Raine turned his back and silently cursed himself for the bastard he was. “You can do the rest,” he said harshly. Surely she could get her jeans off. Hell, she probably could have gotten the blouse off if he’d given her time. Perverted SOB, he cursed himself once more.
What the hell had gotten into him? It hadn’t been that long since he’d had a woman. Ogling an injured female was about as low as a man could go. A muscle in his tense jaw jumped when he heard her small sounds of frustration and fatigue as she struggled with the wet jeans. Raine clenched his fists and ignored the urge to turn around and look at her. The spray of hot water on his chest did nothing to calm his mounting tension or the hard-on he had acquired in the last sixty seconds.
He flinched when she touched his rigid shoulder. “I can’t do it,” she said wearily.
Raine licked his lips and swallowed tightly. This was damn ridiculous. He’d seen more than his share of naked women, what the hell was the big deal with this one?
He turned around slowly and met her pleading gaze with an annoyed glare.
“I’m sorry,” she managed to say weakly before collapsing against the shower wall.
Raine set his jaw so hard he thought his teeth would crack. He grasped the waistband on either side of her slender hips and tried without success to peel the material down as he’d done with the blouse, but the tight-fitting jeans wouldn’t cooperate. He sucked in a deep breath and did what he knew he had to. Raine pushed his hands inside and worked the material, panties included, down over her icy skin.
She was lucky to be alive. The last time he’d touched skin this cold, it had belonged to a dead man.
As chilled as her body was, his was getting more heated by the moment. His groin tightened painfully when his hands moved over the swell of her hips and glided down several inches of thigh. He straightened, held her firmly by the waist, placed his bare foot between her legs and pushed the jeans and skimpy panties down to her ankles. He immediately averted his gaze from the triangle of dark curls between her thighs.
He almost groaned. He’d been in these woods longer than he’d realized.
She braced both hands against his chest while she struggled to kick her feet free of the soggy material.
“Thank you,” she murmured on a frail breath when she’d finally freed herself. She squeezed her eyes shut and swayed back against the wall.
Raine kicked the jeans to one side. “No sweat,” he lied.
He knew the hot water wouldn’t hold out much longer, so he stripped off his own shirt, pulled her against him and turned her back to the hot spray. She sucked in a sharp breath and clung to him helplessly. He bit the inside of his jaw to stifle the groan that rose in his throat at the feel of her firm breasts pressed into his chest.
Damn, this woman was going to kill him and she didn’t even have a weapon.
They stood in the steamy shower until the water began to cool and her shivers had subsided. Raine held her steady with one arm while he turned off the water. He guided her out and helped her dry. He focused intently on the job rather than the peach-colored skin flushed from the hot shower.
He used another towel to squeeze her long, thick hair dry. Neither spoke during the drying process. Raine refused to acknowledge how good her made-for-loving body looked. Curvy and firm, yet soft. Tall, but not too tall, with long, shapely legs. Chestnut-brown hair and dark chocolate eyes—eyes that would surely darken even more with passion.
When her hair was as dry as it was going to get without a blow-dryer, Raine wrapped a clean towel around her and tucked the corner beneath her arm. He quickly dried his chest and arms and tossed his towel to the floor, then swiped his wet feet.
She gazed up at him with those dark, shimmering eyes, a ghost of a smile touched her lips. “I feel much warmer now.”
Before he could respond, her knees buckled and Raine barely caught her before she hit the floor. He drew her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. After depositing her on the bed, he rummaged through the chest of drawers until he came up with a bulky sweatshirt. It would fit more like a dress on her, but it would have to do. Besides, he decided, beggars couldn’t be choosers. He looked at his unwelcome visitor as he retraced his steps to the bed. At the moment she didn’t look as if she cared about much one way or another.
“Hold up your arms,” he ordered. She obeyed and Raine immediately regretted his command. With her arms extended above her head, the towel fell away from her upper body, giving him another good look at her perfect breasts.
Raine shoved the sweatshirt sleeves onto her arms and then pushed the neck opening over her head with a bit more force than was necessary. She winced as the material slid down her face.
“Dammit,” he muttered. He’d hurt her, and all because he couldn’t prevent his body’s reaction to hers. Raine stepped to the side of the bed and drew back the covers. When he had readjusted the irritating bulge in his wet pants, he walked back to the foot of the bed and lifted the woman into his arms. She pressed her cheek to his chest and closed her eyes. He frowned when his heart skipped a beat or two at the feel of her soft cheek against his skin. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t usually get so worked up over a blasted female.
Raine placed her in the middle of the bed and covered her with every blanket and quilt he could find. He stalked into the great room, fingered the thermostat to a higher setting, then placed several logs on the fire. He stoked the blaze until he was satisfied that it wouldn’t go out for a while. Then he trudged back to the bedroom and adjusted the blinds to let in the warm glow from the sun that had finally broken through the thick clouds hanging in the sky. The rain had stopped.
The newscast had said that the temperature would reach a pleasant forty degrees today, if the clouds cleared. Raine blew out a disgusted breath and turned back to the bed.
There was no telling how far his mystery guest had walked before she had stumbled upon his place. Raine had picked this particular cabin because of its seclusion. With the high volume of tourists floating in and out of Gatlinburg, his was just another face in the crowd on the rare occasions that he went into town. The last thing he had expected way out here was company.
As soon as he was sure the woman was out for the count, he’d put on dry clothes and take a ride to check out her vehicle. There would likely be some form of identification in her car. He wanted to verify her accident story as well, for his own peace of mind. She certainly seemed harmless enough, but Raine hadn’t survived this long by letting his guard down—even for a beautiful woman in distress.
If she had merely had an accident and showed up at his door for help, she had nothing to worry about. He’d keep an eye on her and rouse her every couple of hours just to be safe. When she awoke, he would drive her into town and drop her off at the emergency room. He had enough medical training to know she would probably be fine, but medical attention wouldn’t hurt.
If anything at all appeared suspicious about her ID or the means by which she had arrived at his door, she wouldn’t need medical attention—she’d need an undertaker.
HER EYES OPENED and she blinked to focus. She stared at the white ceiling for a long time before it occurred to her to try to move. Her head ached and felt oddly heavy. She licked her lips. Her mouth was as dry as sandpaper and she could hardly swallow.
On her left, sunlight poured
