the ocean, head off to his island retreat and pretend none of this had happened. But he really liked his almost sister-in-law, and he was fairly certain Jude wouldn’t be happy if he ditched her twin.
In the meantime, what the hell was he supposed to do with an unconscious woman heading for heat exhaustion? Other than strip her and toss her in the bay, that is.
Shoving a hand through his hair, he was contemplating his options when she moaned again. His gaze whipped upward in time to see the long, lush fringe of her dark eyelashes flutter and then lift, exposing glassy eyes the exact color of the five-hundred-dollar bottle of single malt whiskey he kept for special occasions.
Holy—
Air whooshed from his lungs as if he’d been punched in the head. He’d only ever seen eyes like that once before. Twice, actually. Once on an ancient amber Viking ring he’d seen in a museum and the second time...his friend’s eyes. But looking into Dr. Alain Broussard’s eyes didn’t normally leave him reeling like a drunken penguin.
Maybe he was the one in need of medical assistance.
She blinked and murmured a husky, “Hi,” her expression so softly sensuous that for an instant Chase was startled. Okay, stunned. Because...jeez...that look had reached out and grabbed him in a place that hadn’t been grabbed since his ex. Maybe even before.
In the next instant the sleepy expression cleared and any resemblance either to Amelia or Alain vanished. Soft and sensuous was replaced by razor-sharp intellect. And outrage.
“What...what the hell are you doing?” she demanded, the formerly husky voice full of indignation as she slapped at his hands, which had paused in the task of sponging her down.
Water dripped off the wad and soaked the silk camisole right over her left breast, drawing his fascinated gaze. She must have followed his eyes because she squeaked, shoved at his hand and lurched upright. Unfortunately he didn’t move back fast enough, and her head smacked into his cheekbone with enough force to rattle his brain.
She gave an agonized yelp, slapped a hand to her head and sank back against the cushions, moaning as if he’d gutted her with a dull spoon.
Oh, wait—the groaning was coming from him.
“What the hell, lady?” he snarled, holding his cheek as he staggered backward and abruptly sat on the old rattan coffee table, which immediately groaned under his weight.
The move also knocked over the bottled water. He made a grab for it, only to have it sail through the air, spraying water in a wide arc. Most of it landed on her—soaking her already wet camisole. And...oh, man...rendering the thin silk almost transparent. Which he might have appreciated if she hadn’t just tried to head butt him to death.
She made a kind of squeaking, gasping sound and he saw wide amber eyes glaring at him through a haze of pain. Realizing he was still holding a wad of damp paper towels, he slapped it over the lump already forming on his cheek.
“What...what the hell was that for?” he demanded, checking for blood.
“You...you...” she gasped, and then she turned an interesting shade of green. “Uh-oh.” She gulped and slapped a palm over her mouth. A look of panic crossed her face. She sat up. “I think I’m... Oh!”
Understanding that garbled sentence, Chase surged to his feet, scooped her up and rushed down the short passage to the ladies’ bathroom. He shoved the door open with his shoulder as she made horrifying gagging sounds.
“Hold on a sec—nearly there,” he urged in panic, rushing into a stall and dumping her unceremoniously on her feet. In one smooth move he pushed her head over the toilet, with a firm hand on the back of her neck.
Unresisting, she sank to her knees, her body racked with a couple dozen dry heaves that made the sweat pop out across his forehead. He swallowed hard and retreated outside the stall. Just to give her some privacy, he told himself.
After a while there was silence, and when he heard a weak moan he stuck his head inside. She’d sagged against the wall, eyes closed as she wiped a limp wrist across her mouth. Tendrils of hair clung to her damp forehead and cheeks. She looked so miserable that Chase felt an unwelcome tug of empathy.
Dammit, he thought, shoving a hand through his hair. He didn’t want to feel anything—let alone empathy. He’d get stupid and act like he had rescue issues, for God’s sake—which, come to think of it, was how he’d met Avery.
Yeesh. What an idiot. He’d been a perfect mark. But he’d learnt a valuable lesson and he wasn’t about to repeat his biggest mistake ever. Not now that he was older and wiser. Not now that he’d learned exactly how devious women could be.
Eyeing her pasty face with increasing concern, he crouched beside her. “You okay?”
“I’m...fine...” she rasped, and licked dry lips. “I just need a—”
“Another moment?” he supplied helpfully when her words ended abruptly. “A doctor?”
“Don’t...don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed huskily, planting one hand on the toilet and the other on his shoulder.
Her touch had him thinking bad thoughts, especially when his body stirred.
“I am a doctor.” She tried to push herself to her feet but she was still weak and shaky and immediately slid back down.
He eyed her suspiciously as an unpleasant thought occurred to him. Fainting? Vomiting? It was exactly what had happened to Avery when—
“Are you pregnant?” he demanded abruptly.
Her head whipped up and her mouth dropped open. “What—? No!”
She looked so insulted that he should suggest such a thing that his breath escaped in a loud whoosh. He wasn’t entirely sure why her reaction relieved him—for all he knew she could be lying. And boy did he have enough experience with that!
Slipping his hand beneath her armpit, he rose, drawing her to her feet. She instantly sagged against him, legs wobbly as a newborn calf. Instead of pushing her away he drew her closer, enjoying her soft, warm scent and the feel of her plump breasts against his naked chest.
Realizing what he was doing, he quickly backed out of the stall and led her to the counter, shoving her into a chair while he ripped paper towels from the dispenser. He gave the tap a vicious little twist and thrust the wad into the stream of water that appeared.
What the hell was that? Maybe the heat was affecting him too, because no way could he be attracted to her. Not only was she a big-city woman, she was almost his sister, for cripes’ sake.
Well, her sister was. Which was the same thing. Wasn’t it?
His breath whooshed out. Hell.
He turned to find her watching him with those solemn golden-syrup eyes and felt his gut clench with something hot and wild. Something along the lines of golden syrup and...and acres of soft naked skin.
The reaction shook him.
Realizing he was standing there like an idiot, he tore his gaze away, feeling the tips of his ears burn. She was the last person he wanted to feel anything for. Which just went to
