pulled it back and pushed down hard on the brakes. The pickup ground to a stop in the middle of the muddy road.
Mariah’s hand was on the door handle and she was out of the truck before he could assure her they were fine, but he doubted she’d have much to do with the notion, considering all the color had drained from her face.
He hopped out and came around the front of the rig to stare at the problem.
One lug nut was the lone survivor holding on to the right front tire.
Caution worked his nerves, and he touched Mariah’s back, feeling the tension in her body.
“Someone wanted you to have an accident. Someone did this on purpose. Those don’t just fall off.”
She had a point, but he didn’t want to tell her this was the second time in the past month his pickup had been sabotaged. He moved for the rear of the truck to get his toolbox and a lug wrench.
He’d get her off his mountain and safely back to town even if he had to carry her there himself.
DR. JEROME MUNSEY shined a narrow beam of light into her right eye, then her left, before he stepped back to the counter, laid the scope down and prepared a dressing to cover the scrape on her right temple.
“You’ve got a mild concussion, Mariah, but no permanent damage. You should be fine.” He moved in next to where she sat on the end of the examining table and put the dressing on her wound.
“Baylor got to you before there was any damage to the soft tissues of your appendages. You were lucky.” He stepped back and put his hands in the pockets of his blue lab coat. “Call me if you experience any dizziness, or nausea. Numbness or tingling in your hands and feet.”
“Okay.” She slipped her socks back on, head down as she tried to cover the mix of horror and embarrassment that pulsed in every cell of her body. The trip to the E.R. had confirmed her suspicions. Baylor had, in fact, rewarmed her with skin-on-skin contact. That hazy image was no dream. It was a reality that would be forever burned into her brain. Just the thought sent her imagination off on a tangent. What was worse was the way it made her feel, all hot and bothered.
She slid Baylor a quick glance. “I’m sure it was tough for him to handle, but it worked. Here I am, good as new.” She hopped off the examining table and shoved her feet into her shoes. The sooner she got home the better. She wasn’t sure she could handle another minute with him, now that she knew the full extent of what had transpired between them.
He was a suspect in a missing persons case; she had to focus on that, rather than the heat of the sexual tension that jumped between them like an unchecked forest fire.
Smiling at Dr. Munsey, she thanked him and left the E.R., headed for the exit.
“Take it easy, Detective.” The sorry-about-that note in Baylor’s voice pulled her up short.
“You should have told me!” She felt her cheeks flame, hot and telltale. “I know you did what you had to, but it’s so…”
“Intimate?”
“Yes!” And unprofessional, she thought as she pushed through the main entrance door of the hospital and out onto the sidewalk, aiming for Baylor’s pickup parked at the curb, while she tried to pull herself together.
Baylor stared at Mariah’s backside. “Look.” He reached for her shoulder and stopped her before she could get into the truck.
She turned on him, her anger visible in the rigid set of her jaw. Her blue eyes all but sparked.
“Would it help if I told you it was clinical? I was more interested in saving your life than exploring your body.” He wrestled with a rush of desire that closed his throat.
She gave him a wary stare as he reached for the door handle and opened it for her. “Let’s get you home.”
He closed the door behind her, went around to the driver’s side and climbed in. “Where to?”
“I live at 405 Cottonwood. It’s off Sycamore on the west side of town.”
“I know the street.” He fired the engine and pulled out onto Main, searching for the right words. Why was she so upset? He wasn’t sorry for saving her life; hell, he’d probably done himself a favor, but there had to be more to it. He’d never take advantage of a woman, especially one who was borderline comatose and not in control of her faculties.
Realization slammed into his brain. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Mariah Ellis had a boyfriend? Explaining what had happened to her and how he’d saved her was going to complicate her life.
“No one besides Doc Munsey and you and I have to know what happened. I’m willing to let it go unsaid if it’ll keep the peace between you and your…boyfriend.” He flipped on his blinker and turned right onto Sycamore Street.
“Thanks for that,” she whispered. “He’ll be thrilled.”
Mariah nibbled at her lower lip and stared out at the familiar street. It seemed like an eon since she’d last driven down it. So when in that short span of time had she left her straight-talking style twisting in the wind? She should just tell him she didn’t have a boyfriend. There was no one in her life; her job had taken care of that.
“There. The yellow house on the left.” She pointed it out and tried to relax. Cop. She was a cop, she needed to start acting like one, even if she didn’t feel the vibe and hadn’t for a long time. She still had a major case to solve. Baylor rolled to a stop in front of the yellow house, with a white picket fence and massive pots brimming with pink flowers on either side of the front steps.
He couldn’t shake the disappointment of knowing she had someone in her life. Hell, he was happy for her. She was a beautiful woman. He gritted his teeth and climbed out of the pickup, meeting her on the sidewalk before opening the gate and following her up the walk.
She stopped, fished in her pocket and pulled out a house key. “Come in for a drink before you head back.”
His first response was to pass, but he didn’t; instead, he followed her inside and watched as she shuffled into the kitchen. “Is sun tea okay?”
“Yeah.” Baylor gazed around the living room. The place was neat and appointed with cushy furniture. Her scent tinged the air, a mix of sweet and spicy. His gaze held on a piece of landscape artwork on the wall behind her beige sofa. Moving closer, he focused on the artist’s signature in the bottom right corner. Mariah Ellis.
“This is your work,” he said as she came into the living room with a glass of iced tea in each hand.
“Recognize the setting?” She smiled and he realized how relaxed she looked for the first time since he’d met her.
“The Seven Devils Mountain Range…from the Pappoose Creek side.”
“Very good.” She handed him the cold glass. “Do you want to see more?”
There was a note of excitement in her voice. Her eyes took on a sparkle he hadn’t noticed before. This was Mariah Ellis’s passion. This was what made her tick. Her art.
Moving down the hall, she showed
