Capture Her Heart

by Catrina Maddox

  He placed a gauze over the affected areas and bandaged both hands. Her hands now appeared like she had a pair of boxing gloves on.

  “The left looks worse than the right, Em. Tell me, you’re right-handed?” Cain inspected her pain-filled face.

  “I'm right-handed,” Emily repeated back at Cain with a comical expression.

  “Shit, so your left-handed?” Cain said with a grin on his face.

  “But she just told you she's right-handed,” Blake barked at Cain.

  “Not much of a sense of humor on this one.” Cain jerked his thumb at his friend.

  “Well, Em. You're not going to be able to use your hands for the next week, at least. They need time to heal. Don't put any pressure on the fingers of your left hand for a few days.” The gentle way he handed her hands belied his intimidating size; it wasn't difficult to visualize him in the role of a doctor.

  “You're also going to need to change the dressing each day and keep it clean and dry, so no infection gets into the skin.” Cain nodded his head at the unsmiling man standing next to them.

  “But I can manage; if not, Catherine can come and help,” Emily claimed, thinking of her best friend with her fingers crossed.

  “You could get Paul to come and help you,” Cain proposed, his eyes drawn to her neck, a smile breaking out.

  Emily blushed as she realized it was the love bites that Blake had left last night that Cain was looking at. Take the bull by the horns, girl, she lectured. She needed to talk to her friends about the change in situation.

  “That's going to be hard as Paul and I are no longer friends.” Emily's eyes caught Cain’s, hoping he understood the message she was trying to send.

  “She mine mate, I'll be staying to look after her,” Blake interrupted, causing Emily to start as she heard what he said.

  “You can't stay here,“ Emily blurted out, her eyes flashing fire at Blake as she gaped at him.

  “You can't even handle a cup. How are you going to cook or wash or clean?“ Blake’s voice caught on the last word as his eyes racked down her body.

  Emily found herself spluttering as her body was rocked by the vision of her and Blake in the shower. God, get your hormones in check, girl. That's all it is, Emily told herself.

  “I can look after myself, thank you.“ Emily stomped to the overhead cupboard and reached for a glass.

  “I can grip things... Ahh!” the glass slipped from her hand as she didn't have a good grip on it with the bandages on her hands.

  “That's the second time already that you’ve dropped glassware around me,“ Blake said with aspiration in his voice as he pulled her away from the broken shards on the ground. She dropped down to try to pick them up.

  “You’re quite a little accident-prone thing, aren't you? Leave that to me; you'll only hurt yourself more.” Emily wanted to stamp her foot on the floor, but she wouldn’t give the man the satisfaction.

  Blake turned her to him, and using his finger tipped her head up to his.

  “Now, come on, sugar. If I stay, you'll be doing me a favor. I'm going to be in Glen Point all week, and so staying here means I won't have to go back to town every night,” his deep drawl wrapped around her.

  “You can have me at your beak and call, let me take care of you” Blake drawled down at her.

  Emily found herself wanting to more than stamp her foot. The man just rode rough house over her using logic, and when Cain added his voice to the argument, she found herself caving in. She knew she was going to need help, so why protest so much and look a gift horse in the mouth? She didn't know how she was going to survivehe would eat her alive.

  Emily started in her chair over the banging of the kitchen cupboards to find Blake going through the pantry and fridge after seeing Cain out.

  “What do you think you're doing?” Emily stared at him, her brown eyes stormy. “I thought you were going to clean up the broken glass.”

  “I have. Now I'm seeing what you have in the way of food. We'll need to pick some up on our way back,” Blake said blandly, concentrating on his task.

  “What?” Emily drew in a deep breath. “God, give me strength,” she muttered under her breath.

  “Well, come on then.” Blake grasped her wrist, pulling her up from the sofa she had been plonked down in not more than five minutes ago, and told to rest towing her towards the door.

  Emily tried to pull her wrist free, which was difficult when the end of it was covered in bandages. “I'm not going anywhere with you. Stop towing me around like a doll.”

  “Em, I need to go back to my apartment and pack some clothes, and I want to pick up some more bandages for you. I need you to come with me in case you go into shock when the pain starts, and if you are with me, then we can pick up some of those pain pills that Cain prescribed.” Blake waved a paper under her nose.

  “Oh, why didn't you say that, Ahh....” Emily felt the pain shoot up her hand as she unconsciously placed it on her hip.

  Blake frowned as he grasped her wrist. “Why don't we call a truce for today? Let me take care of you. What do you say, Emily?”

  Emily closed her eyes and wearily agreed with him. The pain was starting to throb uncomfortably in both hands as the numb sensation wore off.

  The drive to Blake's apartment was quick and quiet. Emily didn't even notice the views as she usually would. Her brain was taken up with the man in the driver's seat next to her. How was she going to get through the following week?

  Emily took a glance at him, his hands steady on the wheel of the car, his focus on the congested traffic of Queenstown.

  She yawned. The comfortable seat and relaxing nature of the gentle sway of the car had made her drowsy. Closing her eyes, she sought a more comfortable position in the seat.

  Blake flicked his gaze from the road as he saw her slump bonelessly into her seat, her lips slightly open as her injuries caught up to her. Blake’s hard mouth kicked into a triumphant grin of fierce satisfaction at having her in his grasp.

  A kick of anticipation tensed his muscles as he stepped on the accelerator, realizing that this week was going to be both challenging and exciting. The fascinating woman in the passenger seat had a hold over him that he had never felt before.

  He glanced at Emily, who was sleeping deeply, exhausted, her bandaged hands cradled in her lap. Blake found her vulnerability unexpectedly arousing. The top two buttons on her shirt had came undone; he had an inviting view of her cleavage and her white cotton bra was on display, very different from the sheer black one she wore the previous night. He found the contradiction intriguing.

  A carnal image of Emily's body splayed out on his bed last night flashed through his brainthe thought of her body, flushed with passion, caused his groin to tighten. He glanced at her again, uncomfortable with the quick reaction of his body to the image. A possessive feeling came over him. Emily was different. She was unique in his experience. No woman had ever left his bed in the morning, sneaking out like a thief. The passion that they had shared had been unlike anything he had experienced before. He was out of sorts from waking up that morning and realizing she was gone. She had slipped under his guard with annoying ease, intriguing, amusing, seducing, insulting, and enraging him in swift succession.

  His ego had taken a knock; he was known for being ice-cold, and with a heart to match. All it had taken for this myth to explode was one curvy artist. That morning, he had acted on impulse. If he was honest with himself, he didn't really think she had stolen from him, but he acknowledged he had acted on instinctan instinct to hunt down what was his. She was guaranteed to create havoc in his smoothly run life. He smiled in anticipation.

  5

  It was the second time in quick succession that Emily found herself waking up in bed. She blinked as her vision cleared. Looking around the room, she saw the familiar artwork on the wall, which had graced her bedroom since she had arrived at her uncle's house when she was ten years oldthe majesty of the landscape never failed to pull her in. Its comforting presen
ce caused her racing heart to settle as she realized she was at home. The last thing she remembered was sitting in Blake's car on the way to Queenstown. She pushed herself up to a sitting position, her hands stinging as she did so, bringing the memories of the day back in a rush.

  She must have fallen asleep, and Blake carried her to bed. A mortified groan rushed from her lips as she glanced downshe was still wearing her clothes from the car, thank god for small mercy. Emily looked towards the French doors on the left side of the room that led out to her deck. Through the wispy curtains, the late afternoon sun spilled onto the deck. She checked her bedside clock just as her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast time. The time showed it was five o'clock, meaning she had slept most of the day away.

  Emily wanted to flop back down on the bed and pull the covers over her head as the jumble of emotions from the last two days spun around in her head. What had she been thinking?

  I think I've made a big mistake, why did I get such a buzz when I thought he had come after me? As if that man would chase a woman like me; he's just being kind. After all, he thought you had stolen from him! Just remember that, and all will be well. So, why do I feel like I'm missing something? I need to focus on getting through this week.

  Emily groaned as the thoughts buzzed through her head at lightning speed. She had always been impulsive when she had been younger, but she thought she had outgrown that phase now. Watch where it had landed her. She should have known better by now to curb her impulses. She had plenty of examples of how going with passion leads to disasters; an image of her mother came to mind. She had been a beautiful woman ruled by her desires, regardless of what it meant for others. Emily pushed the memories away before they could take hold, pushing her legs across the bed so that she could stand. The realization quickly dawned on her that she was on her own again; not that Paul had been that much of a loss, if she was honest with herself. She snorted at that thoughta vision of Paul from the party entering her head focused on what he could get! She didn't need another self-centered male in her life. The words tumbled around her brain like a mantra as she pushed away from the bed. Her stomach led her down the hall towards the kitchen.

  Blake was leaning against the island bench that divided the kitchen from the rest of the room. Shocked, Emily realized that he was bare above the low slung running shorts he was wearing, his body bronzed and glistening, his raw masculinity was like an injection to her veins getting a shot of adrenaline. A reminder of the last time she had seen him naked caused her heart to race as her hormones took over. A faint dot of moisture drew her eyes to the dark hair on his chest, his arm muscles rippled as he gripped the island in front of him, not an ounce of surplus body fat marring the ridged lines of his abdomen or the taut curve of his waist to where it tapered to meet his lean hips. Emily raised her gaze from the line of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his running shorts. His hair was rumbled the black strands falling on to his forehead; his eyes stared at her, amused by her flustered reaction.

  “Excuse my state of undress, I have been for a run, and it's still hot. I was trying to cool down,” Blake said lazily.

  “I wanted to start on dinner since we both missed lunch today.”

  “I must have been tired. I crashed out on you.“ Emily then walked self-consciously towards him in the kitchen. She propped her hip against the side of the island, looking down at what Blake was doing.

  “How are you feeling?”

  She ran a bandaged hand through her rumpled locks, wishing she had stopped to look in the mirror before marching out.

  “Fine,” she said, pleased to realize that it was only a slight exaggeration, the pain taking a backseat.

  “I checked up on you several times through the day, but you were so deeply asleep that I thought it best to leave you to wake up; naturally, you obviously needed the rest,” he told her. “I only turned on the ceiling fan when I decided your skin felt overheated to my touch.”

  “Touched?” Emily chocked out. The thought of Blake leaning over her caused all sorts of fits and starts in her.

  “You were a little flushed, so I wanted you to be comfortable as you slept,” he said innocently.

  He turned towards the fridge, pulling a tall frosted tumbler filled with a golden-colored liquid.

  “I made this earlier; perhaps this will help.” He poured a tall glass of the golden liquid into a glass, the tinkle of ice cubes loud in the room. He placed the drink on the bench in front of her. He pulled a straw from a box of them on the table that she hadn't noticed.

  “There, that should make it easier for you,” he said, turning back to the island.

  “What is it?” her tone suspicious, looking at the glass she missed his amused smile.

  “Iced tea,” he said.

  Emily took a small sip of the liquid. It was surprisingly good, the flavors bursting in her mouth. The cold was soothing to her parched throat.

  “You made this?” she said around a greedy gulp. “From scratch?”

  “Don't sound so surprised,” he murmured, topping up her glass. “I'm as good in the kitchen as the bedroom,” he said as he gave her a saucy wink.

  He was more than competent in the bedroom. She took another sip as that thought slipped through her mind. It not being a typical kiwi drink, she hoped she hid the surprise at his choice.

  “You just don't look like the domesticated type,” she said.

  He picked up the knife sitting in front of him where an assortment of partly sliced vegetables strewn across the oversized oak chopping board. “What type am I?”

  She eyed him standing there casually. “Rich, single male, the type that eats out a lot and has minions for the grunt work,” she shrugged.

  “You think I'm lazy?” he said with surprise.

  “I didn't say that. I just think you might be too busy to focus on the mundane details, and therefore, you’re rich enough to have someone else to do it.”

  “Wrong. The fact that I'm rich and single,” he paused to give her a smoldering glance, “It’s not something I have been my whole life. You learn more than survival skills in the army. you learn a need to focus on the details; the devil is in them, and it just so happens that I like to cook. I find it relaxing.”

  “Well, I suppose it’s something we have in common,” Emily mused out loud.

  “So, you do your own cleaning and everything?”

  “I'm very self-reliant,” he sounded insufferably superior.

  “So, what did you do with yourself today while I was asleep?” she changed the topic.

  “I explored the house, getting my bearings. I set myself up in the room next to yours. I thought it was a spare guest room.”

  Emily found herself gulping at the thought of him prowling through the house, “Yes, that’s the guest room, Make yourself at home. Oh, look. You have.”

  “You have a lovely home, Emily. I especially like your studio.”

  “It's not my home,” Emily spluttered. “What I mean is that it belongs to my uncle. We both live here.” Emily emphasized, “but he travels a lot, so it works out for both of us to have me here,” she stared downwards self consciously.

  “Wait, you were in my studio!” Emily said as his words sank in.

  “Yes, is it off-limits?”

  “No, not really.” Emily was pained to admit, always having maintained an open-door policy for other friends and artists. She just hoped she had put the sketchpad that she'd been using that morning away. Otherwise, her embarrassment would be complete, imagining the man in front of her confronted with his image as she sketched it this morning in an effort to erase him. The image on the page had been erotic. His naked limbs spread across his bed, his face relaxed in sleep, the slight smile of a satisfied animal on his face. It was only after when she realized what she had drawn that she had come back to the house defeated.

  Blake was fascinated by the blush that was working its way up Emily's face.

  “So, how long
have you lived with your uncle?” Blake asked, his head cocked to one side, his intense interest causing her to blush again.

  “Since I was ten years old,” Emily advised.

  “So, you were raised by your uncle alone?” Blake picked up the knife again, wielding it against a red pepper he was holding.

  Without his intense gaze, she found herself telling him something she never usually told anyone “Yes, my mum only popped in once in a while when it was convenient for her. Without my uncle, I'm not sure where I would have ended up. He's my hero.”

  “Do you have any contact with your mother?”

  Emily was surprised by the question. “I haven't seen her in about two years. She lives in America at the moment. Do you have any family?”

  “Yes, my mother and sisters are still alive. Mum lives in Napier and my sisters followed me down to the South Island. All three of them are living in Queenstown at the moment, and before you ask, they are all younger than me. I'm the older brother.”

  “You must be a close family,” Emily chuckled at the image of Blake and his sisters.

  “Yes, we may not be in each other's daily lives, but we communicate regularly.” There was a hint of amused exasperation in his tone.

  “I take it they give you a bit of trouble,” Emily said.

  Blake snorted at the comment. “You don't know the half of it. My sisters are all very independent and opinionated.”

  “Ahh, so you were a mothers' boy,” Emily said, a sparkle in her eyes

  He rolled his eyes, “I wish, maybe then my sisters would leave me alone. They're a little afraid of her, but mum raised us to think for ourselves.”

  Emily's gaze slid down to his chest and his rippling arms as he prepared dinner. The thought of some woman able to boss him around caused her to lick her parched lips. He was as far away from a mother's boys as you could find, she conceded.

  “Working on anything unusual at the moment?”

  “No, no. Nothing important,” Emily stumbled over her words as she dragged her eyes away.