Promises

Praise for Jo Barrett’s
wonderful works…

“…a great storyline, hysterical, vulnerable and loveable characters that take you on a winding journey through life and love. HIDDEN CURVES is a great book that I give my highest recommendation…the Reviewer’s Award!”

~
Road To Romance

[A BRUSH WITH LOVE] “I turned each page with an increasing interest and was not once disappointed by the twists and turns of the plot.
 
I hope Ms. Barrett is working hard to produce other stories for her fans to enjoy.
 
I know I will be standing in line for her next book.”

~
Cataromance

“DUTY BOUND is a Men of Entice novella and an all around great read!  … Well done, Ms. Barrett!”

~
Romance Junkies

“Jo Barrett has written a poignant short story, THE WINDSHIELD, which will warm your heart and have you reaching for the tissues.”

~
eCataromance

Promises

“You’re just mad because he gave up so easily,” Travis said teasingly, hoping to hide how much the thought of her with someone else ate at him.

“The only person I’m mad at is you.”
 

As Bobbi retrieved her mail from her post office box, he leaned against the wall measuring her anger.
 
“You really like him, don’t you?”
 

She slammed the little metal door closed.
 
“Who I like or don’t like is none of your business.”

Travis grinned broadly as they stepped back outside.
 
He loved how her face colored up when she was riled, and he’d stake his best soufflé recipe that she wasn’t interested in good ole’ Doctor Stamens.
 

“I’m willing to wager he doesn’t make you feel the way I do when he kisses you,” he tossed out casually.
 

Spinning around, nearly knocking him over with her suitcase of a pocketbook, she thrust her finger into his chest, her lips scant inches from his.
 

“I don’t feel anything where you’re concerned except irritated.”
 

The fire in her eyes, the berrylike scent he would always associate with her, set off a chain reaction he had no way of stopping.
 

Snagging her wrist, he twisted her around and pinned her to the outside wall of the building with his body, ignoring his brain’s repeated warnings to back off.
 
Flames licked his skin where they touched, incinerating the last of his good sense.
 

“I know for a fact that your pulse races and your breath quickens when I get close to you.
 
When I touch you.
 
Just like it is now.”

Promises

Jo Barrett

This is a work of fiction.
 
Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

PROMISES

COPYRIGHT
Ó
2005 by Jo Barrett

The Wild Rose Press

All rights reserved.
 
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of Jo Barrett or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information:
 
[email protected]

Cover Art by
R.J.Morris

The Wild Rose Press

PO Box 706
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Created in the United States of America

Acknowledgements

Bobbi McBride stared open-mouthed at the soaking wet man lying on her cabin floor.
 
“Travis,” she whispered.

Her shock at seeing Travis Reid out cold in front of her fireplace didn’t compare to the sudden flush of fear surging through her body.
 
Why was he here?
 
How had he found her?
 

And was he alive?

She dropped to her knees beside him.
 
Her hand shook as she reached out to touch him.
 
“Travis?”
 

Groaning, he rolled to his back.
 

“Thank Heaven.”
 
A low, rumbling growl sounded behind her.
 
“It’s alright, Rocky.
 
He won’t hurt me.
 
He’s one of the good guys.”
  

The large brindle colored mastiff calmed at the sound of her voice.
 
More than her protector, the dog had been her friend and companion since she cut herself off from the rest of the world.
 
Since the day her brother, Jason, disappeared.
 

Looking at the man who had starred in her every teenage fantasy, a fact she wished she could forget, she carefully examined the cut at his temple and his split lip, but neither was all that severe.
 
She lowered her gaze to the rest of him, checking for further injuries.
 
His shirt had been torn away at the edge and tied around his leg.
 
She gently lifted the bloody makeshift bandage.

“Oh God.”

He’d been shot.

Her entire body stiffened, and she warily scanned the room.
 
Who shot him and were they still around?
 

Rocky nudged her with his cold wet nose.
 

Her shoulders slumped with relief.
 
If anyone had been anywhere near the cabin when she got back from town, Rocky would’ve told her.
 
Which he had, realizing his urgency to get inside was to check out Travis and not to get his favorite treat.

She had to be more careful.
 
Just because she had been safe for months didn’t mean things would remain that way.

Grumbling to herself for letting her guard down so easily, she turned back to Travis.
 
A million questions ran through her mind about how and why he had come to be there, but she dismissed them all.
 
He needed medical attention.
 

She leaned over him and patted his cheek.
 
“Travis, wake up.”

Thick sooty lashes fluttered open as his eyes rolled, struggling to focus.
 
He blinked a time or two then pinned her with fathomless deep blue eyes.
 
The kind of eyes a woman could lose her soul in.

“Where am I?”

Bobbi refused to pay attention to the husky, deep voice sending shivers down her spine.
 
She had to get him to the bedroom and get a better look at his leg.
 

“You’re safe.
 
I need to get you into bed.
 
Can you stand?”

A quirky grin spread across his thick full lips.
 
“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

She grinned at the adorable way his mouth turned up at the corners and the suggestive tone of his voice.
 
He hadn’t changed a bit.
 

Tugging on his arm, she pulled him to a sitting position.
 
“Come on.
 
I’ll support you.”

He unsteadily rose to his feet then pulled her tightly against his side.
 
“You sure are a little thing,” he mumbled.

That was an understatement.
 
Standing at least a foot taller than her mere five feet and outweighing her by close to a hundred pounds, he was a giant compared to her.
 
As they made their way across the room, she realized she would never get the teetering tower of a man upstairs to the guest bedroom, and changed direction, aiming for her room.
 

“Just a little farther,” she grunted under his weight.

Barely across the threshold, he let go of her and fell face first onto the bed.

She let out a puff of air as she ran her fingers through her cropped blonde hair.
 
“Great.
 
Out again.”
 
And she didn’t like it.
 
How much blood had he lost?

She rolled him onto his back and started stripping him out of his wet clothes, determined to think positively.
 
She unfastened his pants then pulled them down, moving slowly around the gunshot wound.
 
Tossing the jeans aside, she took a moment to study him.
 
Although he had his share of scars here and there, the well-defined muscular plains of his chest and stomach sent wicked signals to the intimate parts of her body, but she quickly dampened her reaction.
 

Any woman, who had practically lived like a nun for the past year, then hid out in the middle of nowhere for months, was bound to have a strong basal reaction to a man like Travis Reid.

Shaking her head, she bent over to examine his leg.
 
The bullet had ripped a hole through the fleshy part of his thigh.
 
Although it didn’t look as bad as she feared, a bandage wouldn’t be enough.
 
He needed stitches for the wound to heal properly.

Travis shivered and she quickly covered him.
 

Pressing her hand against his forehead, she muttered, “You’re too warm.
 
That’s not good.”

Although his wound didn’t appear to be infected she couldn’t be sure, and there was no telling how long he had been wandering around in the woods soaked to the skin.
 
He could have pneumonia for all she knew.
 

A recent article in the local paper reporting a case of Spotted Fever came to mind.
 
The disease, carried by ticks, could be fatal if not treated, and one of the initial symptoms was a fever followed by a rash.
 

“Wonderful.”
 
She’d have to check every inch of him for the parasites to be certain.
 

With a weighty sigh, she tended his wounds first.
 
The emergency kit in the adjoining bathroom had what she needed, except for sutures.
 
He needed a doctor for that, which meant running the risk of being discovered, exposing her hiding place to more than just her grandfather’s old friend, Uncle Joe.
 

Pushing the thought aside, she concentrated on doing what she could at the moment.
 
Travis needed her now.
 
She’d worry about the rest later.

Using a sterile cotton pad, she gingerly cleaned the wound then applied an antibiotic ointment and wrapped his thigh with gauze, securing it with first-aid tape.
 
Retrieving a fresh sterile pad, she moved to clean the cut at his brow and his lip.
 
She washed away the smudges of dirt and dried blood.
 

After applying a butterfly bandage to his forehead, she checked his scalp thoroughly for ticks.
 
Luckily, she found nothing except thick, silky hair.
 
He needed a trim, and yet it added to his pleasantly scruffy appearance.
 

Proceeding to check the rest of him for the nasty little creatures, she searched his body from top to bottom.
 
No ticks and no rash.
 
Good, but now she had to make one last inspection beneath his briefs.

Gently sliding her hands under the elastic band at his waist, she reminded herself that this was for his own good.
 
It was necessary.

“You can do this.
 
You can do this,” she chanted, slipping his briefs down.
 

Her breath whooshed out at the sight of him in all his glory.
 
“Ho-boy.”
 
Now
that
was a man.

She swallowed hard then with trembling hands examined him.
 
Travis moaned softly, and not a moan of pain.
 
Quickly wiping the inappropriate grin from her face, she completed her task.
 
Finding no ticks or rashes of any kind on him anywhere, she murmured a small prayer of thanks as she tucked him in; grateful he couldn’t see her burning cheeks.
 

She had never been the blushing type, but then she hadn’t come face to face with the man of her dreams since she was fifteen years old and in pigtails and braces.
 

Rolling her eyes, she said, “And you still haven’t.
 
He’s just a man.”
 
An extremely well proportioned man, but still just a man.
 
“Now, to decide about the doctor.”
 
She could probably get his fever down, but he still needed stitches.
 

Chewing at her lip, trying to decide what to do, she gave Rocky an absent pat on the head.
 
She made a quick check of all the windows and doors, finding them locked up tight then paused at her bedroom door and studied Travis.
 
How had he gotten in?
 
She had to unlock the front door when she got home and found him.

Puzzled and more than a little skittish, she warily made her way down the hall to the kitchen, her gaze searching every shadow.
 

“Get a grip,” she grumbled.
 
Rocky would tell her if anyone was around.

She filled a bowl with cool water, grabbed a washcloth, and then headed back to her patient.
 

“Fever, infection, concussion...”
 
Her voice trailed off as she settled beside Travis on the bed and pressed the cloth to his brow, still unsure of what to do.

His dark eyes examined her closely through slitted lids.
 
“Who are you?”
 

A slight pinch somewhere in the vicinity of her heart distracted her for a moment.
 
So what if he didn’t recognize her?
 
After all it had been over ten years since he’d last seen her.
 
Then again, even her brother would have to take a second look to be sure with all the changes she had made to herself.
 
But she’d done exactly what he’d instructed if anything should happen to him.
 
Thoroughly alter her appearance and find a safe place to hide.

But for how long?
 
When would it be safe to come out?
 
Would it ever be safe?
 
And where was Jason?
 
She worried constantly about him and she despised hiding, but knew he wouldn’t have told her to unless her life depended on it.
 

If it hadn’t been for Uncle Joe, she didn’t know what she would’ve done.
 
How-to-Hide-Out hadn’t exactly been a course requirement for her Bachelor of Arts degree.
 
That was more in line with her brother and Travis’ work as FBI agents.
 
A vocation she was quickly learning to despise.
   

Travis pushed himself up onto his elbows, his eyes opening wider, but she easily pressed him down.

His hand shot out from beneath the covers, latching onto her wrist with more strength than she thought possible in his current condition.
 

Rocky lunged toward the bed with a loud bark.
 

“Hold,” she commanded, thrusting her free hand out to the side.
 
Reluctantly, the dog sat down next to the bed with a low growl as she turned back to Travis.
 

“I’m a friend.
 
You’re safe here.”
 
Slipping her wrist from his weakening grasp, she replaced the damp cloth against his brow.
 
She wasn’t sure what made her withhold her name.
 
She could trust Travis, but it seemed better to wait before divulging her true identity.
 
There were still too many unanswered questions surrounding his arrival.

“What happened?
 
Where am I?”
 
His voice held an edge of authority, but she could see his surge of strength fading rapidly.

“You’ve been shot, and you need a doctor.
 
I did the best I could, but a bandage isn’t enough.
 
You need stitches.”

He shook his head and fought to stay awake.
 
“No doctor.”
 
His lids slid closed.
 
“I just need to
—
rest.”
 

She sighed, dropping her hands to her lap as he fell into a deep sleep.
 
“You don’t have a choice.”
 
She had made her decision.
 

Ted Stamens was Gator Creek’s only doctor and a friend, sort of.
 
She would just have to trust him, only not with the truth.
 
She suspected Travis had to be working undercover or else the idea of a doctor wouldn’t bother him.
 
But why was he undercover?
 
And more importantly, did it have anything to do with her missing brother?

She studied the handsome man in her bed who had been like a surrogate brother to Jason as well as his partner.
 
The two men were nearly inseparable since they’d entered the FBI Academy so many years ago.
 
They always looked out for one another no matter what.

Tears pressed against the backs of her eyes.
 
“Why weren’t you there when he needed you most?”
 
Fears she had repeatedly tried to bury crept to the surface.