accent? British? French? I couldn’t make it out. The throbbing of my ankle distracted me. But nothing could take my mind off the fact that I was in the arms of a handsome stranger, being carted off to his car. Which, hello (to steal one of Leslie’s trademark phrases), was an enormous black Town Car, complete with a driver who came around to open the passenger-side rear door.
No doubt about it. I was still out cold, probably sprawled on the ground in an ungainly heap while caught up in this beautiful dream.
Chapter Three
I blinked and opened my eyes. A blond, broad-shouldered god held me in his arms, seemingly unconcerned with wrinkling his perfectly tailored suit.
Who was he? How did he catch me just in time? But if this wasn’t a dream, why couldn’t I think straight? Concussion? Did I hit my head when I went down?
The god settled me into the rich leather of his car seats. I took a second to assess him from shoes up. Nice shoes, expensive-looking, probably Italian. Black trousers. Armani? Overall, a very nice package.
He laughed.
Tell me I hadn’t said it out loud.
“I think I dropped it,” I said quickly to cover. “My package.”
“She’s delirious. She didn’t have any packages,” Leslie said, suddenly appearing at my side. Or had she always been there, and I just didn’t notice? Who would, with Daniel Craig standing next to her? Or was he more David Beckham? “Just her Coach bag.”
She handed it to the god, who placed it on the seat beside me.
I glanced again. Oh yes, definitely a longer-haired David Beckham. Probably between thirty and thirty-five. Tall, blond, and built, with green eyes that sent an instant charge right through me.
“I think she’ll be all right,” the Beckham-god said. “As far as her head goes, I didn’t see her strike it on anything. Now, the ankle, that’s another story.”
He leaned down to inspect the ankle up close.
“Ow!” I couldn’t help shrieking when his fingers caressed my delicate skin, and unfortunately, it wasn’t out of excitement. It hurt.
“It may be broken.” He made his skilled assessment after trying to gently move it from side to side. I bit my lip to keep from crying out.
“Broken?” I feared pain. I feared disability. But more than anything, I feared my ankle becoming an ugly swollen mound right under Beckham’s touch.
He unbuckled the ankle strap of my shoe and slid it off.
“Precautionary,” he said, with a wink that made me melt into the seat.
“Thank you.” I tried not to wince as my newly freed foot went limp along with my backbone as I melted at the romance of it all. He’d carried me. All the way to his car.
“Nick Angelos,” he said by way of introduction.
Leslie, belatedly realizing she’d been lax in introductions, jumped in. “Mr. Angelos, one of our corporate donors, has graciously offered land and supplies for new buildings. Including this one, in fact.”
Nick nodded. Angelos. My own personal angel. “I happened by to check on progress, to see if Leslie needed anything else. I’d just stepped out of the car when I saw you going down.”
My head swooned. The thought of “Nick Angelos” in the same sentence as “going down” sent an instant erotic shock right through me.
“I can’t imagine how bad it would be if you hadn’t caught her,” Leslie said, her cheeks coloring. “You moved so fast. As if you had wings on your feet.”
“Unfortunately, it looks bad enough as it is,” he said.
I followed Nick’s concerned gaze back to my own ankle. It had indeed swollen, and some highly unattractive purple bruises colored the inflamed skin. Yuck. How embarrassing. I made a move to cover it, but recoiled in pain. I couldn’t contain the yelp that shot to my lips from the effort.
“These damn shoes.” The voice came in the form of a snarl from behind Nick. Josh Brandon stepped forward, bent to fetch my shoe, and held it up. “Wearing these around a construction site is suicide.”
“As usual, Mr. Brandon, thanks for your concern.” I was reminded of the thorough dressing-down I received from attempting to use the electric sander without protective eyewear on a past volunteer endeavor.
“Well, I’m foreman here and from now on, I establish a rule. No walking around a site without proper footwear.”
“My footwear is very proper,” I said, defensive. “The perfect match for my suit, and quite in style for the season.”
“I mean, appropriate.” His full lip rose in a sneer, lending his stark blue eyes an air of menace. “Appropriate footwear. Work boots, with steel-reinforced toes. No heels, no soft Italian leather.”
He lowered his eyes to Nick Angelos’s feet and lifted them to meet my gaze again. “Next time you show up without steel-toed Timberlands, you’ll be banned from walking around the site.”
Nick snorted. Clearly, he wasn’t going to let Josh Brandon tell him what to do. Unfortunately, I couldn’t afford to flout the rules if I planned to accept employment.
“May I have a look?” Josh asked, stepping around Nick to gesture toward my ankle. I nodded.
Josh knelt and ran his hand over the ankle with a whisper-light touch. I barely felt it. I didn’t even wince. It appeared he’d had experience with this, and no doubt he had from working construction sites. “Do you think it’s broken?”
He shook his head, not taking his gaze from the bruising. “No. Just a sprain, maybe just a really bad twist. You would be in a lot more pain if it were broken.”
“I’m in a lot of pain,” I said. How could he dare steal some drama from the situation by declaring it not broken! “I hide it well. It’s a parent thing. Mothers are good at hiding pain.”
Josh smiled, a wide grin so unexpectedly tender it disarmed me. “You may want to drop by a hospital and have it checked out, just to be sure.”
Nick moved in again, nudging Josh aside. “I’ll see to it she gets what she needs.”
My gut clenched with anticipation. What exactly did he think I needed? For the first time in a long while, I felt the spark of romantic interest and the thrill that came with instantaneous attraction, and I liked it. A lot.
“I’ll be fine.” I slid forward to get out of the car. “I’ll just drive home and call my sister.”
“You’re not driving anywhere with that ankle,” Josh said.
“He’s right,” Nick said. “I’ll take you.”
I looked up and got lost in the lush green gaze. I didn’t want to protest. “All right.”
“Good.”
