Sighs Matter (3 page)

Aranca excused himself and left her alone.

Exhausted, she folded her arms on the desk and lowered her head. She’d rest and wait for Soldier to arrive.

But the moment Claire closed her lids, images began playing behind her tired eyes. Time drifted, she drifted . . . into brilliant, blinding light, the blast of a horn, the screech of metal scraping metal, tires squealing as she spun out of control. She tried to glimpse her pursuer’s face, get a look at the man who had done this to her, but all she could see was . . .

“. . . honey blond hair, brown eyes. About five-six, one-twenty. Claire Hunter, M.D. In. The. Flesh.”

Her eyes snapped open. Lifting her head, she blinked and slid a glance toward the open door of the office.

And her heart seized.

Laser blue eyes met hers, direct, probing—but they were not Soldier’s eyes.

A masculine mouth twitched at one end into a wry grin—but it did not belong to her best friend’s husband.

She tried to keep her eyes locked on his face, but they drifted over his body anyway. Running shoes, jeans, jacket over an open-collar white shirt.

He seemed a little rumpled, a little sleepy, as if he’d just climbed out of bed—satisfied. Though he needed a shave, on him, stubble looked . . . oh, man.

“You know,” drawled the man who was not Soldier, his voice sending vibrations deep into the core of her body. “Usually, I’m just called on to serve and protect. There’s a special form for bailing doctors out of a jam in the middle of the night.”

“Taylor.” If she’d made her voice any blander, she would have sounded bionic.

“Actually,” he continued, “I won’t really mind filling out the form because I just had to see for myself if it was really you, Doc. You know, before you disappear again.”

Claire stared across the room at him. She’d forgotten how good-looking he was.

That was a lie. She had never forgotten.

Taylor McKennitt stood with his hip resting against the doorjamb. He grinned, like a wolf might smile at the furry, timid, terrified forest creature it was about to toy with, then devour.

Rubbing her eyes, she peered past Taylor to Detective Aranca standing behind him. “Excuse me?” she said sweetly. “There’s been a mistake. This is the wrong Detective McKennitt.”

“I get that a lot,” Taylor said, sighing deeply. “Good thing I have such a healthy ego.” His grin widened to show his white teeth. Charming and predatory, all in one perfectly constructed bundle.

Claire’s brow furrowed. “Detective Aranca,” she insisted, a little louder now. “Really. This is the wrong Detective McKennitt.”

Aranca snickered and nudged Taylor with his elbow. “You said she’d say that. What, you two have a big fight or something?”

What does that mean?

“Yeah.
Or something
,” Taylor drawled, his eyes never leaving Claire’s.

Aranca laughed. “Hey. Kiss and make up, okay? You two’ll have beautiful babies. Listen, Mac. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” Taylor said, his blue eyes still locked on Claire’s.

Detective Aranca sauntered off down the hallway, whistling a happy tune, leaving her alone with the wrong damn McKennitt brother.

His gaze touched her forehead, and he frowned. “How’d you get the bruise? Are you all right?”

She reached up, her fingertips pressing lightly on her tender skin. “I played crash-test dummy with my aunt’s truck. I’m okay.”

“Do you have any other injuries?” His gaze raked her from head to toe and he curled his fingers as though he wanted to check her out personally.

“No.”

“You sure?” He narrowed his eyes, gauging whether she was telling the truth. Flattening his mouth, he said, “You’re going to the hospital.”

“No,” she rushed. “I’m fine. I just want to take a bath and get some sleep.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Claire looked away, but she felt his scrutiny just as though he were running his fingertips along her cheek, and down her body, low, across her belly.

Taking a reinforcing breath, she pushed herself to her feet, fighting a wave of dizziness that weakened her knees. Taylor lowered his arms and looked as though he wanted to help steady her, but he stayed where he was.

“Thank you for bailing me out, Taylor. I appreciate it, but I haven’t done anything wrong. I was set up.”

He smiled sympathetically, sort of. “Yeah. We’ve got a whole jail full of innocent bystanders. But in your case, I guess I’m willing to keep an open mind.”

“In my case?” She raised her eyes to meet his. “An open mind? But you
know
me.”

He lowered his voice. “Yeah, if the biblical sense counts for anything. You know, Doc, I must have been a few beers short of a six-pack to have gotten involved with you. But, live and learn.”

He clamped his jaw tightly closed and stared at her.

She lifted her chin. “Well, sorr-ree. It was my best friend’s wedding. It was fun and romantic. You and I, well, we drank champagne, danced way too close, and one thing led to another. It
happens
.” That’s as much as she would ever confess to him about that night, about how she’d felt, and what had really driven her into his arms.

“One thing led to another three times.” He arched a brow.

“You’re being unfair—”

“I think I’m being damn fair,” he interrupted. “More than fair, considering. I’ve heard it from my brother that his wife told him that you don’t particularly care for my line of work.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point
is
,” he said, leaning forward to glare into her eyes. “My line of work seems to be coming in pretty frigging handy tonight, getting your delectable little ass out of a jam, wouldn’t you say?”

She took in a full breath, and let it out slowly.

“I’ve already said thank you, Detective.” Attempting to moderate her anger was like trying to put out a fire with an ice cube.

He made a sweeping motion with his arm. “I should probably leave you here. Let them toss you into holding so you can see how the other half lives, but my brother would have my nuts on a platter if I did that.”

She scowled. “If that’s the case, maybe I’ll stay. I think I’d like to see your nuts on a platter, even though I’d probably need a microscope to find them.”

“If memory serves, you had no trouble with my anatomy eight months ago.”

“Taylor—”

“If we’re done discussing my nuts,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “can we go now? I was in bed having a really hot dream, and I’d like to get back to it.”

“Fine,” she snarled.

“
Fine
,” he snarled, louder.

She glared at him. How
dare
he show up here instead of Soldier. How dare he have mutated from the nice, easygoing guy she’d met a year ago into this surly, overbearing, macho jerk simply because she’d . . .

Dammit. This
was
the millennium of casual, mutually satisfying, no-strings-attached sex, wasn’t it? They had both been consenting adults that night. Words like
love
and
commitment
hadn’t entered the conversation, what conversation there had been. So why was he so defensive?

Claire concealed her hurt with a mask of nonchalance. Though she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it, his attitude toward her stung. She had romantic memories of making love with Taylor. He’d been a caring and generous lover, tender, endearing, and it had torn her to pieces to leave him in the morning, to decide never to see him again when what she wanted with all her heart was to stay wrapped in his arms night after night.

What did a woman do when she found a man like Taylor, and realized she had to give him up? The only thing she could do was go, and not look back.

As she stood there, her knees gave out and she slumped back into her chair. He was beside her before her bottom hit the seat, his hand gripping her arm, concern in his eyes.

“You’re not okay. Dammit, I knew it.” He crouched in front of her. His worried gaze flitted over every inch of her face and body. “I’m taking you to the hospital, whether you—”

“Not necessary,” she groused. “I’m fine. It’s been a long day, and I’m exhausted.” She eyed him. “What did you say to that detective? He sure treated me a lot nicer after he talked to you.”

With a broad and charming grin, he said, “I told him you’re my fiancée.”

She blinked about a thousand times and widened her eyes to stare up at him.

“You
what
?
Why
?”

He shrugged. “Felt like it.”

“That is so stupid.”

“I know. But I thought it might be easier to convince him I wasn’t going to let you out of my sight until I got you home, safe and sound. They’re still checking out your story, so you’re not clear quite yet.”

He grinned into her eyes, and her anger melted just a teensy-weensy bit.

“So when we leave,” he instructed, “keep your mouth shut and your eyes adoringly on me—at least until we get to my truck.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

“You need to use the bathroom?”

“Not really,” she said dryly. “It’s just the thought of being engaged to you has had an adverse effect on my digestion.”

Tilting his head, he eyed her and sighed. “Damn. And to think we used to be so close.”

Enema
Unfriendly female.

Taylor stood over Claire, assessing her condition. Her posture told him she was beyond exhaustion. Her beautiful brown eyes were red and swollen. The bump on her skull had to be throbbing.

Maybe he should carry her.

Yeah, and maybe he’d like a knee to his groin, he thought. Unless she was unconscious, he’d be wise to proceed with caution.

But the thought of Claire’s body in his arms again sent his heart knocking against his ribs. Even after all these months, he was attracted to her as strongly as if she were magnetic north.

“Can you make it out to my truck?” he ventured. “Maybe I should carry you.”

She sent him a miffed glance, fiddled with her hair, and straightened her shoulders.

“Detective, there are only two conditions under which I’d let you carry me anywhere.”

“Okay.” He sighed. “I’ll bite.”

She held up her index finger. “One involves a toe tag . . .” She closed her fingers into a fist. “And the other a white dress and a threshold.”

“Dead or wed, huh?”

“Mm-hmm.” She pressed her lips together, then smiled far too sweetly. “And since neither event is likely to happen, lead the way. I’ll be right behind you.”

She still looked woozy to him, so he reached for her arm. She shook him off. Jesus, she was as stubborn as a premenstrual mule, and would probably rather die than let on she was hurting.

“Dammit, woman,” he snapped. “Lose the attitude, put your weapons away, and relax a little. Let somebody who has
not
been in a car accident, who has
not
had a head injury tonight, and who
may
be thinking more clearly than you, take
care
of you.”

She blinked up at him and raised her brows. “Dammit . . .
woman
? That is so eighteenth century.”

“Yeah, well I would have said dammit
pain in the ass
, but I’m nothing if not frigging progressive!”

“Taylor,” she bit out between clenched teeth. “I’m a doctor. I would know if I were symptomatic. My reactions to the trauma are typical, and nothing more. The adrenaline rush left me shaky, but my pulse is normal now, my vision is clear, there is no headache or nausea present, and no broken bones. Worst-case scenario, I might need a sedative and bed rest.”

“Physician, heal thyself?”

“If I thought I needed treatment, I’d get it.”

“No you wouldn’t,” he said flatly. “You’re afraid this’ll leak to the press and your reputation will be dog food.”

She looked like she wanted to scream. “I know you think I’m a real tight ass—”

“It would be ungentlemanly of me,” he said, leaning near her ear, “to comment on how tight your ass is, because it might raise a question as to how I came by such intimate knowledge.”

He cocked his head in silent challenge for her to pursue the issue at her own risk.

She set her jaw and stared at him. Man, if looks could kill, she’d need a permit for those eyes.

Slipping his arm around her waist, he said, “C’mon, Doc. Enough of this BS. Time to go. And remember, you love me.”

“Oh, right,” she drawled sourly. “We’re engaged.”

“You say it like you don’t worship the ground I walk on. I’m crushed, sweet cheeks.”

“Enough to break our engagement?”

He smiled at her like he knew a secret she could never begin to guess.

As they made their way through the crowded station to the door, they received wry grins and curious stares. He tightened his arm on her waist and tugged her just a bit closer.

“Opportunist,” she muttered under her breath.

Through clenched teeth and a frozen smile, he said, “Shut up or I’ll kiss you.”

She pressed her lips together.

He didn’t release her until they’d exited the building and crossed the lot. Nodding at the officers who had parked their unit next to his truck, he helped Claire into the passenger seat.

“Buckle up, hon.”

Clicking her restraints in place, she gave him a sad little smile. “I’ve changed my mind, stud muffin. I don’t want to marry you after all. I think we should break up.”

“Ah, hell,” he said dismissively. “You say that now, but you’ll feel better after you’ve had a hot meal, a good night’s sleep, and some top-quality, grade-A sex.”

Behind him, one of the officers mumbled something to the other, and both men chuckled.

“Oh? Did you finally pick up that prescription?”

His eyes widened innocently. “The one for your spells? Sure did, funny face. We wouldn’t want you to have another unfortunate episode, would we? Next time they might not let you out.”

Before Claire could elbow him in the gut, Taylor shut her door and moved around to the driver’s side. Sliding in, he buckled his own seat belt, cranked the ignition, and turned left out of the lot.

Beside him, Claire was silent. He saw her shoulders rise and fall, as though she’d taken in a big breath and let it out. Not facing him, she muttered, “You’re an idiot.”

“I’ve been called worse,” he said, smiling. “So tell me what happened.”

“I already gave my statement to Detective Aranca.”

“I’m not asking for a statement.”

“You’re not involved in the case. Listen, I’m not trying to be difficult—”

“Honey, you’re both trying
and
difficult. Now tell me what happened tonight.”

She looked like she wanted to smack him, but instead said, “This isn’t your concern. Thank you for coming to get me. I’ll reimburse you for the gas and—”

“I don’t want to be reimbursed. That’s not why I did it.” He studied her a moment. “But we can do a trade, like in the old days. You know, barter for goods and services.”

Her eyes took on a suspicious glint. “What kind of . . . services?”

He shrugged. “You’re a doctor. How about a checkup? I can’t tell you how I’ve longed to get naked and hear you whisper those magic words.”

“And they would be?”

“
Turn your head to the left and cough.
” He slammed his fist against his chest. “Oh, baby. Gets me right here, every time.”

“Your aim is a little off, but that doesn’t surprise me.”

“You’re such a fun date,” he said lightly. “We really should do this more often.”

She raised her chin and sucked in her bottom lip. It riveted his attention almost as much as if she’d taken off her blouse.

Checking his side mirror, he took the next left. “Tell me what happened.”

“No.”

“Claire,” he growled. “Goddammit, tell me what happened.”

“Well, when you put it that way . . .
hell
no.”

He pulled over to the side of the road and let the engine idle. “We aren’t going anywhere until
you
tell
me
what happened.”

She clamped her jaw tight.

“I’ve cracked tougher nuts than you,” he warned. “I’m not hungry, don’t gotta pee, am not the least bit sleepy, and I’m as patient as a turtle. You, on the other hand, haven’t eaten for hours, and as a woman, have a bladder the size of a lima bean, are obviously exhausted, and have the patience of a stick of dynamite.” He sent her a sly grin. “I can outlast you, sweet cheeks, so you might want to reconsider the silent treatment.”

“
God
,” she choked, doubling her fists and glaring over at him. “You are really something.
Fine
.”

He smiled. “I love it when I get my way.”

“And you’re such a gracious winner, too.”

Taylor pulled back into traffic, listening as Claire related the incident, flicking glances in her direction to check her movements, body position, facial expressions.

“Can you describe the car?”

“No. It was big, though, and had squarish taillights high off the ground. It was either an SUV or a huge truck with a camper shell on it.”

He drove slowly, tuning in to the remaining notes of terror in her voice. She was trying to maintain, but her voice was a little thin, a little shaky. What had happened tonight had scared the hell out of her. He curled his fingers around the steering wheel, suddenly wishing it were the gonads of the guy who’d hurt her.

Cutting a quick glance in her direction, he said, “Could you make out anything about the driver?

“No.”

He stopped for a red light, still gripping the gonads-cum-steering wheel, letting the facts tumble around inside his brain.

When the light turned green, Claire said, “Take a left on Roosevelt.”

“It’s actually faster if you go . . .”

Uh-oh. His own words hit him, and he let his voice trail off. Maybe she was too tired to pick up on—

“You know where my house is?” Her voice was cold enough to usher in a new ice age.

Silence, as thick as mud, oozed between them.

Taylor blew out a long, dramatic sigh. “I know I should be ashamed of myself,” he said solemnly. “It’s a compulsion, a disease. Surely you can understand. I deserve your pity, Doctor, not your scorn.”

Claire burst out laughing, a sound that somehow managed to ride the fine line between joy and dementia.

“Of course,” she nodded, wiping her eyes. “Sure. Absolutely. I should have known.” She looked at him with a flat what-
am
-I-going-to-do-with-you? look in her eyes.

He took the next corner, pulled into her driveway, and turned off the ignition. “Oh, and by the way . . .” He tried his best to look humble and pathetic. “The apple tree in your backyard needs pruning.”

“You used your position as a public servant to stalk me.”

“
Stalk
is such an ugly word. I prefer . . .” He squinted, pretending to search for the right term. “. . . covert personal surveillance.” If she only knew how covert and personal his surveillance had been at her aunt’s farm.

He wouldn’t confess to her how many times he’d driven by her house, hoping she was in the city, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Or how he’d changed the route to his own house on the days he knew she was there, just so he could make sure the neighborhood was secure, that her car was in the driveway, that she was safe. He would never tell her how fast his heart beat, how wildly, when he did happen to see her walking to the mailbox or clipping the roses in the front yard.

“Covert personal surveillance,” she repeated slowly, shaking her head.

“Let’s get your stuff,” he ordered, changing the subject. “I’m suddenly very tired and I’ve got a willing babe waiting for me in dreamland, and if you don’t—”

“Oh, save your breath,” she groused. “You’ll need it to blow up your date.” Grabbing for her seat belt, she froze in mid-unbuckle. “What do you mean, get my stuff?”

“Get. Your. Stuff.” He enunciated the phrase as though he were speaking to a disobedient preschooler. “You’re not staying here.”

“I am so staying here.”

“Are not.”

“Am so.”

Unable to keep the scowl off his face, he said, “You were released into my custody. I’m responsible for you, therefore I’m not letting you out of my sight until I know exactly what’s going on here. It obviously hasn’t occurred to you that a man you don’t know has your ID, your credit cards, pager, and your cell phone, too, yes? And all the other stupid, lame, useless crap women keep in their purses. I didn’t spot a tail, but he might have somehow followed us here. You’d be alone without even a phone in the house. Am I right?”

She blinked and cocked her head. “
Somebody
needs anger management ther—”

“I
assume
you have a spare key hidden around here so we can get in and pack a bag for you? After that, we are leaving. Got that, sweetheart?”

Claire shrugged and mumbled something under her breath, averting her eyes from his.

Ah, hell. He should probably cut her some slack. After all, she’d had a shock, she was exhausted, and all she probably wanted was to go inside the house, lock the door, and curl up underneath the covers until tomorrow brought sunshine to make the nightmare go away.

In a gentler tone, he said, “Listen, Claire, I—”

“There’s a key under the flowerpot on the back porch.”

“A
flowerpot
!” So much for good intentions. “As security systems go, that pretty much sucks, babe.”

She crossed her arms; defiance shone in her eyes. “The flower has
gigantic
thorns.”

Maybe it was the way her eyes widened and her voice squeaked when she said
gigantic
, but he felt his mouth curve into a smile, and his heart soften.