Authors: Catherine Mulvany
Sharp stones cut into her knees. The icy wind raised goose bumps on her flesh. The smell of decay clogged her nose. But she was scarcely aware of her discomfort. Even with her eyes squeezed shut, the blood was all she could see. She wanted to scream or cry, but didn
’
t have the strength for either. Instead she slumped against the Dumpster, concentrating on breathing in and out. On staying alive.
“
He
’
s breathing!
”
The patrolman
’
s sharp cry cut through the layers of shock.
“
Hey, lady! He
’
s breathing!
”
“
What kind of rinky-dink hospital is this anyway? I can
’
t believe they didn
’
t keep you overnight for observation.
”
Mallory frowned at Brody as he folded himself into the Jeep
’
s passenger seat.
“
Not much night left,
”
he said. The first pale fingers of light poked up above the mountains on the eastern horizon.
“
Hmmph.
”
She slammed the door shut hard enough to make him wince, then marched around and got in on the driver
’
s side. She slammed her door, too, and he winced again.
“
Where to?
”
“
My place.
”
He was dead tired, in dire need of sleep, but first he
’
d take a shower. They
’
d cleaned his head at the hospital, but the rest of him still stank to high heaven. He suspected his queasiness was as much a result of the disgusting odor as the blow to his head.
Mallory turned the key in the ignition and revved the engine.
“
Which way? I don
’
t know where you live.
”
Why was she so cranky? She wasn
’
t the one nursing a lump the size of a golf ball.
“
The new subdivision off Madison Boulevard, Piltdown Terrace.
”
“
Fitting address for a Neanderthal,
”
he thought she grumbled, though he couldn
’
t be sure. It was hard to hear over the squeal of the tires and the grinding of the gears.
“
Okay, what
’
s the problem, Mallory?
”
“
I don
’
t have a problem. You
’
re the one with the problem.
”
She took the right onto Ninth Avenue on two wheels. He
’
d swear she was hitting every pothole on purpose.
Brody grabbed his head. All he needed was a good case of whiplash on top of everything else.
“
You
’
re right. I do have a problem. I
’
m trapped in a car with a maniac driver. Slow it down, okay?
”
Mallory tucked the corners of her mouth in tight and shot him a look that would have wilted a lesser man, but she did slow down to thirty.
“
What did you think you were doing investigating that truck without backup? Without even telling me where you were going?
”
“
Couldn
’
t see any point in worrying you.
”
“
Worrying me?
Worrying
me? I sat inside the restaurant stewing for half an hour. If I
’
d known you
’
d gone out to the parking lot to play Sam Spade, I would have checked on you sooner. Dammit, half an hour! You could have bled to death, Brody Hunter!
”
“
Bled to death? The blow didn
’
t even break the skin.
”
“
Well, I didn
’
t know that. I looked in that Dumpster and darned near had a stroke.
”
“
It was only spaghetti sauce, Mallory.
”
“
Well, it looked like blood, dammit!
”
She jerked the Jeep to the side of the road and killed the engine. Her hands were shaking. She looked sick.
“
Mallory.
”
Brody laid his hand on hers.
“
I
’
m sorry.
”
She took a long, quivering breath, then turned to face him.
“
No, I
’
m the one who
’
s sorry. I
’
m acting like an idiot. But dammit, Brody, you scared me.
”
He gave her hand a squeeze.
“
Scared me too.
”
Mallory woke a little before noon. She was stiff from trying to sleep curled up in a chair. Brody, on the other hand, was sleeping like a baby. He lay diagonally across bed, rolled up in the covers like a human enchilada.
How would it feel to be tucked in there with him, to have his big, warm body spooned along her backside, his arms wrapped around her, holding her close? How would it feel to have his breath tickling her neck? His
c
Oh, boy.
Mallory
’
s heart raced; her cheeks grew warm. Jeez, what was the matter with her? If Brody woke up and saw her slobbering all over him like some sex-starved old maid, she
’
d probably give
him
a stroke. Or at the very least, the wrong idea.
Who are you kidding, Scott? You
’
re the one with all the wrong ideas. You
’
re the one whose hormones have run amok. You
’
re the one whose body is tingling in anticipation
.
The problem was she could be one big tingle from head to toe and it still wouldn
’
t make any difference. Sooner or later the memories would kick in and short out her libido.
She threw off the blanket covering her and stood up, shivering in the borrowed T-shirt and sweatpants she
’
d donned after her shower. Her chic new dress lay crumpled in a heap next to the chair. Eighty bucks down the drain.
Terrified that Brody
’
s injuries were life threatening, she
’
d cradled his head in her lap all the way to the emergency room. She
’
d been relieved to learn he wasn
’
t dying after all, but by that time the dress was a goner, permanently stained with spaghetti sauce.
Mallory checked her watch. Noon. The emergency-room doctor had given her strict instructions to wake Brody every couple hours or so to make certain he didn
’
t slip into a coma. She
’
d roused him last a little over three hours ago, shortly before she
’
d zonked out herself. She really ought to wake him again, but he looked so comfortable, she hated to disturb him.
Yeah, but what if he wasn
’
t sleeping? What if he
’
d already lapsed into a coma?
She nudged his shoulder. He snorted once and rolled over onto his back. Did people in comas move around like that?
Brody Hunter lay spread-eagled across the king-sized bed, snoring like a chain saw. She frowned at him. No man had a right to be so damn gorgeous, particularly when he wasn
’
t even trying.
His thick, black hair spread out on the pillows in tangled disarray. A loose tendril curled against one lean cheek. She longed to brush it away but didn
’
t dare. She
’
d die of embarrassment if he caught her taking such a liberty.
Even with a double layer of lash-building mascara, her eyelashes were no match for his. Long and lush, they fanned out against his cheeks, the only hint of softness in an angular face.
One brown arm was flung out to the side, the other bent at the elbow, his hand resting on his chest. A big, blunt hand she suspected was capable of handling a gun or a woman with equal finesse. Mallory shivered.
Enough of that, girl
.
She gave his shoulder a shake.
“
Wake up, Brody.
”
He groaned and thrashed around, flinging half his covers aside to expose one muscular brown leg to the thigh. Then he settled back into the mattress with a sigh and started snoring again.
He didn
’
t want to wake up, and Mallory didn
’
t know whether to be worried or not. Not waking up was bad, but people in comas didn
’
t snore, did they? Or did they? Dammit, she was a teacher, not a nurse. What was she supposed to do now?
If at first you don
’
t succeed
c
She prodded his shoulder again, harder this time.
“
Wake up, Brody!
”
He gave one last grunting snort and opened his eyes. He blinked several times, frowning as if his head ached. Then he caught sight of her, and a smile spread across his face.
“
What?
”
Mallory did her best to appear nonchalant. Surely he hadn
’
t been faking the snores. Surely he hadn
’
t seen her practically drooling over him.
“
You
’
re nice to wake up to, that
’
s all. Almost makes up for the jackhammers in my head. What
’
d you do? Get me drunk so you could take advantage of me?
”
“
Don
’
t you remember?
”
He frowned.
“
Oh, yeah. The Dumpster.
”
“
Followed by a visit to Brunswick General and a second interview with the cops. Not the sort of date I
’
m used to.
”
He grinned.
“
At least it wasn
’
t boring.
”
He reached out and captured her hand between his.
“
Bet you never slept over on the first date before.
”
“
I didn
’
t exactly
c
.
”
Mallory stared down at their clasped hands. Brody twined the fingers of one hand through hers while he used the other to trace the tendons on the back of her hand. If pinching her earlobe had been tingle to the tenth power, this was tingle to the hundredth. Her heart did an Olympic-caliber double axel. Oh, boy.
“
I want to thank you for saving my life.
”
“
But I didn
’
t. Your situation was never really life threatening.
”
She couldn
’
t meet his gaze.
“
What do you call damned near gagging to death?
”
Brody fell silent for a moment, then said,
“
Mallory, look at me.
”
She did and her racing heart skipped a beat at the tender expression on his face.
“
Thanks. Thanks for everything.
”
He tugged gently on her hand, pulling her down on the edge of the bed.
He was going to kiss her. She could tell by the look in his eyes. And she was going to let him. The look in his eyes told her that too. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, so loud she almost missed hearing his beeper go off.
But Brody heard it. The smoky heat in his eyes vanished in the space of a heartbeat.
“
Damn,
”
he said. He closed his eyes for a second and she saw regret flicker across his face. When he opened his eyes again, they held the glitter of steel. He dropped her hand.
“
Where
’
s my pager?
”
She dug it from the pocket of his discarded jacket and passed it to him along with the phone.
While he called in, Mallory wandered out to the high-ceilinged living room and glanced out one of the big front windows. She took a startled step back when she saw the black Lexus parked across the street. Jeez, surely Lindsey and Evan hadn
’
t tracked her here! Her heart raced again, but this time it wasn
’
t passion that triggered the response.