But when her eyelids fluttered closed, he gave into the need to touch her. Easing into the back of the Blazer, he gently pushed her hair out of her face. "You took ten years off my life," he whispered.
Her hand groped for his, then held it tightly. "I knew you would come." She didn't open her eyes as she spoke. "I told myself to hold on, that you would get me out of that car. You were there almost before I'd finished talking to Marge."
He shifted her hand in his and bent down to brush his mouth over their joined fingers. "I was close by. But it still seemed like it took forever to get here." He studied her pale face and her drawn mouth. "What happened? Do you remember?"
At that her eyes fluttered open. He saw a spark of indignation in them. "I think I had a blowout. I heard a loud pop, then the car started swerving all over the road. The next thing I knew, I was upside down in that bush."
"I'll get the mechanic to tow it in. He'll be able to tell. Was it your car?"
"It was a rental." A tiny smile curved her lips. "I guess it's a good thing I took the accident insurance."
"I'll call the rental company for you and have them get another car out here."
"Thanks." Her hand stirred in his, then gripped his more tightly. "I'm glad you were close."
"So am I."
She smiled up at him, her mouth trembling. "I've been nothing but trouble for you since the minute I hit town, haven't I?"
Yes, his heart shouted. She was the most trouble he'd seen in a long, long time. Instead he said lightly, "You do have a way of attracting attention."
"I guess it goes along with my job," she answered, equally lightly.
"We need to get you to the doc's," he said, stepping away from her before he could do something stupid. He wanted to gather her close, hold her tightly and reassure himself that she was all right. Instead he eased the seat belt around her and found a blanket in the back of the truck that he wadded up and put under her head for a pillow. "I'll radio ahead, have Marge tell him we're on our way."
He drove carefully, trying not to stop too suddenly or accelerate too quickly. Every once in a while he turned around to look at her. Carly lay too still on the seat, her eyes closed, her face white.
"Are you okay?" he finally said.
At the sound of his voice she opened her eyes and gave him a wan smile. "I'm fine. I'm just conserving my energy."
"Hold on. We're almost at the doc's."
He eased the truck into a parking space outside of the doctor's small office, then killed the ignition. When he saw Carly struggling to sit up, he hurried to stop her.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Aren't we at the doctor's office?" she said, twisting her neck to look out the window.
"Yeah. But you're going to relax and let me carry you into the exam room."
She scowled at him. "There's nothing wrong with me that a good night's sleep won't cure," she said, staring at him with a mutinous expression. "There's no reason you have to do something as dramatic as carry me into the office."
"Who's going to stop me?"
He slid his arm beneath her knees and lifted her out of the car. His heart stuttered as she stiffened, then relaxed against him. Slowly she twined one arm around his neck and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I don't think anyone's going to stop you," she sighed. "Thank you, Devlin."
"You're welcome," he said gruffly, trying not to notice how right she felt, curled up against him.
A tall man with a gaunt face opened the door. "Bring her right in, Sheriff." Doctor Ellis held the door open, then directed him to a small exam room. Dev set Carly down on the table, then the doctor motioned him out of the room.
"Can't I stay with her?" Dev asked.
"Please don't make him leave," Carly said at the same time.
The doctor's face softened. "You have to step out of the room while I examine her. I'll call you back in as soon as I've finished."
Devlin paced the hallway for what seemed like a long time. Finally the door opened and Doctor Ellis stepped into the hall. "She's going to be fine," he said abruptly. "There's a cut on her scalp that needs to be sutured, and I'm afraid she might have a mild concussion. She's bruised her ribs, but I'm pretty sure none of them are broken. There are some ugly bruises, but they'll fade. All in all, she was damned lucky."
"Can I go back in the room?"
The doctor watched him carefully. "Do you need to get a statement from her?"
"No, damn it. I want to make sure she's all right."
Doctor Daniel Ellis's face softened. "Go ahead, then. If you just wanted a statement from her, I would have told you to go to hell."
Pushing past the doctor, he found Carly clutching a hospital gown to herself, looking lost and alone in the middle of the exam table. He couldn't stop himself from reaching for her hand. She twined her fingers with his and held on tight.
"The doc says you're going to be fine."
She gave him a weak smile. "I told you so."
"Yeah, you did, tough guy. Are you going to take the stitches without any anesthetic, too?" He reached out and brushed her hair away from the small spot the doctor had shaved.
"I'm not that tough." She looked up at him, and suddenly her eyes swam with tears. "I was scared, Dev. I wasn't sure if Marge could hear me on the phone, and I was afraid no one would find me out there."
"I would have found you." He scooped her up into his arms and held her as close as he could without jostling her ribs. "I'm not finished fighting with you yet."
She gave a hiccup of laughter and snuggled closer to him. "I'm glad you're here, but I don't want to keep you. Ben said you had a lot of work to do today."
He thought about how he'd run out of the office that morning rather than face her, and the reason why. It didn't matter that he'd sworn to stay away from her. This changed the equation, he told himself. Carly was injured and alone in Cameron. Someone had to take care of her. This wasn't personal. He could put aside his feelings long enough to do that. He was the sheriff, after all. It was his job to take care of the people of Cameron. And that included visitors who wouldn't be staying. "I'll stay until Doc is finished with you. Then I'm taking you home."
* * *
Chapter 9
«^»
"I beg your pardon?" Carly froze, then slowly pushed away from him.
"We have plenty of room out at the ranch. You need to come home with me tonight."
"No, I don't."
She couldn't do it. She could not go and stay at Red Rock Ranch. Carly watched Devlin pace around Doctor Ellis's small exam room and waited for him to stop and face her again. She didn't have to wait for long.
"Dammit, Carly, someone has to take care of you tonight."
"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." She shifted on the hard vinyl of the table and wrapped the hospital gown more tightly around herself. "And Melba will be home if I need anything. I'm not going to stay at your house."
Doctor Ellis came into the room, and Dev stood by her side, holding her hand, as the doctor sutured her head. He told her how to take care of the wound, glanced at Dev, then back to her.
"Let me know if you need help getting dressed," he murmured.
When he was out of the room, Dev stood and looked down at her. She saw clearly that the discussion about moving to her house wasn't finished.
She needed to visit his house, talk to his sister and his mother, but she refused to use her injuries as a way to get her foot in the door. She didn't want to be carried into his house, weak and wobbly, and ask for their help. She didn't want to be obligated to them. She'd never been obligated to anyone. She'd wait until she was feeling better, then go out to the Red Rock and talk to them. On her own.
She felt Devlin's gaze on her face, and she lifted her head to meet his eyes. She softened her voice when she saw the concern in his eyes. "I'll be fine by myself."
He shook his head. "You are one stubborn, illogical woman."
"Just because I know what I need?"
She lifted her chin higher.
A reluctant smile played around the corners of his mouth. "Geez, Carly, are you always this tough?"
"Always," she said firmly. "You might as well give up now."
"I can't force you to do the obviously intelligent thing," he said, scowling again. "I suppose you're going to insist that you can walk home to Melba's from here, too."
"If that was an offer of a ride, thank you." Her side ached and her head throbbed, and the cut that had been sutured was beginning to sting as the anesthetic wore off. "I may be stubborn, but I'm not stupid."
"Thank God for small favors," he muttered.
His gaze rested on her again, and she held the flaps of the skimpy gown together in a tight fist. "If you don't mind leaving, I'll get my clothes on."
"I'll get Doc Ellis in here to help you."
"I think he has another patient," she said quickly. "I'll do it myself."
"You can barely stand up. How are you going to get yourself dressed?"
"I'll manage."
Devlin turned around so that she was looking at his back. "Go ahead," he said gruffly. "I'll just stay here to make sure you don't need any help."
She didn't want him in the room, but short of pushing him out physically, she knew she wasn't going to get rid of him. Even from across the room, she was too aware of him, too aware of the power he held over her. Devlin had been all business since he'd found her in the Jeep, but still her heart had fluttered every time he'd touched her. And when he'd brushed his mouth over their joined hands, something had moved inside her.
He didn't want to care about her. She'd see it yesterday afternoon, in his office, when he'd figured out that she had another reason for being in Cameron. But he'd treated her like fragile, precious glass when he'd found her that afternoon.
Ignore him, her mind told her. You agreed it would be better if there was nothing between you.
Trying to pretend he wasn't in the room, she reached over and tried to pick up her clothes from the chair where Doctor Ellis had laid them. Her side shrieked in pain, and she tried to bite back the involuntary gasp.
He spun around. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she managed to say. "I'm just having a little trouble reaching my clothes."
Before she could ask him, he scooped them up and set them on the table next to her. Finally, almost as if he couldn't help himself, he reached out and brushed the hair away from her eyes. "Are you sure you don't want me to get someone to help you?"
"There's no one here besides Doctor Ellis. He's already way behind because of my accident. I don't want to make the rest of his patients wait any longer."
"Fine. I'll help you myself."
"You can't do that!" She felt her face and neck heat. "I can get dressed by myself."
"Save your breath," he said, snatching up her shorts. "You can use it to call me all sorts of vile names." He slid one of her feet into the shorts, then the other. "Can you stand up?"
"Of course I can stand up," she snapped, but when she slid off the table she found herself swaying.
He held her steady for a moment, his gray eyes darkening as he watched her. "Okay now?"
"Fine," she muttered. Someone was trying to crack her head open from the inside, and the room shifted and spun around her. Vaguely she was aware that he had pulled her shorts to her waist and was buttoning them.
He cradled her carefully as he settled her back onto the table. "Let's get your shirt on," he murmured.
She wanted to protest, to tell him to stop, that she could do it herself, but his hands smoothed down her back, soothing and gentle, as he settled her blouse around her. When he eased one of her arms out of the hospital gown, he bunched the material close to her chest as he quickly pulled one sleeve of her shirt over that arm. He repeated the maneuver with the other sleeve, then let the gown fall to the ground as he buttoned her blouse.
Tears prickled her eyes again as she realized how careful he'd been to preserve her modesty. The material of the blouse rubbed against her bare breasts as she looked up at him. "Thank you."
One side of his mouth quirked up in a grin. "Don't mention it, Slick. I figured I'd wait until you were back in fighting form before I ravish you in the doctor's office."
He knelt down and put on her shoes and socks, then stood up again. "All set?"
Before she could answer, he spotted her bra lying on the exam table. He picked up the scrap of lace and stuffed it into his pocket. "Let's not leave this as a souvenir for Doc Ellis."
Carly forced herself to slide off the exam table and stand up. Her side screamed in protest, but she managed not to gasp. "I'm ready." She tried to make her voice bright.
"I can see that." He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. "If you think for a minute that I'm going to let you walk out of here, that accident, must have really scrambled your brains. Let me ask Doc for a wheelchair."
"I don't need a wheelchair."
"Fine." He slid his hands beneath her legs and eased her into his arms. "I'd rather carry you, anyway."
She wanted to protest, tell him to put her down, but her head throbbed and her ribs ached and it seemed easier to rest her head against his shoulder. In a minute he'd carried her past the interested faces of other patients in the waiting room and swung her into the front seat of the Blazer. He snapped her seat belt into place and slid into the seat next to her, but he didn't start the engine.
"Is there anything you need before I take you back to Melba's?" he asked.
She started to shake her head, but stopped abruptly when pain tore through her. "No," she said in a low voice. "I can't think of anything."
He started the truck and drove slowly to Melba's house. Even through her pain, Carly could tell that he drove carefully, trying not to jostle her. A treacherous warmth bloomed and spread inside her. Devlin had every reason to mistrust her, every reason to be angry with her. But it didn't seem to matter to him now.
"Here we are." He paused before getting out of the truck. "I know you're not going to want me to carry you into the house, but I'm going to do it anyway." A smile curved his mouth. "You can bet half the town knows about the accident already, anyway. Knowing Marge, she was on the phone before you were at Doc Ellis's."
"I'm glad I can give the people of Cameron some free entertainment," she said tartly as he opened her door.
"I guess I don't have to worry too much about you," he said as he swung her into his arms. "You're beginning to sound more like yourself."
A minute later he stepped into her room and eased the door closed. His arms tightened around her briefly, then he set her on the bed. "Don't move. I'm going to tell Melba what's going on. I'll be right back."
He left the door open, and she could hear the murmur of his voice and Melba's at the bottom of the stairs. Carly looked around her room. She would be fine here, alone, she told herself firmly. She didn't want anyone fussing over her, checking on her, taking care of her. There was no way she wanted to go to Devlin's family home.
Devlin stepped back into the room and squatted down in front of her. "Melba's going to bring you some chamomile tea and toast." His eyes twinkled at her. "Even Melba should be able to boil water and put bread in the toaster."
"You're too hard on her." Carly's protest was automatic, and Devlin's smile faded.
"One day we're going to have a long talk. About Melba Corboy, and a lot of other things. But not today." He looked around the room. "Do you have a nightgown?"
In spite of her injuries, his words strummed nerves inside her, making them hum. Pictures of Devlin helping her with her nightgown burned into her mind. "What would Melba think if she found you helping me with my nightgown?" she asked.
"She'd say I was being a Good Samaritan, giving a hand to someone who needed help."
Carly gave him a tiny smile. "I think she'd say that the innocent look doesn't become you."
His eyes darkened, and for a moment it looked as if he was going to lean closer to her. Then he pushed away
from the bed and stood up. "I hear Melba on the stairs."
He opened her door and took a tray, then shut it firmly again. Dropping the tea bag in the hot water, he watched it for a few moments, then took it out. He dumped a heaping spoonful of sugar into the tea, then handed it to her.
"Thank you."
Devlin stood by the window for a while, waiting while she drank the tea and ate the toast. Finally he turned to face her again. "Let me help you get ready for bed," he said quietly.
Remembering the considerate way he'd helped her get dressed at the doctor's office, she knew there was no reason to refuse. But sudden awareness of him prickled against her skin. They weren't in a busy doctor's office, with the doctor and another patient in the room next door. They weren't surrounded by the smell of disinfectants and the sounds of human illness and injury. They were alone in her room, the door closed, with complete privacy. And allowing him to help her change into her nightgown seemed far too intimate.
Swallowing once, she said, "I can get it. But thanks for offering."
"Scared, Carly?" His voice was barely a breath of sound in the silent room.
"Of course not." She licked her lips and tried to avoid his gaze. "But you've spent far too much time already taking care of me. I'm sure you have a lot of work waiting for you."
He moved over to the dresser that stood on the other side of the bed. "You want to tell me which drawer, or should I just begin looking?"
"The top drawer on the right," she muttered.
"You shouldn't frown like that," he said as he turned away to open the drawer. "It'll make your head hurt even more."
Finally he pulled a long sleep shirt decorated with a picture of Tweety out of the drawer. His mouth twitched as he held it up. "I can see why you wouldn't want me to find this. Your sexy sleepwear has me all atwitter, Ms. Fitzpatrick. It's destined to haunt my dreams."
"It so happens that I'm very fond of Tweety," she retorted, but she couldn't resist his teasing smile. He was trying to make her forget about what had happened, she knew, and he was succeeding.
COWBOY WITH A BADGE Page 12
