just as he started to reach over and click on the lamp, but his hand bumped the stand and sent the light to the hardwood floor. He cringed at the racket.
“Don’t move.” Megan turned on the kitchen light, sending an instant glow shining into the living room. “Let me grab my broom.”
“You’re barefoot,” he told her. “Let me clean it up.”
“You don’t have shoes on, either.” She disappeared down the hall and came back with broom and dustpan in hand. “Sit on the couch, and I’ll get this.”
Like hell. Ignoring her, he reached down to pick up the cockeyed lampshade and the remains of the lamp. The bulb and base had completely shattered.
“I’ll bring you a new one later.” He set the awkward shade and lamp guts on the coffee table and reached to take the broom.
Stepping around him, she handed him the dustpan and started sweeping. Stubborn woman. No wonder they were best friends. Nobody else would put up with how hardheaded they both were.
He squatted down and held the pan while she scooped in the shards. “At least this wasn’t a family heirloom,” he joked.
Shoving her hair from her eyes, she threw him a glance. “Funny.”
Cameron headed into the kitchen to toss the debris. As he was tying the bag, the vacuum kicked on in the living room, the occasional cracking noise indicating she was removing the rest of the slivers from the floor.
He tugged the liner from the trash can and tied it, wanting to get it out so she didn’t cut herself later. As Cameron jerked the knot in place, a hunk of glass he hadn’t seen poking from the small hole sliced through the edge of his hand.
Damn. That hurt.
He opened her back door, tossed the bag into the larger can on her patio and closed and locked the door. The vacuum shut off in the other room as Cameron headed to the sink. Running his hand beneath the cool water eased the burning sensation and washed away the mess, allowing him to see just how deep the cut was. Megan didn’t need to know he’d hurt himself. She’d make a bigger deal of it than need be.
After rinsing his hand, he examined the area further. Instantly he started bleeding again. Apparently it was deeper than he thought.
“Hiding something?”
Cringing, Cameron ripped off a paper towel, pressed it against the side of his hand and turned toward his accuser. Megan rested one shoulder against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest, and merely lifted a brow.
“Just a scratch.” That hurt like hell. Apparently he was old and wimpy. Great combo for the police chief.
Cameron’s eyes locked on to her shapely legs as she crossed the room. Damn it.
Carefully, she took his hand and pulled the paper towel away. “Oh, Cam. This needs stitches.”
She examined his hand, then brought her gaze up to meet his. In the middle of the night, with everything so quiet and intimate, Cameron knew for a fact he was starting to delve into a territory he had no business being in.
Her eyes held his, dropped to his mouth, then traveled back up. That gesture said more than any words could. But this was Megan, his best friend, the girl who’d been his senior prom date and the girl who’d sneaked out with him and his brothers that same night and got absolutely plastered near the lake.
She was pretty much family. So why was she looking at him beneath those heavy lids? Why was he enjoying this rush of new sensations, wondering if she had deeper feelings? He shouldn’t want her to have stronger emotions for him. That added complication was the last thing either of them needed.
“Come with me.”
Cameron blinked. “Excuse me?”
Megan smiled. “To the bathroom. You’re too stubborn to go get stitches, so I’ll fix you up with my first-aid kit.”
When she turned and headed back down the hall, Cameron released a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d bottled up. Had he been the only one thinking about what would happen if they kissed? The way she’d looked at him, his mouth, as though she wanted more, wasn’t something he’d made up. But the desire flashing in her eyes was gone in a second.
What was going on in that head of hers? More to the point, what the hell was he going to do if her feelings did match his?
“Cam?”
Pushing off the edge of the counter, Cameron moved through the kitchen. They were both sleep deprived; that was all. He’d been without a woman for so long, was so wrapped up in work, and Megan had quite a bit on her plate, as well.
Once daylight came, once reality settled back in and the ambience was gone, this intense moment would be forgotten. Wouldn’t it?
Megan squeezed her eyes shut and willed her hands to stop shaking. That was a close call. She’d nearly ignored every single red flag waving around in her mind and kissed Cameron.
She’d been examining his hand one second and the next she’d found herself lost in those St. John signature blue eyes. After just coming off a phone call with one of her teen clients, Megan had wanted to lose herself in Cameron, even if only for a moment. Bad idea, bad timing.
Heavy footsteps sounded down the hall. Megan stepped aside to give Cameron room. Her guest bath was the smallest in her house, but it was where she kept her first-aid kit.
Without a word he came in and sat down on the edge of the garden tub. If she thought the bathroom was tiny before, having a man of Cameron’s size there only solidified the fact.
“I can take care of this at home,” he informed her. “It’s the middle of the night.”
Ignoring him, Megan cleaned the area, concentrating on her task and not the enclosed space or the warmth radiating from Cameron’s body...or the fact she stood directly between his spread legs and only had on a tank and a pair of old boxers.
You’d think she’d at least take a bit more pride in her appearance when he came over, but this was Cameron. He knew her better than anybody so if she donned something halfway dressy, he’d wonder what was wrong.
Megan feared she’d doomed herself into the friend category for life where Cameron was concerned. She’d had feelings for him for years, yet the man was utterly oblivious.
Once the area was clean and dry, Megan quickly placed butterfly bandages over the cut. The strips weren’t nearly as effective as stitches, but she wasn’t fighting with the stubborn man. Men were like children—you had to pick your battles.
Megan turned to throw away the used supplies and wrappers, only her body and her mind weren’t in sync and she swayed slightly. Strong arms circled her waist, holding her steady in an instant.
“You okay?”
Nodding, Megan closed her eyes as his caring words and warm breath washed over her. “Yeah. The room started spinning for a second. I’m just tired,
