by Elle James
Jane didn’t know what to hold on to. She grabbed the armrest and gripped tight.
Gus jammed on the brakes, bringing the SUV to a skidding stop in the middle of the freeway.
The driver behind him hit his brakes, but too late to stop before slamming into the back of their SUV.
Jane was flung forward; her seat belt tightened, keeping her from flying through the windshield and out onto the pavement.
Gus let off the brake and hit the accelerator, racing ahead of the gray SUV.
Jane glanced back to see steam rising from the hood of the other vehicle. It wasn’t moving. As the distance increased between them, her heartbeat slowed and she took a breath. She stared across at Gus whose arm was bleeding. “Get to the nearest hospital. You’ve got a gunshot wound.”
“I’m fine. It just grazed me.”
“Grazing doesn’t bleed that much.” She searched the interior of the vehicle for napkins or tissues to use to stop the flow of blood. When she couldn’t find any, she pressed her palm against the wound, applying pressure. “Seriously, you’re bleeding like a stuck pig. At least go to a convenient care clinic and get some stitches.”
“When we get to the estate, I’ll ask for a Band-Aid.”
She sighed. “You’re hopeless.”
He shot her a grin. “And you’re doing great. Most women I’ve known would have fainted at the sight of blood.”
“You’ve known the wrong women. I’m not most women,” she grumbled.
His grin faded, but his look was intense. “No. You’re not.”
“I hope you didn’t get blood on my fingerprint card. We still need to find out what kind of woman I am.”
Chapter Nine
Gus made it back to Charlie’s place without bleeding out. With Jane applying pressure all the way, she’d pretty much stopped the flow by the time they arrived.
The others were standing outside the mansion on the steps when Gus pulled in behind their vehicles.
Declan hurried forward. “Ho-ly... Gus. Are you okay?”
As soon as he shifted into Park, he took over from Jane and pressed his hand over the wound on his shoulder. “I’m fine.”
“If you’re so fine, why are you bleeding like a stuck pig?” Cole asked.
“What’s with people and stuck pigs?” Gus shook his head. “All I need is a shower and a Band-Aid. It’s just a flesh wound.”
“I’m calling my doctor,” Charlie announced. She had her cell phone out and was dialing before Gus could tell her he didn’t need one.
“It’s just a flesh wound,” he insisted.
“Let the doctor be the judge of that,” Charlie said as she ended the call. “He’ll be here in ten minutes.”
“Your doctor makes house calls?” Mustang asked.
“For me,” Charlie said. “I set him up in his own practice just down the road. He returns the favor on occasion. I don’t abuse the privilege, only when I think it’s necessary. And I think it’s necessary based on the amount of blood you have all over you and Jane. Come on—let’s get you inside and cleaned up.”
“I’ll grab some clean towels and gauze.” Arnold hurried up the steps ahead of them.
“I’ll get the alcohol,” Cole said.
“Shouldn’t he wash the wound first?” Charlie asked.
Cole shot a grin back at the others as he stepped through the door. “I’ll leave that to Gus. I’m getting the beer and whiskey.”
Declan shook his head and turned to Gus. “You sure you’re all right?”
“Seriously, it’s just a flesh wound,” Gus said.
Declan snorted. “You’d say that if half your arm was blown off.”
Gus chuckled. “Probably. And you’d do the same.”
“Yeah.” Declan grinned. “And Cole would get the booze.”
“While you guys are being guys, Gus is still bleeding.” Jane wrapped her arm around Gus’s waist and looped his arm over her shoulders.
“What are you doing?” Gus asked.
“You’ve lost a lot of blood, cowboy. I’m going to make sure you get up the steps without passing out.” Jane started up the stairs.
He frowned down at her. “I’ve never passed out a day in my life.”
“Then do it yourself,” she said and started to duck out from under his arm.
He held on tight. “No. I think you’re right. I’m feeling a little fuzzy.”
“Come on, cowboy,” Declan said, shaking his head. “Let’s get inside before you stain the concrete and marble.”
Gus leaned a little more than he should have on Jane, but he liked her arm around his waist and that she cared enough to help him up the stairs. He didn’t need the help and he didn’t feel at all woozy. He wasn’t going to tell her that. She wouldn’t believe him anyway. It looked like he’d lost a lot of blood, but he really hadn’t.
“Can you make it up to the second floor?” Charlie asked. “You can use the shower in my room.”
“Not necessary. I can make it to the third floor just fine.”
“Great,” Jane said, already breathing hard.
He stopped leaning so heavily on her but let her keep her arm around his waist. “Better?”
“Much.” She frowned up at him. “Faker.”
“I told you I didn’t need the help.” He leaned close to her ear. “Don’t blame me if I liked it.”
“Jerk,” she muttered and continued up the stairs with her arm around his waist.
Once they made it to the suite they shared, she walked him straight to the bathroom before she ducked from beneath his arm to reach in and turn the knob on the shower.
When the water was nice and warm, she turned back to find him pulling his T-shirt over his head. The wound on his arm started bleeding again, dripping onto the floor.
“You could have waited for me to help,” she groused.
“Why? It was going to bleed anyway.” He pressed the T-shirt to the wound.
“Hold that thought while I untie your boots.” She leaned down and loosened the laces on his boots.
He toed them off.
She helped him remove his socks and then straightened.
He touched her cheek with the hand on his injured arm, leaving a streak of blood. “You’re pretty handy to have around when a guy is bleeding. Sorry, I just left some on your face.”
“Shut up and let me maintain the pressure while you get out of those jeans.”
“You sure you want to do that?”
“I’d rather hold the wound than have you slip and break your neck in your own blood.” She held the shirt against the injury. “I’ll even close my eyes.”
Just the thought of getting naked with her made his blood pump faster and his desire swell in his groin. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
She glared up at him. “I repeat. Shut up and do it.” Then she closed her eyes.
While she held his arm, he slipped out of his jeans, pulled the shower curtain over to cover himself and then clamped his hand over the wound. “Okay, I’ve got this now. You can go.”
“I’ll stay long enough to help you out. Once you wash all the blood off, you’ll need help getting dressed without messing up your clean clothes.”
He hadn’t thought of that, when all he could think about was the effect she was having on his libido. “You make a good point. But I’m not sure I want your help.”
She frowned. “Do you want me to get one of your teammates? I can do that.”
He didn’t like that idea either. “No. I suppose you’ll do.”
Jane shook her head. “Ingrate. Move. The doctor will be here to sew you up any minute.”
“Maybe we should have waited for him before doing the shower.”
“You’re a mess. Get in the shower before all the hot water is gone.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He stepped behind the curtain.
A hand came around the side of the curtain with a clean washcloth. “Use this to apply pressure to the wound and just let the water wash over your body. You can get a better shower after the doc sews you up.”
He stopped short of asking her to wash the blood away from his body. If he weren’t her guard and she weren’t an unknown potential threat, he might have done it. He reached down and turned the shower cooler.
The woman was getting to him more than he cared to admit. His body had no problem demonstrating its desire for her.
“Are you okay in there?” Jane’s voice sounded from the other side of the curtain.
“I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth. The water was damned cold, yet it did little to get his desire in check.
“I found some shorts in your gym bag. Where do you keep your underwear?”
He chuckled. “I don’t.”
“You don’t what?” she asked.
“I don’t keep them.”
“Oh.”
Gus smiled, imagining the look on her face when she understood that he went commando whenever he could. When he couldn’t he wore boxer shorts.
Holding the cloth over his wound, he let the water sluice over his body, washing away as much of the blood as he could see. When he was clean, he turned off the water.
A towel flew over the curtain rod and slapped him in the face.
“Thanks,” he said.
“You’re welcome.”
He could see the outline of her body standing near the curtain.
“Need help drying off?” she asked.
“No. I’ve got this.” He managed to get to most of the water, patting himself dry.
“I’ll step out and let you get into your shorts.”
“Mighty decent of you, ma’am,” he said in his best imitation of John Wayne.
“Don’t give up your day job, Gus,” she said and pulled the door closed as she left.
Gus tugged on his shorts while holding the cloth in place. He barely had them covering all the important parts when Jane stuck her head through the door. “The doctor’s here.”
Thankful for the distraction, Gus left the bathroom to find a young man carrying a black satchel. The guy barely looked old enough to be out of medical school.
“I’m thirty-five years old,” the doctor said as he set his bag on an end table near an ottoman. “I happen to have a young face. But I’m good at what I do.” He glanced toward Jane. “Can I get a towel or two to spread out over this seat?”
Jane nodded and hurried back into the bathroom, returning with a stack of clean towels. She spread two over the ottoman and stood back.
The doctor pointed. “Sit.”
Gus did as he was told. The doctor might look young, but he worked quickly and efficiently, examining the wound and applying three sutures to close the edges.
“When was your last tetanus shot?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe five years ago,” Gus said.
After the doctor applied gauze and tape to cover the wound, he gave Gus a shot, some antibiotics and then he closed his case. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve suffered a bad abrasion.” He gave instructions for wound care and left.
“Not much of a bedside manner,” Jane said, as she inspected the doctor’s handiwork. “But he did a good job.”
“And he’s not reporting it to the authorities as a gunshot wound. We don’t have time for the red tape.” Gus raised an eyebrow. “Satisfied? I’m sure I could have applied a couple of butterfly bandages and been just as effective.”
Jane rolled her eyes and held out a T-shirt. “Want help getting into this?”
He sighed. “Is there no end to the humiliation?”
“Stop being a baby and put on the shirt. I’m sure you don’t want to sit at the dinner table shirtless.”
He didn’t, so he let her help him into the shirt.
“You kinda need a shower. You have almost as much blood on you as I had on me.”
She nodded toward the door. “If you want to go down and join the others, I’ll get that shower.”
“Have you forgotten that I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on you?”
Jane sighed. “Whatever. I’m getting a shower. Do what you want. I’m not going to make a run for it when Carl said he had a big pot of Hungarian goulash on the stove. I can smell it all the way up here.” She inhaled deeply. “Nope. I won’t make a run for it until I’ve had some of that.”
She collected clothes from her bedroom, took them into the bathroom and closed the door between them.
Gus stood on the other side, every instinct telling him that she was one of the good guys and that he could trust her. In which case, he wouldn’t have to treat her like a potential threat. He could explore this reaction he had to her nearness.
If she was willing.
He heard when she turned on the water.
His imagination pictured her naked, standing beneath the spray, water sluicing down over her shoulders and breasts. He could be in there, rubbing soap over her skin, sliding his hands over every inch of her body.
Gus groaned. Why was he torturing himself?
The water turned off, but Gus was still turned on.
“Gus?” Jane called out.
He thought he’d imagined it.
“Gus?” The second time, she was louder.
His pulse quickened and he hurried to the bathroom door, opening it a crack. “Yeah.”
“I forgot to get a towel out of the cabinet. Would you hand me one?” Jane stood on the other side of the curtain, her naked body a hazy gray silhouette.
“Sure.” He reached into the cabinet and pulled out a fluffy white towel. He slipped it around the side of the shower curtain and she took it from him.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, choking on his desire.
He made it to the door when the shower curtain whipped to the side.
He glanced back over his shoulder.
She stood, wrapped in the towel, water droplets gleaming off the swells of her breasts. “I’ll be ready in a minute.”
Gus dove for the door. He was ready now, but not for Hungarian goulash.
* * *
AFTER GUS LEFT her alone in the bathroom, Jane rubbed her body dry with the towel he’d given her.
The whole time she’d helped him undress and get into the shower she’d fought the overwhelming urge to get in with him. It would have been easier for him, if she had. But what purpose would it serve? The man made her blood burn hot through her veins. When he’d stripped down to get into the shower she’d done her best not to peek, but damn. He was one hell of a male specimen.
She’d slept in his arms the night before and felt the strength of his muscles and the heat of his skin against hers and wished for a lot more than being held. But she couldn’t ask for more. It wouldn’t be fair to him. Making love to her wasn’t part of his job duties.
Oh, but what she wouldn’t give to have his hands on her body, touching her from head to toe. How long had it been since she’d been with a man? Hell, she had no idea. Frustration burned a hole in her gut.
Jane finished drying her body and wrapped her hair in the towel to soak up the water. She slipped into the panties and bra Grace had loaned her. Then she pulled on a soft red jersey dress. It slipped down over her body, hugging every curve and swell, falling all the way to her ankles. She couldn’t remember wearing a dress. Did she do it often? Or was it a new experience?
The shoes Grace had given her to wear with the dress were high heels. After the day she’d had, Jane had no desire to wear spike heels, deciding instead to go barefoot.
She hung the towel on a rack and pulled a brush through her hair.
The thought of Gus waiting
in the other room made her want to hurry to see his reaction to the red dress. It wasn’t as fancy as the black one she’d worn to the gala, but it suited her more. She felt comfortable, yet feminine wearing it.
Once she’d smoothed all the tangles from her long hair she stepped out of the bathroom.
Gus stood by the French doors. He’d changed from the shorts into a pair of black jeans and a pair of leather boots. He still wore the T-shirt she’d helped him into and his hair was combed back from his forehead.
Dark stubble peppered his chin, giving him a more dangerous appearance.
He turned toward her, his eyes widening briefly as he took in her form in the dress.
“You clean up nicely,” he said.
Her lips quirked. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
“And I managed to dress myself,” he said, puffing out his chest.
“Now that you’re not bleeding,” she reminded him.
“Thanks to you,” he said. He crossed the room to stand in front of her.
She stared up at his face, her gaze dropping to his full lips, curious to know if they were as soft as they looked. Was he a good kisser?
Her stomach rumbled, pulling her back to reality. Heat rose in her cheeks and she pressed a hand to her belly. “I suppose we should go downstairs.”
He nodded and tipped her chin up. “Thank you for taking care of me when you didn’t have to.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Gus’s head dipped lower. “I have an uncontrollable desire to kiss you.”
Her breath caught and her heartbeat ratcheted up. “What’s stopping you?”
“I can’t think of a damned thing.” He lowered his mouth to hers, brushing a feather-soft kiss across her lips.
She sighed, leaning up on her toes to deepen the connection.
Gus’s arms wrapped around her, bringing her body flush up against his. When his tongue traced the seam of her lips, she opened to him and met him thrust for thrust.
The moment lasted forever and was over in a second.
He lifted his head and she wanted to cry for the loss of his lips on hers.
Leaning her forehead against his chest, she whispered, “We should go down.”
