by Julie Miller
Rachel’s eyes snapped open. The gentle weight on her shoulder was a man’s hand. And she wasn’t bundled up in her bed. She was wrapped in her wool coat, dozing in the cab of Josh Tanner’s snazzy red pickup.
A jolt of adrenaline shot through her, waking every nerve ending and snapping her back to rationality. Oh God. How could she have dropped her guard like that? No wonder Daddy had been able to slip her that note. No wonder David Brown and his thugs could sneak up on her. Self-preservation instincts that had seen her through troublesome patients, a rebooted career and a painful divorce seemed to have shorted out.
She sat up straight and shrugged, shaking loose the caring prod of Josh’s hand. “I guess I fell asleep.”
“No problem.” His wolfish smile beamed clear across the bench seat between them. “It’s one in the morning. You’re probably needing extra sleep, anyway.”
“When I can get it. This little girl has a sleep schedule all her own.” The baby stretched, right on cue, jabbing her foot into the tender spot near Rachel’s ribs. She pressed her hand to her side and moaned. “There she goes again.”
“Must be playtime.”
“Must be.” Rachel grinned, telling herself she was being appreciative of the knowledge that she’d been in safe hands on her ride home, and wasn’t succumbing to the boyishly charming effect of Josh Tanner’s easy smile.
Her ex-husband, Simon, had possessed a smile like that. Along with a worldly intellect and cultured speech. Coal-black hair and bright-blue eyes. She’d fallen under his spell easily enough. Unfortunately, so had a dozen other women.
“You said before it’s a girl,” Josh commented.
Rachel nodded, cradling her precious cargo. She gladly switched from thoughts of Dr. Simon Livesay to her favorite topic. “At my age, I’ve had to take some extra precautions with my pregnancy. During one of the amnio tests I found out I was having a girl. I’ve already decorated her room, in shades of peach and pastel blue.”
“What do you mean, your age? You can’t be that old.” In the light reflected by streetlamps and snow, she could see the flush of color creep into his cheeks. “Sorry. I know you’re not supposed to talk about a woman’s age.”
“Something else you learned from your mother?”
He shook his head. “Something I learned in the trenches. If you want to make an impression on a lady, age and weight are two taboo subjects.”
“I’m thirty-seven.” She made the admission with a touch of fatalism. Like a warning. Maybe speaking their age difference out loud would be enough of a reminder that Josh Tanner’s old-fashioned chivalry and state-of-the-art charm were of no concern to her.
“Just right.”
Oh God. Couldn’t her student see that he was wasting that smile on her?
He turned off the engine and dropped the keys into his pocket. “C’mon. I’ll walk you inside.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“For me, it is.”
With that, he climbed out and walked around the front. Even hunched down against the cold, he was a big man. Tall and golden and young. Too young and off-limits for her hormones and used-up girlhood dreams for her to be sitting up and taking notice of his broad shoulders and long stride.
And good manners.
His mother had taught him well.
Rachel had fished her keys out of her pocket by the time Josh opened the door for her. He offered a supportive hand as she clutched her bag and climbed out. She held on to him just long enough to find her balance on the freshly graded pavement. Then, before the solid strength of his forearm could imprint itself on her fingertips, she hurried toward the four-story brownstone across the street.
A blast of cold air hit her in the face, making her pick up her pace. Josh locked up and quickly fell into step behind her, near her right shoulder, blocking the worst of the moist arctic chill that blew in from the north.
With her key she opened the foyer door to her building. Normally, she would have stopped to pick up her mail. But there had been nothing normal about her evening, so she headed straight to the stairs. Josh had shown himself to be too much of a gentleman to leave before he’d seen her to her condo.
He waited until the entryway door had closed, then jimmied the knob himself to double-check that it was locked before he followed her upstairs. Taking the stairs two at a time in a long, easy stride, he caught up with her on the landing.
If the cold air hadn’t shocked all thoughts of sleep out of her system, then her awareness of the big, golden Sir Galahad who followed in her footsteps certainly did. He had charged out of the darkness and put his life at risk to save her from three drunken bullies.
Her conscience told her she owed him something.
But thirty-seven years and a strict departmental policy about faculty fraternizing with students warned her she had no way to repay him.
So when she unlocked her condo at the end of the hallway, she turned in the open doorway to say good-night. “Thank you, Josh. I—”
Her keys slipped from her hand and landed with a thunk on the polished wood floor. She stooped to retrieve them, but Josh was already there.
She heard the hiss of pain from between his teeth as he straightened up. She saw the grimace before he masked his expression with a smile.
Rachel snatched the keys from his outstretched hand and tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. “You said it was just a bruise.”
Thirty-seven years and departmental policy be damned.
She pulled Josh into her condo and closed the door behind them.
Chapter Four
Josh Tanner seemed to swallow up all the room inside Rachel’s refurbished condo. Even after she’d taken his jacket and invited him into the high-ceilinged living room, his presence dominated the place.
Maybe she’d been on her own too long, had kept to herself too much since making the decision to have the baby. She hadn’t even invited any of her colleagues over, once the nesting instinct had kicked in and she’d redecorated the place from top to bottom. Now that she finally had company, the home that had seemed just right for a single mother and her child had grown way too small.
Or maybe it was Josh himself who made her homey condo feel suddenly too cozy, derailing her weary body’s attempts to remain emotionally detached from her rescuer.
All the fresh, feminine details of lace pillows, floral upholstery and pale yellow walls she’d chosen to decorate her ladies-only haven seemed to highlight the masculine details of her unplanned guest.
He was a handsome study in leather and denim and muscle. A dangerous mountain of strength and energy. A golden sheen of late-night beard growth hugged his neck and jaw above the brick-red sweater he wore. His electric-blue eyes sparkled with an apologetic expression as he situated himself on one of the love seats. The soft, faded denim of his jeans cupped and cradled each hard muscle of his long thighs as he continued to shift back and forth in his seat, as though worried the glazed chintz was no match for his considerable size and weight.
The tight pinch of his mouth as he reached behind him to rescue a crushed gingham pillow finally shook her from her fascinated stupor. She’d been trained to study people’s expressions and reactions. And though he remained silent, Josh’s face broadcast a hidden pain.
“I’ve had some first-aid training.” She took the pillow from his hands and tossed it onto the opposite love seat. “Better let me take a look.”
She pushed aside a stack of books and sat on the edge of the weathered oak coffee table across from him. Spreading her legs apart to accommodate the curve of her belly, she leaned forward and tugged at the hem of Josh’s sweater. But her outstretched fingertips couldn’t get a good grip from this distance. She leaned farther. He inched forward. Their knees bumped.
“Sorry.”
Rachel scooted her leg aside, but his knee brushed along the inside of her thigh. Solid muscle and soft denim caught in the nap of her corduroy leggings and pressed into the tender skin beneath, giving her a stroke o
f pure electricity that arced up her leg into the very heart of her.
For an instant their eyes locked as if he’d been stunned by the same bolt of electricity.
“Oops.” The deep voice sounded more teasing than apologetic.
Rachel almost laughed in response. Almost. Horrified to feel herself falling under his charming spell, she tore her gaze from his and jumped to her feet.
Her intention was to put a polite distance between them. But when she turned to scoot the coffee table back, she stepped on his oversize boot and stumbled. Her long legs tangled with his. He reached out to steady her. But in a humiliating attempt to assert her independence, she pushed his hand away, awkwardly shifting her center of balance. She toppled to one side. She felt Josh’s hand at her hip, but it was too late. She landed with an unceremonious plop in the middle of his lap.
Out of pure reflex, she pushed against his knee and shoulder, trying to stand.
“Easy, Doc.”
A wheezing gasp echoed deep in his chest. His arms wrapped around her like twin vises, anchoring her in place. Rachel froze. She’d hurt him.
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded, but the grim tightness at the corners of his mouth wasn’t a smile. “Gimme a minute.”
In that minute’s time, Rachel held herself still, riding the slow, guarded rise and fall of his chest as he breathed through the pain of whatever injury he’d sustained.
In that minute’s time, her body noted with stunning clarity the masculine details of his body. The way her bottom cradled intimately between his steely thighs. The way the heat of his body warmed hers. The way his mouth was centered with chiseled perfection beneath the straight, proud line of his nose. The way the smells of leather and winter lingered on his skin.
The way every feminine instinct in her body longed to answer those masculine details in some very elemental way.
Barely daring to breathe for fear of aggravating his injury, she whispered, “I didn’t do that on purpose.”
“I know.” A healthy color returned to his pale lips as he began to breathe more easily. He loosened his grip at her shoulder and gave the spot a gentle massage. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
A muscle at the small of her back cramped with jealousy at the tender, healing stroke of Josh’s hands. She needed to get out of this tempting position. Now. Before she did something stupid like burrow against his chest or press her lips against the bold line of his jaw that hovered in front of her eyes.
“You didn’t hurt me. Is it okay if I move now?”
His hands stopped their massage. His bright eyes clouded over. “Sure. Just don’t push against my left side.”
Nodding, Rachel swung her feet toward the floor. But they didn’t quite reach because she was wedged between Josh’s legs. With her knees hooked over his thigh, she tried to pull herself up. But scooting uphill against the weight of the baby proved an impossible task. She reached behind her and pushed at his thigh, but that only thrust her up against his chest.
And here she was trying to avoid that type of contact!
Pushing against his torso wasn’t an option. Feeling an embarrassing similarity to a beached whale, Rachel swallowed her pride. “A little help, please?”
Josh slipped his hands beneath her and lifted her as if she weighed no more than one of the throw pillows. As soon as she stood squarely on her feet, he released her, though she could still feel the brand of his hands on her bottom.
She shouldn’t be feeling tinglings of awareness or rushes of pleasure, should she? She was old enough to be his big sister or his aunt, even his mother. She should be feeling maternal, not romantic. She should be feeling pregnant. Not…aroused.
“Oh God.” She pressed a cool hand to her flushed cheeks.
“You’re sure you’re all right?” he asked.
No, she’d have to answer if she was being truly honest. I’m hot and flustered and feeling hornier than any thirty-seven-year-old pregnant woman has a right to be. But in this instance, honesty didn’t seem like the best policy. Summoning the noncommittal smile that she’d worn through countless patient interviews, she chose a different answer. “You’re the injured party. I invited you in to doctor you up. Now, let’s have a look.”
“I’ll get it.” He reached for the hem of his sweater and lifted it. But when his left arm stretched above the plane of his shoulder, he swore. He crushed the material in his fist and clutched his elbow protectively to his side.
“This is ridiculous,” Rachel said, admonishing her own foolish hang-ups as much as Josh’s effort to do the impossible.
The man was hurt. It was her fault. And now she was being so self-conscious about the possibility of impropriety that she wasn’t even helping him.
Letting a choice word of condemnation slide from between her own lips, she pushed his knees apart and knelt on the floor in front of him.
“Doc—”
Before he could utter one more polite apology, she had his left arm pulled from the sleeve of the sweater and was untucking his black T-shirt from his jeans. Taking care to keep his left elbow well below his shoulder, she undressed the left side of his body, pushing both shirts up beneath his right arm and draping the excess behind his shoulder.
“Oh my God.” For a moment, Rachel sank back onto her haunches. “He caught you with the tire iron.”
“Tell me about it. It hurts a little.” He managed a grin, though she suspected it was all for show.
“That hurts more than a little.”
Way more than a little. She brought the lamp from the end table closer and inspected the damage. A slender welt the length of her foot had raised itself along Josh’s flank. At the center of the swelling, the skin had already turned a deep bloodred. The bruising webbed outward in fingers of blue-black and dark purple. The discoloration marred the taut skin of his belly and disappeared up beneath the burnished hair sprinkled across his pectoral muscle.
Rachel touched her fingers to the wound. She grimaced an apology at Josh’s sharp intake of breath, but continued to inspect the swollen, feverish skin to ascertain the depth of damaged tissue and whether or not he had sustained any internal injuries.
“Looks like bruised ribs. If I were you, though, I’d get an X-ray in the morning. For tonight, I can wrap it to give you some external support and take the pressure off the muscles around your rib cage. It should make breathing easier.”
“I’ll do that when I get home.”
“How? You could barely turn around to save the pillow.”
Rachel looked up and found herself bathed in a watchful gaze of vivid electric blue. Josh’s eyes had an almost catlike quality to them, seeming to glow from the inside out. In a brief flight of fancy, she imagined those eyes peering into the dark and seeing things no mortal man could. Her longing for a home and family. Her determination to succeed on her own merits and not her ex-husband’s name. The need inside her to believe she was special enough and sexy enough and woman enough to be loved.
The woman Josh Tanner loved would know his feelings with a single look. The unabashed intensity of that gaze reached out to Rachel like the caress of his hand. It quickened her pulse. Soothed her misgivings about helping him.
He incited all sorts of soft, womanly yearnings with that gaze, making her feel female and pretty and ten years younger, with just a look.
A sharp pain in the tender tissue beneath her own ribs broke the spell, and soft, womanly yearnings gave way to one of the painful realities of impending motherhood. “Ow.” Automatically, she pressed the flat of her hand to the sore spot just below the juncture of her left breast and round belly, urging the baby to move her foot. “We’re quite a pair.”
“Is something wrong with the baby?” A shadow darkened those bright-blue eyes.
Rachel smiled and pushed herself up via the coffee table and Josh’s knee, daring her hormones to ignore the potent combination of soothing comfort and sizzling awareness that touching this particular man seemed to trigger in her. “W
e’re fine. She just decided to move. I have a clean old sheet I can tear up and some stretch gauze to cover the wrap.”
She’d barely turned when he grabbed her wrist. “I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“Please, Mr. Tanner—” she extricated herself from his sure yet gentle grip “—Josh. You put your life on the line for me and my baby tonight. The least I can do in return is to rip up an old sheet.” Rachel cringed as a thought hit her. She rubbed at the cramp in her back, seized with a sudden ache that had more to do with her abused heart and ego than with any baby pain. Maybe Josh’s polite reticence to accept her help had nothing to do with his mother’s bang-up job of raising him. What if her inept attentions were embarrassing him? “I’m sorry. Maybe you have someone at home you’d rather have help you.”
Like a girlfriend. A live-in lover. Or—even though he sported all the signs of bachelorhood—a wife.
Josh smiled. There was something more like calm reassurance than charm in this particular version of his megawatt grin. “Not unless I go home to Ma. And she’d have a cow if I showed up with a bruise this size.”
“So would a girlfriend.” She was such a glutton for punishment. Simon’s last conquest had been about Josh’s age. The final “other woman” Rachel had endured had shared Josh’s youth and vigor. She’d felt old and worn-out by comparison. But the rational side of her continued to push the point. Was Josh Tanner attached to anyone?
He shook his head. “I live solo in my bachelor pad, Doc. I have ever since I turned twenty and moved out of the house.”
Which must have been all of two or three years ago, she mused. Though back in that abandoned parking lot, and just now when he’d held her, Josh had seemed much older than his student status would indicate.
“It’s settled, then. I’ll repay your chivalry by bandaging your wounds.”
“Sounds medieval to me.”
Rachel grinned to herself as she walked to the linen closet in the bathroom. She could certainly picture Josh Tanner in a suit of armor, charging in on his noble steed.