In the Still of the Night

by Samantha Lucas

  "Let's go inside. I have some clothes..."

  She stiffened and tried to push away, as hard as she had pulled him close a minute ago.

  "Okay, okay.” He tried to soothe her, running his hand over the long black strands of very wet hair that hung down her back. “But honey, I have to take you somewhere. You're soaked through. You'll catch your death.” He cringed. “Holy hell, now I'm channeling my mother."

  Soft laughter rustled into his shirt. It was the sound of his dreams. He squeezed her tighter, joining her for a moment in laughter, then unconsciously placed a soft kiss to the top of her head as he reconsidered his plan. If she didn't want to go inside, he doubted she'd want to go back to his place, but he was low on options.

  He pulled back to look into her eyes, then brushed hair away from her forehead. “Do you want to come home with me? I may be a bachelor, but I have maid service, so you won't catch anything. I also have a great tub."

  She looked at him for a long while, emotions warring in the depths of crystalline, and Mica couldn't believe how much he wanted her to agree.

  "You'll be safe,” he encouraged. He hoped he was right. Hoped even more that she believed him.

  Safe. If only.

  Jayden knew it wasn't so, but her choices were sorely limited. The thought of a bath—and maybe even some sleep—pushed her headlong toward recklessness. She tortured her lower lip with her teeth as she agonized, then she nodded her agreement and hoped they'd both live to see the morning.

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  Chapter Two

  "Okay, I'll start some coffee, then I think first thing we need to do is look at that foot."

  Jayden followed Mica through the door of the penthouse apartment with great trepidation. She'd spent the last seven years at the mercy of a rich man's pleasure; she didn't trust them. But Mica seemed different. Or maybe it was simply the fact that her synapses were no longer firing.

  "Or maybe you don't drink coffee?"

  She raised one shoulder. Her heartbeat raced as the door closed behind her, and Mica flipped several locks. Two gentle fingers beneath her chin drew her attention back to gorgeous amber eyes, and she tried to relax.

  "So, no coffee. Cocoa?"

  Cocoa?

  Jayden figured her eyes must have lit like a child's at Christmas to draw such a smile out of her guardian angel, but the last time she'd had cocoa would have been when she was nine or ten, the last time they'd gone to visit Gramma Rose. Mica's gentle laughter made her feel somewhat foolish, and she felt herself blush even as she looked away.

  "Cocoa it is, then."

  He headed for the kitchen, and Jayden took in her surroundings. The furniture was well made, but they were comfortable and not at all formal. Southwestern art hung along the wall with the marble and copper fireplace, and one wall was, of course, floor-to-ceiling windows. Displayed before her, the lights of the city seemed to sparkle out to infinity before they faded into blackness. Lightning flashed once more, and Jayden prepared herself for the gentle roll of thunder, knowing it would now be far in the distance.

  What she hadn't prepared herself for was the tenderness in Mica's eyes when he tugged her shoulders to encourage her to look up at him.

  "You won't leave me will you, angel?"

  She closed her eyes. He'd obviously thought better about leaving her unattended. As much as she knew she should leave—that it would be the best thing for him—she didn't have the strength. Not tonight. She shook her head and was stunned when Mica wrapped strong, warm arms around her. He tucked her head under his chin and held her as if she was the most valuable thing in all the world. Held her as no one ever had.

  Oh, it would be such a bad idea to get used to this.

  "Good. Crazy as it sounds, I'd be lost without you now."

  He placed a solid kiss to her forehead. “Sit anywhere you like; the furniture's replaceable. I'll be right back."

  She knew she should sit down—her foot was killing her—but it had stopped bleeding as far as she could tell. Also, besides the fact that she was wet and filthy, her curiosity got the better of her. She wanted to know who this man was who had stepped through a kitchen doorway and into her life.

  She picked up a book that had been left open on the floor next to one of the black leather sofas. To Kill a Mockingbird. She'd seen part of the movie once. His choice surprised her. She checked out a few more of the books packed into three full-length built-in cases. Classics, poetry, sci-fi, murder mysteries.

  Sheesh, the man has eclectic tastes.

  Jayden ran her fingers along the smooth metal mantle as she checked out the framed black and white shots of people ranging in age from kids to grandparents. There was even one of a big sheepdog. Tenderness washed over her heart as she pulled one in particular from its place of honor.

  Parents.

  She traced their features with her finger.

  Which one of you has the eyes of golden fire?

  She smiled even as a tear slipped. They looked happy and in love, but most of all they looked normal. The woman had light hair, shoulder length, and just enough wrinkles around her mouth and eyes to let you know she'd loved and laughed a lot in her lifetime. Even in this shot, she'd been caught laughing.

  The man's hair probably matched her benefactor's dark brown. He was a head taller than the woman and had his arm around her in such a way as to say mine. Jayden's heart clenched.

  Mica came back in to find his mystery guest holding one of his family pictures.

  "Hey, I told you to sit."

  She put the picture back and turned around with a guilty look, bottom lip tucked between her teeth. She shrugged. Mica brushed a finger over the frame she'd been holding.

  "Last summer. Photography's sort of a hobby of mine.” He took her hand. “Come on, my tub's the best place for this. It has a wide rim. You can sit, and I'll turn on the jets. Fix you up good as new."

  She followed without reservation up the steps, then faced a moment's hesitation when she thought about his thick gold carpet and her foot. She paused, pulling her foot up to see if she had left bloody prints. Her heart stopped as she checked back to the door and as much of the living room as she could see. Besides the little detail that it was unforgivably rude to destroy someone's carpet, she didn't want any evidence left behind of her ever having been there.

  "It's okay. I can have the carpet cleaned."

  She shook her head and tried to pull her hand out of his, but he wouldn't release her. Tears threatened again as she glanced at the marble foyer, then she met Mica's gaze straight on.

  Please. They can't know I've been here.

  She tugged again, and comprehension dawned in his eyes. Releasing her hand, he cupped her cheeks with a gentleness she'd never known from a man. Tears spilled over even as she fought them with every last ounce of strength she had.

  "Whoever's after you, they won't find you here. I'll clean up the blood after I've taken care of your foot. I swear it."

  His words settled into her heart, where they slowed the rising panic. She surrendered to his will with a nod of consent.

  "It's not that you don't want to speak, is it?” His thumb brushed her lip. Jayden shivered and tingled all the way to her soul. “You can't speak."

  More tears made their way to the surface. She closed her eyes against them, and her forehead fell against his chest as frustration rose within her.

  Hold on, Jayden. Don't fall apart. You can't have the luxury.

  He whispered into her ear, “I'll take care of you, angel. You have my promise.” He swept her into his arms. “No more blood this way."

  His smile shouldn't have made her feel giddy, but it did. She relaxed against his chest as he carried her through a beautifully appointed bedroom—decked out in rich colors of red and gold and a heavy dose of black—and into the master bath. He set her on the edge of the tub and turned on the water. With one finger raised, he admonished, “Stay put,” then disappeared.

  As she removed her sneake
r, Jayden winced, both from the pain and the sight of her foot. She had no idea what she'd cut it on; she'd only noticed when it began to hurt and the blood soaked through the thin canvas. She dropped the sneaker, took off the other, and let it join the first. When Mica came back, she had both feet in the tub and felt a lot closer to human.

  Mica smiled. Jayden smiled in response, without thought, and surprised herself at how good it felt.

  "These won't fit.” He chuckled and laid a few articles of clothing on the counter. “But nothing I own would."

  He knelt beside her and pressed the wound on her foot. She tried not to flinch, but it hurt like the devil.

  "Hurts, does it?” He shocked her with a quick kiss along the tips of her toes. “Doesn't look like anything's stuck in it, though. The bleeding's stopped, too, so that's good news."

  Jayden put her foot back in the tub and watched this man who'd rescued and befriended her, a complete stranger. She had grown to believe people like him didn't exist in this world, that they were a thing of fantasies made up by men and women with more imagination than she possessed.

  He was handsome, but that was a dangerous thought. Her body hummed with desire for him even though it was in shock, dead tired, and wounded. That couldn't be good. His dark brown hair was mussed by all the times he'd run his fingers through it. To be honest, it looked like he was overdue for a cut. On the other hand, the rough beard and gold earring went with the hair; it made him seem more pirate than the upstanding citizen claimed to be.

  She smiled as he prowled through cabinets and drawers, pulling out an assortment of things. He could have given her a printout from the NYPD and paraded witnesses in front of her day and night, and she still wouldn't have believed him if her gut hadn't told her he was exactly what he claimed. She'd honed her instinct to perfection over seven long years and it had kept her alive—if not quite sane—all that time.

  "Don't think I'm this organized or anal. I'm not.” He lined up first aid equipment along the tub's edge, turned off the water, and opened the drain to allow the dirt- and blood-tinged water to drain away. “My mother was here for a visit before Christmas.” Holding her ankle, he pulled her foot onto his lap and started dabbing some kind of stinging astringent on it. Jayden bit her lip and sat still.

  "Christ, the woman has a fit every time I try and spend my money on her. But then I gave her a card and said, ‘Fine. Buy me a few things,’ and I'll be damned if she doesn't break the damn bank.” He smiled, his amber eyes twinkling with obvious love and amusement.

  "I now have a complete first aid kit, guest towels in my guest bathroom, and a sewing kit. I haven't a clue how to use that, but you're welcome to it if you think you can fix your pants. What else? Let's see ... Writing implements in my desk, some kind of spiritual blessing tapestry in my kitchen, and a whole assortment of white underwear that I never wear."

  He winked at her. “Between you and me, I don't wear any color, so the purchase would have been a waste no matter what she bought."

  Jayden couldn't hold back a smile. He had such an easy way about him. For a big man, he wasn't at all oppressive or fearsome. Jayden reached out with her palm and touched his cheek. He stopped what he was doing and stared into her eyes.

  God, how I wish I could thank you. Tell you how much this means.

  She closed her eyes as the frustration and pain became unbearable. He put his hand over hers and pressed it to his cheek. “It's all right. We'll figure it out."

  I so wish you were right.

  "You want to take a bath?"

  She nibbled her lip, looked with longing at the enormous tub.

  Mica laughed. “I'll take that as a yes."

  He started the taps again and poured a foaming bath product in that smelled of lilacs.

  "It's my sister's."

  His eyes told her it was not his sister's, and she couldn't resist laughing. He kissed her head again as he stood up.

  "Drop your clothes out the door, and I'll put them through the washer while I go downstairs for our cocoa.” He pointed to the stack of clothes before tightening the lid on the bottle of antiseptic. “I have no idea how tight you'll get the drawstring on those things, but it's the best I had."

  He gathered the dirty cotton and his first aid supplies and started for the door, then hesitated on the threshold. “Are you hungry?"

  She wasn't and told him so with a shake of her head.

  "All right, then. After we drink, I'll bandage that.” He motioned toward her foot with his chin, gave her one last smile, and was out the door. Jayden wondered how, in the middle of hell, there could possibly be such a blissful patch of heaven.

  * * * *

  Mica stopped dead at the landing as the woman came into view, and cocoa sloshed over the top of both mugs onto his bare feet. Holy shit! She'd forsaken the sweatpants altogether. She stood at the full-length windows that overlooked the city with nothing on but one of his T-shirts. It was so big on her it looked like a dress. He figured she was clutching the front because it was pulled tight across the back. He assumed she had no idea how it framed her ass and showed most of her thighs.

  Mica went rock hard, not that he hadn't been half way there from the second he first saw her. He'd heard of things like this happening, but he'd always thought it was an urban legend. The kind of thing that started with, Dear Penthouse...

  He cleared his throat and waited for her to turn around before he ventured the rest of the way into the room.

  "Here.” He offered her a mug, placing the other on the ridiculous leather side table. He'd told his decorator he was from the south, but somehow she'd come up with southwest.. He supposed it could have had something to do with the fact that he had two fingers in her pussy while she'd been conducting the interview.

  His guest took the cocoa with a grateful smile. Mica gave her a large throw to wrap around herself, more for his benefit than hers, and went to get the bandages and disinfectant. He knew it was over-cautious, but it looked like a nasty laceration, even though it had stopped bleeding, and he didn't want her to get infected. He sat down, placed her foot in his lap, and began bandaging. How could he begin to help her if she couldn't speak? And how long hadn't she been able to speak? It crossed his mind that maybe she was deaf, but she seemed quite aware of her environment, even when she wasn't looking. So what happened?

  Finished with the bandages, he gave her a smile he hoped would reassure her, and stood up. She had the most expressive eyes he'd ever seen. He felt he could see all the way to her soul, and he was sure he knew what she was trying to tell him. They were connected somehow, and he'd be damned if he let her get away now. Come hell or high water, he'd fight this thing with her until the end. He'd see her freed from her demons if it was the last thing he ever did.

  It was another heart-stopping moment, and he almost searched the room to find whoever put these crazy caveman thoughts into his head. Knowing they were alone, he was left with only one thought—un-fucking believable ... If he woke up on an alien slave ship, he wouldn't be more surprised than he was over the disturbing thoughts he had for this woman.

  Maybe it was simply that she was injured, looked so lost, and obviously needed someone. Deep down, though, Mica knew it was more. Pushing away thoughts he couldn't handle at the moment, he drew his attention back to his mystery woman. He hoped by morning the thoughts that threatened his entire life as he knew it would have blown over like the storm.

  "Good?"

  He motioned to her cocoa, which she seemed to relish. Her tongue reached into the mug to catch bits of cream from the top, and Mica's cock couldn't take any more stimulation. He bit back a groan as he hardened further still. Discreetly, he positioned himself behind one of the cow-print armchairs.

  "So what now, angel?"

  He spoke more to himself than to her, but if she had any suggestions, he was certainly open. When she looked up at him, desolate once again, he cursed himself for pulling her back into whatever darkness chased her. He wondered if it would be to
o much to kiss her. It probably would, but he couldn't stop thinking about it. She had such full lips, and incredible eyes, and—not that he'd ogled her, he told himself—a hell of a rack, as well. Then there was that damn sexy ass of hers that he hungered to cradle in his hands while he pulled her onto his waiting cock. He shook his head hard, making a watery sound as air vibrated through his lips. Back off, jackass.

  "You need to sleep. You've been though hell. The bed's great—seven hundred and fifty thread-count sheets. If you ask me, any more than that indicates a need to compensate for inadequacies elsewhere.” He chuckled while at the same time tried to remember the last woman that had made him nervous. Maybe Jill Kroeger in the seventh grade.

  He should have moved away, given her some space, but as much as his brain said he should, his feet said they wouldn't. This was crazy. He didn't even know the woman—she could be anyone. She could be married.. He scanned her hands. No jewelry. In fact, now that he thought of it, she had no jewelry at all, not even earrings. She also hadn't had on any makeup, and her clothes were flimsy and inexpensive.

  He wondered if she was homeless and had run across some guys she couldn't handle. That made at least some sense and would be an easy fix—she'd live with him. He rubbed hard at the crease forming between his eyes. Sure, it made sense if he discounted the lingerie. It hadn't been cheap. In fact, he recognized the designer. The lady's lingerie had come from a very high-end boutique. Mica sighed. He doubted he'd ever figure out her secrets.

  Right now she looked at him as if she was trying to figure out his secrets.

  "Sorry to disappoint you, love, but I'm an open book.” He tugged on his earring and leaned his head to the side. “Guess that makes me sort of dull, huh?"

  She smiled, placed her cup on the side table, and moved in front of him to stare deep into his eyes. He knew she wanted to tell him something. Then he saw the frustration enter the equation and wished he could find the words for her. Instead, he brushed her hair back and promised her again. “It's okay. Like I said, we'll figure it out."