“Both dead.”
She looked sympathetic. “I’m sorry. My dad died when I was young, but my mom’s still alive. She taught me everything I know about bartending because that’s how she supported us. She makes the best gin martini in the good old U. S. of A. Probably in the world. She also taught me how to fight when the situation called for it.”
Her ability to fight had been apparent to Darin when she’d taken on Birkenfeld in the alley. At least he was somewhat assured she could handle herself during a dangerous situation—but only to a point. He would make certain she was not faced with that prospect again—all the more reason for him to make a quick exit from the apartment and her life.
A bark and a whine came from the room at the same time the knock sounded, saving Darin from having to answer questions of a personal nature. He had already revealed more to her than he should.
When he started to stand, she pointed a finger at him and said, “Don’t get up. It’s just Peg.”
“Make certain before you open the door,” Darin cautioned. “Birkenfeld could have followed us.”
She frowned. “And I’m so sure he would be polite enough to knock before he kicked down the door.”
When Fiona walked to the entry, Darin withdrew his gun from the discarded holster on the table and laid it on his lap. He, too, greatly doubted that Birkenfeld would knock, but he intended to be prepared for anything, although he had not been prepared for this woman named Fiona.
He questioned his wisdom in spending the night with her—a woman who had sparked his imagination and effectively lowered his guard, something that could prove costly if he did not practice more care. Yet the prospect of giving her one night of pleasure beyond the limits caused his body to stir to life once more. He was in no shape to chase after Birkenfeld tonight, but he wasn’t totally incapacitated. Despite his caution and his wounds, he would most gladly make love to her in ways she would not soon forget.
But only if she agreed to the terms. No ties. No emotional entanglement. No promises. Whatever happened between them during those hours between dark and dawn would be solely up to her.
Tomorrow he would return to his solitary existence where nothing mattered beyond the mission. He had no need for a permanent relationship—even though at times he longed for that very thing.
Fiona peeked through the peephole to see fifty-something Peg standing on the threshold dressed in baggy red-heart-spattered white pajamas, her brown hair shooting from her scalp like frizzy fireworks. “It’s her,” she told Scorpio without turning around.
She opened the door only far enough so she could slip outside to join her neighbor on the porch, closing the door behind her. “That was fast.”
Peg held up a brown bag. “This is what I had on hand. A few butterfly closures, gauze wrap and tape and some antibiotic samples. I wasn’t about to go traipsing down to the clinic this time of night and risk setting off the alarm.”
Fiona took the bag and looked inside. “Thanks, Peg. You’re a jewel, as always.”
“So where is it?” Peg asked.
“Where is what?”
“Your cut?”
“I don’t have a cut.”
She nodded toward the bag clutched in Fiona’s hand. “Then who is that for?”
“A friend.”
Peg frowned. “A friend? Fiona, you better hope your ‘friend’ isn’t allergic to penicillin. I don’t want to be responsible if they go into anaphylactic shock. I could lose my job.”
“I’ll be sure to ask him.”
Peg’s wide smile farther inflated her dumpling cheeks. “Him? You got a man in there?”
Boy, Fiona had really done it now. “Yes, and don’t start making assumptions.”
Before Fiona could issue a protest, Peg stepped to one side on the porch and peered into the picture window through the break in the curtains. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide. “You have a half-naked man with a gun on your couch!”
“He has his gun out?” Fiona moved behind Peg to confirm that fact.
Peg turned, alarm in her blue eyes. “Is he holding you hostage?”
In a manner of speaking, at least her libido. “Of course not. I would’ve called the police. In fact, he is the police, working undercover.” And she could imagine how well he would work under the covers. “That’s why he has the gun. He got into a fight at the bar and he doesn’t want to blow his cover by going to a hospital.”
Peg turned back to the window. “Impressive gun. Impressive guy. How well does his other pistol work?”
Fiona took Peg’s pudgy arm and pulled her back around and away from the window. “This is not what you think, Peg.” Unfortunately.
Peg smirked. “Are you sure the sex didn’t get a little wild and you clawed him?”
“In my dreams.”
“Well, if I were you, I’d make those dreams a reality. You’re already halfway there. You got him naked.”
“He got himself naked.”
Peg shrugged. “A minor point. Now all you have to do is get yourself naked and climb onboard the temptation train.”
“Don’t be obtuse, Peg. He’s beat-up. He’s not interested in sex.”
Peg released a metal-scraping laugh. “And don’t be stupid, Fiona. I don’t know one man who would let a little cut stop him from having sex.”
“It’s not a little cut, Peg. It’s three cuts, and one’s pretty bad. That’s why I need you to take a look, as long as you promise not to ask any questions.”
“I promise.”
“And no snide remarks.”
“I’ll try,” she said with less conviction.
Fiona opened the door and Peg followed close behind her. Scorpio was still sitting on the couch, the throw now wrapped around his waist. Fortunately, he’d put the gun back in its holster.
Fiona gestured at Peg and said, “Frank, this is my neighbor, Peggy Jones. She’s going to see what she can do about your cuts.”
Scorpio nodded at Peg. “I would be grateful for your aid.”
Peg elbowed Fiona aside and plopped her hefty frame next to Scorpio. “No problem. Now show me where it hurts.”
He lifted the throw, exposing his thigh to Peg’s scrutiny. “This isn’t going to do,” she said, and began ripping away the bandages. Fiona figured the poor guy’s thighs would be stripped of hair before Peg was done with him, yet Scorpio’s expression remained impassive. Obviously, he had a high pain threshold.
After Peg closed the wound with the sturdier strips she’d brought with her, she said, “Okay, that’s one down, two to go. Where are the others?”
“The cut on his side isn’t that bad,” Fiona said. “He has to turn over for you to see the worst one.” She immediately regretted her words when Peg sent her a devilish look. “It’s on his ankle.”
Peg stood. “Okay, Frank. Roll over and let me see.”
After Scorpio complied, again burying his face on his folded arms, Peg sat down on the sofa and rested his foot in her lap. The look she sent Fiona this time was void of humor and full of concern. “This is pretty nasty. I’m not sure the strips are going to hold it all that well. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve nicked a tendon.”
Scorpio glanced back at her. “Do what you can. I will manage.”
“You might manage to get one hell of an infection,” Peg said. “But you don’t need to walk on it for at least two days, if you live that long.”
Scorpio’s face showed no sign of fear. “I assure you I will live.”
“He’s had worse injuries,” Fiona added, apparent from the jagged scar on his back.
Peg sealed the slash the same way she had his thigh, then wrapped it tightly in gauze. After she was finished, she patted the back of his calf as if he were a child. “Okay, sugar. We’re all done here. Don’t blame me when you get gangrene.” She stood and stared down on him. “Are you allergic to penicillin?”
Scorpio resumed a sitting position, careful to keep the throw bound around his waist. “I have
no allergies.”
“Good.” She dug in the bag and handed Fiona the box of samples. “Give him two of these a day for seven days. If he spikes a temp, get him to the hospital.”
“I’ll try.” Fiona figured she would probably have to call in the cavalry to convince Scorpio to cooperate. Besides, she doubted he’d be around for more than one day, much less seven.
“I am grateful for your assistance, Ms. Jones,” Scorpio said.
Peg sent him a sunny smile. “Oh, you’re welcome. My husband and I would love to have you and Fiona over for dinner.”
“He’s leaving soon,” Fiona added before Peg had the opportunity to suggest she help pick out the wedding cake. “Isn’t Walt waiting for you?”
Peg kept her gaze locked on Scorpio, laid a palm over her liberal chest and giggled like a schoolgirl. “Walt’s my husband.”
Scorpio’s smile seemed strained but sincere. “He is a very lucky man.”
Oh, brother, Fiona thought as she took Peg’s arm, turned her toward the door and guided her outside. She pulled the door closed when Peg kept trying to look inside. “Thanks bunches, neighbor. I owe you a lot for this.”
Peg patted Fiona’s cheek. “Yes, you do, sugar. And you owe yourself to get to know that one a whole lot better. He is one fine specimen.”
Fiona couldn’t agree more. “He’s a friend, Peg. Just a friend.”
“Sure, Fiona. And I’m too old to have sex.” Peg glanced in the direction of her apartment. “Which reminds me. I left Walt in bed and almost in the mood. If I hurry, maybe he won’t be in REM sleep yet. If he gets that far, I can forget about getting some action.”
Wonderful. Peg and Walt, and probably Benny Jack and his date, were all going to have sex, and Fiona was having a hard time getting Scorpio to smile at her. “By all means, go and rouse Walt.”
“Okey-dokey. And you go and rouse the hunk.”
Peg pivoted on her furry pink slippers and headed down the walkway while Fiona pushed back into the apartment, closing and locking the door behind her.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” She bypassed Scorpio and went into the kitchen to draw a glass of water so he could wash down the antibiotics. On afterthought, she retrieved a bottle of pills she’d had filled following a little incident in the bar where she’d intervened in a brawl between two regulars. Who would have thought that a seventy-year-old senior would have packed such a powerful right hook? Fiona’s jaw had learned that lesson the hard way.
The bottle was almost full since she’d only taken one of the painkillers that had basically rendered her brainless. Scorpio would need something for pain in order to sleep, whether he cared to admit it or not. She shook one pill from the bottle as directed, then took out one more. Considering his size, he probably needed two to garner any relief.
Fiona strode back into the living room and offered him the glass of water and the pills housed in her open palm. “Here. These will make you feel better.”
He eyed the capsules with disdain. “I do not see the necessity.”
“Well, I do. One will thwart infection, the other two are for pain.”
“I’m experiencing minimal discomfort. At least in the vicinity of my wounds.”
Obviously he considered her a pain in his posterior. Too bad. “These will ensure you won’t have any pain at all, at least tonight. You’ll sleep like a baby.”
He nailed her with his fathomless black eyes. “And if I refuse?”
Of all the obstinate men. Good thing he was cute, otherwise she’d toss him out. “Then I’ll do to you what I do with Lottie. Grab your jaws and shove the pills in the back of your mouth, then rub your throat until you swallow.”
“You are determined to persist in this matter?”
“Yes, I am. So be a good boy and take them.”
Releasing a frustrated sigh, he slid the pills from her palm, put them all in his mouth then swallowed the water. Fiona decided that even the bob of his Adam’s apple was sexy. If only she had the courage to proposition him, as Peg had suggested, but she didn’t. Not tonight. After all, he was wounded, and regardless of Peg’s assertions that injuries wouldn’t stop a man’s ability to perform, Fiona was hard-pressed to believe it. Besides, tomorrow he would probably be gone. She’d never had a one-night stand. No need to start now.
Oh, well. Easy come, easy go.
“Open your mouth,” she demanded. “I want to take a look and make sure you swallowed them.”
“Do you not trust me?”
“Not exactly, so let me see.”
With lightning speed, he clasped her wrists and pulled her forward between his parted legs. She planted her palms on his shoulders to keep from toppling into his lap, although that didn’t seem like a totally abhorrent prospect. “How will you know for certain by using only your eyes?” he said in a deep, persuasive voice. “I could be hiding them.”
“They would’ve dissolved by now.” Her voice sounded like a rusty wheel.
“Perhaps, or perhaps not.”
“Are you going to force me to pry your jaws open and put my hand in your mouth?”
His near-black eyes looked bedroom drowsy. “I would prefer you not put your hand in my mouth, but I would be open to other suggestions.”
“I’m not quite sure I’m following you here, Scorpio.”
He clasped the back of her head and pulled her closer, his lips only a fraction from hers. “You have other means to conduct a search.”
Was he giving her an open invitation to engage in a little tongue tango? That’s what she thought he was doing, but she’d been wrong before. Better safe than really sorry. “You want me to do a little mouth-to-mouth expedition?”
“If you wish to know for certain, I see no other recourse.”
Whew, boy. Peg had been right on. A near-death experience had done nothing to quell his manly urges. Or maybe it was the drugs. “Those pills are obviously doing their job if you want to kiss me.”
“I have found your mouth quite fascinating from the moment we met. And since we are obviously stranded together for the evening, I propose we enjoy each other’s company.” His eyes closed, then slowly opened. “If you are willing.”
Noting his words were somewhat slurred, she’d be darned if she’d do this with him when he was under the influence of painkillers. “We don’t know each other.”
“I know that you are a beautiful woman.”
Beautiful? Now she knew he was high. “Come on, Scorpio. That’s a stretch.”
He slid his callused palms up and down her arms. “Are you calling me a liar?”
She was calling herself a fool for actually buying into this. “Believe me, I’ve heard many pickup lines from many men, enough to know that telling a woman she’s beautiful is only a means to an end.”
“I am not a man who uses false flattery to seduce a woman. True beauty cannot be hidden.” His gaze tracked to her breasts then back to her eyes. “However, I will not force you into anything you do not wish to do.”
His smile arrived, only halfway, but affected Fiona all the way. “Let’s just say I do agree to do this. What’s in for me?”
“You will have to find out.”
She wanted to find out. Boy, did she want to. A little adventure. Just a little kiss.
Leaving common sense in the dust, she traced her tongue over the seam of his lips and without any coercion his mouth parted, giving her full advantage in this game of chance. Chances were meant to be taken, and she couldn’t help believing that she was destined to kiss this man. And she did, with all the gusto of a woman who had done without this kind of intimacy for far too long.
But she didn’t find any pills lurking on his tongue—a gentle, provocative tongue that stroked against hers until she thought she would collapse from a charisma overdose. She swayed forward and he brought her down on the sofa next to him in his strong arms.
Fiona didn’t care that his evening whiskers abraded her chin. She didn’t care that Lottie was in the next room, pitch
ing a fit while her master was making out with a master kisser. A stranger no less. A stranger with one wicked tongue and one deliberate touch as he made light passes with his thumb over the side of her breast.
But soon he took his hand and his mouth away. Fiona opened her eyes to find him bowed forward, his elbows braced on his knees and his face in his palms.
“What did you give me?” he muttered.
She scooted to the edge of the cushion, her pulse pounding away like a jackhammer, this time from fear over his current condition. “Painkillers. They’re supposed to be mild.”
He fell back against the sofa. “Not mild enough. My head is spinning.”
So was Fiona’s, not only from his kiss but also from the fact that she’d drugged him into a stupor just when things were getting good. Worse, she might have really compromised his well-being.
She bolted from the sofa. “I need to call Peg.”
He stretched out, and within seconds his eyes closed and his breathing grew steady.
Fiona grabbed the cordless phone from the end table and pounded out Peg’s number. Before her neighbor could even say “Hello” she spewed the explanation about what she’d given Scorpio and how much, trying not to sound too panicked. Peg assured her that he wouldn’t croak from taking two of that particular pill, but he would sleep soundly for several hours. In the meantime, she should watch him closely.
After Fiona hung up from Peg, she felt somewhat assured that she hadn’t done Scorpio any real harm, and terribly disappointed that the evening had come to an abrupt halt. Probably just as well. She should have her head examined for actually kissing him, especially since she didn’t even know him. But in some ways, that was the appeal. Doing something kind of risky, even if it was unwise. During her formative years, she’d had to be the logical one because of her mother’s penchant for carefree living and questionable taste in men. Maybe it was more than time to live a little.
Lottie continued to whine and claw at the bedroom door. Worrying the noise might wake Scorpio, she coerced the dog from the bedroom with doggie bacon, intending to shut her in the kitchen with a bowl of water and a warning to use the newspaper. But before Fiona could stop her, Lottie bounded to the sofa and began bathing Scorpio’s elbow with her black tongue, amazing since she wasn’t all that fond of men. But this particular man wasn’t like most men, and Lottie must have recognized that, too. Luckily, Scorpio didn’t go for his gun, or even flinch for that matter. But that in itself concerned Fiona. What if he didn’t wake up? What if she had inadvertently put him in a coma?
The Millionaires’ Club: Ryan, Alex & Darin Page 29