He went back to the bathroom, got a fresh washcloth and ran it under the tap, then got one of his flannel shirts. Back in the bedroom, he put the wet cloth on the edge of the trashcan and sat next to her on the bed. He lifted her, pressed her to his chest and grasped the hem of her t-shirt. She offered no protest when he pulled it over her head. He took the washcloth and eased it down her back, pausing to unhook her bra.
Dear God, she was so beautiful. When she tucked her face against his neck, he felt his chest tighten again and had to fight against pressing his lips to her temple. She shivered as he eased the straps off her shoulders and quickly ran the cloth down her arms, then draped the flannel shirt across her back. If they were lucky, she wouldn’t remember any of this tomorrow. He wondered if he would ever forget.
“Can you put your arms into the sleeves?”
She nodded, shimmied, handed him her lacy bra, and did as he asked. She leaned back, and when she looked up at him, he saw that she held the flannel material bunched in front of her, but his body and his brain had frozen when she’d handed him the bra. He tossed the washcloth back onto the side of the garbage can and dropped the bra onto the bed. His shirt dwarfed her lean frame. “May I?”
When her eyes met his, he saw trust and... awareness, despite her illness. Cord bit back a curse and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He found the buttons while she held onto his forearms. He couldn’t get the shirt fastened quickly enough. When he’d finished, he helped her lie down. Her deep blue eyes never left his.
He reached for the washcloth and held it to her flushed face. She closed her eyes and tipped her chin up, exposing the long line of her neck. He eased the cloth over her chin and down her neck to the soft hollow at its base. She inhaled sharply.
He pulled his hand away from her. “What’s wrong?”
“Cold.”
Cord pulled the blankets up, making sure to cover her entire body. “Do you need anything?”
Jenny rolled to her side. She blinked slowly, looking up at him through ridiculously long, inky lashes. At that moment, she could have asked anything of him and he would have moved heaven and earth to see she had it. But she simply said, “Just sleep.” She closed her eyes and sighed, “Thank you.”
It wasn’t until her breathing became steady and regular that he could breathe normally again. Cord turned and propped himself against the footboard, fully committed to watching over her until he was certain she would be all right.
When Jenny woke, weak sun filtered into the windows beside the bed. A cheery fire crackled in the other room. She wondered where the marshals had taken her now. From the looks of it, she’d landed in a four-star resort. Mounds of pillows at her back, warm quilts, and a mattress that could only be described as a cloud made her consider never leaving the bed.
A tray on the bedside table held an ice-filled glass of golden liquid. Her tongue felt like a massive ball of cotton and the drink looked wonderful. If only she had the energy to roll over and get it...
“Good morning.”
She stared at the person standing in the door. Mmm... this resort came with a beautiful man who in another time could have been an Aztec god. And it appeared that he was here to see to her needs. She smiled. A notion ripe with possibilities.
His jeans looked faded and worn, and he’d made use of only a few of the buttons on his flannel shirt. A delicious amount of smooth, dark skin lay exposed, and she took her time looking. She bit her lower lip to keep from moaning. He had incredibly wide shoulders. Long, silky black hair brushed them, and a dark beard shadowed his face, giving him an air of mystery and danger.
He moved toward her in the most provocative way, like a big, powerful panther stalking its prey. Jenny giggled. Maybe she was still asleep and dreaming.
When he reached the bed, he said, “Jenny? Are you awake?”
A frown marred his brow, but the imperfection made him look even sexier.
“Jenny?”
“You’re handsome, you know. Very sexy.”
He leaned down and touched her forehead with the back of his hand. It felt cool against her skin... which felt prickly and hot. “Where am I?”
He sat next to her on the bed and plopped a thermometer in her mouth. “On Cole Craig’s farm.”
That sounded promising. “Are ve ’lone?” she mumbled around the thermometer.
“Yes, we’re alone. Don’t you remember coming here yesterday?”
Jenny tried to think, but it hurt too much. So, she shook her head.
The thermometer beeped and he removed it. “Am I sick?”
He set it on the bedside table. “You had a high fever when we got here last night. It’s still a little high.”
He touched her face again. Very soothing, his touch. Jenny closed her eyes and sighed.
“How do you feel?”
“My skin feels funny. Like it’s sunburned.”
“How’s your head?”
“My nose is stopped up. I’m thirsty.”
“Headache?”
“A little.”
He picked up the glass she’d been eying earlier and held it up to her lips. The cool liquid slid down her throat. It felt like a waterfall springing up in a desert. See. He was a god. A very handsome, very sexy god.
“Are you hungry?”
She shook her head. When he would have taken the glass away, she snagged his arm and pressed it to the side of her face. “Mmm...” His soft shirt had gaped open and she had a strong urge to slide her hand inside to test the texture of his skin. A long silver chain sparkled in the light and then disappeared behind the shirt. She took another sip of the ambrosia.
“Do you need me to help you into the bathroom?”
She shook her head. “I’m good.” She traced the edge of his shirt from the collar to the first button with the tip of her fingernail. A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.
“Do you know who I am?”
She nodded. “You’re here to take care of me. Like the others.”
“The others?”
She frowned and felt tears burn her eyes. “They’re all dead now, I think. I hope that doesn’t happen to you. You’re too pretty to die.”
He looked so familiar. But she couldn’t remember where she’d seen him before, though she was certain that she had—seen him before. “Are you that actor, Keanu Reeves?”
He laughed. “No.”
“You look like him.” She touched his cheek, frowning. “You have scars, you know. The beard doesn’t hide them.”
He took her hand and tucked it under the blanket. “Rest.”
Jenny shook her head. “Nope. Not sleepy. How’d you get them? Can I have some more of that?” She focused on the drink in his hand. He held it up to her lips and she drank. “That is so good. What is it?”
“Ginger ale.”
“Tastes wonderful. So, how’d you get it?”
“It was in the supplies the sheriff brought.”
“Not the drink, silly. The scars on your face.” Really, couldn’t he follow a sensible conversation? Maybe handsome men were like really beautiful women. Not much going on in the brains department.
“I’ll get you some more medicine.”
“Okay.”
She watched him leave the room. He looked just as good going as he did coming. She looked around the room again. Behind her, there was old faded wallpaper with flowers on it. She rolled to the edge of the bed to look at the floor. Hardwoods covered by braided rugs. She reached down to touch it. Stiff and dusty. He wasn’t a very good housekeeper.
“Ow!”
“Jenny!”
The dark god rushed into the room and knelt beside her. She leaned back against the bed and rubbed the top of her head.
“What happened?”
“The floor jumped up and hit my head.”
“Here.” He picked her up like she weighed nothing and laid her on the cloudy bed. “You shouldn’t try to get up without help. You’re weak.”
“Why?”<
br />
He tucked the covers around her in the nicest way. Funny he looked really mean and scary, but he was so nice, but in a dangerous, bad boy sort of way. Like Keanu Reeves in Point Break...
“You’re sick.”
“What’s wrong with me?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Do you think I should see a doctor?”
“Probably.”
“Okay, then. Climb in and we’ll go.”
“What?”
She pulled back the covers and repeated, “Get in. I’ll drive.”
“Here, take these first.”
He gave her two pills and held the drink up. “What’s that?”
“Medicine for your fever that will help you breathe and rest.”
“Oh.” She took the pills from him and swallowed them. While she was at it, she drank the rest of the golden liquid. That’s when she started giggling and couldn’t stop. “Are you sure that wasn’t ambrosia? I think maybe you’re trying to get me drunk.”
Another wave of giggles came. The sexy man stood and began pacing. Watching him move back and forth—back and forth—made her dizzy. She closed her eyes and pressed her palms to her temples. “Whew...”
“What’s wrong?”
When she opened her eyes, he was standing over her. “I feel really weird.”
He sat next to her again. “Close your eyes.”
She did and he cupped her head in his hands. Then his lovely fingers began doing magical things to her temples.
“Just relax and try to rest.”
“Yes, rest. I’ll just take a little nap...”
After she fell asleep, Cord stood and began pacing the room again. She was delirious. It was the fever talking. He raked a hand through his hair. He’d hoped her temperature would be down this morning but it wasn’t. It was the same as when he’d taken it in the middle of the night. He didn’t know what else he could do for her. He needed help.
Chapter 9
He checked on her one more time, then grabbed his coat. Outside, the snow was level with the porch and still coming down. He opened his phone, and he marched around in the snow until he found a spot with weak signal. Trying to stand very still, he dialed directory assistance and asked for the number of a doctor in Angel Ridge. When asked if he wanted to pay the extra to be connected, he agreed.
After two rings, a woman answered. “Doctor’s office.”
“Hello, my wife is ill. I was wondering if I could speak to the doctor?”
“He’s out. This is his nurse. With whom am I speaking?”
“I’m from out of town. We got stuck here in the snowstorm.”
“I see. What are your wife’s symptoms?”
“Fever, congestion, nausea, dizziness, fatigue.”
“Temperature?”
“Was 103, but it’s down to 101, and it’s been there since three a.m.”
“How long has she been ill?
“Since yesterday afternoon.”
“What have you given her?”
“Over the counter cold medication with something in it for pain and fever.”
“Is the nausea persistent?”
“No. She threw up one time. She said it was a reaction to aspirin I gave her.”
“Okay. Is she achy? Have a headache?”
“Yes.”
“Sounds like the flu or a virus. Could be a respiratory infection. Is she coughing?”
“No.”
“Good. If she had pneumonia, you’d have to get her to our office which would be difficult right now.”
“Right.”
“Is she able to keep fluids down?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Give her as much as she’ll take. She’s probably a bit dehydrated and that could prevent her fever from coming down.”
“Does she need antibiotics?”
“That’s hard to say. If it’s the flu or a virus, it’ll run its course. If it’s a respiratory infection, then she would need them. But since she has a high fever, we’ll rule it out unless you can’t get the fever down.”
Cord gritted his teeth. He hated feeling helpless. “And if I can’t get the fever down?”
“Call me back tomorrow and we’ll try to get the doctor to you.”
“All right. Thank you.”
When he disconnected the call, he had the urge to crush the phone in his hand and throw it as far as he could. The nurse had told him to wait. Two things that he was not: patient or good in situations he couldn’t control. He turned back toward the house knowing he’d have to do what the nurse had said—wait it out—and there was nothing he could do about it.
Grady checked the caller ID on his cell and said, “Fuzz, I been meaning to call you.”
“Reckon I saved you the trouble, then. Hey, I just wanted to let you know I was out in the wrecker with the plow on the front, trying to keep the main roads cleared, and noticed something strange.”
“What’s that?”
“Looks like there’s smoke coming out of the chimney at that old tenant cabin on the Craig farm.”
“Yeah, I wish I’d had the chance to check in with you sooner, but it’s been crazy around here with this storm. I need you to help me keep an eye out for any outsiders that may have gotten stuck in town because of the snow. There was a situation up on Laurel Mountain last night.”
“You don’t say.”
“Yeah, the Marshal Service, in their wisdom, decided to hide Jenny Thompson in a cabin up there.”
“What?”
“Yeah, some backwoods boys found them and shot the place up. We suspect it was part of the crime ring she busted last fall.”
“Sorry to hear that. I hope everybody’s okay.”
“Well, Jenny got out, but the marshals didn’t fare so well.”
“Where is she now?”
“We got her up at the Craig farm in that tenant house.”
“That explains it then. I thought maybe some hunters had got stuck out in this and helped themselves to the shelter.” He paused, then added, “I sure am glad to know Jenny’s all right. Who’s with her?”
“A local and Cole.”
“All right, well, I’ll keep a lookout and let you know if I see anything unusual.”
“I appreciate that, Fuzz.”
Fuzz disconnected the call, and smiling, placed another.
“Yeah, boss.”
“Have you found the girl yet?” he asked, knowing the answer.
“We been lookin’, but—”
“Shut up and listen, you idiot. She’s out at the Craig farm, about five miles outside of Angel Ridge. Retrieve her.”
“That might be difficult in this weather.”
He ground his teeth. “You’re paid well to deal with any situation, so I don’t care how difficult it is.”
“There’s a blizzard in the area, boss.”
“I’m aware of the weather, stupid.”
“But it’s so far from any main roads, snow plows won’t get out that way for awhile and the elevation will mean deeper snow.”
“I’m plowing the road where she is now, so stop with the excuses. Take every available man. Use any means necessary. She needs to be eliminated by morning.”
Cord scanned the property and the woods at the perimeter. When he saw no movement or activity, he went back inside the house. Jenny stood in the kitchen wearing only his green flannel shirt and a confused look. She had a glass in her hand.
“Hello.”
“Hi.” Standing there in his shirt, she looked as sexy as she would have in a lacy, low-cut negligee. She still had the confused look, but seemed steady on her feet. “Were you looking for something?”
“Uh-huh.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, yes.”
Cord took off his coat and hung it on one of the pegs by the door. He moved into the room, watching her carefully. Her color was better. She wasn’t quite as flushed. “Did you want something to drink?”
She looked at the empty glass in her hand. “Yes. Yes, tha
t was it.” She ran a hand through her tousled hair. “I’m sorry. I’m having trouble putting thoughts together.”
She walked over to the refrigerator, opened the freezer and frowned.
He came up behind her, reached in and grabbed a handful of ice which he transferred to her glass.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He got a ginger ale out of the refrigerator, unscrewed the cap and poured it in her glass.
“I’m not helpless,” she complained weakly.
“Of course you’re not.”
She walked over to the small table and sat. He wanted to touch her face to check her temperature, but wasn’t sure of her present mood. So instead, he asked, “How’s your temperature?”
“101.”
“Maybe you should get back in bed.”
“I was looking for my pants before I came in here to...”
“Get something to drink?” he supplied.
“Yes.”
“Your pants are in the bathroom drying. Last night, I rinsed them out and hung them over the shower rod.”
She nodded. “Oh. Thank you.”
“I’ll bring them to you when they’re dry.”
She nodded, then asked again, “Where are we?”
“Cole Craig’s farm.”
“Where is that? I’ve see Cole in town, but don’t know where he lives.”
“You really don’t remember coming here yesterday?”
“No.”
“He has a farm just outside Angel Ridge.”
“Are we safe? No one followed us?”
“You’re safe. There’s no one out here but us and Cole.”
She looked around. “He’s here, too?”
He almost laughed. She was really disoriented. “Not here. This is a house on his property. He’s up at his house.”
“Oh.”
This was better than earlier when she’d been talking out of her head... and coming on to him. Any improvement was good. He’d take it.
She sipped her soft drink in silence. “Can I get you some toast or juice?”
She thought about that for a moment. “Sure.”
He got up and put bread in the toaster, then got a glass from the cabinet and poured orange juice in it. “Would you like anything on the toast?”
I'll Be There Page 9