Seeking Mr. Perfect (The Jane Austen Pact)

by Jennifer Youngblood

  She wrinkled her nose. “It feels like a heck of a lot more than that.”

  He glanced back over his shoulder. “That’s because the staircase is curved.”

  “Oh, yeah. I hadn’t noticed,” she mumbled. Dalton was fascinated with architecture and knew every detail about this lighthouse, including how it was constructed of cast iron plates in case it needed to be relocated. It had, in fact, been relocated in the late 1800s due to erosion—a mile and a quarter back from the shore. Sierra remembered Dalton rambling off that fact the last time they’d come.

  When Sierra finally reached the top, she stood, trying to catch her breath.

  He grinned. “You made it. I was afraid I might have to carry you.”

  She rolled her eyes, giving him a playful nudge. “Yeah, yeah.”

  Dalton stepped up behind her and pulled her into his arms. Tingles circled down her spine when his lips nuzzled her ear. The wind whipped around them, flapping against their clothes as she snuggled into Dalton, appreciating the warmth of his body. His arms felt strong and secure around her. “It’s nice to have the lighthouse all to ourselves. What do you think?” he murmured.

  Her gaze swept over the green canopy of trees directly below, past the sandy beach, and out at the endless ocean, sparkling like glass in the afternoon sun. “It’s incredible.”

  He turned her around to face him. “Yes, you are.” His eyes roved over her in that leisurely way that sent all thoughts flying out of her head. He leaned closer, a fierce look flickering in his magnetic eyes. “No matter what happens from here on out, promise me that we’ll always be together.”

  “I promise,” she whispered.

  His lips came down on hers, tantalizing and soft as a feather that tickled and teased. Just when she was craving more, he drew back. “You taste like Twizzlers.”

  A laugh escaped her throat. “So do you.”

  “I like it,” he murmured, tightening his hold on her waist as his hands moved up her back. His lips came down on hers, sending a jolt of electricity buzzing through her. The kiss grew more demanding, sending a hot fire wicking through Sierra as she gave into the demands of his lips. Glorious rapture rolled inside her and all she could think about was Dalton—her everything. A groan rumbled in her throat as he buried his hands in her hair, dipping her back.

  No, it was more of a moan. A loud series of moans or were they groans? Groans of pain, not pleasure. Sierra shot up in bed, her heart pounding erratically. She touched her lips, still feeling the burn from Dalton’s kiss. For a split second, the loss of him was so overwhelming that it squeezed her heart like a vise. She flinched, embarrassment flooding over her as she threw back the covers. That stupid dream had been so real! She drew in a breath, trying to get a hold of herself. Geez. This attraction-thing was getting ridiculous!

  She wadded the sheet in her fist and lay back against the pillow, memories from the dream wrapping around her like a cocoon. In her half-dream state, it was easy to let herself drift back into Dalton’s arms. Just for tonight, she promised herself. She was almost back to sleep when she heard the moans. She tensed, her heart pounding as she sat up again. She cocked her ears. There it was again. Bennie!

  She jumped out of bed and ran down the hall to Bennie’s room. Without knocking, she flung open the door. Bennie was sitting in bed, clutching her knee, moaning in pain.

  Sierra rushed to her side. “Are you okay?”

  “My knee,” Bennie screeched, her face pinched with pain.

  A feeling of helplessness overtook Sierra. “What can I do to help? Do you need some pain medication?” She tried to think. “Should I call someone? Nadine? 911?”

  Bennie rocked back and forth. “Call Dalton.”

  She jerked. “What?”

  Bennie caught her arm in an iron grip. The whites of her eyes popping in panic. “I need you to call Dalton. Right now! Tell him …” she gulped a breath, trying to get the words out “… I need him to take me … to the Emergency Room.” Tears streamed down her face as she moaned. “I’m sorry,” she lamented. She drew in a labored breath. “Something’s wrong.”

  “Okay.” Sierra looked around wildly. “Where’s your phone?”

  “There.” Bennie pointed to the dresser.

  Sierra rushed over and grabbed it, but it was locked. “I need your passcode.”

  “5467.”

  She punched it in and typed Dalton’s name in the search. Luckily, it came right up. She called. It rang a few times, then went to his voicemail. A cold sweat broke across Sierra’s brow. “He’s not answering. Maybe I should call 911.”

  Bennie gritted her teeth, wincing in pain. “No, try him again.”

  Sierra tried a couple more times, frustration welling inside her. “He’s not answering.” Tears sprang to her eyes. It hurt to see her aunt in such a state. Bennie was coiled up tight, holding her knee, still moaning. “I’ve got to get you some help.”

  “Run over and get Dalton.”

  An incredulous laugh broke through her throat. “What?”

  “Now!” Bennie shouted, breaking into sobs. “I need him to take me to the Emergency Room.”

  “But 911’s faster.”

  She shook her head. “Too expensive. I don’t have good insurance.”

  Horror trickled down Sierra’s spine. In all the years Sierra had been away, she’d not thought twice about what type of insurance Bennie had. Aside from the income from the plays, Bennie taught piano and voice lessons. Of course she didn’t have good insurance. Sierra thought about the cushy policy she had through the ad agency, guilt slicing through her. “Okay,” she heard herself say. “I’ll go get him.”

  “Put something on first,” Bennie barked.

  Sierra pushed her hair out of her face. “What?” Then she looked down and realized she was only wearing a long t-shirt and underwear. “Oh, yeah.” She touched Bennie’s shoulder. “Will you be okay while I’m next door?”

  Bennie bit down on her lower lip, nodding. In the semi-darkness, Bennie’s face took on the look of a shriveled walnut, dented and bruised with age. Sierra’s heart pounded out a sickly beat. She had to hurry. Had to get Bennie to the hospital, even if that meant dragging Dalton’s butt out of bed.

  She squared her jaw, resolve crowding out uncertainty as she jumped into action. “I’ll be back soon,” she yelled over her shoulder as she darted out of the room.

  Please help Bennie, she prayed.

  The grass was wet under Sierra’s feet as she ran across the yard. Not wanting to waste time putting on shoes, she’d thrown on a pair of shorts and darted out the door. She shrieked and nearly fell when a prickly burr dug into the ball of her foot. She stopped only long enough to remove it and kept going.

  She punched Dalton’s doorbell, trying to figure out what she’d do if he didn’t answer. It then occurred to Sierra that she could drive Bennie to the emergency room. In all the commotion, she’d not thought about that. Crap! No, she couldn’t. There was no way she could lift Bennie, which is why Bennie wanted Dalton.

  She felt like a bedraggled fool standing out here in the middle of the night. What time was it anyway? Two or three in the morning? She jabbed the doorbell again and again, cursing under her breath. When that didn’t yield results, she pounded on the door. “Dalton! Open up!”

  Her panic was mounting to the point of frenzy as she continued knocking, frustrated tears pumping into her eyes. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she heard footsteps and then Dalton opened the door.

  He looked, then looked again. “Sierra?” he said, like he was talking to himself. His hair was messy, a crease running along his cheek like he’d been sleeping hard. She noticed again the hairline scar, tracing the edge of his jaw.

  She clutched her t-shirt. “Hey.” Her eyes trailed to his chest as she realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Wow! Sculpted pecs, flat abs carved from stone. Dalton had certainly not looked like this before. Heat blasted over her as she looked at his right bicep and saw that he did, indeed, h
ave a tattoo—two thin, parallel bands circling the radius of his arm. Her eyes flickered over his red boxer shorts and long, muscular legs.

  Maybe it was because of the dream she’d just had, but she felt again the intense desire she’d experienced earlier when his lips touched hers. Her pulse pounded like a rock band against her temples. She shook her head, clearing away the wretched thoughts. It was crazy how all of that could rush through her head in the blink of an eye, especially when she was worried sick about Bennie.

  Dalton cocked his head in confusion, then frustration masked his features. “What’re you doing here?” He looked her up and down, frowning in disapproval.

  “It’s Bennie,” she stammered. “Her knee. She’s in a lot of pain and needs you—us—to take her to the Emergency Room. I tried to call, but you didn’t answer.” The words spilled out and disappeared into the night air as she blinked rapidly to stay the emotion. Goosebumps rose over her flesh as she hugged her arms.

  Concern washed over him as he nodded. He pushed a hand through his hair. “I must’ve accidentally put my phone on silent.” He stepped back and motioned. “Come in while I get dressed.”

  “Hurry, she’s in bad shape.”

  Dalton’s head felt sluggish and too large for his body as he tried to fully wake up. When he first opened the door and saw Sierra standing on the steps, he thought he must be dreaming. But when she told him the bit about Bennie, he knew it was real. As they jogged side-by-side to Bennie’s mansion, he glanced sideways at Sierra. Even though her face was tight with worry, she was still beautiful, her milky skin reflecting the moonlight, her long red hair flying out behind her like flames.

  When they stepped inside the mansion, Dalton heard the groans. His heart dropped as he looked at Sierra. The look in her eyes reflected his own fears. This was bad!

  They rushed down the hall to Bennie’s room. For an instant, he stood paralyzed at the sight of Bennie rocking back and forth, her expression streaked with pain as she moaned. Sierra tugged on his arm.

  “Come on,” she urged, frustration lacing her voice. “I need you to help me get her up so we can take her to the hospital.”

  “Thanks for coming,” Bennie managed to utter, then drew in a halting breath.

  Dalton nodded. “I think I can carry her,” he said to Sierra.

  Sierra’s eyes rounded. “Are you sure? It wouldn’t be good to drop her.”

  “No, it wouldn’t,” Bennie said.

  Dalton was surprised that Bennie had joined the conversation, considering her pain level. “No worries. I’ve got you, Bennie. Put your arm around my shoulders,” he instructed as he lifted her. Bennie was still grimacing in pain—soft, intermittent moans issuing from her throat.

  “Grab my crutches,” Bennie said to Sierra. “And my purse.”

  Sierra nodded as she reached for the items. “Crap! I forgot. I’m driving that horrid van because of the accident.”

  “What accident?” Bennie asked, then groaned again.

  “Never mind that,” Sierra inserted quickly, looking at Dalton. “Maybe we should take your truck. Or your Camaro? Do you still have it?”

  “Of course.” He’d never get rid of the Camaro, but it was more of a collectible. Dalton tried to think. “I can put Bennie down on the couch and run and get the truck.”

  “No need,” Bennie grunted. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Sorry,” she breathed, wringing her hands. “It just hurts so badly.” Dalton’s stomach twisted, it was tough seeing Bennie this way. “We can take my car,” Bennie managed to say.

  As carefully as he could, Dalton put Bennie in the passenger seat and got behind the wheel. He looked in the rearview mirror at Sierra. “Which hospital?” There were three hospitals, all of them roughly twenty-five to thirty minutes away.

  “St. Thomas,” Bennie croaked.

  “Really?” Dalton hadn’t even thought about that one. It was a good fifty minutes away.

  “That’s where I want to go,” Bennie said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

  He looked at Sierra again, and she shrugged. “If that’s where she wants to go.”

  He started the engine. “St. Thomas it is.”

  Chapter 9

  When they arrived at St. Thomas, Dalton pulled along the curb next to the entrance. “I’ll get Bennie inside, if you’ll park the car,” he said.

  Sierra nodded. “Okay. Thanks,” she added dully.

  On the drive over, Bennie’s pain subsided a little, and she’d slept. Meanwhile, Sierra and Dalton rode in silence. Sierra hated this wall between them, hated that she was so dang awkward around him. She regretted being too much of a coward to open up a conversation about why she’d left him and gone to New York.

  Sierra rushed into the Emergency Room and glanced around the waiting room. It was empty. She stepped up to the window. “Hello, my aunt Bennie McCain was just brought in.”

  The lady nodded. “She was just taken back to a room.” She pressed a button, opening the white double doors. “Go on back. Take the first immediate right, and you’ll see her room.”

  “Thanks,” Sierra said, hurrying through the doors. She spotted Bennie’s room, saw Dalton sitting in a chair beside the bed. She rushed in, then stopped in her tracks when she saw a familiar face. “Hello,” she mumbled. He was one of Bennie’s friends who’d been at the mansion—the man whose name she couldn’t remember.

  He smiled in recognition. “Hi, Sierra.”

  “Hey.” What was the guy’s name? About Bennie’s age, he was average build and height with dark hair, thinning on top. He was dressed in blue nursing scrubs with white tennis shoes.

  She cocked her head. “You work here?”

  “Yes, I’m a nurse.” He turned his attention back to Bennie, giving her an affectionate smile. “I’m glad I was on call tonight. My shift was just ending when I saw Bennie come in.”

  Bennie’s lips formed a thin line as she smiled slightly. “Me too, Wesley. One minute I was sound asleep, and the next, the pain hit.” She shuddered. “It was terrible.”

  Wesley. Sierra committed the name to memory, taking an assessment of Bennie. She was still in pain, her face as white as the bedsheets. But at least she wasn’t moaning. Wesley patted Bennie’s hand. “You’re gonna be okay. The doctor will be in soon. What’s your pain level now?”

  “About a four or five. It was through the roof,” Bennie said. Her voice sounded weak and fatigued.

  Dalton nodded, his mouth forming a grim line. “Yeah, it was bad.”

  “Yes, it was,” Sierra agreed.

  Wesley touched Bennie’s shoulder. “Well, you’re in good hands now, love. I asked one of the nurses to give you something to take the edge off. She’ll be in soon.”

  “Thank you.” Bennie smiled, her cheeks taking on some of their normal color. “I knew I could count on you.”

  For a split second, Bennie looked like her rosy, vibrant self. It struck Sierra then that there was more than just friendship between them. No wonder Bennie had been adamant about coming here. She and Wesley were an item, and Bennie had to know he was working tonight. Well, at least one thing had worked out well. Now if the nurse could give Bennie something to help ease the pain and the doctor could shed some light on why it hit so suddenly, they’d be in good shape.

  Sierra stood there for a second, looking at the empty chair beside Dalton. She couldn’t very well stand here like an idiot, but she didn’t relish the idea of sitting next to him. Sheesh. Her cells would go into overdrive being that close. Bennie and Wesley were talking amongst themselves, but Dalton …. She realized he was watching her with an amused expression, like he knew how uncomfortable his presence made her. She lifted her chin and strode over to the chair beside him, ignoring the tingling sensation buzzing through her body.

  Dalton was wearing the same jeans and shirt from dinner. His hair was messy, but overall, he looked good. Too bad Sierra couldn’t say the same for herself. Her hair was stringy, and she didn’t hav
e on a speck of makeup. Her once-yellow t-shirt was faded to a bone color, and it swallowed her whole. She kept it because it was so comfortable to sleep in, never dreaming that she’d wear it out. If her roommate Juliette saw her now, she’d be appalled. Then again, Dalton was seeing her this way, which was a thousand times worse!

  An incredulous laugh bubbled in Sierra’s throat as she swallowed. Maybe she was still asleep and this was a nightmare. After all, the kiss had felt so real. Heat crept up her neck as she pulled at her collar.

  “Are you okay?”

  She flinched realizing Dalton was talking to her. “Me? I’m fine.” She rolled her eyes like he was an idiot for asking.

  His perceptive eyes flickered over her, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his lip.

  She ran a hand over her shirt. “What?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “Go ahead and say it.” She gave him a dark look. “I look like crap.”

  An easy laugh escaped his throat. “Those are your words.”

  She scowled. “Well, you were thinking it,” she said tartly.

  He turned to face her, a perplexed expression on his handsome face. “Does everything have to be a fight with you?”

  The question caught her off guard. “What?” Dang it! Why did he have to be so flipping attractive?

  Frustration settled into his eyes, turning them slate gray. “Ever since we first saw each other yesterday, you’ve been fighting me at every turn.”

  Had she? It was on her tongue to deny it, but she knew it was true. She’d gone on the offensive to deflect her attraction to him. Her shoulders sagged. “You’re right,” she said, surprised that she’d admitted it out loud. “I’m sorry.”

  His eyes widened in surprise. Then a smile stole over his lips, his dimples showing. It was the exact same expression he’d worn in her dream, the one that turned her insides to mush. “And contrary to what you said. You don’t look like crap.”

  “I don’t?” She blinked a couple of times.

  He chuckled. “No, you look kind of cute.”