Promises (5 page)

“Here.”
 
She shoved the towel at him.
 
“It looks like it got mostly on you.
 
I won’t need to change the sheets.
 
You won’t have to get out of the bed.
 
Are you feeling better now?”
 

For crying out loud!
 
Now I’m babbling.
 
What next, drool
?
 
Somehow she’d have to curb her attraction to the man.

“I’m fine.
 
Thanks.”
 

As he wiped his chest, her mouth went dry.
 
She felt parched and the only way to cure her thirst would be to lap up every drop of water on his body.
 
Well, so much for drooling
.
 

With a hard swallow, she turned to leave.
 
“I’ll go see about getting you some lunch.
 
The doctor said you’ve got to build up your strength.”
 

“What doctor?”

She froze in mid-step at the sound of his steely voice.
 
Rocky stood and growled.
 
She gave him the hand signal to sit then turned to face-off against her unexpected visitor.
 

“The doctor that sewed up your leg yesterday.
 
The one who probably saved your life.
 
The one you obviously don’t remember.”

He narrowed his eyes.
 
She could tell he remembered some of what happened.
 
His bouts with consciousness weren’t completely lost, but would he recognize her?

“He said something about a hospital, and I said no.
 
And he called me Mr. Schuster?”

She clasped her hands, quickly formulating another lie.
 
“I didn’t know your name so I made one up.
 
Mark Schuster was the best I could come up with on such short notice.”
 

His brows furrowed deeply.
 
“Why not tell him I was a stranger?
 
Why not have me taken away?”

“I had the feeling you were in some sort of trouble.”
   

“And you just took it upon yourself to save me?
 
How do you know I’m not a serial killer or running from the law?”

She blinked several times, struggling for an answer.
 
“Rocky didn’t attack you.
 
I trust his judgment.”

“Are you sure he wasn’t just sizing me up for dinner?”
 
He cast her a roguish grin.

How could he be one of the bad guys with a face like that?
 
She knew deep down he wasn’t, but still, Jase told her to be careful, to not trust anybody.
 
“Rocky won’t hurt you, if you don’t hurt me.
 
You’re perfectly safe.”

“Uh-huh.
 
You wouldn’t happen to have a gun around would you?”

“Why?”
 
Did he think whoever shot him would come looking for him?
 
Had they tracked him here or had they brought him, only to return later and finish the job?

She forced herself to stay upright with the frightening possibilities.
 
God, how she hated this game they were playing.

He eyed Rocky sitting by her feet.
 
“Let’s just say I feel like it might make us even.”
 

She let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
 
“I don’t like guns.
 
You two will just have to learn to get along.
 
And anyway, if you were to hurt Rocky, I’d have to hurt you.”
 
She meant that in all seriousness.
 

He chuckled.
 
“You?
 
Hurt me?”
 

“I wouldn’t be fooled by my size, if I were you.
 
I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

He looked her over incredulously then shrugged.
 
“Whatever you say.
 
But why Mark Schuster?”

“He’s someone I dated once.”
 
She hadn’t expected that question, nor had she managed to squelch the nervousness in her voice, darn it.
 

Why did admitting she had dated someone bother her so much?
 
It wasn’t as if she’d been saving herself for Travis Reid.
 
Absolutely not!
 
She dated plenty, and had almost married Roger, a fact she would like to forget.
   

“So who’s this doctor?
 
Do you trust him?” he asked.

“Ted Stamens.
 
I asked him to keep quiet about your visit, but he said he had to report all gunshot wounds to the sheriff.”

“Shit.”
 
He twisted to get out of bed, but she quickly moved to his side and shoved him back in once again.
 

Why couldn’t he just stay put?
 
She didn’t need to keep touching him all the blasted time.
 

“I already told the sheriff what happened over the phone,” she said.
 
“I told him you’d gone hiking and mumbled something about getting shot by a hunter.
 
Since it isn’t hunting season, he’ll be busy trying to track them down.
 
But I imagine he’ll want to speak with you in person when you’re able.”

With a heavy sigh, he rested against the headboard, and she retreated to the other side of the room.
 

“Not a bad story, Miss Profit.
 
But aren’t you the least bit curious about what really happened?
 
And what my real name is?”

An odd twinkle in his eye warned her to beware.
 
He apparently didn’t remember her calling him by name the day before.
 
Only he did say her false name in the oddest way.
   

She cleared her throat.
 
“Of course, if you’re willing to tell me.”

He studied her for a long moment.
 
She felt like babbling the truth then running from the room, but stood perfectly still, hoping he wouldn’t suspect anything.

The corner of his mouth quirked up.
 
“I tell you what.
 
Why don’t we just stick with your story?
 
Mark Schuster is as good a name as any.”

Confusion compounded confusion.
 
Why pick that name?
 
Why not the alias he probably already established?
 

But then if whoever shot him knew him by that name
—
okay, it made sense.
 
She guessed.
 
This whole cloak and dagger thing was still new to her, but she’d play along.
 

“Very well, Mr. Schuster.”
 
Bobbi cleared her throat to choke back the unexpected giggle threatening to bubble out.
 

Mark Schuster, the real Mark Schuster looked nothing like Travis.
 
He stood a lot shorter, weighed a lot less, and well, looked totally different.
 
Oh, he was a nice guy and all, and had a wonderful respect for art, which is what prompted her to go out with him in the first place, but he was no Adonis.
 

And neither is Travis, you twit.

“Call me Mark, please.
 
After all, we used to date.”
 
His wicked grin melted her insides.
 

She gnashed her teeth silently.
 
The man already sent out enough pheromones to get half the women in the state hot.
 
Did he have to be charming too?
 

Think about Roger, about how much Travis is like him.
 
The womanizing, lying, cheating...

“I’ll go get you some lunch,” she said with a barely concealed snarl.
  

Crossing to the doorway, she patted Rocky on the head.
 
“Keep
Mark
company, Rock, but remember he’s our guest.
 
You wouldn’t want to get heartburn.”
 

She headed for the kitchen without looking back.
 
The war had begun and she refused to lose.
 
She’d stop this nuclear meltdown before it had a chance to begin.
 
She wouldn’t disclose her real identity, and she most certainly would not fall under Travis Reid’s seductive spell.
 
Never again, not after Roger.
 
That was one hard learned lesson she didn’t intend on reliving.
 

Even if Travis proved to be one of the good guys, she’d promised Jason she would hide and keep quiet, and she was determined to do that very thing.
 

Jason always said Travis was like a pit bull.
 
Once he latched on to something, he never let go.
 
If he knew she had information that might lead to catching Phillip Steele, he would demand to know everything.

If only she could have talked to Jason one more time before he disappeared.
 
Even though he suspected someone at the Bureau of working for Steele, he couldn’t have meant Travis.
 

Still, she had to do what he asked.
 
There were too many unknowns in this dreadful game they were playing.
 
And anyway, if Travis did know who she was, all he’d have to do is turn on that gorgeous smile of his and she’d blab non-stop.
 
Just like when she was a kid.

“Jeez, you’re pathetic,” she grumbled to herself.
 

With a clang, she placed a pot on the stove.
 
“And taking your frustrations out on your kitchenware won’t make things any better, either.”
 
With a low growl she turned on the burner.
 

If only she could kill the urge to curl up in his arms, tell him everything, and let him fight the big mean monster for her, be her knight-in-shining-armor, her hero, but she couldn’t, and not because of her promise to Jason.
 

Travis was FBI through and through.
 
She absolutely refused to get involved with a man who took such crazy risks with his life.
 
She couldn’t handle the constant state of worry and fear that someone she cared about might be killed in the line of duty.
 
Not to mention, he was a rat just like her ex-fiancé, or so she’d gleamed from the stories her brother had told her over the years.

After setting a bowl of soup and a sandwich on a tray, she went back to the bedroom.
 
Her resolution to remain completely indifferent to Travis Reid’s charms strengthened with every step as she recalled the line of broken hearts he’d left in his wake.
 
No sir.
 
She would not become a member of that club.

She nearly stumbled as she stepped into the bedroom.
 
Every one of his wonderful muscles rippled and flexed as he resituated himself on the bed.
 
The mere sight of him turned her into a big blob of jelly.
 

Cursing silently, she steeled herself against his charisma and placed the stand-up bed tray across his lap.
 
“You need to try and eat it all,” she said, peeling her fingers from the wooden handles.
 
Did he notice how badly her hands shook?

“Thanks, I’m starving.”

“Good.”
 
She clasped them firmly in front of her.
 
Anything to keep from giving into the need to touch him.
 
“Well.
 
I’ve got some things to do.
 
I’ll come back for the tray later.”
 
Distance was an ally, and right now she needed all the help she could get.
 

“Why don’t you sit down and keep me company?” he asked.

Awkwardly backing away, her heel bumped into Rocky.
 
With a bizarre twist and turn, she kept herself from falling.
 
If only she could do the same with Travis.

No, no, no!
 
I am not off-balance, and I am most definitely not falling for him
.

Satisfied with her renewed conviction, she opened her mouth to answer his question, but had forgotten what he asked.
 

Oh, all right.
 
Maybe she did feel a little off-balance.
 
Who wouldn’t, considering everything that had happened?

He grinned crookedly.
 
“I’d like to know more about you.
 
Please, sit down.”
 

“There really isn’t much to tell.”
 
She pushed aside the afghan on the large chair in the corner where she’d spent the majority of the night and sat down.
 
Not only had she wanted to keep an eye on him, the storm frightened her more than she cared to admit.
 

“I’m sure there’s plenty to tell.”
 
He sipped the soup carefully avoiding the cut on his lip.
 
“I want to thank you for taking care of me.”
 

“It’s no trouble.”
 

One lone brow rose skeptically.
 

She absently fingered the fringe on the afghan.
 
“I mean, I couldn’t exactly kick you out into the storm.”

“Still, you could’ve called the police.”
 
He raised his hand and stopped her from repeating her earlier explanation.
 
“I’m not any danger to you.
 
I’m not wanted or anything like that.
 
I just got involved in something
—
unexpected.”

She had to bite off the questions begging to be asked.
 
“I’m glad to hear it.
 
I think.”

He chuckled softly, and she began to relax as a companionable feeling settled over her.
 
She felt as though she were visiting with an old friend, which in a way was true, although they hadn’t actually seen one another in years.