Drifting back into consciousness, Makenzie heard a deep voice, but the sounds were so muffled she couldn’t distinguish what was being said. Reluctantly opening her eyes, she looked up to see a hand in her face gesturing something, but she had no idea what. With a little concentration, she looked upward to the owner of the hand’s face. The first thing she noticed was almond-shaped eyes. A rich hazel, the hodgepodge of colors had her wishing for a set of Cray-Pas, oil-based crayons for student artists. Those were the only tool save paint that could blend the colors properly. Even with those, she may not get it right. But she was willing to risk it. Moving on, she catalogued more-than-pleasing features, a strong jaw with a hint of five-o’clock shadow, the same rich, almost inky black hair color as closely capped his head, a firm mouth with its sensual curve, the lower lip just a hair fuller than the upper one. Makenzie’s mouth dried as she realized how attractive she found this man. Her palms were moist, and her panties grew wet. He was candy for grown-up women, no girls need apply, and absolutely mouthwatering,
“How many fingers am I holding up?”
The urgent tone in his voice snapped her out of the trance the handsome stranger’s gaze held her in and she came back to reality.
Her car was smashed, most likely totaled, from the look of the interior caging her. The doors crumpled under the dual pressure of car versus tree, and looking down, she saw her side of the floorboard barely contained her feet. Panting, she looked at the stranger, saying the first thing to come to mind. “Out…please, can you help me out of here?”
He didn’t say anything, just looked at her very closely, as if he were able to see through her to the real Makenzie no one saw, not even herself. Strangely enough, Mak felt if she looked hard enough she could see the real him, too. After a moment, he merely leaned over, clasping her under the knees and around her back, and tugged her until she was freed from the mangled console.
“Are you all right?” the man asked her, concern lending an ashen cast to the natural bronze of his skin. He tugged his coat around her shoulders and sat with her at the curb.
“Yes, I think so. Thank you for helping me.”
“It was nothing. The other driver is okay, just a little shaken. I already called 911. Someone should be here in just a minute to check you out.”
“I’m just fine. I don’t need an ambulance or anything.”
“You still need to be evaluated by a professional. Once the shock wears off you’re going to feel the pain.”
With that statement, the ambulance pulled up, sirens blaring and lights flashing, followed by several police cars. The EMT came to her, asked a few questions, checked her vitals, and recommended a ride to the hospital to check for a concussion or some other trauma. Since Mak’s head was splitting, she agreed. The officer, named A. Wilson Jones, while polite, was impersonal during her recount of the events, and since her retelling of the accident concurred with the witnesses, the officer advised the other person was at fault. She could go after the report was filed and insurance info swapped.
Out of the corner of her eye, Mak saw the handsome stranger walk over in her direction. He held her purse in one hand, the small purple mini-folio containing all legal paperwork for the car in the other. As he sauntered over she finally got a good look at all of him. He was nearly a foot taller than her average five-foot-six, and structured on the muscular side. His hands and feet were huge, but he moved gracefully for a man. He was definitely not her type. Liar, her thoughts mocked, he is every woman’s type as long as they have a pulse and working brain. But he’s not for me. Shaking her head slightly, she handed the necessary papers to Officer Jones and leaned back slightly, catching an extra sniff of her exotic stranger’s cologne. Faint yet masculine, the scent smelled almost as good as he looked.
“By the way, thank you again.”
“No thanks needed. I was here and am glad I could assist. My name is Charyn Moreland, and you are?” He pronounced it “chair-wren.” Sexy name, Mak thought.
“I’m Makenzie Stafford-Johns, and I promise that I wasn’t raised in a barn.”
Startled, Charyn smiled and gave a small laugh. “Well, I suppose under the circumstance you can’t be faulted. Really, I’m the one who should apologize. As the gentleman, manners dictate that I bear the burden of introduction.”
“Well, how about we both say we’re even then? At least that way we can stop offering apologies, and we can talk about something else.”
“That sounds just fine to me. Would you care to have a seat while we wait?”
Frowning slightly, Mak asked the obvious question. “We?”
“Why not? We are already here, right?” he replied, volleying the question back to her.
“I just assumed…that you have to get home to someone. It’s almost seven on a Friday night.” No way was a man this attractive without the requisite showpiece girlfriend or wife, Makenzie thought. Even as she mentally crossed her fingers that she wasn’t poaching on another woman’s man.
“There isn’t anyone. Is there someone you have to get home to, Makenzie Stafford-Johns?” There was extra emphasis placed on her last name. As if he wanted an explanation. She had no problem complying with the query. Even if this couldn’t go anywhere it was definitely the highlight of her day.
“No. It’s my mom’s maiden name and my dad’s name hyphenated. Are you from here?” Mak asked, curious about the handsome stranger.
“Not originally. I grew up in Connecticut, and I’ve lived here for the last six years or so. What about you?” Charyn responded to her inquiry.
“I moved to Wilmington about five years ago, but I grew up just outside of Charlotte.”
“I see.” His response let her know Charyn could hear her slight drawl, southern and thick.
“I bet you do, I know I sound country as hell to you.” Mak laughed until her pounding head reminded her to stop.
Charyn smiled at her laughter and replied, “No, the accent is very lovely. I hope you understand that.”
Makenzie certainly did, as she could listen to him speak all day, but the officer returned and offered her a copy of the paperwork with the incident report on top. When she walked away from him to climb in the ambulance, Makenzie couldn’t help looking back for one more glance at the gorgeous man who’d aided her in her time of need. Surprisingly enough, their eyes met as he was watching her walk away, too. The ride to the hospital was silent, leaving her too much time to think about the man that she just met in an ironic twist of fate.
After a long wait for a triage nurse, Makenzie was escorted to a semiprivate room to wait for the attending physician to show up. The nurse took another set of vitals and ducked out after a quick run-through of the functions on her bed and remote. The aloof doctor told her she would be okay to go home after overnight observation, as she was only slightly concussed.
After changing into the infamous ass-out gown, she laid down as the long day finally caught up with her, and she fell into a dreamless sleep. She woke up on her own once, texted Charli a message with some of the details, and promptly turned the phone back off to resume resting. Makenzie didn’t feel like answering a million questions after the day she had. The only disturbance aside from her scorching dreams was when someone would tap her into consciousness, check pupil dilation, and re-dim the lighting before leaving.
Later that night, Makenzie heard the door open, and imagined seeing a large shadow settle on the sofa pullout next to her bed. But she was too weary to take a second look before falling back asleep. She only came to when she could hear snippets of an argument, disturbing her dreams of hazel eyes watching her hungrily while she masturbated.
Chapter 4:
Poke Her
For Charyn Moreland, his Friday morning started as a normal day. He strolled into his corner office at MoreLand and Co. promptly at 7 a.m. and ran numbers all morning before the first employee showed up at eight fifty. His breakfast consisted of coffee and a headache, which was unshakeable even with the bitter BC Powders he�
�d taken for it half an hour ago. When he finished with the preliminary numbers for the Yakima merger and land deal, his assistant, Marge, was walking to her desk while sipping a humongous coffee. The next time he looked up she was standing in the gaping entry of his propped-open door.
She popped her head inside. “Hullo Charyn, want a bagel?” There was a vendor who came by from eight to ten in the lobby selling bagels and coffee from a cart.
“Nah, Marge, I’m all right, thank you.” He didn’t have time, there never seemed to be enough.
“Charyn, what time did you get here? Seven, as always? I think you need to get a life.”
“That sounds about right.” God, he knew he needed to, but thus far he was unable to muster up interest in making the attempt.
“I know it is. I need for you to get a nice woman for once. I don’t think you’ve had a date in ages. I’m damn near sixty and I get poked more than you do.” Marge smiled and shook her hand at him.
“First off, I don’t get poked. Second, I’m going to tell Sal on you if you don’t stop haranguing me.” Sal was Marge’s master, and the couple had been married for well over twenty years.
“It’s all in love, boss. I don’t think that a handsome young man should be so engrossed in his work. It’s possible to have balance, you know.” He needed for his assistant to stop trying to be his mother. He had one, thank you very much, Charyn thought to himself, only keeping quiet as he knew she meant well. Plus, if he offended the minute tyrant, his office would fall apart while she sulked.
“Thank you for your opinion, Marge, but I think I should get ready for the next meeting, if you can have the team meet me in Conference Room C in twenty minutes.”
* * * *
When Charyn left the office that evening, he reminded himself to ride past the liquor store for the poker game tonight. He should have asked Marge to get him a bottle, but with everything else he was doing today, it was little wonder that he forgot. When he left the store, a small Saturn was pulling out, and he let the car pass him. The driver greeted him with a quick toot of the horn to thank him for being polite.
Not two minutes later, he saw a dog run across the street. A driver from the left-hand lane swerved right to avoid the animal. With horror, Charyn saw the small car he’d let pass him get T-boned and crumple into a tree. He screeched his Hummer to a stop on the side of the road just ahead of the wrecked cars and called 911. Guilt was the first emotion he felt. If the driver hadn’t passed him, he would have been in this accident. But his car was better equipped to handle the damage than the compact car before him.
He reached the wreckage without realizing it and peered in, hoping the driver was at least alive, even if he or she was injured. The driver-side door was a crumpled mass of metal and shattered glass. The impact left it leaning drunkenly off the hinges. Pulling the tinfoil ball of door away was easier than it should have been.
But when he took the first glance at the woman inside he felt his heart lurch. She was beautiful, her face serene and unconscious, but breathing. There was an array of scattered items in the car console. The glass bottles she’d gotten from the ABC were broken and liquor dripped from the ceiling.
Recalling his basic first-aid training, he tried to see how injured she was before risking moving her from the rubble. Snapping his fingers to see if she would come to, he saw her flex a knee and hand, letting him know her spine was relatively uninjured. Her eyes fluttered, and he waited, holding his breath, to see if she would come to.
She did, and he was drowning in her. Charyn felt the unwelcome erection come to life and he forced himself to speak.
“How many fingers am I holding up?” It was the only thing he could think of.
She didn’t answer him, just grew wide-eyed when she saw the mass of console battered around her. Her breaths became labored and he knew she was near panic.
“Out…please, can you help me out of here?” were the first words he heard from the mystery lady. Her voice was amazing, sultry and southern. The combination made him think illogically of poured honey, thick and sweet. Even her skin was the color of the syrup.
By the time the incident was over and Charyn watched the brown beauty leave him, he wished he could have spoken to her just a moment longer.
Later that night Charyn couldn’t forget her, Makenzie. He had gone home after she was taken to the hospital, but thoughts of the big-eyed natural-haired beauty kept him adjusting his pants the rest of the evening. So much so that hours later, he was back on the road, leaving his house to see her. He’d never made the poker game he was headed for earlier. It seemed he was going to have to make apologies to his brother later for skipping it. But he had to know if he was imagining how beautiful she was.
Worse, he couldn’t seem to let go of the vision of her trapped in the car. He lied to the night nurse just so he could be there, telling the woman that Makenzie was his fiancé. Arriving at the hospital after midnight, he found her even more beautiful in sleep than he did at first sight. Settling on the small sofa at her bedside, Charyn found his back and legs complaining at their confinement already. But he was content to just half watch her in the dark as he worked on spreadsheets from a tablet PC for the coming Monday’s meeting. He was the comptroller at the real properties investment company that he and his brothers jointly owned. Charyn found himself up working off and on almost the whole night, taking a short nap somewhere in the neighborhood of five a.m.
That was when all hell broke loose in the form of a tiny female, and there was no fury like hers. First, he heard the door open, and he sat upright from his formerly slouched posture. He could tell that the new arrival was angry in her attitude, and he had no clue as to why. The answer was revealed in a barrage of questions from her mouth the moment she laid eyes on him sitting on the small couch.
“Who are you?” She had a sharp tongue, almost as if she were waiting for him to mess up and let her fillet him with it.
“Charyn. Charyn Moreland.”
“Hello Charyn, I’m Charli. What I’m trying to figure out right now is exactly who you are…From what I heard from the friendly night nurse, you’re the fiancé. The problem is, I’ve known Mak for almost twenty years, and she never mentioned you or your name.”
“I understand, but I was the first person to respond to the accident. I just wanted to make sure she was fine and uninjured. Only a churl would do anything less.”
“That’s all well and good, but why the lies about your relationship, especially to spend the night on a rock-hard hospital couch, for a stranger?” Charli hissed back.
“I felt the need to be here, and that was the easiest way to accomplish that.”
“Hmmm…I reserve the right to beat you like you stole something if you hurt her at all. Don’t fool yourself. I can and will do it.” Charli was working herself into an apparent froth when the monitor came to, beeping a warning about Mak’s elevating heart rate. The arguing pair fell silent, watching and listening for any signs of distress, when Makenzie sat up.
Charyn watched Makenzie lean forward, motioning them to come closer. He walked the few needed steps to her bedside and leaned in, close enough to overwhelm her senses and a hair too far to be in kissing range. But she was leaning closer to him, and each breath he took drew his face nearer hers. He looked her in the eyes and was lost, watching her gaze back, and was even more fascinated as her pupils dilated.
After Charyn saw her drink a deep breath filled with his scent, the monitor next to her began to beep faster. He saw her come to her senses. The look on her face spoke volumes, her face saying she was embarrassed. Their ogling broke, and he let her dart her eyes from his only to find Charli watching their locked eyes, too. The petite woman made an attempt to be quiet, only her eyes gave away her feelings about the situation. He saw the narrowed eyes throwing confused daggers at him from the other side of the bed.
* * * *
“Charli, stop it. Charyn was there from the jump. He pulled me from the car, shared his coat with
me, and was even kind enough apparently to sit here. Am I right?” Mak said in a small whisper. She was exhausted and achy, a bad combination on a normal day. But after the night she’d had? The sore muscles were worse than a toothache, mixed with a migraine chaser from the whispered arguments fostered by Charli’s hotheadedness and Charyn’s devastating gorgeousness.
“Yes, but…”
Mak made a cutoff motion with her hand across her throat. “No buts, boo. Don’t be rude. This man did more for me than any stranger would in this day and age…I just want for you to be polite. I can’t make you like him, but you will show him some respect. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.” With that statement, she laid back, resting her upper body again.
“It’s all right, Makenzie. She just has your well-being at the forefront of her mind, and she has never met me before. Especially considering the situation,” Charyn interjected nonchalantly. “I think you should get some rest. I’ll stop back in a bit and check on you.” He walked away, and Makenzie watched him pull the door fully closed as he left her.
“What was that all about, Mak? That man was devouring you with his eyes, like you were made of chocolate or somethin’. As far as I know, he is a complete stranger, but the way you looked at him says you want him, too. If you do, I’m all for it. I just don’t want you getting hurt by a stalker. The look in his eyes made me shiver.” Charli looked at her pointedly. “And you eyed him back. Your body language was telling him that he could get the business.” Laughing at her wit, Charli then asked, “Are you all right? The little information I got was you were in an accident off Seventeenth Street, and what room number they put you in. Had my mind bad, girlfriend, but if you can give me the verbal slap I just got, then you are good!”
Willows, Jennifer - Bound by Accident [Moreland Brothers 1] (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 3