And meanwhile, she’d be unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders, her small hands sending a shock wave over his skin everywhere her fingers brushed and caressed him. Like his nipples. That would be good. And then unzipping his pants and reaching lower to clasp his aching cock. Or maybe he would yank his own shirt off.
He was driving himself crazy, and he had to stop. Or did he? This was a dream, or like a dream. He could do anything he wanted, and what would be the harm?
Yet he knew what was wrong. He didn’t want to lie here by himself, imagining making love to Hannah. He wanted to do it for real. And not just in a coma dream.
He smiled to himself. Waking up so he could take her in his arms gave him a goal, something he was sure he hadn’t had since he’d found himself in this shadow of his bedroom.
oOo
By the end of breakfast, Hannah was exhausted. After being shown the kitchen and given permission to get herself snacks or hot drinks, she wanted to go upstairs and fall into bed. Instead, she went into the den, where she found Richard working on his laptop.
“Is there some way I could get e-mail here?” she asked.
“Did you bring a computer?”
“A tablet.”
He looked surprised. “Why does a nurse need a tablet?”
“Well, to read books. But also my Uncle Frank is in his 80's. I worry about him, and I told him I’d keep in touch.”
“What’s your uncle’s name?”
“Frank Donaldson.”
“And where does he live?”
“San Francisco. Can I bring my tablet?”
Richard sighed. “I might have a problem hooking you up to the house network. You can borrow my laptop for a short time,” he said grudgingly.
“Okay.”
Richard passed her the laptop, then got up and stood behind her while she got into her Web mail. She skimmed most of the messages headlines and went right to one from “Frank Donaldson.”
“I arrived here okay. I’m fine,” she told him. “I’m on that special assignment I told you about. My patient is still unconscious. I’ll be here until he’s better.” She didn’t mention any alternative to that, and she couldn’t think of a way to tell Frank that the gun had gone missing.
Richard was behind her, reading the message, and she gave him plenty of time to do it so he could see how innocuous it was. Finally, she hit “reply,” clicked out of her mail, and handed him back his computer.
“Thank you,” she said as warmly as she could. “I probably should go up and get some sleep so I’ll be ready for my next shift.”
“Good idea.”
She left the room, feeling his gaze on her back, and knowing that as soon as she was out of sight, he would check up on Frank Donaldson, which wouldn’t be a problem. He had an address near Union Square, his bio said he was a retired engineer, and further investigation would show he had a niece named Hannah Andrews, a nurse.
She’d expected to sleep only a few hours, but she didn’t wake until around five. After a real shower, she did her hair back into a bun and changed into her uniform, then had a quick dinner in the kitchen before returning to the sickroom, where she told Nurse Fahrenhold she would take over.
The other woman was glad to be relieved early.
After reading her notes, which said the patient was stable but still unresponsive, Hannah changed Jordan’s IV and checked his vital signs. They were still stable, and she wrote down the information.
Having finished the routine tasks, she stood by his bed and looked at him. “How are you?” she asked quietly.
He didn’t answer, and she reached out to smooth back a lock of his dark hair.
“I think you’re good for him,” a woman said behind her.
She whirled and saw that it was Stephanie. Lord, the woman moved like a cat.
“I wish you people would stop sneaking up on me,” she blurted, then regretted it. Pressing a hand to her forehead, she said, “I’m sorry. I’m still finding my way around here, and that’s at least the third time since I arrived that I’ve been startled by someone I didn’t know was behind me.”
“I like to sit with Jordan in the late afternoon,” Stephanie said. “You could take a walk through the gardens if you like.”
Hannah hesitated. She would like the chance to get out of the house, if only to clear her mind so she could think better. But when she cast a glance at Jordan, she was certain she saw a frown flicker across his brow.
“Thanks,” she said, “but I think I’ll just stay here. Maybe I can get out in the morning.”
Stephanie looked surprised—and frustrated. But she masked the negative expression quickly, adding to Hannah’s growing conviction that Jordan wasn’t safe here.
“You’re very dedicated,” Stephanie said.
“Well. . .” Hannah flapped a hand in a dismissive gesture. “That’s why I’m a nurse. I wanted to help sick people.”
The other woman cocked one eyebrow. “Is that it? Or are you forming a bond with your patient?”
“A bond?” She gave what she hoped passed as a bewildered look. “I just met him.”
Stephanie’s expression remained suspicious, but she said, “All right, then. I’ll see you in the morning.” Turning, she left the room.
Hannah exhaled the breath she’d been holding. She wished she could build a fortress around Jordan’s room, a place to keep him safe.
But safe from what? Or from whom? Was Stephanie only pretending concern?
She made a mental list of everyone she’d met and tried to figure out who was the biggest threat.
Richard had seemed hostile. Paula, his wife had come across as neutral. Stephanie seemed friendly one moment and hostile the next—but maybe the hostility was directed at the new nurse, and not Jordan. And Stephanie was the one who had saved his life.
What about June, the other sister? She was mostly staying in the background.
The housekeeper, Mrs. Estes, had warned her about the family. And the handyman, Carl Padilla, had seemed odd. Maybe she should have asked him who had told him to rearrange the furniture—and why.
Oh wait. There was also Nurse Fahrenhold. She seemed okay if somewhat abrupt with Hannah. And she appeared to be taking adequate care of Jordan.
That was the cast of characters, but they might not be what they seemed. When she tried to figure them out, she felt as if she were trying to walk through a fog, and she had to be very careful, lest she stumble and fall—off the edge of a cliff.
Methodically, she went about her duties, checking her patient’s IV drip and rechecking his vital signs. “I’ll be here until the day nurse comes back,” she told him. “Has your family been this hostile since they brought you home?”
Again, he was silent, and she felt her anxiety level jump.
Reaching for his hand, she clasped her fingers around his and squeezed. Was it her imagination, or did he squeeze back?
“Jordan?” she murmured.
His lips moved, but no words came out. Elation leaped inside her. She was sure now that he was trying to get through to her, but he couldn’t batter his way into the real world.
Yet they had communicated on a very intimate level in the hotel that was part of his dream world.
Could she get back there—with him?
And could he help her figure out which of the people here wanted him out of the way permanently?
She glanced toward the door. Once again she wanted to lock it, and once again she decided that would look strange.
As before, she placed the stethoscope and the blood pressure cuff where she could grab them if she needed to look like she was doing her normal nursing job. Then she leaned over Jordan, laying her head on his shoulder, taking his hand and opening her mind to him. This time it was easier. From one instant to the next, she was back in the hotel hallway. This time she was dressed differently. Her uniform had been replaced by a negligee unlike anything she’d ever owned. The sheer confection was the color of heavy cream. It had
ribbon straps, lacy cups that barely covered her breasts, and a wide band that emphasized her narrow waist. The gauzy skirt swirled around her legs. Below the hem, her feet were bare, and her toenails were painted with delicate pink polish. The only thing about her appearance that was the same as the previous dream was her hair. As before, it was lying in soft waves around her head and shoulders.
Had she dreamed up the new details? Or had Jordan done it? That was an interesting question.
Quickly she started for the room she knew was his. Before she reached it, the door opened, and he stepped into the hallway.
He was wearing the dark slacks, but he’d changed into a long-sleeved burgundy shirt that draped softly in a way that told her it must be silk. The top two or three buttons were open, revealing a good deal of the crisp, dark hair on his broad chest. After seeing him in his sickbed, it took her breath away to encounter him as he stood before her, strong and powerful and so very sexy.
“You came back,” he said.
“I had to.”
“How long have I been . . . in a coma?” he asked, obviously more interested in his condition than he had been before.
“A little over three weeks,” she told him.
He winced. “That’s not good.”
“We’ll wake you up.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. But you’re already more responsive.”
“How?” he demanded.
“Your expression changed in response to something Stephanie said. You squeezed my hand.”
He made a scoffing sound. “That’s not much.”
“It is, compared to what you’ve been like. Or at least as far as I’ve been told.”
He walked toward her, stopping about an inch away to pull her close, wrapping her in a warm embrace.
She had come here determined to ask him questions about his relatives, but he made that impossible when he brought his mouth down on her for a long, hungry kiss.
“I was lying in bed, thinking about making love with you,” he said.
“You were?”
“Yes.”
He pulled her closer.
“We shouldn’t,” she whispered.
“Why not?”
“Because . . . you’re my patient.”
“And you want to give me what I need.”
Chapter Nine
Before Hannah could object, Jordan maneuvered her into the bedroom and wrapped her in his arms. She should pull away, but she didn’t have the will to do it, and he must know that.
Stepping away from her, he drew the drapes across the window so that the room was in shadow. Then he switched on a lamp beside the bed.
“I want to see you in that gown,” he murmured.
“Did you . . . have me wear it?”
He grinned. “I thought it would be perfect for you.” He came toward her, stopping a few feet away, his eyes scanning her body, stopping at her breasts, the triangle of blond hair at the top of her legs, his gaze making her tingle.
Without even touching her, he was turning her on. Making her thrill to the reckless look on his face as he tore the front of his shirt open, making buttons scatter onto the floor as he yanked his arms out of his sleeves and tossed the shirt away. Then he grasped the fabric of her gown around her hips, pulling the garment over her head and off, sending it to join his shirt on the floor.
She was naked and stunned to silence by his impulsive behavior.
“Lord, you are so beautiful,” he whispered as his gaze swept over her curves. In the next moment, he reached for her, making her gasp as her breasts flattened against his broad chest.
It was difficult to draw in a full breath, difficult to keep her balance when he swayed her in his arms so that her breasts moved back and forth against his body.
“Oh,” she cried out as her nipples slid against roughened hair.
She heard herself make a small sobbing sound, her arms clasping his back.
It felt wonderful when he slid his hands over the curve of her bottom, her hips, the indentation at her waist, places that were sensitive to his touch.
Easing a little away, he fumbled at his belt buckle and got it undone, then lowered the zipper. He slicked his slacks and briefs down and kicked them away, so that his magnificent erection sprang free.
The sight of him and the speed of the encounter made her gasp, and maybe he knew he was going too fast for her.
Turning to the side, he bent to pull the covers back on the wide bed.
“Okay?” he asked.
She had never been this reckless with any man. A kiss on the first date was daring for her. But now she was with Jordan Campbell in a fantasy place. Maybe that made it all right, because the only answer she could give him was, “Yes.”
He brought her down to bed with him, rolling to his side, holding her in his arms. Stroking her back and shoulders and hips, making her skin heat.
He watched her face as he gently cupped her breasts, shaping them to his touch, then played his thumbs over her distended nipples.
She closed her eyes, her breath catching as he bent to take one hard peak into his mouth, drawing on her as he used his thumb and finger on the other side.
“Jordan, oh, Jordan,” she cried out.
Slowly, he slid one hand down her body, into her hot, moist folds.
She was ready for him, yet she sensed he wasn’t going to rush this now that he had her where he wanted her.
He touched her and kissed her, tasted her, lifting his head to watch her face and judge her readiness as he continued to stroke his fingers through her most intimate flesh. She had come here thinking she had to wake him, but it seemed to be the other way around. He was waking her body—her senses—in ways she had only imagined.
She felt passion mold her features, felt her hips lift restlessly against his fingers.
He moved over her, parting her legs with his knee.
“Look at me,” he asked.
Her eyes met his, and for a charged moment he didn’t move. Then he sank into her, and her body clenched around him.
Lifting his head, he stared down at her, and she was overcome with the emotions she saw in his eyes as he began to move inside her.
She threw back her head on the pillow while she matched his rhythm. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she climbed toward orgasm with him. She could feel him holding back, waiting for her pleasure to peak.
Her body started to contract around him, and she felt him let go, both of them coming to a rocketing climax that left her limp and panting. When he rolled to his side, she came with him, staying in his arms, clinging to him.
She wanted to stay that way forever, enjoying the aftermath of his wonderful lovemaking. But she knew neither of them had that luxury.
When she stirred, he raised his head. “What?”
“You know we have work to do.”
“Which is?”
“We have to talk about your relatives,” she answered.
He grimaced. “I know.”
“They’re not very nice.”
“That’s putting it politely.”
“I have to be blunt. I think they don’t want you to get better.”
“Certainly not if one of them put me in a coma.”
“Any idea which one?”
His eyes clouded. “I think I set a trap for someone in my office. That’s why I went out in the boat, but unfortunately, they must have known I was going to try something.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
She swallowed hard. “I’ve been reading your medical chart. I can’t find any reason why you’re still unconscious. According to all the physical indications, you should be awake.”
His expression hardened into a look of fury. “I knew it.”
“Jordan, tell me what’s going on—with your family, I mean.”
“They’ll inherit a lot of money if I don’t wake up.”
Assimilating the implication
s of what he’d said, she asked slowly, “Do you think that’s why they got you out of the hospital and brought you home?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Lord. I guess your grandmother was right.”
He laughed. “And I thought I could defend myself with a gun—when it was only a fake gun, because this is a fake world.”
“I had a gun with me when I came here. Someone took it.”
“Christ. Do you know who?”
“Anyone could have done it when I was with you last night.” She dragged in a breath and let it out. “We have to wake you up.”
His arm tightened around her shoulders. “Believe me, I’m trying. And your being here, physically close to me, is helping more than you could even imagine.” He sat up in bed and ran a hand through his hair, then looked down at her. “But it’s obvious that this job is putting you in danger, and I’m so sorry.”
“I understood what I was getting into,” she answered, when she knew it was a lie. And he knew it, too.
“I doubt it,” he muttered.
“Frank Decorah gave me a three-day course in covert operations.”
“And then he sent you into the lion’s den.”
She’d used that phrase herself. Now she silently nodded.
“The solution is for me to wake the hell up.” He reached for her hand, squeezing it. “Every moment I spend with you makes me feel more alive. Stronger. More like myself.”
His gaze roamed her face as he raised a hand to stroke back her hair. “I’d like to kiss you senseless, then make love to you all over again.”
She flushed when she realized that he was looking at her naked body. Reaching for the sheet, she pulled it over both of them.
“That’s like locking the barn door after . . .” He finished with a grin.
“We have to be serious,” she answered.
The tone of her voice must have caught his attention.
“About my condition?” he asked.
“Yes, but also about figuring out what’s going on in this house.”
“I know.” His fingertips still toyed with her hair, trailing up and down her neck.
“What’s your guess about who came after you? Do you trust your sisters? Your cousin?”
CHRISTMAS CAPTIVE (Decorah Security Series): A Paranormal Romantic Suspense Novella Page 5