The Watchers

by Kaitlyn O'Connor

He squeezed her hand and released it, rising to his full height. As he did that, something fluttered in Claire’s mind again, an errant memory she couldn’t quite grasp.

  Yes. I was there. I touched you. Unfortunately for me, you also touched me and, unlike you, I don’t have the luxury of forgetfulness. “We’ll talk another time. I see your ride is here.”

  Turning, he strode off in the direction he’d come from and although Claire was focused, at first, on the strange encounter—and her appreciation of the view—it occurred to her after a moment that it was strange that he’d left without ever going into the hospital. It was almost as if he’d come specifically to see her.

  He had said that, she recalled abruptly, but she’d dismissed it as merely a polite social comment. Maybe he’d actually meant it?

  But why would he come specifically to see her when she was sure she’d never set eyes on him before? And she certainly wasn’t Catholic! She didn’t practice any religion at all.

  Dominic was looking a little grim as he rounded the car to help her get in. “Who was that?”

  A trace of irritation flickered through Claire at the possessive note in his voice that made her feel an uncomfortable twinge of guilt when she knew damn well she had no reason at all to feel guilty. With an effort, she dismissed her annoyance. “I’m not sure. He said his name was Father Moreno. He seemed to know me, though.”

  “I noticed.”

  Claire flicked a surprised look at him, feeling the sense of guilt return and with it a twinge of uneasiness and a return of the anger she’d felt before, except a little stronger, but he straightened at just that moment and closed the car door. Frowning, she watched him move her belongings from the cart the nurse’s aide had pushed outside to the trunk of his car.

  He still looked more than a little ticked off and she felt her own resentment hitch upward another notch. She didn’t like feeling guilty when she knew damned well she hadn’t done anything wrong and she didn’t like Dominic making her feel like she was in the wrong.

  While it was true that she’d admired Father Moreno—ok, lusted for him!—she couldn’t see that it was wrong that she should feel it. She certainly hadn’t crossed the line, hadn’t flirted with him or come on to him and she hadn’t noticed anything about the priest’s behavior for Dominic to take exception to.

  He had no right to make her feel bad when she hadn’t done a damn thing!

  He’d given her no reason to suppose there was anything between them beyond the bond of rescuer-victim anyway. Maybe that he might have some interest in taking things further, but nothing she could be certain of given his flirtatious nature!

  She’d been surprised when Dominic had shown up in her hospital room the first time, but very grateful and appreciative despite the surprise. She’d enjoyed the visit, but she hadn’t expected him to show up again and certainly not for a daily visit thereafter, although it was something she quickly began to look forward to. At the same time, she’d found it somewhat puzzling. He was a sexy guy! There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he could pretty much get any woman that struck his fancy. So why was he hanging out with the invalid-older-woman-science-geek?

  She’d gotten the sense after studying it over a while that Dominic felt they had formed some sort of bond from the accident/rescue.

  Truthfully, she felt a bond. When she realized that, it occurred to her that maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe it was her and she’d just imagined that he felt the same way?

  But then why would he act so … jealous, possessive, only because another man had spoken to her if she was wrong and he didn’t feel the bond?

  She didn’t know if it made the situation more comfortable or more awkward that he seemed to feel the bond, too, as if having come through hell alive, together, they somehow—now—belonged to one another. Or maybe he just felt like she belonged to him because he’d pulled her out of that pile of rubble?

  It was an uncharitable thought given he’d risked his life to save her and she quickly banished it.

  Why couldn’t she just enjoy the attention for a while without examining his motives?

  She was grateful to him—very, very grateful.

  And it wasn’t as if he wasn’t a damned fine looking man!

  She thought she would have felt drawn to him for what he’d done if he’d looked like the south end of a north bound mule, but he wasn’t at all hard on the eyes on top of having swept in like a knight in shining armor to save the damsel in distress!

  Regardless, she wasn’t so enthralled with either his looks or his status as her personal savior that she could overlook the things that didn’t mesh.

  First and foremost was the fact that he was about six years younger than her, but it went a lot further than a slightly skewed timeline. She was a science geek. He was a man of action.

  Not that he wasn’t smart! He was really smart, but there was a huge personality gap between them and she didn’t think the bond they felt from having survived together was going to close it.

  But the biggest impediment, as far as she could see, was his possessiveness. She supposed some women would be flattered, would be convinced it meant they were extremely desirable and he was madly in love with them. She didn’t look at it that way, though, and she didn’t particularly want to be owned, however lovely the owner might be to look upon!

  He surprised her by dismissing his pique by the time he got in behind the wheel, despite the fact that she’d already acknowledged that he was smart, proving that he was also perceptive. Clearly, he hadn’t misinterpreted the signals she’d given off or been too wrapped up to notice. He didn’t continue the discussion about the man who’d spoken to her when he got in the car.

  “Sooo,” he said when he’d started the car. “Your place? Or mine?”

  Claire shuddered at the mention of her apartment. “Actually I was thinking I need to look for someplace cheap to stay until I can get another apartment. I don’t suppose you know where I could find a fairly decent hotel or motel that would rent by the week or month?”

  He studied her for a moment and finally put the car in gear. “Actually, I think I have the perfect place in mind,” he responded cryptically.

  By the time they’d been driving through heavy city traffic for nearly an hour, Claire could feel the residual effects of her pain meds wearing off and as they did, her pain level rose.

  Dominic settled a heavy hand behind her head, massaging her neck. “You hurtin’, babe?”

  The sympathy was sweet and thoughtful even though the massaging didn’t especially feel good. Claire smiled with an effort. “A little tired, mostly. I guess I’m not as ‘back to normal’ as I thought.”

  “Well, I think we can get you comfortable pretty quick.”

  Thankfully, he removed his hand and settled it on the steering wheel again.

  Claire discovered that he was turning into an apartment complex about a mile down the road from the complex where she’d lived—very briefly—and she felt her belly clench.

  “The leasing company arranged this apartment to replace the one that went down the hole,” Dominic responded to her questioning look.

  “That was good of them,” Claire said dryly, then added tightly, “I believe I told those bastards that I wanted my money back, though.”

  Dominic frowned. “But you needed a place. Not that I would’ve minded putting you up, but you said you didn’t want to do that ….”

  Claire stared at him. “So you …. What? You told them I was ok with this?” she asked in disbelief and dawning outrage. This was really going beyond possessive! She hadn’t even met the man before last week! And he was making decisions for her?

  He looked angry. “Let’s not fight about it. If you don’t want to stay here—fine! I’ll help you look for a place, but it’ll be cheaper than staying in a hotel while you look.”

  He was right and Claire really didn’t want to go to a hotel, but she was still pissed off and it took all she could do to tamp her resentment that he’d interfere
d. She knew his heart was in the right place, that he’d thought he was helping. And she didn’t want to look like the ungrateful bitch that she was …. But it was a struggle even to be civil as he escorted her up to the second floor apartment, fished a key out of his pocket, and opened the door for her.

  It was furnished! A jolt went through Claire as she stepped across the threshold. It looked occupied! She whipped a questioning look at Dominic. “Is this …? Are we in the right place?”

  He smiled with an effort. “Everybody pitched in a little something since you’d lost everything. A couple of your co-workers came over and … well, decorated, I guess.”

  Claire felt a lump rise in her throat. She didn’t think she could’ve felt lower if she’d suddenly been transformed into a snake. “You made this happen, didn’t you?”

  He blushed. Scrubbing a hand over his bristly military cut, he shrugged. “I think I might have mentioned that it was a damned shame that everything you owned went into the sinkhole.”

  Claire looked around. It wasn’t her stuff and she ached for the treasured things she’d lost. She didn’t even want to think about that! But they’d put together a homey feel to the place that made it feel comfortable even though there was nothing familiar about any of the things.

  Nothing looked new—which was a relief and was what actually produced the homey feel—the fact that everything from the loveseat to the two mismatched, overstuffed chairs to the tables and lamp looked ‘broken in’. Not worn out or even worn beyond usefulness, but with the newness edge worn down enough to give the place a ‘lived in’ feel.

  She chuckled wryly after a moment as a disconcerting thought popped into her mind. “Boy am I going to feel uncomfortable if I just don’t happen to like anybody I’ll be working with. I mean, I’ve got no idea who gave me what …. I don’t think it ever occurred to me before how totally awkward it could make a person feel to get presents from complete strangers—especially if you quit being strangers, get to know them, and discover you just don’t like them and/or vice versa.”

  Dominic looked a little taken aback for a moment and then he laughed, too. “I hadn’t thought about it that way, but I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I’m pretty sure everybody donated stuff they weren’t going to miss too much. And it made them feel good about themselves. They got their enjoyment out of it—both ways—when they got it and used it, and when they donated to a good cause.”

  “Good point! It was still amazingly kind and thoughtful of them to do this when they don’t even know me!”

  Dominic caught her upper arms, pulling her a little closer. “Still pissed off at me?”

  “I wasn’t!” Claire lied.

  He gave her a look and she chuckled. “Ok, maybe a little.”

  “But this gets me back in your good graces?”

  Claire laughed. “Now you’re going to take credit for the entire thing? What happened to modesty?”

  “I left it at the door,” he murmured, shifting closer still.

  Claire knew he meant to kiss her. Briefly, she debated whether she wanted him to kiss her or not, but it wasn’t like she got the chance at kisses from a guy like Dominic every day. Anyway, she was deeply grateful to him. She didn’t want to offend him over a little kiss and she felt like she needed to make amends for being so prickly.

  It wasn’t actually a ‘little’ kiss. Claire hadn’t expected much more than an affectionate peck and it did start out that way, but it very quickly escalated from a meeting of lips to a mating dance between their tongues. It would’ve been an exaggeration to say she caught fire, but she definitely felt heat rising.

  He was good.

  Clearly, he’d had a good bit of practice and she wasn’t exactly against that although it did make her a little uneasy—given that he was a ten on a scale of one to ten.

  He broke the kiss and pulled back to examine her face. He must have decided her expression wasn’t welcoming enough because he released his grip on her arms and stepped back. “Forgot,” he said wryly. “I guess I should leave you to rest up before I’m tempted to do something stupid. I’ll get your stuff and bring it in?”

  Claire smiled a little wanly. “I’ll help.”

  “No, you won’t,” he said firmly, turning her toward the hallway that she assumed led to the bedroom. “Rest. I’ll unload everything and leave you to rest. But I’ll be back around 6:00 to take you to dinner. So plan on it.”

  “Thanks!” Claire said warmly. “That sounds great! I’m so sick of hospital food!”

  He paused at the door. “I could pick you up something now …?”

  She shook her head. “I really just feel like a nap right now.”

  Settled in her bed, she heard him come in a few minutes later and leave again and then she sank into oblivion.

  She didn’t sleep well. She hadn’t since the accident. She dreamed about the angel again, except this time he had the face of Father Dante Moreno.

  * * * *

  True to his word, Dominic arrived later to take her out to dinner. He also, thankfully, delivered her car … demanding a promise as he dangled the keys in front of her face that she wouldn’t be gallivanting around the city until she’d fully recovered. It was another one of ‘those’ moments, when tiny alarms sounded and Claire’s sense of independence felt threatened. Struggling to ignore her completely unwarranted, she was sure, uneasiness, she smiled with an effort and promised.

  Despite that, dinner went well. Claire was bowled over by Dominic’s charm. It was hard not to be! The guy was just plain dangerously attractive—and the bulk of it, she was afraid, was the very alpha personality that was so amazingly seductive even while it unnerved her and put her on guard. Not his great build and clean-cut good looks, although that icing was certainly part of the appeal.

  He let her know when he took her home and teased her for a little over an hour with some pretty heavy petting that he fully intended to take things to the next level as soon as she felt up to it.

  At that particular moment in time, she felt up to it—immediately. Thankfully, he left her to rest and that gave her a chance to think with the brain in her head rather than the mindless one between her legs.

  Did she really want to take things to the next level?

  She thought, since she could pose the question that maybe she wasn’t ready, so maybe the real question was would she ever be ready? Given the hint of possessiveness and his seeming inclination toward domination/control might she be playing with dynamite?

  Or was she putting too much into two minor incidents that were open to interpretation?

  She didn’t know, but she also couldn’t convince herself to simply cut him loose. He was everything a woman dreamed of finding in a man—handsome, competent, strong, smart—employed. She thought he was a real prize and …. Well, he thought so! And he seemed very willing to hang around and convince her.

  Was he just dangling a carrot, though? Even saying she wanted to take him up on the hints, was he serious? Or just seriously trying to get into her pants?

  Or was it not even something that ‘normal’? Was he just fixated on her because he’d rescued her and felt like she belonged to him now/or that he was still responsible for her?

  Search and rescue was part of his job. He did it all the time. But the circumstances were a little different than his typical assignments—maybe just different enough to create a false bond between him and a woman he found attractive, at least on some level?

  * * * *

  As early in the day as it was, the center was a beehive of activity when Claire arrived the following morning at the offices of the Florida Geological Department. She barely arrived in time to catch the crew, in fact. They were already loading up equipment into their vehicles to head into the field for tests.

  “Where would I find Dr. Miller?” she asked the first person she came to, a man who looked to be roughly the same age as she—late twenties to early thirties.

  He glanced at her a little absently through lense
s so thick they magnified his pale blue eyes and then pointed toward the front of the building where a man was standing on the sidewalk directing the activity surrounding him.

  Nodding, although the man had already dismissed her and turned away again, Claire headed toward the man he’d pointed out. “Dr. Miller?”

  He glanced down at her, his bushy brows lifted questioningly if somewhat impatiently.

  “I’m Doctor Collins. Claire Collins.”

  He frowned. “You’re on leave until week after next.”

  Claire smiled with an effort. “I know I was supposed to be, but ….”

  “Yes. So we’ll talk when you’ve had time to recover from … uh … the accident. What day are you supposed to report?”

  Claire blinked at him. “Monday week, but ….”

  “Alrighty then! A week from this coming Monday. That’ll be a good day to start. I can introduce you around …. Excuse me. I think they need some help with that equipment over there ….”

  Claire watched her supervisor as he headed briskly across the parking lot toward a group that was struggling to load a modified ground penetrating radar into the back of a large van. She stood studying them for several minutes, debating whether to try again to convince her boss she was ready to start but finally decided against it. They were in a hurry to get somewhere and she didn’t think success was likely. More likely, she would just annoy the man and get off on the wrong foot.

  Thwarted, she went back to her car, got in and, after staring at nothing for several moments while the crew piled out of the parking lot like they were racing to a fire, she headed back to her apartment. She’d already killed the engine before it occurred to her that she was going to go stark raving mad if she had to spend another day in that damned apartment with nothing but time on her hands and her horrific memories for company.

  Starting the car again, she hesitated and then headed to the accident site, feeling a driving need to look at the death trap that had almost claimed her life a week earlier.

  She’d expected it to be cordoned off. The geology was unstable—still—to say the least. She’d expected to discover that they had stationed patrols to keep gawkers from wandering to the edge to look down and possibly becoming new victims, and looters from sifting through the debris in search of something worth stealing—and possibly becoming new victims.