Into Your Arms (A Contemporary Romance Novel)

by Strom, Abigail

  “You’re so arrogant. And such an ass. Dancers train for strength, flexibility, and stamina. Think about that for a second.” Nick didn’t know if Harry was thinking about it, but he sure as hell was. “I can bend my body in ways you can’t even imagine. I’ve got muscles in places you can’t even see. I could squeeze you so tight you’d think you were seeing God, and I could do it all night long. The truth is, you could never keep up with me. So I guess it’s lucky that you’re the last man on earth I would ever sleep with. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I need some air.”

  Before he could move, Sara was coming down the stairs. When she saw him she froze. Their eyes met just as Harry spoke again.

  “You can’t talk like that and just leave me hanging. Please, Sara, let’s go inside and figure this out. I’m crazy about you. I want to be with you. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll pitch a tent outside your doorstep if I have to. I’m not giving up until I get you back.”

  She closed her eyes briefly and then opened them, her gaze locking on Nick’s.

  “You’re too late. I’m already seeing someone else.”

  Her words hit him like a kidney punch. She was seeing someone? Who?

  Then she was moving again, coming down the stairs to stand in front of him.

  “Please play along,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  Her eyes were pleading, but he had no idea what she needed from him.

  “Please,” she said again, and then, just as Harry came down the stairs behind her, she threw her arms around him and pressed her lips to his.

  It dawned on him—finally—that she wanted him to pretend they were seeing each other, and that this kiss was meant to convince Harry of that fact.

  But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Because once her mouth was on his, he forgot everything else.

  It was a quick, clumsy, closed-mouth kiss, and it slammed into him like an explosion. After only a few seconds she pulled away, her expression anxious. She started to say something, but he didn’t give her a chance to get the words out.

  He grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her back against the wall, meeting her wide, startled eyes for an instant before he brought his mouth down on hers.

  He slid his tongue past her lips and groaned. She was sweet and hot and perfect, and he couldn’t get enough. He framed her face in his hands as he changed the angle of the kiss, making it deeper, harder, fiercer. Her tongue was tangling with his now, the erotic, intimate slide setting his nerve endings on fire.

  Her breasts were crushed against his chest, his erection pressed against her flat stomach. He was one thread of self-control away from taking her right here against the wall.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  It was Harry, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him away. Nick kept his back to the other man as he looked down at Sara, taking in her dazed expression and kiss-swollen lips. “Didn’t you hear?” he asked softly, his eyes never leaving hers. “Sara and I are seeing each other now.”

  “You can’t be serious. I don’t believe it.”

  He still didn’t look at Harry, keeping his gaze locked on Sara. “He doesn’t sound convinced. I think I should kiss you again.”

  Sara edged herself away from the wall, towards the stairs. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” she mumbled, her face bright red.

  “I do,” Nick said, reaching for her—and then everything went into slow motion.

  Sara jerked away from him, startled, and then her face filled with sudden horror as she stepped back onto nothing.

  He shouted, or maybe Harry did. Maybe they both did. But neither one of them was quick enough to stop her from falling down the stairs, tumbling backwards and landing in a crumpled heap against the far wall of the landing.

  Chapter Seven

  One frozen moment of terror, and then he and Harry were flying down the stairs to crouch down on either side of her.

  “Sara, baby, are you all right? Can you move?”

  “No,” Nick ordered. “Don’t try to move. I’ll call for an ambulance, and they’ll load you onto a stretcher.”

  “Come on, Nick,” Harry snapped. “Overkill much? She doesn’t need a stretcher. I’ll carry her down and get her into a cab, and take her to the emergency room.”

  Nick laid a gentle hand on the top of Sara’s head, which was wedged against the wall. “Don’t move,” he told her again, before looking at Harry. “When there’s any risk of an injury to the head or neck, you don’t try to move the person. You call an ambulance.”

  Harry flushed with anger. “Who appointed you her guardian angel? Considering that you’re the one responsible for her fall, I’d think you’d have the decency to—”

  “Stop it.” It was Sara, speaking through gritted teeth. “Stop arguing.”

  “I’m sorry, baby,” Harry said, his voice softening. “I just wanted Nick to—”

  “Stop it, I said. And get out. Both of you. Call the ambulance, and when it comes, let them in the building. That’s all I need from either one of you. Now, please, leave me alone.”

  Her eyes were closed, and a single tear leaked out onto her cheek.

  “You heard her,” Nick said abruptly, rising to his feet. He went down the stairs without looking back, and after a moment Harry followed.

  Nick paused at the front door. “I’ll call you to let you know how she is.”

  “What? No, you won’t. She kicked both of us out, remember? She doesn’t want our help.”

  “That’s just one of the differences between us, Harry. Because I’m going to help her anyway.”

  He shoved Harry onto the stoop and made sure the door closed behind him. Then he called 911 as he went back up the stairs, explaining the situation and requesting an ambulance.

  “I thought I told you to leave,” Sara said when he knelt down beside her and took one of her hands in his. She was curled up in fetal position, which was how she’d fallen—probably an unconscious attempt to protect herself. Her face was tense with pain. Her eyes were still closed, and tears slid across her cheek and into her hair.

  “I’m not going anywhere. The ambulance will be here soon. I’m going to tell them I’m your brother, okay? That way I’ll be able to stay with you.”

  “You’re going to lie?”

  “Yes.”

  He saw the muscles of her throat move as she swallowed. “I don’t need you to do that. I don’t need—”

  “Shh. Don’t talk, Sara. Just stay still.”

  She didn’t say anything else. After a few minutes he started to stroke her hair, very softly, while they waited in silence for the ambulance to come.

  * * *

  The emergency room was a nightmare blur of gunshot wounds and stab wounds and people on stretchers. Sara remembered to call the sports medicine specialist the company had on call, and when she finally made it into an exam room Dr. Arabedian was there to meet her.

  After what seemed like an eternity of exams and x-rays and treatment, a nurse wheeled her out to the waiting room. She had an air cast on her left foot and her right arm was in a sling. She hadn’t dislocated her shoulder but she’d wrenched it pretty badly, and she’d have to use the sling for at least a few days.

  Her left ankle hadn’t gotten off so easily. It was fractured, and she’d be wearing the cast for six weeks.

  Her mind shied away from what an injury like this would mean for her already fading dance career. She couldn’t think about that right now. If she did, she’d fall apart.

  The first person she saw when she came out was Nick, even though she’d told him not to wait for her.

  She wasn’t really surprised. She knew why he’d stayed, and she didn’t have the energy to argue with him right now. So he stayed by her side as she checked out at the desk, and as a staff person wheeled her out of the hospital.

  During the taxi ride back to her apartment she broke the silence by saying, “It’s not true, what Harry said.”

  Nick turned
his head to look at her. “What?”

  “It’s not your fault that I fell. It’s no one’s fault. It was just an accident.”

  He turned away for a minute to stare out the window. When he turned back, she saw the agony in his eyes. “It was my fault. I got carried away, and I startled you. That’s why you fell.”

  He wasn’t the only one who’d gotten carried away. When she thought about that kiss she could almost forget how much her shoulder and ankle hurt. It’s what she’d thought about while the doctors were working on her, to distract herself from the pain.

  He’d just…claimed her. Taken possession of her. He’d turned her bones to jelly with a single kiss, and left her shaking.

  That was why she’d backed away from him. Because she’d never been kissed like that in her life, and she needed to get a grip on herself.

  Instead, she’d fallen.

  She closed her eyes, wondering if the kiss and the fall would be forever linked in her mind. It seemed cruelly unfair to experience so much pleasure followed by so much pain. Sort of like shock treatment for kissing a guy you have no business kissing.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she said again, keeping her eyes closed.

  Thankfully he didn’t contradict her this time, and they rode the rest of the way in silence.

  When the taxi pulled up in front of their building, Nick paid the driver and got out, coming around to her side. He opened her door and held out a hand.

  “I don’t need any help.”

  “You can’t use your crutches yet, not with your arm in a sling.”

  Was he thinking of carrying her up all those stairs? “They told me I can walk in the cast if I have to. For short distances.”

  “Tell me the truth, Sara. Wouldn’t it be better to avoid putting weight on your ankle? At least for the first few days?”

  She took a deep breath and let it out. Then she nodded.

  “All right, then. Give me your keys and put your good arm around my neck.”

  Her ankle and shoulder were throbbing, but she was still intensely aware of Nick, who lifted her out of the cab like she weighed nothing at all.

  He carried her up the four flights easily. He wasn’t even breathing hard when he paused in front of her door, unlocking it with the hand under her knees and nudging it open with his foot before bringing her inside. He carried her across the living room and into her bedroom, where he deposited her carefully on the bed.

  “What do you need before you can go to sleep? A nightgown? A glass of water? Do you want me to carry you to the bathroom?”

  She’d used the bathroom just before she left the hospital. “No, I’m okay.”

  “What can I do, then?”

  He probably wouldn’t leave until she gave him some task to perform. He seemed determined to help her whether she wanted him to or not, which she supposed was his way of doing penance for what he persisted in believing was his fault.

  She sighed. “I guess a glass of water would be nice. And if you want to toss me my pajamas, they’re on the chair by the window.”

  He grabbed them and handed them to her before heading for the kitchen. He was back in a minute with a glass of ice water, which he set on her nightstand beside the vase of irises.

  He glanced at the flowers before looking back at her. She was sitting on the edge of her bed with the pajamas in her lap. His gaze took in her sling and her cast.

  “Do you need any help changing?”

  The thought made her cheeks flood with color. “No, I’ll be fine. I just want to go to sleep.” As she said the words, she became aware of how bone-numbingly tired she was. Exhaustion set in as the adrenaline that had kept her going up until now deserted her.

  “Okay. Did they give you painkillers to tide you over, or do you need me to get some prescriptions filled? I can go to the all-night pharmacy on the corner.”

  She was going to get by with ibuprofen and acetaminophen, both of which were in the drawer of her bedside table.

  “I’m all set.”

  He frowned at her. “Wait a second. You are going to take painkillers, right?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “I’m not talking about aspirin. I’m talking about Vicodin or Percocet or something like that.”

  She sighed. “Nick, I don’t take prescription painkillers. But it’s fine.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, tousling it even more than it was already. That messy look combined with the scruff on his jaw made him look raw and masculine and very out of place in her bedroom, with its gauzy curtains and rose-colored eiderdown and the delicate watercolors of flowers and dancers that hung on her walls.

  “Is that because of what you told me? About getting addicted to painkillers when you were in your twenties?”

  “Yes.”

  “That was a long time ago, Sara.”

  “I’m taking 800 milligrams of ibuprofen every six hours and 400 milligrams of acetaminophen every four hours. I’ll be fine. I just need to get some sleep,” she added pointedly, wanting him gone.

  His presence made her feel off-balance. Her life had shattered since he had come into it, and even though none of it was his fault—her breakup with Harry, The Talk with Miles, her broken ankle—Nick loomed in her mind as a catalyst of change she didn’t want and wasn’t ready for.

  “Could you go away now, please?” she asked after a minute, hearing the tremor in her voice and suddenly afraid she might start crying.

  Please don’t let me start crying.

  “I will, if you’ll promise me one thing.”

  If he asked her to take a prescription painkiller she would have to say no. “What is it?”

  “I’m going to be working from home tomorrow, and I want you to call me whenever you need help. Do you promise?”

  She didn’t want to see Nick tomorrow. He made her think and feel things she didn’t want to think or feel. She wanted to put some distance between them. But if promising this one thing would get him to leave, then it was worth it. Tomorrow was soon enough to make it clear that she didn’t need his help, and that all she wanted was to be left alone.

  “Okay.”

  “You promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “All right, then. Give me your phone.”

  She dug it out of her pocket and handed it to him, and he put in his number before setting the phone on her bedside table. Then he reached a hand towards her, as though to touch her face or stroke her hair, and she tensed.

  He slid both hands into his pockets instead. “I hope you sleep well.”

  “Thanks.”

  He left the room, finally, and she took a deep breath as she heard the front door closing behind him.

  * * *

  She didn’t call.

  He shouldn’t have been surprised. Even if she said the fall wasn’t his fault, she had to hate the sight of him right now.

  He couldn’t get the memory of her expression out of his head. The way she’d looked when she realized she was falling.

  He replayed that moment over and over. If only he’d reacted faster. If only he’d caught her.

  If only he hadn’t kissed her like that in the first place.

  Now she was in a cast for six weeks, and who knew what would happen after that. Even after the cast came off, it could be a long time before she was a hundred percent. Maybe she’d never dance again.

  It was possible that he’d single-handedly destroyed Sara’s career. No wonder she wasn’t calling him.

  It was four o’clock, and he was sitting at his computer waiting for Keisha to get back to him on the press release he’d just sent her for approval. After a minute her email popped into his inbox.

  She’d changed her mind. She’d decided not to appear on the late night talk show he’d booked, which meant the press release would not be needed.

  His jaw tightened as he stared at her message. Once again, Keisha Watkins was rejecting his advice. She was apparently determined not to let him help her.

&
nbsp; His intercom buzzed, which probably saved his laptop from being thrown across the room.

  He went over to the door and pushed the button. “Yeah?”

  “It’s Emilio and Jeanette. Sara told us to buzz you when we got here. She said you have a key to her place and could let us in.”

  “Oh. Yeah, of course. Come on up.”

  She hadn’t called him, but she was letting him help her with this one small thing. He might have looked at this as a hopeful sign, except that he wasn’t in a particularly hopeful mood.

  Sara’s friends knocked on his door a minute later.

  Emilio put a hand on his arm as he came out into the hall. “Have you seen her today? How is she doing?”

  “I haven’t seen her today. I told her to call if she needed me, but…” he shook his head. “She was in a lot of pain last night, but she won’t take the meds the hospital prescribed. Only over-the-counter pills.”

  Jeanette nodded. “That’s because…” she stopped abruptly.

  “Her problem with painkillers? She told me about that. But that was a long time ago.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Emilio said. “Sara won’t take that stuff.”

  Nick sighed. “I hate watching her suffer. Especially when there’s a way for her to feel better and she won’t take advantage of it.”

  “There are worse things than physical pain.”

  “Like what?”

  “Addiction. Feeling at the mercy of something you can’t control.”

  He thought about Kevin, and nodded. “Maybe you’re right. Anyway, it’s a moot point, since Sara won’t budge.” He paused. “What will this mean for her career? I didn’t want to ask her last night, but…what’s going to happen now? I don’t know how things work for dancers. Does she still get a paycheck? Does she have health insurance? Will she be dancing again?”

  It was Jeanette who answered. “She’ll still get a paycheck, at least through the end of August. And yes, we have health insurance. She’ll be working with the best sports medicine doctor in the city, too. But as for her dancing…” she shrugged. “Sara already had The Talk with Miles. So I don’t know.”

  “The Talk?” Nick said it with capitals, the way Jeanette had.