Irresistible Knight

by Tierney O'Malley

  The mothers fussed over their babies. One by one, they crying stopped until the room was quiet again. From the other part of the room, a toddler fell flat on his face. He screamed like a banshee. The mother rushed to his side and kissed his face.

  “There, boo-boo's gone,” she whispered. The boy nodded and went back to playing.

  A mother's kiss. A quick cure to aches and pains. When Jean finds me, no cure in this world will heal the pain he'll inflict upon me. This time I bet he'll toss me back to Italy like he said he would if I tried to run away again. Living in Italy isn't bad, but I'm not going to leave until I'm sure Jean changes. I must save him.

  Taylor moved her foot and groaned from the pain that shot up to her calf and leg. In a hurry to get a cab so she could escape, she'd run on the cobbled street without a thought that she might break a heel. So when it broke, it caught her by surprise. Twisting her ankle, she'd landed hard on the ground. It was a good thing she was able to lean on her violin case, which somewhat broke her fall.

  Taylor grimaced at the sorry state of her sling-backed, four-inch high heels. The tips were scuffed, and one heel was loose like a tooth ready to come off any minute. Too bad her double violin case didn't have enough room for her shoes. She was barely even able to fit a change of clothes in it for one night. Taking another bag would have looked suspicious so she opted not to carry one. She should have put her toiletry bag in her purse. Oh, well. Later, she'd buy personal necessities.

  While on the ferryboat, she had changed into her green blouse with puffy short sleeves. It wasn't her favorite because she practically spilled out of it. Her hip-huggers felt tight, too. God, she must have gained weight since she bought these clothes last month.

  Cripes, she shouldn't think about her shoes and clothes. She should focus on her alibi when the doctor asked about what happened and why she came here in the children's clinic instead of a hospital or general practitioner. Well, she could try telling the doctor that another clinic was out of the question because the cab driver she hired after she got off the ferryboat said that this was as far as her cash could go. But how she injured her self? Taylor could say she was born a klutz.

  Oh, yeah. I knew my clumsiness would come in handy.

  Taylor shifted in her seat. Come on, what is taking so long? She didn't mind the wait, but sitting in the same room with sniffing children and one dirty, garbage smelly hobo guy wearing a nice pair of water stained black leather boots and what must be an expensive jacket—if she were to judge it based on the material—with a tear on the left arm wasn't good. Last thing she wanted right now was to catch a cold or flu.

  Hobo guy moved his foot. His white shirt and jeans, Taylor noticed, were filthy. One would think he had been in a fight, rolled around in muddy dirt and the only injury he received was the ugly red cut on his arm. Was the cut his reason for being here?

  Maybe he, like her, didn't want whomever he had a fight with to find him in the hospital. But she didn't hear him check in. He just walked in, sat down, and then went to sleep. Maybe he called in ahead of time. But then again, why come to a pediatric clinic? Taylor wondered if the man came here from Seattle, too, and like her hoped to find a hiding place on this beautiful San Juan Island.

  Taylor looked at the pair of legs stretched across the floor. She wondered what happened to him. Maybe he was in a bar fight last night, got knocked out, and woke up beside the garbage bin. However, with his frame, it would be difficult to do that unless the tosser possessed the same height and build. Funny thing though, despite the man's appearance and stench, the young receptionist practically swooned when he walked in. She said a breathy hi and then giggled. The poor thing turned bright red, making her pimples more visible. Surprisingly, the girl had managed to take her eyes off this—maybe over six feet tall—man who closely resembled a troglodyte. Long tangled hair, dirty clothes. Yeah, a caveman.

  The air stirred. Taylor got a whiff of the man's pungent smell. If it weren't rude to pinch her nose, she would have done so now. So she just tried to control her breathing until her chest felt like exploding. Sheez. Didn't this guy know he could infect the babies with whatever he was carrying? If a cockroach started crawling out of the man's jacket, she'd be out of there in a hurry. The hell with her broken ankle.

  Yew! I hate cockroaches.

  Too bad the waiting room was full, otherwise she'd sit somewhere else. The doctor here must be raking in dough. Good for him, but tough for her because she had to wait. Who knew how long it would take before the nurse called her name. Three mothers with wailing kids came in the same time she checked in. It was so loud and chaotic that she didn't even catch the doctor's name. Not that she was interested. All she wanted was for the doctor to give her something for the pain and put a cast on her ankle. There were two doctors here, but the receptionist named Cindy said Doctor Edmund with a last name she couldn't remember would see her. Whoever treated her would be fine with her.

  Jean had a private doctor at his beck and call. Taylor had never experienced waiting in a clinic's waiting room. She grew up having her own nanny and a nurse to tend to her without ever leaving her room if she were sick. Being a daughter of a rich congressman had its own advantages, but she'd exchange a bus for a limousine anytime.

  Wiggling her toes, she scanned the room. Looks like this clinic is the best in town. It's Toyland here. Whoever designed the waiting room had comfort and entertainment in mind. Kids and parents could wait here all day without complaint. Finding Nemo played on the twenty-four inch flat screen television, a small playhouse stood in the corner, and toys of all shapes, sizes, and colors were everywhere. Who wouldn't want to be here? Even the moms looked happy.

  She checked her time. Gad, she couldn't believe it. It had only been five minutes since she checked in, but it felt like hours. She'd give this doctor ten more minutes. After that ... no. She had to wait and make sure the doctor looked at her ankle. Then she'd move on to her next big problem—finding the cottage she saw online and calling the judge she found on Google. Based on the article she read, Judge Knight was honest and could not be bribed. She hoped so. If not, her escape effort and sprained ankle would be for naught.

  Big Foot shifted from his position. Taylor couldn't stop herself this time. She plugged her nose up.

  The boy playing with the pop-up book looked at her. “He's stinky.”

  “Pinch your nose like this and breathe through your mouth.”

  The boy did, but didn't exhale until his face turned bright red.

  Without removing the fingers pinching her nose, she told the kid to breathe.

  The kid laughed. “You sound funny. He's stinky and you're funny.”

  “Shhh, we don't want to wake him up,” Taylor whispered. “See his boots? They're huge because he is Big Foot. And Big Foot, when awakened, is a meany.”

  “Is he gonna eat me?” The boy's chin quivered and he began to whimper.

  Oh, dear. “Don't cry. He's not going to eat you.” Luckily, the nurse called the boy's name before he started crying. The boy's mom didn't waste any time grabbing his arm. The two followed the nurse in a hurry. Taylor was about to take the vacated seat, but one of the mothers sat the baby carrier on the chair.

  “Well, I'll just have to endure.”

  Big Foot must have had bionic ears because he slowly opened his eyes. They were red-rimmed, deep blue, and staring at her. He lifted one brow, then grinned.

  Taylor's heart turned over in response to his stare. Lordy, what beautiful eyes. Now that she'd seen his eyes, she began to see the rest of him past the dirty clothing. His legs were long like those of an athlete. The dirty shirt he wore showed his flat stomach and the contours of his chest. And his unwashed long hair, lord, long dark and curling at the base of his neck. Cripes, she was a sucker for wavy longhaired guys. No, except Fabio. His hair is thin and gross.

  All of a sudden, she didn't mind sitting across from him anymore. Big Foot, despite his appearance, was not bad looking at all. In fact, his compelling blue ey
es, rakish grin, confident set of his shoulders, and long thighs qualified him as a handsome man—in a rugged way. Her gaze lowered to his mouth. Not small and not too big either. Perfect for kissing. Enough to cover hers. Taylor decided she liked his mouth, too. If he didn't smell like month-old garbage, he would be perfect. She kept on staring. It was rude and she knew it. But she was staring for precautionary measure. In case Big Foot suddenly turned into a seven-foot handsome gargoyle, she could run out the door right away.

  A walking sin. Yes, that he was. Any man who had the ability to mesmerize, to stun, to muddle a brain and to make a woman's body tingle, must remain hidden in a religious residence. Especially this one. He was a temptation. Why, in a short time, he had her imagining wicked things about him. Like seeing him naked. Sparkly clean or not.

  The sexy lips began to smile. Taylor looked at him. Gad, how did she miss it? This man was the best of the best of the Abercrombie models. She bet he would look even better on the show, Dirty Jobs, wearing jeans splattered with mud, shirtless...

  The man's lips quirked up as if trying to stop his smile.

  Man, what great mouth you have.

  “Thinking about kissing me?”

  Taylor blinked in surprise. “What?”

  “I asked if you're thinking about kissing me.”

  “Kissing you?” Handsome maybe, but gentleman he wasn't. “Of course not. No, no. I was thinking more along the line of showers. We, I mean, you should ... in need of one.” Crap, brain. Work!

  “Ah, so you're having fantasies about us.”

  Taylor's cheeks burned. “What fantasies?” She was fantasizing seeing him naked, but not with her. So rude. If her feet weren't hurting, she would kick his shin.

  “Us. Taking a shower together.”

  “You're nuts. Are you sure, you should be in this clinic? Really, you obviously don't belong here. This place is for kids, therefore, conversations are rated G.”

  “I am a frequent visitor here.”

  “Why, are the doctors here using you as an example of what a dirty person looks like?”

  “No. But the doctors always tell the kids to eat their veggies so they would grow up as big, strong and handsome as me.”

  Taylor looked at the receptionist who kept glancing at the man with a dreamy look on her face. “The doctors here must be nuts to take you in as a patient since you're obviously over eighteen and arrogant.”

  “Arrogant?”

  “Not very many would call themselves beautiful or handsome.”

  “But I am handsome.” The man smiled showing his white straight teeth.

  “Says who?”

  “Can't remember their names.”

  “They must be blind.”

  “Man, I thought I'm hot.”

  “Hot is Christian Bale.”

  “Have you met him?”

  “Once. He said hi, I said hello. He smelled nice and ... well, his hair was kind of like yours, but clean.”

  “Tough competition.”

  “Very tough.” She picked up a Parenting Magazine, turned the pages without seeing the articles. Her mind focused on the man sitting across from her staring boldly as if she was some kind of an interesting movie.

  “Did you dream about kissing him the way you did when you were looking at me a minute ago?”

  “No.” She snapped the magazine closed. “And will you stop saying that I dreamed of kissing an icky, stinky, jerk like you. You still must be dreaming.”

  “Icky? You're no sparkling clean goddess yourself.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  * * * *

  “What happened to you? Looks like the Greek gods tossed you out of Olympus and landed on a barge full of garbage.”

  The woman's jaw slackened and her eyes grew rounder before they turned into slits to give him the I-will-strangle-you look he often got from his sister when he riled her. Bors couldn't help it. He laughed. Damn she was pretty. Who was this woman? Definitely not from here. He and his brothers knew all, if not most, of the hot woman in the area. But not this one.

  New in town? Must be visiting someone for a week. He glanced down at the black oblong shaped case sitting on the floor and then looked back at her charming face. Her scowl went deeper. Yeah, a visitor.

  Bors was used to charming women's panties with his smile. He'd never met one that didn't find him funny or handsome. Okay, he stank and he needed a haircut, but man, he was still a hunk, right? Apparently, not for this woman.

  If it weren't for the pain in his arm, he'd think he was dreaming of facing an angel: tempting curved mouth, thick dark lashes, exquisitely dainty nose, and dark brown-rimmed coffee eyes that reminded him of Starbucks Frappuccino. Her cheeks resembled a flush of sunset on snow with the most delicious light brown skin. Fucking beautiful.

  Her dark brown hair with flecks of gold hung carelessly over her shoulders. Windblown or finger-brushed? He didn't care. He could stare at her forever.

  She must be of a mixed race. Euro-American maybe. He couldn't tell. One thing for sure though, the woman was a freaking goddess. Her green top hugged her body. The design was meant to expose her shoulders, but he wasn't quite sure if the designer's intention was for her breasts to look ready to pop out. Not that he minded looking. The brown silk ribbon tied around her midriff emphasized the size of those perfectly molded tits. Man, she looked delectable.

  He'd had his share of women. In all honesty he liked them, enjoyed their presence, especially in the bedroom. He loved their womanly scent, their voice, their soft fingers and silky thighs. He particularly loved the look of a woman after sex. They glowed like fireflies at night.

  But this woman sitting across from him made him think of nice things. Wickedly nice things like licking ice cream off her lips, taking the first bite off a freshly baked brownie, lying naked on the grass with her sitting astride him, leaning forward with her hair touching his face, waiting for a hot and wet kiss; and the erotic feel of crisp sheets beneath him with her on top and again naked. His mind supplied the vision of what he would do to her and quickly overindulged. As quick as a finger snap, his body turned hot. His dick hardened. In a matter of minutes, he'd developed an intense lust for her, which to his estimation she didn't return. She looked annoyed and in pain. Bors looked down at her feet. One ankle was red and a bit swollen.

  The woman grimaced. “You're staring.”

  Bors shifted from his position. “I know. Can't help it.”

  “It's rude.”

  “Better than what I'm thinking right now.”

  The woman stuttered while she colored prettily. “What? Good God. A pack of buffoons must have raised you. Got to be. Lusting after a wounded woman ... unbelievable.”

  Her reaction was what he wanted. To invoke anger to take her mind off her foot. “Lusting? Who said anything about lusting?” You have no idea, baby.

  “You just said ... never mind.”

  “What happened to your foot?”

  “Twisted it. Now it's broken.”

  Bors looked at the woman's black shoes. They were scuffed, dirty, and one heel barely attached to the shoe. Despite the damage, the shoes looked new.

  “If I were you, I'd remove that darn thing. Hell, it looks useless to me.”

  “My foot?”

  Bors grinned. “Your one heel. It's broken.”

  “And walk without it.”

  “I would think it's better to walk without it.”

  “And you know that, how? You wore shoes with a missing heel before?”

  “No, but with your ankle red and swollen—”

  “Swollen? My ankle is perfectly fine.”

  “Wow. Sorry, I didn't know that's your ankle's normal size,” he remarked with sarcasm.

  “Please leave me and my ankle alone.”

  First, she was wounded. Now she was fine? A proud woman. Bors leaned forward without taking his eyes off the most amazing and beautiful dark green eyes he'd ever seen. She had eyes that spoke defiance, courage, intelligence, brevi
ty, and secrets. Yes, secrets. He'd seen enough pair of eyes to know. In his line of work, all he had to do was look at the person and he'd know if he or she was lying. And the woman sitting in front of him had eyes that betrayed her.

  Tristan and Edmund's admirers were mothers who'd take their kids to the clinic for minor cuts just to see the handsome doctors. But Miss I-Am-Fine here didn't have a child with her. She cradled her purse instead of a baby. “If you're fine, why are you here?”

  The woman glanced to her left, then to her right. Yup, not so good in keeping secrets at all, he thought.

  “To see the doctor.”

  “I know that.”

  “Okay, my foot hurts.”

  “Were you running away from a boyfriend you dumped, or was a mad woman after you because she caught you making out with her boyfriend?”

  “Your question is convoluted and highly devious. I shouldn't answer you, but I won't have you thinking you are right. For your information, I would never consort with a man who is already involved with another and I don't have a boyfriend to chase after me. And my swollen ankle, as you nicely put it, why I broke it is none of your business. So, just leave me alone. And why don't you just go back to sleep. You look tired.”

  With his body in full alert, no way he could go back to sleep. No boyfriend, huh? She must be one of those women who never dated a man without a tie or polished shoes. The delicious looking woman in front of him raised her chin a bit. Feisty. She might look rumpled, but damn, he loved staring at her.

  Her ankle looked swollen, but definitely not broken since she could still move her foot. Bors peered closer and made a move to touch the tip of her shoe to make sure. The woman made a low screeching sound of a trapped mouse, getting the attention of everyone in the room. Even the whiny kids stopped making noises.

  “For fuck sakes, woman. Normally, people scream when they feel the pain,” he whispered.

  “I am anticipating the pain,” she hissed. “And there is no need for you to swear. Kids around.”

  Beautiful, maybe, but she was a nutty. He leaned back against the chair again and studied the woman. Everything about her was expensive. Her matching sapphire earrings, ring, bracelet, necklace and shoes spelled money. Even her shoulder bag screamed dough. She looked like a shiny dime in a basket full of pennies. Trendy, smelled so nice, and agitated. Now, what was she doing here in a pediatric clinic?