by Lynn Kellan
She glanced over her shoulder, surprised at the gruffness of his voice. “I turn off my phone when I run.”
“Not a good idea.” He spun her toward him and dropped his gaze to the red smear on her yellow jacket. “What the hell happened? You’re bleeding.” He yanked open her jacket and frowned at her black thermal shirt.
With some difficulty, she dislodged one of his hands. “This is no big deal.”
“Wrong answer. When you get hurt, it’s a big deal.” He lifted the hem of her shirt and slid his palm across her abdomen.
Shock slapped her, hard as a fist. She flicked his hand off her body. “For Pete’s sake, put down my shirt.”
“Where did he nick you?” He knelt to cup her ankle, smoothing his palms up her left leg.
Warmth from his hands radiated through her black running tights. His palms got halfway up her thigh, triggering a heavy, sexual pulse in her lower abdomen. She wiggled out of his grasp. “What are you doing?”
His hands examined her right leg. “If I find out who did this to you…” The sentence ended with an angry growl.
“Do you always pat down your houseguests? Frankly, this is getting weird.” She searched his gaze. There wasn’t a hint of sexual urgency on his face. In fact, he looked grim.
He cupped her butt, looked at his palms, and frowned.
Jaye shoved his shoulders. “Shouldn’t you buy me dinner before you cop a feel?”
“Don’t push me away.” He stood and looked down at her chest.
“No way.” She crossed her arms over her breasts. “Don’t even think about feeling around there.”
“What am I supposed to do?” He glared into her eyes. “There’s blood on your jacket. I intend to find out where you’re cut.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” She held up the scraped heel of her left hand. “I tripped on a tree root and fell.”
His gaze flicked over the injury and he cupped her jaw. “That’s it?”
She nodded, bumping her chin against the well of his palm.
The bridge of his nose hovered above hers. “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?”
“I’m a little confused. Are you the same guy who threatened to feed me to a fire-breathing dragon a few days ago?” Jaye arched her eyebrow. “You do realize a dragon would do a lot more damage, right?”
“Stop joking, dammit.” He grabbed her upper arms. “Put me out of my misery and tell me you’re okay.”
Her skin sizzled beneath the pressure of the strong grip of his fingers. “I’m fine. Why?”
“Someone was hit by a stray arrow in the woods.” He jerked her against his chest, hugging her tight. A tortured grunt came out of his throat. “I thought it was you.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t breathe with her face smashed against his neck. Turning her head, she took a grateful lungful of air. The sharp stubble of his five o’clock shadow scraped her cheek. His warm skin smelled like the crisp leaves blanketing the forest floor. A poignant longing rose inside her. Was this what having a man worry about you felt like? “I wasn’t hit by an arrow. I was hit by an attack of clumsiness.”
He rested his cheek against her hair. “When I saw the blood on your jacket, I was convinced you were hit. Scared the hell outta me.”
“I’m okay,” she assured him. With her free hand, she patted his back. The thick bands of muscle beneath her palm felt solid, like a brick wall.
“Sarah told me you’ve been on the trails near my house.” He held her at arm’s length and his blue eyes narrowed into a speculative squint. “Have you been running every day?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “I usually go out in the morning before work. I take the path off the end of the road.”
“Hell, you can’t run there. It’s archery season. At least six blinds are along the path.” His hands tightened on her shoulders. “Do you know what a hunting blind looks like? It’s usually a small platform up in a tree. Sometimes the top is covered, like a tent.”
“I wondered what those were.”
“Oh, God.” He released her, drawing a hand down his face. “Hunters hide in the trees, waiting for deer to walk past. Some green kid looking for his first kill may shoot at anything running by—even if it’s you.”
She tilted her head to make eye contact. “I wear a bright yellow jacket. No one would mistake me for a deer, would they?”
“Not on purpose, but if you’re in the woods at dawn or dusk, the light plays tricks on your eyes. Any movement can look like a deer. No one around here uses the trails during hunting season. Do me a favor and stay out of the forest, okay?”
Jaye couldn’t refuse the earnest plea radiating from his gaze. “From now on, I’ll stick to the roads.”
Mitch rubbed the back of his neck. “Which road?”
“How about the one where I got my flat?”
He grimaced. “No good. I saw a black bear there last week.”
Surely he’s kidding. “There aren’t bears in Pennsylvania.”
“Yes, there are. They might take a swipe at you if they’re startled.” Mitch reached for her injured hand, studying the nasty red scrape on her palm. The bleeding had stopped. Clear lymph oozed from the abrasion. “A grown bear can outrun anyone. Even you.”
“Wait a second.” She snatched her hand out of his. “When you helped me change my tire, you told me I’d find nothing but possums and whistle pigs nearby.”
“I didn’t want to frighten you, Jaye. You were already spooked. If you might recall, you hit me with a flashlight when I got too close. I had no idea what you’d do if I mentioned I’d spotted a black bear walking along the ridge a few hours before.”
“Geez, I heard something in the woods that night.” Her stomach twisted, tighter than a wad of snarled cables inside a computer. “Do bears eat people?”
“Only girls in yellow jackets.”
She laughed at his joke and her tension eased. “What if I follow the road into town? I’ve only seen squirrels and the occasional car on that stretch of pavement.”
“I know a safer place.” Mitch opened a kitchen cabinet and pulled out a first aid kit. “There’s a treadmill in the basement. Use it any time you want.”
“Thanks, but I need to be in the fresh air after I’ve spent the whole day staring at a computer monitor.”
The corner of his mouth turned down. “This isn’t negotiable, huh? You’re running outside no matter how much I beg.”
“Afraid so,” she agreed.
“Fine. Run on the road leading into town.” He squirted antiseptic onto a paper towel and held out his palm. “Give me your hand.”
She noticed a slight quiver along his fingers—proof he was shaken by the discovery she’d been running past the sharp arrows cocked in hunters’ bows. She put her uninjured hand into his and squeezed. “I’ll be more careful, Mitch.”
Warm fingers closed over hers. “I’m not letting anything bad happen to you.” The words came out in a ragged vow, his solemn gaze cementing the sentiment.
Up this close, she could see the flecks of cobalt scattered in the steely blue of his irises. She spotted admiration in his gaze, for he looked at her like she rivaled the natural beauty of the forested mountains beyond his back yard.
Determined to keep her distance, she released his hand. The last time she’d gotten close to a man she worked with, the whole thing ended in disaster. Better not repeat the mistake, but Mitch stalked her with the patience of an experienced hunter tracking his prey.
Taking her injured hand in his, he placed the wet paper towel over the scraped heel of her palm with the tender care a physician might use to doctor a small child.
The antiseptic stung. Jaye sucked in her breath through clenched teeth. “How long are you keeping that medicine on me?”
“As long as you let me.”
The husky intimacy in his voice made it easy to imagine how he might sound if she found herself in his huge king-sized bed. Unfiltered masculine interest radiated from his eyes. Judgi
ng by his hungry study of her mouth, she had a feeling that if she waved a succulent steak under his nose, he’d ignore the bait and taste her instead. She pulled her hand out of his. “I’m healed.”
Rather than back off, he braced his arm against the edge of the counter and looked at her. “Why didn’t my father hire some old computer geek with rheumy eyes to design our website? Why did he recruit a pretty girl with a killer smile to torment me?”
To keep him at bay, she splayed her good hand on his chest. Temptation flared, and she itched to pull his mouth down on hers to thank him for rushing home to make sure she was safe. Heck, forget about thanking him. What would kissing Mitch feel like? She had a feeling the moment her lips touched his, she’d beg for more.
The kitchen door flung open, crashing against the paneling. This time, two boys barged into the room with a primal yell.
Mitch looked over his shoulder at the boisterous intruders. “What are you two doing here?”
“We wanted to visit you while Nick works at the factory.” The boys slammed to a stop and stared at Jaye with wide eyes.
She snatched her hand off Mitch’s chest. “I’m fine. You can stop worrying about me.”
“Easier said than done.” He reclaimed her injured hand, glancing down at the bloody scrape with a concerned frown.
One of the boys craned his neck. “Does she need stitches?”
“No, but she could use some help. Brody, could you get one of the big band-aids from under the sink?”
“Sure. Do you want one of the really big ones you used for my knee last weekend?”
Mitch nodded. “We need something wide enough to cover this whole scrape.”
The other boy scratched his head. “What happened?”
“My friend hurt her hand when she tripped over a tree root. Mind grabbing the antiseptic ointment for me, Carter?”
“Yes, sir.”
In a moment’s time, both boys appeared on either side of Mitch, their offerings ready. They peered at the delicate palm nestled in his big hand.
The boy wearing glasses let out a low whistle of sympathy. “That’s a bad scrape.”
“Yeah.” Mitch took the ointment out of the other boy’s hand, smoothing the cream on her red abrasion. “This is Miss Davis. She’s working at our factory for the next few weeks, so she’s staying in the extra bedroom down the hall.” He glanced at Jaye and tipped his chin to both sides. “These are my brothers.”
The boy wearing glasses offered her a smile. “I’m Brody. I was born two minutes before Carter.”
“And he never lets me forget it,” Carter grumbled. “We’re twins. You can tell us apart because Brody has darker hair. And glasses.”
“Nice to meet you.” Jaye shifted her expression into a confused frown. “Do either of you know how to ward off dinosaurs? The bathroom is full of them. I was attacked by a T-Rex when I brushed my teeth this morning.”
The boys shared a look of relief. “Don’t worry. We’ll get them out for you.”
Mitch applied the bandage over her scrape with a gentle press of his blunt fingers and released her. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No, thank you. I’m all better.” Aware of the two pairs of young eyes watching their interaction with ill-disguised curiosity, she swallowed a giggle.
A broad smile chased the worry off Mitch’s face. He gave the hem of her jacket a playful tug. “Are you going to start laughing again?”
“I hope not.”
“Too bad.” He leaned one hip against the kitchen counter and scowled at the twins. “Fess up. Which one of you is hungry?”
“I am. Could we get take out?” Brody’s shoulders inched up toward his ears. “Don’t cook, Mitch. Those hockey pucks you made last week were terrible.”
“Those were hamburgers,” Mitch grumbled. “One of them knocked the loose tooth out of your mouth, so they were good for something.”
Brody gingerly probed his jaw. “I haven’t forgotten. I’m still sore.”
“Why not order pizza?” Jaye took her cell phone out of her jacket and tapped at the screen to search for local takeout. “Hey, look at this. There’s a place nearby that delivers. Perhaps there’s civilization around here, after all.”
She looked up to find all three men frowning at her like she was a dignitary from the strange and exotic Planet Woman. “Surely you men can devour a cheese pie in less than five minutes flat. Don’t you like pizza?”
“But it’s Monday,” Brody sputtered.
“We only eat pizza on Friday.” Carter pointed his index finger toward the ceiling. “And sometimes Saturday if we’re lucky.”
Mitch lifted one muscular shoulder in a modest shrug. “We aim for nutrition on school nights.”
“Passing up pizza?” She shook her head and put her iPhone back into her jacket. “You men are an enigma.”
“What’s an enigma?” Carter asked Mitch.
“Kind of like a superhero.” He winked at Jaye.
She laughed. The stinging in her palm—and her heart—faded.
Nick Blake walked into the kitchen and placed the boys’ backpacks on the table. He caught Jaye’s gaze and shook his head. “I hear you had a little trouble at Veronica’s poker game last week.”
“Most of my money went into her wallet,” she admitted.
“Next time, win back your cash and some of hers.”
“I can only hope.”
Nick’s gaze shifted to Mitch. “I need to go back to the factory to pay the bills. Mind if the boys stay a few hours? They did most of their homework, but they still need to finish math.”
“No problem.” Mitch nudged the boys toward the kitchen table. “Crack open those books while I figure out what scrumptious meal to cook for your discerning palates.”
“I have a feeling our math homework will be tastier than dinner,” Brody predicted, unzipping his backpack.
“I’ll be back soon.” Nick ruffled the boys’ hair on his way out and waved to Jaye. “Good night.”
Brody thudded his workbook onto the table. “Are you eating dinner with us, Miss Davis?”
“Mitch isn’t a good cook, but he means well,” Carter informed her.
She caught the way Mitch rolled his eyes. “Actually, I promised to make dinner tonight.”
“Whoa, hold on.” Mitch held up one hand. “It’s bad enough you have to feed a goliath like me. I won’t ask you to feed three Blake men.”
“What are you making?” the boys asked in unison, extending their necks like two hungry birds in a nest.
“Well, I intended to feed Mitch liver and brussel sprouts. If you’d rather something different, I could make spaghetti and meatballs.”
“Yes, please!”
Mitch peered inside the refrigerator. “Funny, I don’t see any liver.”
“I’ll save the liver for Wednesday. You’re gonna love it.” She reached into the grocery bag she’d set on the counter before her run and tossed an onion to him. “If I can recruit your help, dinner will be ready in twenty-five minutes. Could you dice the onion?”
He pulled a knife out of the drawer. “Only if you promise not to make liver.”
“What can we do to help?” asked one of the boys.
“Finish your homework.” Mitch wagged the onion at them. “Work first. Fun later.”
Jaye shot him a quizzical look. “You definitely have the work bit down. What do you do for fun?”
He jabbed his thumb towards the boys. “Those two are my fun.”
“We play sports together. And video games.” An impish smile creased Carter’s face. “We know how to beat him.”
“I’m impressed.” Jaye pulled the ground beef from the refrigerator, stripped off the plastic wrap, and dumped the meat into a bowl. “Mitch looks tough to beat.”
“Yeah, but he can’t stand being tickled.”
“A big guy like him is ticklish?” Just to experiment, she jabbed her index finger into Mitch’s solid side.
He jumped and
dropped the onion. Snatching the runaway vegetable before it toppled off the counter, Mitch arched his brow. “Keep your hands to yourself while I’ve got a knife in my hand. Unless you want me to cut my thumb while I dice onions.”
“A thousand pardons. I promise to refrain from tickling unless you decide to search me for injuries again.”
A bright red flush suffused his neck. He lowered his gaze and sliced off one end of the onion. “Sorry about pawing you like that.”
“No apology necessary.” She cracked an egg over the ground beef. The yolk puddled in the center like the bright spot blazing somewhere near her heart. “I kind-of like being worried about. That sort of thing doesn’t happen too much.”
“Get used to it,” he muttered, cutting the onion into small, precise squares.
“I don’t get this assignment.” Carter sighed. “Can you please help me, Mitch?”
“There’s one thing I have to do first.” He strode to the table and tickled the boy’s ribs. “This is what you get for telling Miss Davis how to beat me, you traitor.”
“Stop! Okay, okay!” Carter struggled to catch his breath. “I swear, Miss Davis, my big brother isn’t ticklish. I made up the whole thing.”
Mitch spread his hand on the boy’s narrow chest, a clear threat the tickling might not end. “Shouldn’t you say something else, too?”
“Oh, and he hates liver.”
“Atta boy.” Mitch rewarded Carter with a gruff pat of affection and shifted his attention to the worksheet. “What have we got here? Ah, polygons. Studying geometry teaches you how to think in three dimensions. You’re a smart kid, so you’ll conquer this in no time.”
The boy gazed upward with wide, grateful eyes. “I love you.”
Mitch cupped the back of the boy’s head. “I feel the same way ‘bout you, buddy.”
Brody reached over his homework to pat Mitch’s forearm. “If we finish our homework in time, could we play football after dinner? We don’t care if it’s cold outside.”
“Deal.”
The boys attacked their homework with vigor.
Jaye was tempted to mix the breadcrumbs into the meatballs with the same industriousness to thank Mitch for referring to her as a friend, rather than some pesky consultant. “Maybe when you men finish studying, you can help me figure out how to beat Veronica at poker,” she mused.