Harlequin Special Edition July 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2: Marooned with the MaverickHer McKnight in Shining ArmorCelebration's Bride

by Christine Rimmer

  Wow, she was on a roll. The second man in less than five minutes who reminded her that she was a duty. So much for Miss I-can-do-it-myself.

  “I’ll get my appetite back if I can just rest for a while.”

  “Sometimes choking down a little food, whether you want it or not, will help things along.”

  “The thought of it turns my stomach.”

  “How about a little chicken noodle soup and ginger ale?”

  “You’re not going to let this go until I do, are you?”

  He shook his head. There was an expression in his dark eyes that was all about determination. “What do you say?”

  “I don’t have the energy to argue.”

  “Okay, then. Coming right up.” He stood and it seemed as if he couldn’t get out of the room fast enough.

  Ellie couldn’t blame him, what with her being such a burden and all. She set the mug on the table beside her cell phone, then rested her cheek against the sofa back and her eyes drifted closed. It wasn’t food that turned her stomach so much as knowing that Alex must be counting the days until he could wash his hands of her.

  She absolutely hated having to depend on someone, especially a man who didn’t want her there. His reasons were practical. In her case, getting her career back was the path to self-reliance, self-support and no more family jokes about being the only one who’d taken a detour on the road to success. She just wanted them to be as proud of her as she was of the rest of the Harts. So she had to grit her teeth and get through this as best she could.

  The smell of food made her eyes pop open, and her stomach growled.

  “I heard that.” Alex was holding a tray with a steaming bowl of something and a glass.

  “I must have zoned out.” She sat up straighter and settled her injured leg more securely on the pillows.

  “Good for you.” Alex set the tray on her thighs, then sat down beside her. “Now eat.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  She dipped the soup spoon into the hot broth and scooped up noodles, chicken chunks and vegetables. After blowing on it, she ate. Then she repeated the process until the bowl was empty. “That was really good. I didn’t know you could cook.”

  “Can’t, but I’m an expert reheater. You can thank Martha.”

  “I will.”

  She picked up the glass with ice and bubbly liquid the color of weak apple juice. The sweet, cold, sparkling drink went down easily, and she felt much stronger. Apparently she’d needed to eat.

  As she sipped, she glanced around the room. She’d spent some time in this spot since Alex had brought her here a week or so ago. Somehow she hadn’t paid much attention to the details, but things jumped out at her now. The carpet was beige and the entertainment center featuring the flat-screen TV would be the envy of any guy.

  Framed black-and-white enlarged snapshots of the local mountains and lake hung on the walls. Behind the couch was an oak sofa table with a brass lamp topped by a cream-colored shade, and framed photographs were displayed on either side. There was one of a baby boy who must be the child Alex had once believed was his. Others were of his family with an older man she’d never met. But she recognized Ben and Sydney.

  They were all grown up now, and she remembered what his sister had said. Alex had done his best to fill the empty place left by his mother’s death. Then he’d taken off for California because it was way past having his turn at footloose and fancy-free.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked. “Before you say nothing, you should know that I can see the wheels turning.”

  “I was just wondering how old you were when you left home.”

  “Nineteen.”

  Ellie had been just a year younger when she’d gone to college in Texas—the University of Dallas, which wasn’t far from home. She’d had her safety net close by and still was nervous about leaving it.

  “Were you scared?”

  He shook his head. “I couldn’t get out of here fast enough.”

  “Why?” Ellie wanted to hear it from him.

  “I was tired of being the oldest, expected to look after the other two. It was time to do my own thing, make my own mistakes and not have to worry about the ones all three of us were making.” He met her gaze. “I guess that makes me a selfish jerk, but it’s the truth.”

  “Honesty is always the best policy.”

  “I just wanted to go somewhere people didn’t look at me with pity in their eyes because I was that poor boy who’d lost his mother and had to look after his younger brother and sister.”

  So Sydney wasn’t exaggerating. Alex had felt leaving the state of Montana was necessary to escape the responsibility he’d assumed at such a young age. He’d supported himself, attended college and started a business. Then he’d fallen in love and assumed responsibility again when the woman he fell in love with announced she was pregnant. That sure bit him in the backside.

  But even though he’d run from responsibility, he’d brought Ellie here to his home and took care of her, carrying her to prevent more injury to her leg. Not all of that was because of the job they were doing at the clinic. At heart, this man was a caretaker whether he wanted to admit it or not. Her realization was both comforting and unsettling.

  He was a great guy, not the kind who would seduce her, lie about being married then throw her under the bus. He was so honest that he’d told her up front that he would never trust again and wasn’t the marrying kind. She wasn’t looking to get serious, either, but every time she saw him or touched him, he made her want.

  She glanced at the photos again. “In spite of wanting so badly to get away, you came back. Are you sorry, Alex? I mean other than what happened after you got here.”

  “It’s a good place to live. Fresh air. Beautiful scenery. Lots of work. Nice people.”

  She remembered him telling her he’d come back because it was a great place to raise kids. He didn’t say that now when listing the town attributes, because he only played fast and loose. That meant he wouldn’t settle down and have a family, which made her sad for him, sad that he wouldn’t take a chance on giving his heart again.

  She turned her head and caught him looking at her with a hungry expression that turned his dark eyes black. Her insides responded and turned to liquid fire, making her hot all over. It was also a revelation. He pretended disinterest, but she was pretty sure he was fighting the attraction simmering between them as hard as she was. If only she could rewind and delete what had happened on his boat.

  If she hadn’t experienced one night of heaven in his arms, resisting him now wouldn’t be hell on earth.

  * * *

  “I don’t know about this,” Alex said.

  They’d come home from work together and were in the kitchen getting ready to make dinner. This was a great kitchen with rich, elegant black-and-beige swirls running through granite countertops. The appliances and sink were stainless steel. A cooktop, with microwave above and double ovens to the left, rounded out the cool culinary toys. Ellie was dying to do something domestic in here and he was trying to get in her way.

  He’d told her to sit down at one of the bar stools on the other side of the island, but she wasn’t in the mood to be as useless as a plastic plant. She was jumpy and her skin felt too tight.

  So Ellie stood her ground in front of the cooktop and put on the stubborn face that never failed to convince her brothers she meant business. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I’ve been sitting around so long now, I’m getting a muffin top.”

  “Ellie—” He stopped and blinked at her. “A what?”

  “It’s the roll of flab just above your waistband and happens when pants get too tight because a person isn’t allowed to move around as much as she used to.”

  “I don’t see any muffin top.”

  He was checking her out from the top of her head down to the denim shorts and snug white T-shirt hugging her torso and hips. There was heat in his eyes before he banked it, and that was empowering, unsettling and dang
erous. She needed to do something, keep her hands occupied before this turned into trouble.

  “Be that as it may,” she said in response to his muffin-top comment, “I want to help. I can help and I’m going to.”

  “How do you propose to do that?”

  He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the oak cabinet. Two could play the “looking someone over” game, and she gave as good as she got. No muffin top or beer belly on him. His shoulders were wide and tapered to a chest with contours and muscles she remembered far too well. Narrow hips and long legs made her heart beat even harder than it did from the exertion of moving around on crutches.

  It was a little safer to look at his face, so that was what she did. “You said Martha did the marketing and stocked the fridge. There’s eggs, bread, vegetables and fruit, no?”

  “That’s right. And your point?”

  “Omelets.” At the blank look she added, “You be the gopher. I’ll stand in one spot and cut stuff up. Then I’ll park myself in front of the pan and cook it. Everything else is up to you.”

  “I don’t know about this,” he said again. “Are you sure the pain is gone?”

  It was incredibly sweet of him to worry, but she stopped short of letting herself believe the concern was anything more than an intense commitment to getting her better and out of his house. That was safer than going into a starry-eyed slide that would end in a very hard landing.

  “Alex—” She balanced the crutches under her arms and touched his wide wrist, just for a moment letting herself savor the warmth of his skin. “You’d know if I was lying when I told you the pain is gone. It is, and now there’s nothing left but deep annoyance.”

  “About?”

  “My leg is starting to itch, which I’m determined to believe is from the healing process. These darn crutches are awkward, and getting around takes me longer and I hate that. The only thing that hurts is being forced to change my routine, but I’m coming to terms with that. By the time I have a new normal in place, the cast will be off. In the meantime, I can do everything I did before. All it requires are adjustments.”

  He looked down. “I still can’t believe you let those knuckleheads on the construction crew sign your cast.”

  Ellie shivered, remembering the intensity in Alex’s eyes when a few of the guys squatted down by her leg, big callused hands wielding a Sharpie instead of a power drill. It was all in good fun, but you wouldn’t know it by the look on their boss’s face. She was tempted to believe he’d been jealous but was too smart to go there.

  “How could I say no? That had the potential for hard feelings, and unhappiness in the ranks doesn’t promote harmony in the workplace.” She shrugged. “You’re taking one for the team by letting me stay with you. The fact they wanted to sign the cast made me feel included in the crew. Doesn’t seem smart to do anything that would disrupt the positive work flow we’ve got going. It’s the best way to reach the goal line.”

  “I see your point. But for the next month you’ll be walking around with ‘Live fast, love hard and don’t break anything else’ on the front of your leg.”

  “Yeah.” She laughed ruefully, looking down at the big bold words running across the pink material covering her shin. “At least it’s not a tattoo.”

  “True. That would be above and beyond the call of duty.” He grinned. “It’s permanent.”

  And neither of them wanted that.

  She took one last lingering look at the way his T-shirt tightened around the smooth, tempting muscle of his upper arm, then forced herself to think about cooking.

  “Okay, get out the carton of eggs, mushrooms, green onions. Is there any cheese?”

  Alex opened the refrigerator and looked. “Yeah. Chunks of Swiss and cheddar.”

  “Swiss. Do you have a grater?”

  He slid her a wry look. “This might be a bachelor pad, but it’s not the wilderness.”

  “So you’re saying Martha stocked all the necessary kitchen gizmos to have what she needs for cooking?”

  He lifted one broad shoulder. “She got tired of not having the right tool for a job, so I gave her the go-ahead to make this kitchen her own.”

  “Reading between the lines, I’m going to guess that you don’t have a clue where she puts anything.”

  “That’s harsh.”

  “But accurate since you didn’t deny it.”

  “Think of it like the keyboard on a computer—hunt and peck for what you need.”

  “All I want is a cheese grater. Or a food processor will do.”

  He rummaged through drawers and cupboards, which took some time because there were so many. “Apparently I have several choices. Flat. One that stands up like an oil rig. And, last but not least, an appliance that could grind tree trunks into wood chips.”

  “Flat is fine. No point in pulverizing the poor cheese. It will melt, anyway.”

  At Ellie’s direction, Alex fetched, carried and assembled vegetables to be sliced and the tools to do it with. It seemed as if the more she tried to stay out of his way, the more she was right where he was going. Every time it happened the expression on his face turned just a little darker and more disapproving.

  She tried to ignore it and threw herself into the task at hand, leaning against the island counter while preparing the fresh ingredients. He kept out of her way, setting the table and finding the four-slice toaster from one of the upper cabinets. When the omelet components were ready, she propped herself on the crutches and swung herself to the cooktop, where she stir-fried the veggies. Then she cracked eggs into a bowl, added milk and whipped the mixture with a wire whisk.

  She poured it into a preheated pan and at the right time put in the vegetables and cheese, then folded the egg mixture over.

  “Time to toast,” she announced.

  “Got it covered.”

  He brought two plates with buttered toast over to her and watched while she divided the omelet in half and slid some onto each dish.

  “Dinner is served.”

  “Looks good. Now go sit down,” he ordered.

  This time she did as he said and waited until Alex set the food in front of her. He took the chair directly across the round oak table. After eating a bite, he said, “Good.”

  She tasted her own eggs and nodded appreciatively. “I like it, too.”

  That wasn’t all she liked. The view was pretty amazing and an entirely new experience. In the middle of her affair with the jerk, she hadn’t noticed that he always met her after dinner, then was gone, never taking her out in public or spending the night. She’d always wanted to make him a meal but it never worked out. What a dope she’d been.

  Part of her was glad that the creep hadn’t tainted the experience of cooking for a man, and she was glad Alex was her first. The other part warned not to get too used to this.

  “I saw you showing your brother around the clinic addition,” she said.

  Alex nodded. “It’s all framed, and before we put up wallboard now’s the time to make any changes.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t do the walk with you.” They’d agreed that with her on crutches it would be tricky to negotiate the tour.

  “As it turns out,” he said, looking up from his plate, “you did such a good job on the blueprints, the three-dimensional computer rendering and walking the doctors through everything, they’re getting exactly what was expected. Got a thumbs-up from both Ben and Adam.”

  “That’s great news.”

  She waited for him to pick up the conversation, but he didn’t. The rest of the meal was completed in silence.

  When they’d finished eating, he said, “You cooked, I’ll do the dishes.”

  “I can help.”

  “But you don’t have to. Why don’t you go relax and watch TV?”

  “It seems wrong to leave you in here alone.”

  “I’m used to it.”

  Right. Duh. Because he never brought women here.

  Alex cleared the table and she fol
lowed him over to the sink, trying to figure out what she could do to help. After rinsing off a plate, he held it and looked at her.

  She glanced down at the dishwasher and got it. “Sorry. I’m underfoot.” She backed up, which took a lot more time and coordination than moving forward.

  “Really, Ellie, go in the family room and put your feet up.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure.”

  “Very.” There was an edge to his voice.

  She maneuvered around the dishwasher door and Alex moved at the same time. She was in his way again.

  “Sorry.”

  She was attempting to go sideways, the movement anything but graceful. She started to lose her balance but would have caught herself. Except she didn’t have to.

  Alex put his hands at her waist to steady her. He tightened his grip and started to lift her, get her out of his way, but that’s not what happened.

  He stared at her mouth for several moments and seemed to be fighting some internal battle, a conflict only he understood. Then he swore softly, lowered his head and touched his lips to hers.

  Chapter Eight

  Ellie opened her mouth and Alex slid his tongue inside. When he stroked and caressed the moist interior, fire raced through all her girlie parts. Losing herself in the moment, she put her arms around his neck and her crutches fell sideways, but he held her tight, drawing her close to his body. She could feel that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  So nothing had changed since the first time. It hadn’t been a fluke, and that was more important to her than she’d realized.

  Happiness poured through her, and she didn’t think she could fight the feeling even if she wanted to. As if he could read her mind, Alex swept her up into his arms, and she rested her head on his shoulder, savoring the easy strength as he carried her down the hall. Moments later they were in his bedroom, and he set her down on the bench at the foot of the bed. She watched as he turned down the comforter.

  “This is the first time I’ve been in your room.” That first night, he’d carried her past and pointed it out, but they hadn’t gone inside. Since then, she’d felt it was a violation of privacy and wouldn’t be anything more than snooping because they didn’t have an intimate relationship. She was about to be proven wrong about that.