Feeling like she was being a shrew for no good reason, Shannon tried to straighten slightly in the deeply lush leather seat that she found herself in. She barely managed to squash a slight gasp before it made its traitorous way out of her throat when her scraped palms pushed against the arm rest, reminding Shannon that at least for now she was all but helpless.
Between the bump on her head, the way the migraine that had been hovering nearby had descended, making her even more uncomfortable, the throbbing, swelling foot that felt ten times its normal size, the scraped and bruised hands, a painfully scraped knee that she had yet to bring to his attention, and the bleeding gash at her shoulder, Shannon was at his mercy and completely overwhelmed.
At the first stoplight, Nick looked over at her but Shannon just plastered a less-than-friendly expression on her face and stared at him intently. Obviously noticing that she was shooting daggers at him with her eyes, Nick broke the silence by clearing his throat and told her in a calm tone that they’d be at their destination in just a few minutes
Pursing her lips together in a clear frown, Shannon shook her head in acknowledgment, and then deciding that the headache was getting the better of her, she gently lay back on the headrest and closed her eyes.
“Are you alright, Shannon?” he pressed when she intentionally closed him out.
Feeling a little guilty, she answered, “Yes, my head just hurts a bit. Thank you for driving me to the doctor, Nick.” The last was added in perfect politeness, almost as an afterthought.
“Of course, Shannon. You’re hurt. My fault. Just let me get you taken care of and then we’ll talk,” he growled out.
She wanted to argue with him that her being injured wasn’t his fault, mostly just for the obvious cause of wanting to argue with him, but her own good sense stepped in when he’d said my fault with such gravity as though he meant far more than just having bumped into her on a path.
* * *
The entire car trip to the clinic, although realistically only about 15 minutes long, was like fingernails on a chalkboard for Nick. He got things done—it was what came naturally to him. Nicholas Barrett, the man who could make almost anything he desired happen, he who could solve anything, but right now he was feeling completely powerless.
In the confines of the luxury car he had rented for the duration of his stay in Southern California, the realistically ample space seemed exceedingly small due in large part to the helpless, injured female in his passenger seat.
Navigating the Los Angeles roadways was frustrating enough at the best of times, so congested was this area with traffic, but add to that the distraction of the alluring smell of the subtle perfume she wore, something that had haunted him lo’ these past eight years, plus the palpable force field that their combined energies seemed to be creating, and it was all he could do to keep his mind on the road.
He supposed the man-of-action persona that he identified with was a direct result of having been thrust into a position of absolute power over a global enterprise when he was in his mid-twenties. Well educated and seriously capable, he was definitely old enough to assume that role, but also young enough that every old, business-hardened division head, desperate sycophant, and hungry newbie had challenged his every word and thought that first year after he’d been forced by the whims of fate into a leadership role. In his mind, having personally paid quite heavily for the dubious honor of being one of the business world’s wealthiest and most influential CEOs, he had license to be laser like in his focus and determination to have his will met without question, without comment, without censure.
And yet here he was, clammy hands gripping the leather-wrapped steering wheel of a vehicle that quite frankly practically drove itself, finding himself barely able to contain his frustration and anxiety at not being able to simply snap his fingers, demand everything be all right from this point forward, and expect that it would be so.
The feisty female grimacing in the passenger seat next to him, her foot swelling by the second, a large bump on her head, and God only knows what else, had the formula to render him blank apparently. He almost laughed out loud because he realized that she was his very own, personal kryptonite.
Struggling to maintain his businesslike grasp on things, he realized that this woman seemed to shift everything in his world into neutral. He didn’t want to use the word impotent, as that would make any guy cringe, but the way he was feeling right now—yeah, impotent, helpless, naked in the wild, pretty much summed up where he was coming from.
Glancing at the GPS and navigating the vehicle through a series of turns, getting them closer to their destination and some help for Shannon, he saw on the display that they were almost at the clinic.
“We’ll be there in a minute or two, so you might want to prepare yourself to be moved,” Nick gritted out from between clenched teeth, sounding like a stern principal scolding a naughty student.
He realized then that clammy hands, grinding teeth, enough adrenaline running through him to supercharge an entire football team, and an ever-increasing and insistent warming around his heart and in his groin—these things were going to be his companions in whatever came next.
* * *
“Ned will have called ahead and alerted the clinic staff that we are en route. Try to hang in there a little while longer, little one, and we’ll get you comfortable, he murmured with an edge of tenderness that cut its way through Shannon’s discomfort and anxiety, touching her emotions in a way she wished she could ignore.
This was the second time he had called her by that old, affectionate nickname, something that on the one hand seemed so natural to hear and yet was also completely surprising. The man who had ruthlessly turned away from their relationship because it meant nothing to him, or so he said, would not be using that term. It seemed so out of context in light of all that had transpired between them at the end. And yet he spoke it to her as if he’d been saying it every single day of the eight years they’d been apart. Shannon just didn’t know what to make of this. Between the throbbing ankle and an ever-increasing headache, she was feeling decidedly vulnerable to her own thoughts.
Not really being able to do anything more than just sit there, she mentally prepared herself for their arrival at the clinic and tried gathering her thoughts so she could contribute information rather than just being weak and incapable of doing anything more than moan and fight back tears.
The injured foot was killing her. Looking down, she saw her two scraped hands, palms up, laying feebly in her lap while her hair, which had escaped the cowboy hat she’d had it tucked into at the moment she’d collided with the wall that ended up being Nick Barrett, was hanging in wild bunches of unruly curls all around her shoulders.
Feeling a mess and frustrated that she couldn’t even smooth her hair into some sort of semblance of order because of her mangled hands, Shannon was not overjoyed to realize she was feeling like a typical female in the presence of this particular man, a very sexy and desirable man at that. The fact that she was sitting there in a cowgirl outfit just seemed to give a surreal air to what was already an extraordinary turn of events.
Of course, the fact that he looked like a damn movie star in his bright white cowboy shirt, silver Western-themed belt buckle, boots and a pair of black jeans that fit him probably a little too well didn’t help the situation. She felt like the quirky girl from down the street who showed up to a costume party in a thrift-shop hand-me-down making her look ridiculous next to his heartthrob good looks and brain-melting masculinity. Okay, where had that thought come from?
God, they couldn’t get to the clinic fast enough. She needed to put some distance between herself and him. Never in her wildest dreams had she believed she’d ever really see him again, and yet here she was sitting in his car after a chance encounter, which affected her as if a bomb detonated in her life.
Okay, maybe in her wildest dreams she did indeed entertain deep, dark, secret thoughts about him riding in on his white horse to rescue her fr
om a life of loneliness and isolation once he damn well came to his senses and realized she was the one for him. Oh, shit, did she actually think that in conscious terms? Was she really romanticizing this situation? She needed to get out of his car fast. Nick’s very presence was seriously rattling her cage. Enough!
Thankfully that was the moment he flipped on the turn signal and, in the next heartbeat, whipped the steering wheel to the right so they could pull smoothly into the driveway and up to the clinic entrance.
* * *
As they pulled up to the wide front entrance to the clinic and Nick eased the large SUV to the curb, the businessman inside him was carefully assessing the people who stood by ready to attend them. It was no different than evaluating a rival, a business situation, or any one of a number of challenges that came regularly in his role as the Barrett tycoon. Nick rationalized that in the absence of being able to do anything else he was just making sure that only the best of the best would be attending to Shannon.
As he exited the car and stepped around to the other side to help Shannon into a waiting wheelchair, Nick was relieved when he did a cursory inspection and was glad to see that some color had returned to her cheeks. He hoped this meant that her injuries, specifically the head injury, were not more serious, because he felt sure that she might’ve been in shock. The color burst in her cheeks and her clear-eyed glance his way did much to assuage some of his anxiety.
The medical personnel were greeting him and letting him know that Mr. Stewart had indeed called ahead and that they were ready for Ms. Reynolds in an examining room. Stepping forward without any hesitation, Nick reached into the car and gently scooped Shannon before ever so slowly lowering into the wheelchair. Once she put down her injured leg, however, Nick saw her grimace in pain and grip the arms of the wheelchair.
Oh hell no, he thought. There was no way she was sitting in that chair if it was going to cause her to moan in pain. Without a second thought, he swooped in and bundled her back up. “Show me to the examining room right now!” he barked, then marched forward with long, determined strides toward the entrance of the clinic.
The team of medical personnel, looking slightly shocked at his take-charge manner but understanding they were in the presence of serious authority, immediately recovered and scurried along behind him facilitating his entrance into the clinic. The lead nurse gently guided him down the hallway to an examining room where she opened the door and instructed him to put Shannon on the bed.
Before too long, a team of serious-minded medical professionals efficiently moved around the room with electronic tablets on which to record Shannon’s information. Having no choice but to get out of the way, Nick removed himself to the other side of the room where a hi-tech tinted window looked out over what appeared to be a small outdoor patio.
Shoving a hand in his pocket, Nick felt something with his fingers and pulled out the ankle bracelet he had so carefully removed from her swelling foot. He’d forgotten in the kerfuffle of their accidental meeting that he had pocketed it. Staring at the delicate silver chain with the Goddess charm, he was hit yet again by the discomforting feeling that she was involved with someone—hell, maybe even married for all he knew. The very notion that she was anybody’s Goddess except his made him physically sick.
Sounds from the bed where Shannon reclined during this initial examination brought Nick back to the present. She was answering questions about her personal information to an attendant while the nurse continued taking her vital signs.
It didn’t take long for the intake assessment to be completed, the pertinent information recorded, and Shannon to be made comfortable on the bed. One by one the medical personnel wrapped up their tasks and exited the room. The last person remaining was the lead nurse, who while her fingers were pressed gently to Shannon’s wrist as she continued to assess her pulse, informed her that the doctor would be in momentarily.
Once her duties were completed, and after a brief nod in Nick’s direction and taking a moment to assure Shannon’s comfort, she too left the room. As the exam room door soundlessly swished shut, Nick and Shannon were alone again in a bubble of swirling energy marked by an umbrella of silence.
All Nick could do now was wait for the doctor to arrive, for ready or not, they would have to face the past and the present in due course.
CHAPTER FOUR
Still shocked at having been so unceremoniously scooped up out of the wheelchair and marched off down the hallway as if the whole world was coming to an end if he didn’t get her help in the next ten seconds, Shannon was overwhelmed and frankly a bit bemused. When her painful grimace had split the air, she couldn’t help but see how that had affected him.
He’d looked like someone had just shot his dog, and if she hadn’t known better, because after all he was a heartless bastard, she would’ve thought he actually cared. That each time he cuddled her close she wanted to surrender to her baser instincts and simply melt against him instead of demanding he step away and leave her alone shook her to the bitter core of eight years of pain.
Shannon’s mind told her she should be telling him off instead of seeking his comfort. She cringed realizing that her instincts were ignoring the painful past. Surely the fact that she was injured accounted for this uncharacteristic vulnerability. If not, well, she would have to think about that later.
After the flurry of talk when Jules and Ned had come upon them in those initial moments after the shocking collision of her soft, woman’s body into his hard-as-steel form, Shannon had retreated in confusion, partially due to the excruciating pain she was experiencing but certainly more due to the fact that she was in deep shock at having the object of a life’s worth of regret suddenly and unexpectedly in her face. With no time to prepare or chance to adopt a “don’t mess with me” demeanor, Shannon was at the mercy of her careening emotions and struggling to maintain some semblance of calm.
The fact that her surprise was deeply rooted in a thrumming awareness of him on a deeply primal level scared off whatever was left of rational speech. That an organic responsiveness was growing, broadening, and evolving with every minute she spent in his company unnerved Shannon even more. She could feel him, dammit—could feel his presence as though he was a magnet pulling her closer with every passing second.
Daring to spare a glance at the object of this discomfiture, she shifted her eyes under a hooded gaze to his ramrod-straight silhouette where he stood at the window of the hospital room as they waited for the next round of poking and prodding at her hideously swelled ankle.
As a young man just past his college days, she’d thought of him as beautiful. He had been poster-boy perfection—tall, lean, ripped, and possessing a keen wit and fast smile. That impression had been frozen in time from a past long thought buried, but right here, right now, nothing could have prepared her for the reality of the man he had become.
He’d had a way of standing that reminded her of a swashbuckling ship’s captain—feet spread apart, arms crossed, face to the sky, and even now the same held true. Right below the surface of the controlled façade he was projecting, she knew, laid the essence of something daring and enthralling within him. He was very much a bold and fearless warrior at heart. Deep in thought before the wide-cased window, he was silhouetted against the dazzling rays of that day’s sun with more shadow now than light, emphasizing the sizzling presence she couldn’t ignore, the latent sensuality and a primal sense of superiority he exuded without trying.
With his arms crossed, she couldn’t help but admire the casual attire he’d chosen. The sexy Western-style shirt in the brightest of bright whites, perfect for the cowboy pirate in her mind, stretched tight across his massive shoulders and down muscled arms to sleeves that had been turned back, revealing tanned forearms sprinkled with soft hair.
Was she wrong to notice that the shirt was neatly tucked into a pair of dark jeans that molded to his body, showing her the physique of a grown man? He had a flat stomach and long, powerful legs, along with what the
girls would call a very cute butt accentuating that pirate stance of his.
It didn’t take much to open the floodgates of memory even further, recalling intimate details her mind seemed helpless to block. Remembering how this giant of a man looked without a stitch of clothing on; his impossibly broad shoulders and naturally muscled arms framed a torso sculpted to perfection with a line of dusty brown hair running down his chest like an arrow pointing lower beyond his navel to slim hips and powerful thighs.
The startling memory of how his sex was crouched in another smattering of dusty colored body hair came unbidden and unwanted, enflaming the primitive drumbeat of awareness already overtaking her. Wanton memories of running her hands over his body and the way he would growl when her delicate touch had explored his maleness caused a sudden eruption of heat to pool between her legs, rocketing a deep blush up from the core of her being until it all but burst into flames on her face.
These memories were her enemy—thoughts and responses to a time long ago when she’d thought they were two parts of the same whole. Suddenly she wanted to cry, and not from the pain of her injuries but from her helpless response to an avalanche of sensual memories that were rocking her being and blowing away years of iron-clad control over her emotions.
She should look away, focus on herself and block her female response to his absorbing presence, but try as she might, nothing could force her thoughts back from the abyss of an intense desire to drink him in and drown in the powerful response his presence was wringing from her frayed emotions.
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