sara had just looked at the photograph.

The uneasy feeling returned as she picked up the paper once more and this time read through the entire blog, leaving Sara feeling blindsided and raw.

The blogger had actually speculated that she and Rafe had
romantic potential.
All because of some words he’d apparently uttered before passing out on the rooftop.

It felt damn good to rescue a gorgeous blonde with curves to die for.

Words Sara hadn’t been aware of before now.

Words she’d never be able to forget.

In all the time they’d worked together, she and Rafe had shared chemistry on many levels. Some they’d acknowledged, like their in-sync partnership and ability to read each other’s minds—those had made his transfer so much harder to accept. As much as she’d understood his desire to spend more time with his fiancée, partnerships like theirs were rare. She’d yet to click with her new one even after a year.

Then there was the sexual chemistry, the zing that traveled from her head to the pit of her stomach, then deliciously lower, whenever she so much as looked at Rafe Mancuso. That chemistry she’d ignored, thinking it had to be one-sided.

Now he’d given her reason to think maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he shared those feelings and desires.

“Are you okay?” the nurse asked, breaking into Sara’s wayward thoughts.

“I’m fine. Just surprised by the lengths people will go to in the name of news.” She tossed the paper onto the desk, attempting nonchalance. “Do me another favor? Tell the other nurses not to believe everything they read, okay?”

The woman smiled. “Sure thing. Although I have to say, if that man thought I was gorgeous, I’d make
sure I scooped him up before some other desperate woman stepped in for me.”

Sara cringed. “I take it no one here believes I’m his sister?”

The nurse shrugged. “What can I say? Everyone figured he’d want you to stay, and his family didn’t argue.”

Sara rolled her eyes. “What a crazy couple of days. I really need some sleep.”

“Well, you can rest assured he’s in good hands.”

That’s what worried her. “Thanks,” Sara said, pre occupied, her mind still whirling with Rafe’s words.

He thought she was gorgeous?

He’d noticed her curves?

So what?

She forced herself to calm down and focus. Even if his words were honest and true, even if he was no longer engaged to be married, nothing between them could change. Rafe was a man who believed wholeheartedly in the idea of family and permanency, while Sara didn’t hold any illusions about romance or happily ever after.

Life and relationships were hard enough for normal people. Her family history was proof that cops couldn’t sustain long-term relationships of any kind. Generation after generation on every branch of the family tree merely cemented the mantra she lived
by—job first and revolving-door relationships when she had time. Although lately there hadn’t been any of either.

She gripped her crutches tighter at the reminder—her job was all she had. Which made this injury and its potential career-ending repercussions so damn scary.

Rafe liked his privacy. Coming from a big family, he’d learned the value of being alone, away from the constant questions and attention. After college, he’d moved away from his small upstate town and the many relatives who’d been interested in his every move. Of course, he stayed close with his older brother, Nick, and his three adoring sisters. But he loved and appreciated them more from a distance. Here in Manhattan he’d found anonymity in the large crowds—until that
damned blogger picked up the hostage story. Now the women of New York City seemed focused on his every move, and he hated it.

After a week’s postoperative rest, Rafe began to take small walks for exercise and to slowly rebuild his stamina. But the Bachelor Blog had made him a spectacle, no longer the anonymous person he’d enjoyed being.

A trip down the hall resulted in female neighbors eyeing him like fresh meat. They coyly batted their eyes and talked in a stage whisper about how they were single and available. For anything. When he walked into the Starbucks he frequented, the guy behind the register shouted a hello, customers turned around and silence descended. The barista making his coffee slipped him her number. And the precinct called and said they’d been receiving packages and perfume-scented deliveries for him. Disgusted, Rafe told them to get rid of them.