Lori Foster Read online

  He stared at all three people, daring any of them to ask.

  One man stepped forward, twisting his hands together. “Is she all right? Lace, honey, how bad was it?”

  The dog owner, Daniel decided, and his scowl deepened. The man appeared to be in his mid-forties, had at least three thick gold chains around his neck, and obviously enjoyed lifting weights. Daniel tightened his hold possessively—not that he was possessive. “She got close to a hundred stitches. The dog was reported, of course.”

  Lace bit his ear. He almost dropped her he was so surprised. It wasn’t that it had hurt, because she’d only given him a small nip, but it had nearly buckled his knees. The feel of her open mouth on his skin, the touch of her sharp little teeth, her warm breath, had felt very like a lover’s nibble, and suddenly every male hormone he possessed screamed an alert. It took every ounce of his flagging control to keep his expression impassive.

  Lace leaned away from him, sending a smile to the other man. “Hello, Frank. I’m going to be fine, so you can stop worrying. And I’ve decided not to press charges this time. But I will have to insist that you check into some training for him. He can’t just go around losing control like that. And from now on, make certain he’s kept on a leash.”

  Relief spread over Frank’s face, despite her stern tone. He appeared ready to fall at Lace’s feet in gratitude. “I’d already decided the very same thing, Lace, honey. And I really am sorry. I swear I won’t let him loose again, now that I know there’s a problem. I just don’t know what got into him.”

  “The cat that tried to use me as a shield enticed him beyond his endurance, I’m sure.”

  “I know he was after the cat, but he’s never so much as even growled at a person before.”

  Lace reached out to pat his shoulder, leaving it to Daniel to balance her weight. “I’ll be fine, Frank, really. The important thing is to make certain it never happens again.”

  Frank turned to the other two men, both older, but still not old. “We’ve been talking, and if there’s anything you need, just let one of us know. We’ll be glad to help you out while you recuperate.”

  Daniel finally found his voice. Here was the perfect solution, a way for him to leave her, in familiar hands, so he could go home and retire after his long day. He opened his mouth and said, “That won’t be necessary. I’ll take care of her.”

  Silence fell. Daniel heard the words, knew he’d said them himself, and almost shook his head to deny it anyway. He didn’t want to take care of Lace. Good grief, he didn’t even like the woman. He vigorously disliked her! He disapproved of her and her immoderate effect on him. He racked his brain for a tactful way out of the predicament he’d just put himself in when Lace leaned back to see his face.

  She looked shocked and ready to protest, which irritated him even more. Perversely, he decided he would hang around and there was no way she could stop him. “Not a word out of you, lady. And if you’re done socializing, I’d like to get to your place. You’re not heavy, but then, you’re no featherweight, either.”

  The men scrambled away, saying hasty good-nights as Daniel started up the stairs. Lace grinned and rubbed her fingertips over his nape. He felt the caress all the way to his suddenly tight abdomen.

  “Putting a strain on your back, am I?”

  “No more than you strain my patience,” he muttered, and added, “All that male adoration piled on your beautiful head was enough to make me ill. Now I know why you chose this apartment. Are there any females in residence at all?”

  Lace cupped his cheek, forcing him to look at her. “Beautiful head? By any chance, was that an actual compliment I just heard, Daniel?”

  His foot paused on the next step and he blinked at her. Her smile teased him and her fingertips were gentle on his jaw. His glasses slipped down his nose a fraction of an inch.

  “I didn’t mean it,” he growled, then stomped the rest of the way up the staircase. When they reached her door, he asked, “Where are your keys?”

  “In my cloak pocket. Just a minute.” She fished them out, then leaned over and unlocked the door. She didn’t turn the doorknob or open it, however. “Thank you for seeing me home, Daniel. I appreciate it. Now when your sister sings your praises, I suppose I’ll have to agree just a bit—on rare and specific occasions.”

  She smiled at him, and Daniel only stared back. Irritating female. “Open the door, Lace.”

  Her brow puckered and her look became wary. “You can put me down now. I’m perfectly capable of walking in on my own steam.”

  “Open the door. I’ve gotten you this far, I might as well see it through. Besides, you’ll need some help getting settled.”

  “Oh? And do you escort all your patients home from the hospital and give them personal assistance?”

  It was a strain, but he managed to keep his tone even. He would not let her provoke him. “Only the ones who ingratiate themselves on my family. Annie would never forgive me if I left you to fend for yourself. Now, open the door.”

  “I don’t want you in my apartment.”

  She’d looked down when she said that, and suspicions grew in rapid succession. He imagined mirrors on the ceilings, sex manuals strewn about, maybe a man or two tucked into the corners awaiting her direction. For some reason, his temper simmered and he reached past her for the doorknob.

  “Dammit, Daniel, this is my home and you’re not invited in!”

  “Hush, Lace.”

  “That’s a reoccurring tune with you, isn’t it? Any time I inject a little reason into this bizarre situation, you tell me to hush.”

  She stiffened in his arms as he stepped inside—and stopped. This was not the home he’d envisioned for Lace McGee—love expert, sex guru, relationship connoisseur. There wasn’t a single black item to be seen, no obvious suggestive reading material, nothing to indicate the woman he knew—the woman he held in his arms—might abide here.

  This looked like a grandmother’s retreat. Doilies covered every surface of the battered antique tables, and Tiffany lamps sent soft glows of color everywhere. The couch was overstuffed, brightly floral, soft. Handwoven rag rugs decorated polished hardwood floors.

  Daniel stared and then stared some more. For the moment, he forgot he held Lace. “I’ve just stepped out of the tornado and into Oz.”

  She squirmed in his arms. “Shut up, Daniel, and put me down.”

  She startled him out of his study. Slowly, he let her slip down his body, his gaze on her face. Her cheeks flushed and her beautiful green eyes avoided his. He held her carefully until she’d gained her balance, favoring her injured side. “Does your mother or some distant aunt live here with you, Lace?”

  “I don’t have a distant aunt.”

  “Lace?”

  “Of course not.” She still wouldn’t look at him, which irked his temper again. First she baited him with endless sexual innuendos, and now she played shy.

  “Then who decorated this place?”

  She hit his shoulder with a small fist. “I did, you idiot. And there’s nothing wrong with my home, so stop gawking.”

  She turned away and started—with an awkward hobbling gait—down the hall. Daniel looked around once more, and followed her. “But there’s so much…color.”

  “Yeah, so? I enjoy color.”

  She sounded her most belligerent, and he frowned. “No, you don’t. You like black. You always wear black. Your car is black. Even your luggage is black, for crying out loud. I bet your panties are even black, though I couldn’t tell since they were covered with so much blood.”

  She glared over her shoulder, sending him a look of acute dislike, then tried to stalk into her bedroom. But with her recent injury, the effect was minimal. The numbing would have worn off by now, and it had to hurt like the very devil. Daniel followed her, thinking to explain that he’d go get her pain pills. He walked into her bedroom and stopped cold in his tracks. No, it couldn’t be. If the living room had been a surprise, this was enough to jump-start his heart.


  At least a dozen small velvet pillows in a variety of soft muted hues were tossed atop a candy-striped bedspread with a dark pink dust ruffle. The sheer gauzy material that served as window coverings in a variety of pastel shades flowed across the glass in no particular order. He could easily imagine the room bathed in a pastel-hued rainbow whenever the sunlight shone through.

  She wasn’t the neatest of people. There were clothes—all black—strewed over a rocker and the end of the bed. And peeking out from the under the bed… Daniel bent to pick up the gleaming material, then held it in the air. Panties. Tiny, shimmering, lime green panties that probably weighed no more than half an ounce. He tried to imagine her in them—and managed only too well.

  Lace snatched the panties out of his hand with a low growl. “Okay, Daniel. I’m home. I’m settled. I’m going to change clothes and go to bed and try to forget about big-jawed dogs and arrogant pushy doctors. You can leave now. Your duty is complete.”

  “You wear lime green underwear?”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake!” She looked apoplectic. “What do you care what color underwear I wear?”

  His brows pulled down tight enough to give him a headache. Confusion swirled, his world tilted. And it was all her fault, the little witch. Why did she keep doing this to him? “I don’t understand, Lace.”

  She huffed out a breath and glared up at him. He stared right back. He was bigger, so therefore it stood to reason he could be twice as stubborn. Finally she gave up. “I’m horrible at matching stuff up, okay? Look around. It’s like a circus on the Fourth of July in here. But I love color, I really do. All colors, every shade, deep and sinful, light and playful. I need color. It’s just that I could never get the knack of putting clothes together, and since I have to appear in public a lot, I just decided it was easier to stick to simple basic black. That way, when I’m in a hurry, I can pick out my outfit without worrying whether or not I’ll match or be put together properly.”

  “You wear black because you have no fashion sense?” His poor suspicious brain couldn’t quite assimilate all these new notions, not when they went against everything he thought he knew about her. “It isn’t because it’s dramatic and adds a special effect to your blond hair and green eyes?”

  Slowly, her most provocative smile appeared and she looked at him through her lashes. “Why, Daniel. You’ve noticed my eyes? And my hair? Was that another compliment, by any chance?”

  He took two steps back and his jaw clenched. “I didn’t mean it.” She continued to grin and he sought a safer topic. “I’m going to run out and get your prescriptions while you get settled in bed. No pajamas.”

  “Are you suggesting I sleep naked?”

  His hands shook and he wanted to smack her for planting that sizzling mental picture firmly into his beleaguered mind. “Put on a gown.” His gaze went to the panties she still held. They looked like a bright neon beacon, calling to him, and he added, “Forget underwear. It’ll only irritate your wound.”

  “I never sleep in underwear.”

  His heart tripped against his ribs and he felt her purring tone clear to his groin. With strong resolution, he kept his gaze on her face. “Do you need any help, Lace?”

  “I can manage. But take the spare key off the wall in the kitchen. That way you can let yourself back in. I’ll just get myself settled in bed—to wait for you.”

  Damn her, she was really enjoying herself now. He should just leave. She deserved a little discomfort. Eventually someone would get the medicine for her, and she could get her jollies torturing some other poor male instead of him.

  But he couldn’t do it. Lace needed him, curse her headstrong, sexy hide, and he told himself his decision to look after her had nothing to do with any personal lust for her. It was just that he was used to protecting and caring for others. It had become a habit, started the day his mother was buried and his father made it clear he couldn’t overcome his own grief, much less that of his children. Someone had needed to hug his little sister at night when she cried. And someone had needed to reassure his brother Max when he’d become so withdrawn and sullen.

  Annie and Max had needed him then. They needed him still. They looked to him for guidance, almost as a father figure, and Daniel knew they cared about Lace as a friend. He was a doctor, and the patriarch of the family despite his father’s flighty presence. It was his duty to see Lace situated as comfortably as possible.

  His reasoning sounded lame even to his own ears, but he wasn’t about to delve any further for motivation. Therein lay personal disaster and he knew it. He took one more glance around at Lace’s bedroom, then stormed out, overcome by mixed feelings. This was either the worst idea he’d ever had—or the best.

  “I FOUND AN OLD black T-shirt to sleep in so I wouldn’t further lacerate your expectations of my wardrobe.”

  Lace waited for some response, but Daniel only nodded. He’d been withdrawn and almost wary since returning a few minutes ago. Very unlike his usual confrontational self. His cheeks were ruddy from the cold, and his dark hair was mussed from the wind. He pulled his glasses off and polished them on his sleeve, removing a few snowflakes. She enjoyed the sight of his light brown, thickly lashed eyes, how intense they could be, how serious. He slid the glasses back onto his straight nose and went to get a glass of water from her kitchen.

  Lace kept the bedspread pulled up to her throat. She was on her back, with a pillow propped beneath her leg on her injured side; she felt vulnerable with Daniel there, aware of her awkward discomfort. But when Daniel leaned down to hand her the pill and the water she noticed how rigid he looked, and it annoyed her. He always acted as if he expected her to sexually accost his poor male body at any given moment—and like he’d hate it. Unaccountable prude.

  Pain pulled at her, but still she managed a small taunting smile, knowing how he’d react to it. She made a point of letting her fingertips graze his palm as she took the pill from him, and rather than hold the glass herself, she held his wrist, which forced him to tilt the glass to her lips.

  He stared at her mouth and his nostrils flared. The hypocrite. He might disdain her supposed lack of morals, but he fantasized the same as she did. It was men like him that kept her profession thriving. His antiquated notions of what was right for a woman, in comparison to the acceptable standards for a man, made her furious. At least half her calls at the radio station dealt with issues over the double standard of sexual freedom for men and women.

  She gave him a sloe-eyed look and smiled. “Mmm. Thank you, Daniel.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He sounded like a frog, and Lace had to bite back her satisfied chuckle. “I never noticed before what big hands you have.” She pretended to study his hand—then came to the realization he really did have big hands. His fingers were long and blunt and smooth. A doctor’s capable hands. She shivered with a newly awakened awareness.

  “Are you cold?” As he asked, Daniel pulled away from her. “I could get you another blanket.”

  “I’m fine. Will the pill make me sleepy?”

  “Probably.” His gaze darted around her room again. He kept looking at everything, and every time he ended up shaking his head.

  His disapproval was obvious, and she should have been used to it by now. In her mind, there were two major groups of men. Those who wanted to take advantage of her expertise, and those who discounted her expertise as ludicrous simply because she was a young woman. Her mother had always had a similar problem with men who wanted her only for her money and men who thought her money would never buy her any class. Still, her mother had kept trying. Lace had no intention of making that same mistake.

  She understood Daniel and his attitudes. By her own design, she courted his disdain. She used it as her defense against him, and Annie had backed her up, respecting her wishes to present herself in any light she chose as long as she didn’t have to lie to Daniel. But since Daniel never bothered to ask for the truth, Annie could leave him to his ridiculous beliefs.
Daniel would never really know her. And that fact made her a little sad, because she loved Annie. She was the closest friend Lace had ever had. Even Max was okay once you got a handle on him and his robust disregard for propriety. The middle brother did like to shake people up, most especially his big brother. Lace rather liked that about Max. It gave them something in common.

  But Daniel… He continued to look around her room, his expression almost comical in its fascinated study. “I didn’t leave any other unmentionables laying about.”

  He turned back to her, shaken from his engrossed examination of her room. “What?”

  “If you’re really that curious, I keep my panties in the third drawer of the bureau.” She waved in that direction. “Feel free.”

  A red flush stained his neck and his brows snapped down. “You really don’t possess a single ounce of decorum, do you?”

  “Me?” She’d gotten her desired result, but now her own temper ignited. It was very late, she was tired, and it had been an eventful day. “You’re the one who keeps gawking! You’re the one who forced yourself into my home and picked up my underwear and keeps looking around like Sherlock Holmes trying to find some wicked evidence of my sordid love life.”

  He seemed stunned by her outburst—but no more so than she. Generally, she was even-tempered and almost never raised her voice. She’d honed the knack of cutting obnoxious men down with a single sneer or a well-chosen phrase. Daniel, however, tended to bring out the worst in her. She scowled at him, then grumbled, “I’m sorry.”

  Daniel shook his head, his gaze glued to her face, probing and serious. “No, it was my fault. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and I certainly didn’t mean to…gawk. It’s just that I never expected…”

  “I know. You thought I hated color.”

  He pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed. “I like your apartment, Lace. It’s pretty.”

  “And colorful.”

  He laughed. “Well, yeah, but in a nice way.”