by Debra Webb
"What happened to you?" Lauren instinctively reached up to inspect the damage to his face. He staggered out of reach, clutching the porcelain sink to steady himself. The shower curtain hung from one lone silver ring. The thin plastic fabric had evidently proven less than efficient in helping Longwalker to his feet.
"I got my welcome-home party," he said bitterly.
Lauren shook her head. "What are you talking about?"
"What did you come here for?" he countered impatiently.
"Sit down before you fall down," Lauren ordered. She gripped his forearms and guided him toward the toilet seat. Until she touched him, Lauren hadn't noticed that he wasn't fully dressed. His chest was bare and, quite frankly, beautiful.
His long, black hair fell past his mile-wide shoulders and lay against deeply bronzed skin stretched taut over well-developed muscles. Lauren had the sudden and completely ridiculous desire to slide her hand over the smooth contours of that chest. She gave herself a mental shake to dislodge the ludicrous notion. Maybe this new medicine Dr. Prescott had prescribed was having adverse side effects.
"I don't need your help," he warned.
Lauren forced her gaze upward to settle on those fierce gray eyes. She swallowed, her throat inexplicably dry. "Please sit down and let me take a look at you," she said more softly. He stared at her long and hard before he conceded and dropped onto the closed toilet seat.
Lauren grabbed a clean washcloth from the towel bar and dampened it. His wary gaze followed her every move. She pressed the cool, wet cloth to his left eye, which was swollen and rapidly changing colors.
"You need ice for this," she suggested.
"I'll be fine." He shifted from her touch.
"Be still," Lauren told him, impatience making her curt. She eased down on her knees to get a better look at his split lip. The damage was in one corner and didn't appear severe enough to warrant anything other than a cleaning and a little antibiotic ointment which, lucky for him, she always carried in her purse—along with Little Mermaid Band-Aids. Sarah was forever scraping her knees or elbows.
Lauren chewed her lower lip in empathy as she cleaned the cut at the side of his mouth. As she did whenever she worked on Sarah, Lauren focused on the task and not the person. In this instance she couldn't allow herself to consider that she was actually aiding the enemy. Of course, she did kind of owe him one since he had taken care of her the other evening. The thought of owing this man anything terrified her beyond belief.
"Boy, whoever did this certainly intended to make a point," she noted aloud as she surveyed the numerous scrapes and the beginnings of bruises on his chest and arms.
"It took four of them to make that point," he said in defense of his battered appearance.
Four of them. Lauren suddenly recalled the rumpled group she had met in the parking lot. It had taken all four of those men to do this. Gray Longwalker apparently knew how to defend himself. Lauren's gaze locked with his, and she saw the rage simmering just beneath his thin control.
She drew her brows together and wondered why people in this town hated him so? What had he done to deserve such treatment? Oh, she had heard all the stories about his raging temper, the womanizing and the mega chip on his shoulder. But as far as she could tell, the only person who really had a right to hold a grudge against the man was Sharon Johnson—and now her, of course.
"Why are you staring at me?"
His voice startled Lauren from her worrisome thoughts. "I…I have something for your scrapes." She fumbled behind her for her purse. "Sarah is always scraping her knees—" she hastily dug through the numerous and varied contents of her oversize bag until she fished out the small yellow tube of ointment and small package of Band-Aids "—so I keep this stuff handy." She managed a weak smile despite the severity of his glare. "It really helps to speed up the healing and I…I just thought…Well, anyway." Lauren shook her head as she unscrewed the tiny cap, she was rambling.
"You didn't answer my question," he repeated, his gaze alert to her every move.
Lauren let go a shaky breath and focused on applying the ointment to his scrapes. She started with his chest and arms. The face would have to come later, when she had calmed a bit and could look him in the eye once more.
"What question was that?"
"I don't know why you came here, but I don't need your sympathy, Ms. Whitmore."
Lauren focused on his face now, but avoided actual eye contact. "I don't know what you mean, Mr. Longwalker. I don't recall offering you any sympathy."
Lauren bit the inside of her jaw as she gently dabbed the ointment onto the cut at the side of his mouth. The knowledge that she knelt between his powerful thighs suddenly slammed into her consciousness. Heat flooded her body. Every cell felt charged, every nerve ending jangled. She would finish what she had started—somehow, she thought as she focused on his mouth. His lips were unusually full, almost feminine. They looked hard, but felt incredibly soft beneath her fingertips.
How would it feel, she wondered fleetingly, to have those lips pressed against her own? Lauren flinched. How could she be thinking such a thing? She definitely had to call Dr. Prescott the instant she got home. She was completely out of control. The pad of her thumb accidentally brushed his chin, tracing the shallow cleft she hadn't really noticed until now. Lauren swallowed hard and stroked his chin once more, her gaze riveted to his beautiful mouth. A need like she had never experienced before shuddered through her.
Gray pulled her hand away and held it firmly. The tube of ointment slipped from her grasp and clattered to the floor. Lauren's errant gaze focused on the contrast of Longwalker's much-darker skin against her pale coloring where their hands were joined. They were completely different in so many ways.
"Look at me, Lauren," he commanded.
There it was again—that strange swirling feeling that swept her each time he said her name. She lifted her gaze to his, her heart pounding faster with the contact. What was happening to her? She felt like a moth fluttering entirely too close to the flames. And, yet, she only wanted to move closer.
"Perhaps you're offering something else?" he suggested in a low, seductive voice.
Lauren shook her head slowly in denial of his words. It was at that precise moment that she knew just how dangerous Gray Longwalker could be. His eyes…his voice were mesmerizing.
His full lips tilted upward into a smile, the first real smile Lauren had seen. The transition was fascinating. With that smile, Gray Longwalker was more than merely handsome, he was breathtaking.
"You've just offered a great deal more than you realize," he murmured, his lips closer than they had been before, though she didn't think he had actually moved—maybe she had.
He stroked the inside of her wrist with the pad of his thumb, and Lauren shivered like a schoolgirl who had never before been touched by a man. She drew in a shallow breath and released it, the sound ragged in the silence that enveloped them.
Gray released her hand and touched her cheek, just the slightest caress of fingertips against her skin. He trailed his fingers down her throat leaving a path of fire that made her tremble. His fingers threaded into her hair, and he pulled her closer—close enough for Lauren to feel his breath on her lips. Her own breath stalled in her lungs.
And then those full, sensuous lips pressed against hers and the explosion of heat that followed made Lauren tremble with gut-wrenching need. He slid his free arm around her waist and pulled her closer between his widespread legs and fully against him. He felt hot and hard. Lauren's hands found their way to his chest, and she reveled in the smooth heat of his skin.
He teased her lips until they parted and swept his tongue into her mouth. Startled by the invasion, Lauren tensed, but his seductive touch soon made her relax. Deeper and deeper she spiraled into a world of pure sensation—sensations she hadn't imagined it possible to feel. Lauren moaned for what she equally wanted and feared. All her defenses had failed against this man. She wanted nothing more than for him to keep doing jus
t what he was doing.
Gray suddenly jerked back, his breath jagged, his eyes glazed. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he set her away from him. "You should go now," he said grimly.
Lauren dragged her hands from his chest and hugged herself against the sudden loss and the embarrassment she felt. She summoned her wayward composure. What on earth had possessed her to allow him to kiss her? Had she lost her mind?
"I'm…I'm sorry. I don't understand what happened…. Why did you do that?" Lauren allowed her gaze to meet his. His eyes were cold and vacant, no longer mesmerizing.
"Because you wanted me to."
"Because I what?" Lauren echoed in disbelief. She pushed to her feet and backed away from him. "I wanted no such thing."
Gray stood, his height and size intimidating enough without the heated glare he focused on her. "Unless my instincts were off—and they seldom are where a woman is concerned—you wanted exactly that."
"Oh, I see," Lauren said, the pitch of her voice rising as resentment and humiliation fueled her anger.
"Your special talents extend to women as well as horses?"
"When I choose to allow myself to get that close, yes."
On some level, she had already known that would be his answer. There was something about his eyes—it was as if he could see straight into her soul. Lauren sighed her exasperation and braced her hands at her waist. "I shouldn't have come here. I should have known better than to give you the time of day, much less play nursemaid to your injuries." She whirled to make her exit with at least some amount of dignity, but Longwalker caught her arm and pulled her back around.
He leaned in close and whispered fiercely, "I know what I felt."
"Well, maybe your instincts need a tune-up." She jerked out of his hold and was halfway to the door before she remembered what she had come here for in the first place.
Lauren stopped and faced the brooding figure who stood statue still on the other side of the room. "I came here to work out the ground rules for you to visit Sarah. But obviously you're more concerned with humiliating me than visiting her."
An indiscernible emotion flickered in his unreadable gaze. "Why the change of heart?"
Lauren hesitated. She still hadn't figured out how to explain this part without giving away too much. "I just felt it would be the right thing to do," she told him. Well, at least it was half-true. She really wanted him to go away, but if he insisted on staying, at least they could work out some sort of agreeable terms. "Don suggested that we work something out," she admitted when faced with the look of disbelief on his face.
"When can I see her?"
The anticipatory light that sprang to life in his eyes made Lauren's heart ache. He was already falling for the child and he had only seen her once. Her hopes of his walking away dashed, Lauren swallowed back the regret. "Give yourself a day or two to heal up. Seeing you like this—" Lauren gestured to his battered face "—might upset her. She wouldn't understand."
Gray nodded. He shoved his hands into his pockets, emphasizing his masculinity. "Would Saturday be okay?"
"Call me Saturday morning and we'll work out a time," she conceded. "But you can't tell Sarah that you're her father until you have a court order giving you permission, and you can only see her at my house."
"Agreed," he said eagerly.
Lauren turned away from his hopeful expression. God, she didn't want to see this…didn't want to know how much Sarah meant to him already.
"Lauren."
The sound washed over her, making her shiver and promising things she prayed he wouldn't try to deliver. "Yes?" She reluctantly turned to face him once more.
"Thank you."
Those two little words shattered the last of Lauren's hopes that she would ever be able to hate Gray Longwalker the way she had expected to—the way she needed to—in order to protect Sarah and herself.
Chapter Six
Gray stopped short of knocking on the door. He squeezed his hand into a fist and then let it drop heavily to his side. Saturday afternoon had come, and he could finally see Sarah again. But that also meant he had to see Lauren Whitmore. He stared at Lauren's closed door and willed his uneasiness to retreat. He had made a mistake by allowing that kiss. He had thought of nothing else since.
Well, that wasn't exactly true—he had thought of Sarah. But he had thought about Lauren entirely too much. Gray didn't usually waste time or energy dwelling on things he couldn't have and sure as heaven didn't need.
He'd had a bad case of running off at the mouth the other day. He'd told Lauren more about himself in those few minutes in that shabby bathroom than he made it a habit of telling anyone. No one ever understood how he could sense their feelings so accurately. Why did he think for one minute that Lauren Whitmore would be any different?
She'd wanted him to touch her. He had felt her desire so strongly that he'd been hard-pressed not to take things further than he had. Gray had realized his error a little late, but he had come to his senses.
Lauren was beautiful—there could be no denying that—and she had a sweetness about her. But no matter how tempting the woman might be, she still stood between him and his daughter. Not to mention that she seemed to be involved on some level with his nemesis.
Gray doubted that her relationship with Buckmaster went very deep. Not after the way she had responded in his arms two days ago. She'd been just as caught up in the heat of the moment as he had. And she had wanted him as much as he had wanted her. Of course, there was always the off chance that his instincts were wrong about Lauren. She could be the type who used her feminine wiles to keep the men in her life in their place.
Gray shook his head. He couldn't be that wrong. But right or wrong, it didn't really matter. Gray had no intention of getting involved with anyone. He didn't believe in that kind of love—responsibility, loyalty, maybe—but not love. Nothing Lauren could do or say would ever change his mind on that score.
Firming his resolve, Gray rapped against the polished oak surface and waited for Lauren to answer the door. When she did, he was totally unprepared.
She had pulled her hair up, but long, wispy, honey-colored strands drifted down around her face and neck. A jolt of awareness surged through him. She gazed up at him through those exotic green eyes, and her rosy lips curled into a tremulous smile. The sight of her made his groin tighten unreasonably. Even the soft flannel blouse and worn denim jeans she wore looked frustratingly feminine. Bright neon-pink toenails caught his eye. Gray almost smiled. He had never considered toes sexy, but Lauren's were.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Longwalker," she said tentatively, drawing his attention back to her expectant gaze. For the first time he noticed the dusting of flour on one cheek. She had been baking. He remembered the unbaked bread rising on the counter in her kitchen the first time he'd been here. Lauren pulled the door open wider and stepped back for him to enter.
"Ms. Whitmore," he returned and stepped inside. Gray took off his hat and deposited it on the hall table. He could feel the doubt and reluctance radiating from Lauren like the heat from a red-hot smithy's iron.
"You're looking much better," she noted after closing the door. Despite her reservations about his presence, she surveyed the healing injuries on his face with genuine concern. "Do the police have any suspects yet?"
Gray made a halfhearted effort at a laugh, which fell well below the mark. "You don't call the police in Thatcher when your name is Gray Longwalker."
"But those men broke into your room and they…they assaulted you," she protested in earnest, a strong sense of injustice emanating from those shimmering jade pools.
Gray sighed. Her naiveté was refreshing. "Trust me on this one."
Lauren's face grew suddenly somber. She bit her lower lip and averted her gaze. "I suppose you want to get right to the point of your visit."
"Yes."
"Would you like me to take that?" She gestured to the package he held.
"It's for Sarah."
"Oh." Lauren nodded but
didn't look at him again. Instead she turned and led the way into the living room. Gray's eyes settled immediately on the little girl, and his heart skipped a beat. Sarah sat on the floor surrounded by building blocks. Piles of red, blue, yellow and green shapes lay in no particular order. A doll with long, dark hair sat beside her.
"Sarah," Lauren said, drawing the child's attention from her fierce concentration on one particular pile of blocks. When Sarah looked up, Lauren continued, "You remember Mr. Longwalker who helped out the day I got sick?" Sarah's gaze darted to Gray and she nodded vigorously. "Well he's come to visit us, but Mommy's a little busy in the kitchen with the baking. Would you mind keeping Mr. Longwalker company until I finish?"
"Okay, Mommy," she said without hesitation or particular interest. Instantly her attention returned to the pile of red blocks and she whispered something to her doll.
Lauren quickly turned away. Gray sensed her trepidation. This was very difficult for her, he knew. He found himself wishing that he could somehow make it easier, but he couldn't. His gaze moved back to Sarah. He could allow nothing to stand in the way of claiming his daughter.
Gray joined Sarah on the floor amid the array of colorful blocks. "I brought something for you," he said as he held the package out to the little girl.
She accepted the bag and immediately reached inside. She pulled out the square box and her eyes lit up. "Little Mermaid! I love the Little Mermaid," she squealed gleefully.
Gray smiled. An unfamiliar emotion he recognized as happiness bloomed in his chest, catching him completely off guard with its intensity. In her hasty departure from his hotel room, Lauren had left a package of Little Mermaid Band-Aids. Gray had assumed that Sarah liked the Disney character and had bought a puzzle they could work on together.
"Can I open it?" she asked hopefully.
"Sure. We can put it together if you'd like."
Sarah jumped up and rushed to the coffee table. She dropped to her knees, opened the box and dumped the contents on the table's polished surface. Gray sat down beside her and surveyed the scattered contents of the box.
