the doctor believed he’d found an ally in Hotwire.
Hotwire looked down at her. “Why not?”
“I don’t have medical insurance.”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t blast her like she expected. “I’ll take her home with me.”
She smiled, relieved. “Thank you.”
“After the MRI,” he said grimly.
Now it was the doctor’s turn to smile.
Claire was almost asleep when they got to Hotwire’s hotel, and she let him pick her up out of the car and carry her to the elevator without so much as a murmur.
Once inside, she stirred in his arms. “Are you sure you won’t get in trouble for having an extra person in your room?”
“It’s not a problem.”
She sighed. “I’m surprised no one said anything when you carried me through the lobby. The desk clerk sure looked hard.”
“I’m positive he’s seen stranger.”
“Than a guest dressed like a hospital patient reject?”
“Sure. This is downtown Portland, not Mayberry. I’ve been here less than a week and I’ve seen no less than a dozen heavily pierced punk rockers, a group of Goth vampire wannabes, and a woman who was at least sixty wearing a pair of pink satin hot pants and a studded black leather jacket.”
Claire’s head snuggled trustingly against his shoulder. “If you say so.”
He let them into his room and carried her through to the bedroom. It was hard to force himself to lay her down on the bed when they got there, but he did it.
He pulled back the covers and then moved her under them. “I’ll get you something to drink.”
When he came back with a glass of juice from the minibar, she was fighting to keep her eyes open. “I don’t have any clothes.”
“I’ll go to the house and get some for you.”
“Thanks…” She sighed. “Need my backpack, too,” she slurred.
If she thought he was going to let her study in this condition, she was nuts, but he could get the backpack and even her laptop if having them with her made her feel better.
“I’ll get it.”
She picked fretfully at the hospital gown. “Don’t like this.”
Neither did he, not nearly as much as what was underneath, but he didn’t relish helping her take it off, either. Seeing her practically naked wasn’t going to do much for his self-control. The only thing saving them both was her obvious physical frailty. Stifling a sigh and making it a point not to look at her body, he helped her untie the gown and pull it off.
She rolled onto her side facing him, her pretty mouth turned down at the edges. “It hurts, Hotwire.”
“I’m sorry.” She’d already had pain meds in the hospital and couldn’t have another dose for a couple of hours.
“Try to sleep.”
“Yes.” Her eyes slid shut, but the tension of pain was stamped on her features.
He sat down at the end of the bed and turned the covers back so he could take her foot in his hand. He massaged it and put pressure on the points he’d learned to from a Chinese doctor on a mission a few years back.
“Feels nice,” she said without opening her eyes.
“Good.” He kept it up and eventually her body relaxed into sleep.
He made himself let go of her so he could leave to get her things before she woke up again.
When he got back into the room, she was still sleeping. Her red hair was a wild mass of curls on the pillow, surrounding a pale face marred by the exhaustion of pain. He’d had injuries like that and knew how much they hurt. Claire wasn’t a merc—she wasn’t even a soldier. She should never have to know that kind of pain. And feeling as weak as she was, she had still planned to go back to the house and take care of herself.
He shook his head.
She’d even admitted in the car that she had no intention of going to Belmont Manor so someone there could look over her. It was her place of employment, not her personal nursing staff, she’d said acerbically.
His mouth twisted. She was too stubborn for her own good. Too independent. Though she hadn’t demurred even once when he said he was going to help her. Did that mean she didn’t mind depending on him, or that she knew arguing would do her no good? She was far from stupid, after all.
The next twenty-four hours were hell on them both. She just wanted to sleep and hide from the pain in her head. However, he had to keep waking her up to check her responses, make her eat, and keep her hydrated with juice and water. Neither of them enjoyed the process.
But finally, he allowed her to fall into a deep sleep, knowing the worst of the danger had passed. He took a shower, put on a pair of jockey shorts, and climbed into the bed to go to sleep himself.
He woke up six hours later, instantly alert, but confused all the same. Soft, feminine warmth was draped across his chest, and Claire’s face rested right over his heart.
How had she gotten there? From her boneless, well settled condition he figured she’d been there a while. Why hadn’t he woken up? No one had gotten the drop on him during sleep since his first year in the army when Nitro played a typical nighttime prank on a fellow recruit. It had only taken one time, and Hotwire had learned to sleep with a subconscious awareness of what was going on around him. So, how had he slept through Claire not only invading his personal space, but draping herself over him like a soft, warm, and very pleasant blanket?
One of his arms was wrapped around her back and his other hand rested on the silky smoothness of her thigh. His morning boner tightened to the point of pain. This was bad.
Carefully, with no intention of waking her, he began to extricate himself from her embrace before his libido convinced him to do something that would embarrass them both. However, the second he started to slide out from under her warmth, she woke up, jolting upward with a jerk and bringing her knee into painful contact with his balls.
“Aaagh, Claire!”
“Hotwire?” She stared at him like she’d never seen a man before. “What are you doing under me?”
“Getting my nads decimated,” he ground out.
Her brown eyes widened and she gasped. Then the offending knee moved back.
When she went to sit up all the way, she ended up straddling his thigh and wincing with pain as she grabbed her head. “Oh, gosh…that hurts.”
He couldn’t stand the pain in her eyes. “Lie back down.”
She shook her head and then cried out. “Oh,
