frowned. “How do you know my name?”
“One of the nurses told me.” She shifted the boy from one hip to the other. “I feel one hundred percent responsible for your injuries. You must let me do something to make this right.”
Anger welled up inside Jack. “Lady, you can’t make this right. If you’d been watching your kid, this would have never happened.” He took several awkward steps toward the outer door, aggravated as she hurriedly grabbed the door handle and yanked it open for him. He yelped as the door hit his good leg.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She gasped in horror.
Jack shook his head, momentarily afraid to speak, and stepped out into the bright sunshine, the woman and her kid right next to him. “I’ve got a dozen reports to type up, which will be fun since I only have one working hand. I’m in the middle of cases that require me to be mobile. There’s nothing you can do to make this right unless you can lay hands on me and heal me instantly.” Each word shot out of him like a bullet into a bull’s-eye.
“I can type.”
He turned to glare at her and, unwavering, she held his gaze. “Good for you.” He hobbled down the sidewalk away from her.
“I could type up your reports.” Once again she fell into step beside him. She smelled pretty, like a sun-drenched flower, and again he felt a flutter of heat in the pit of his stomach.
“I don’t want you typing up my reports. You’d probably crash my computer.”
“How are you getting home?”
The question made him stop in his tracks. He’d been walking to get away from her, but now he contemplated her words. He’d jogged to the beach from his house, but there was no way he could now jog back. “I’ll call for a cab.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she replied. “I’ve got a car right here. I can take you home. Please.” She placed a hand on his arm, her eyes luminous with need. “Let me at least do that much for you.”
Suddenly Jack was too tired, too much in pain to argue. All he wanted to do was get home and put his aching body to bed. “Okay,” he agreed, then frowned at the boy in her arms. “As long as you keep that monster away from me for the duration of the drive.”
Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink and her arms tightened around the child. “He’s not a monster. He’s really a very good little boy.”
“Yeah, I hear that’s what they used to say about the Unabomber,” Jack retorted dryly.
Her blush deepened, and this time he thought it might be anger that colored her cheeks. She drew an audible breath, then pointed to the parking lot. “My car is over there. I’ll just go get it.”
Jack nodded and leaned wearily against the building, wondering if she could manage to get him home without any major catastrophes. He couldn’t help but feel a horrifying sense of impending doom.
Chapter Two
It took Marissa several minutes to rearrange the car to make room for Jack. She quickly moved the diaper bag to the floor at Nathaniel’s feet in the backseat. She then pushed the passenger seat back as far as it would go and reclined it. Jack Coffey was tall, and she knew he’d need as much leg room as he could get.
A moment later she pulled up against the curb where he stood waiting for her. She jumped out of the car to help him, but he waved her away. “Just take these,” he said as he held out the crutches. “I’d prefer to get into the car without your help. It’s safer.”
He eased down onto the seat, then groaned as he lifted the cast-encased leg into the car. Marissa placed the crutches between them, then got in behind the steering wheel.
“Are you okay?” she asked worriedly. Even with a scowl cutting into his forehead, the man was handsome as sin. His scent filled the interior of the car, a bold, masculine smell that was at once both attractive and disturbing.
“Just get me home,” he replied. His seat was reclined so far back, his head was almost even with Nathaniel. “He’s buckled in real tight, isn’t he?”
“Of course,” Marissa replied as she put the car into gear. “You’ll have to tell me how to get to your house.”
“Go out the hospital exit and turn left.” He closed his eyes.
“By the way, my name is Marissa. Marissa Criswell. And that big guy in the backseat is my son, Nathaniel.”
“I prefer to think of you and your son as my own personal nightmare,” he returned without opening his eyes.
Marissa flushed, but reminded herself that his rudeness was warranted and probably intensified by the fact that he was in pain. “Do you have a wife? Somebody who can take care of you?” she asked.
His eyes opened. “A wife would be my other personal nightmare. I’ve been by myself for the last five years and that’s the way I like it. Just get me home and I’ll be fine.”
So, he had no wife and apparently no significant other. Marissa frowned, wondering if he had any real concept of how a broken leg and a few broken fingers could complicate even the simplest things in life.
“You mentioned you have reports to type and cases to take care of. What kind of work do you do, Mr. Coffey?” she asked to break the stifling silence.
“I’m a ballet dancer. Think I’ll be able to get tights over this baby?” He banged the cast with the back of his good hand.
“You don’t have to get sarcastic,” she said softly.
He frowned and rubbed a hand across his forehead. “I’m a private investigator.”
“Really? Are you any good?”
His eyes glittered and a small smile curved the corners of his lips. Marissa felt the power of his devastating smile right down to her toes. She tightened her hands on the steering wheel and tried to ignore how that smile of his affected her on a distinctly female level.
“I’m the best,” he said. In the blink of his eye, the smile disappeared, replaced by a scowl so menacing, Marissa decided to let the subject drop.
For the next few minutes he spoke only to give her directions. As he pointed her down a narrow road with tall trees and heavy vegetation on either side, a small flutter of anxiety whispered through Marissa. She could see no houses, no indication of civilization anywhere. They passed a tree with a sign reading No Trespassers.
Was it possible he was bringing her out in the woods to strangle her? She knew nothing about him other than his name. Maybe he intended to break her leg, just to teach her a lesson or vent his ire.
She cast him a quick glance, then relaxed. She could outrun him. Even with Nathaniel in her arms, she knew she could run faster than an angry maniac with a cast. Besides, his face was sickly pale and he looked as if just getting out of the car would provide challenge enough.
The woodland on either side of the road disappeared and suddenly they were on what appeared to be a sheltered private beach, the ocean a huge expanse of blue on their left.
Jack
