Summer slowed her steps, asking her heartbeat to take its cue from them and do the same. But for some reason it only seemed to accelerate as she drew closer to the injured man. For God’s sake, what was the matter with her? Had it been so long since she’d seen a grown man’s naked torso up close and personal like this? Or was it just that it was this man’s body? This, after all, was Riley Grogan, her lawyer; the oh, so elegant man-about-town Riley Grogan, whose unclothed body she would never in a million years have expected to see.
Oh, God, especially not like this. Alone with him in hot, damp, shady woods that smelled like the dawn of time…his smooth, tawny skin-not suntanned so much as naturally olive-toned-shiny with sweat and speckled with blood, flecks of decayed leaves and bits of grass clinging to the dark hair that patterned his chest and torso, the muscles of his shoulders and belly taut and quivering…
“Well,” Summer said in a voice she had to struggle to keep steady, “you’re alive.” Riley opened one eye and regarded her morosely as she ducked under a limb of the magnolia. “Helen’s sure she killed you.”
He gave a short gust of laughter. “It’s a wonder she didn’t-damn near gave me a heart attack. Scared the…you-know-what outta me when she screamed like that. Thought for sure I’d got her with the damned clippers.”
“How bad is it?”
He hissed and said “Ouch!” when she lifted up an edge of the bloody shirt, then continued in an airless mutter as she bent over him and began to explore his scalp, combing through the soft, dark thicket of his hair. “Well, it rang my bell, that’s for sure. Must’ve opened a cut, because it’s bleeding quite a bit, but I think it probably looks worse than it is-sure did put the fear a’God into your daughter, anyway… Hey-” he drew back, laughing silently “-how come your hands are shaking? What kind of doctor are you, anyway?”
“An animal doctor,” she reminded him. “Hold still, please. I’m not used to working on humans.” His body was so hot she felt on fire…his scent burned like brandy in her throat.
“So, why don’t you just pretend I’m an animal?”
“Good idea-hold still, Rex…” And when he turned, his breath caressed her sweat-damp breasts like a cooling breeze…
“Rex? Ouch!”
“I told you to hold still. There now,” she said in a thickened purr as she restored the folded shirt to its original position and gave it a pat, “that’s a good boy…” She sat back on her heels, trembling inside. “That’s going to need stitches.”
Riley swore. “The hell it is-” He tried to rise, then sank back with a hiss of pain and swore some more. “Don’t know about my foot, though,” he said in a constricted, self-pitying voice. “Hurts like bloody hell.”
“Let me see.” Summer crawled along his side on her hands and knees, then scooted around to face him and lifted his injured foot into her lap. Carefully, she drew off the shoe and set it aside. Funny, she thought dazedly, how vulnerable feet are. Bare feet especially. Men’s feet…
She looked up at Riley, who had leaned forward to stare at the bluish-white, pigeon-egg-size lump on his instep. His eyes lifted to hers and held on. She couldn’t seem to look away from them, even while her fingers delicately manipulated the bones in his foot. His eyes were so close to hers she could see her tiny reflection in the black depths of the pupils.
“Well?” he asked in a cracking voice.
She licked her lips, then murmured, “The skin’s not broken-that’s good. Can you wiggle your toes?” He did so. She moved her hands over his arch-God, how hard it was not to make it a caress-and pressed. “Does this hurt?” He shook his head, and she could feel the faint stirring of air on her hot cheeks. She eased his foot carefully away from her lap and cleared her throat, not once but twice. “Okay, I don’t think anything’s broken. But you should probably have it X-rayed to make sure.”
“The hell with that,” Riley growled. “Help me up. A little ice…some Advil…I’ll be fine.”
She got quickly to her feet. “Can you stand on it?” He gave her a look, and a moment later, with her help, he did. “Do you want your shoe?” He nodded, and then held his breath against the pain while she knelt down and eased it onto his foot. And when she rose up again, making it seem like such a natural thing Riley couldn’t think of a way to avoid it, she’d somehow eased herself in under his arm and had taken some of his weight on her own shoulders.
She’s comfortable like this, he thought unhappily as they made slow progress up the wooded slope, through the shrubbery and across the lawn. This was her natural place-helping… doing for… taking care of… others. Always others
He found himself thinking about the other night in the FBI garage, how he’d enjoyed watching her work on his injured finger, and the way she’d seemed to forget herself and her womes for that brief time. And how intensely attracted to her he’d been. Now here he was, under very similar circumstances, and while he was finding her no less attractive-if anything, more so-he couldn’t seem to derive the same enjoyment from the situation.
To distract himself from the pain he was in, he let his analytical mind have a go at solving the puzzle, but couldn’t come up with any answers. Except to conclude that, while he had no problem with Summer Robey in the role of ministering angel, sometime between last Monday night and this Saturday morning he’d decided he did not like being the one she was ministering to. And what in the hell was that all about? God help him, he didn’t know. But something had changed.
It was obvious to Summer, when David intercepted them on the flagstone patio just outside Riley’s study, that he’d been looking for them. He looked upset, and uncharacteristically angry. And she thought, Uh-oh, now what?
Whatever he’d been angry about, he forgot it instantly when he saw Riley. His mouth dropped open in dismay and his brows drew inward, and he didn’t even seem to hear when Summer asked him about Helen. His eyes were huge and violet with anxiety as they clung to Riley, and his voice was hoarse as he asked, “Is he hurt bad, Mom? Is he gonna be okay?”
“I’m fine,” Riley growled, drawing himself staunchly erect. Shunning Summer’s help, he hobbled to the French doors. “Just a bruised foot and a little cut on my head-don’t know what your mother’s making such a fuss about.”
The worry didn’t leave David’s eyes, but he eagerly nodded. “Yeah, I know, sometimes she does that.” He lurched in front of Riley, clumsy as a puppy in his efforts to get to the French door first. “But…are you sure you’re okay?” he asked as he held it open for them. “Honestly? You look terrible. You got blood all over-”
“Looks worse than it is,” Riley cut in. “Trust me-I’ll live.”
Men, Summer thought. “Hey-” she said in a low voice as she clamped a hand on her son’s shoulder just in time to prevent him from dogging Riley’s heels right on into his study, “I want to know where your sister is-right now.”
“I don’t know!” David wiggled his shoulder impatiently out of her grasp. He threw an anxious look after Riley’s retreating back, then turned on Summer, the anger once again hot in his eyes as he hissed, “Mom, what if she really did hurt him, bad-huh? What if he gets mad at us? Then what?”
“David-”
“What if he tells us we can’t stay here anymore, Mom?” His voice was quivering, tears unbearably close. “It’s all Helen’s fault-it is. She just goes and does stuff, you know? What if-”
“That’s not going to happen.” Summer kept her tone brisk because she understood her son’s worry too well, and knew how dangerous gentleness would be just then-for both of them. She put her arm around her son’s thin shoulders and pulled him in for a quick encouraging hug as they walked together into the house. “Okay? Now-you know what you can do for Mr. Riley? Go and get a tray of ice out of the freezer-use the oven mitt so it doesn’t stick to your finger!” The last was a shout, as David was already halfway to the kitchen.
Summer went into the hallway and found it empty.
“Up here,” said Riley quietly.
He nodded and said gruffly, “That boy worries too much,” then he turned to continue his slow progress up the stairs.
Summer caught up with him near the top. “He’s trying to grow up too fast,” she said, slightly out of breath. But the ache in her chest had nothing to do with exertion. “Since his father left…”
Riley didn’t say anything, but she sensed a flinching withdrawal in him, as if he were an animal she’d touched in a sensitive spot, and too well-trained to bite.
Knowing that in those circumstances it was best to move as quickly as possible past the sore place, she said cheerfully, “David’s getting some ice. Cold compresses should help that foot. But I still think you ought to have that cut looked at. How long has it been since you had a tetanus shot?”
He threw her an irritable look. “I don’t need a damn tetanus shot Look-” as if regretting his retort, he held up a hand and took a calming breath “-if you think I’m going to spend my Saturday afternoon sitting in a hospital emergency room, you’re crazy.” And then, almost as a double-take, he added, “You’re a vet-why can’t you sew me up?”
Summer’s response was a close imitation of his, without the irritation. “I could, if I had the proper supplies. Look, if you think I’m going to put stitches in your head with a sewing needle and thread-and you a lawyer?-you’re crazy.”
He gave a short bark of laughter, then his face darkened again. “Well, I’m not going to the hospital.”
Summer almost smiled; he sounded so much like a balky little boy. Like David in a snit. Instead, she gave a put-upon sigh. “Lord above, you’re a stubborn man. All right, I guess I’ll have to see what I can do. Please tell me you at least have a first aid kit?”
He did, in the mudroom. David came clumping up the stairs just then, out of breath, eyes sparkling with his eagerness to help, so Summer took the ice tray and oven mitt from him and sent him back down for the first aid kit. Then she turned to Riley. “Okay, where do you want me to do this?”
“I don’t know-I guess the bathroom’s the best place.” He turned and marched down the hallway and through a doorway.
Hurrying after him, Summer found herself a moment later in another of those circumstances she would never in a million years have ever expected to be-in Riley Grogan’s bedroom. She had time only for brief impressions: the warmth of honey toned wood; soft green walls and furnishings in deep, mysterious blues, colors that were repeated in the Persian rugs and in the framed art-mostly watercolors-that hung on the walls. Somehow she knew they weren’t prints, not even the signed, limited-edition kind. It’s so like him, she thought. This room, like everything about him, was handsome and graceful, classy and elegant, well-ordered and…not impersonal, exactly, but… intensely private. Like everything about him. Except us. The children, the animals and me. We don’t belong here. We don’t fit.
Riley hobbled across the room without stopping. Summer followed him through a pair of open double doors at the far end, through a dressing room larger than most bedrooms, with walls lined with built-in shelves, drawers and closets in the same golden wood-no wonder he always looks so nice, she thought, trying not to stare-and into what was simply the biggest and most luxurious bathroom she had ever seen.
“My word,” she breathed, staring in frank awe at an enormous tile-enclosed whirlpool tub in a sky-lighted alcove filled with blooming orchids, “does it come with dancing handmaidens, too?”
“Of course,” said Riley, without missing a beat. “But I thought it best to give them all a vacation of unspecified duration-”
“-with pay, of course,” Summer chimed in with a nod and a wry smile. She looked around, hands on her hips. She thought, it’s like being inside his skin… His scent, the unique and indefinable man-smell along with touches of soap and aftershave, mingled with the residual dampness of his morning shower, seemed to hang in the air like fog. It was inescapable; it permeated her being with every breath she took.
“Okay, well… here, I guess-” she indicated the commode, lowered the seat and lid “-it may be tried and true, but it’s still the best place.” She looked Riley in the eye, gave the lid a pat and said firmly, “Rex-sit.”
He gave her a look and a snort of surprised laughter, but obeyed. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he remarked as he surrendered his shirt to her outstretched hand.
“Oh, yeah,” she said dryly. Okay then-this seemed to be the way to handle the situation-keep it light. Silliness and banter. Jokes. She could do this. With a shallow breath of relief, she dropped the shirt onto the floor and bent over him. “Okay, let’s have a look…”
Oh, how wrong she’d been. Light banter and silly jokes were no match for the wave of sensation that washed over her the moment she touched him. She’d doctored angry pythons and terrified pit bulls with steady hands and nerves of steel, dealt with traumatized horses and fighting, clawing cats without a qualm. So why, as she felt the damp silkiness of this man’s hair on her fingertips, was her heart in her throat and her belly filled with knots?
She had to ask him to bend down, but found that she could only whisper it. Why, when every inch of her seemed soaked in sweat, did her mouth feel dry as dust?
And instead of doing as she’d asked, Riley simply looked at her. Time stopped. Suddenly, for Summer, the world consisted of the busiest, noisiest silence she’d ever heard, empty of words but filled with booming pulses and humming nerves, crowded with unspoken messages, discoveries, declarations… denials. This can’t be happening!
But the thought was there in her mind, plain as day and delicious as sin, the same one she could see in the eyes that held hers in thrall with their hot, smoky look, intoxicating as whiskey. He wanted to kiss her. And she wanted him to kiss her. Oh, yes, she could see it in his eyes, in the pulse that throbbed at the base of his throat, in the sudden, reflexive tightening of his hands on his thighs; hear it in his quickened breathing; feel it in the heat that rose from him in almost palpable waves to envelop her like a wet towel. She could taste it-taste him-smooth skin over firm muscle, sweat-slick on her lips, salt on her tongue…the sweet, salty taste of a man’s sweat… Oh, God, it had been so long.
Her stomach knotted and coiled. Almost on a level with his ears! Would he hear it? She was trembling inside. If she touched him now, he would have to know!
“Mom! Mom, where are you guys?” Summer closed her eyes as sneakers squeaked on tile. “Oh, there you are. Is this it? I looked where you told me to and it wasn’t there, so I just looked around and…I found it.”
She turned to take the large metal box from her son’s proudly outstretched hands. “Yes, honey, thanks-that looks like just what we need.” Behind her she could hear Riley take a quick, deep breath and let it out, long and slow. Her own heart was racing like a panic-stricken rabbit’s, but her voice was calm, and her hands, she was pleased to note as she placed the first aid kit on the countertop and popped the latch, did not shake.
“Can I watch?”
“No, you may not. What you are going to do, young man, is go and look for your sister. Now. You got that? And don’t come back until you’ve found her.”
David addressed an unhappy “Yes, ma’am” to his shoes.
Riley watched as Summer took the boy’s face in her hands and tilted it up for a quick kiss, then turned him around and gave him a firm but gentle push toward the door. And he felt a familiar ache forming like sickness in his chest
He heard her take a quick breath as she turned back to the counter and the box of first aid supplies. “Well, now, let’s see what we’ve got.”
She kept her eyes averted, he noticed, carefully avoiding looking at him, or at her own image in the mirrors that stretched the whole length of the counter. There were mirrors behind her, too, and Riley watched her without her knowledge as
she sorted through the kit, taking out what she needed and setting it carefully aside on the tile. He studied her angular, almost patrician profile, noticing the way her hair grew in a cowlick on one side of her forehead and gave her face a quirky, slightly asymmetrical look; noticing that when she wore it pulled up in a ponytail like that, it showed darker, almost doe-brown underneath, with streaks of sun-yellow above; noticing the soft tendrils of drying hair that wafted around her temples and along her neck. Oh, she did have a lovely neck…
Once she raised her head, tilted it slightly but without looking directly at him and murmured, “Cotton swabs?” Distracted, he indicated the drawer he thought the most likely, and she nodded and went to look, giving a nod and a satisfied “Ah” when she found them.
She turned to the sink then, and Riley went back to studying her while she turned on the water and let it run hot, pumped liquid soap and worked it into a lather, which she slathered all the way up above her elbows. She had long, firmly toned arms…strong, broad shoulders…supple back…slender waist.
Thank God, he thought, she wasn’t ever going to know how close he’d been to putting his hands on that waist, spanning that firm and supple back and, if she was willing, pulling her down astride him right there where he sat. And if he was lucky, she was never going to know how much he still wanted to do that very thing, or guess that even now he could feel the weight of her smooth-muscled thighs pressing on his, feel the moist heat of her body soaking through his old shirt…imagine himself opening it, and the slick-slippery meeting of her breasts with his chest…the slap of her belly against his…the taste of her mouth, the feel of those supple, mobile lips moving under his…the ripe-peaches smell of her hair…and her hands, those strong, no-nonsense hands making imprints in the muscles of his back…
One Summer’s Knight Page 14