“I don’t see any knife. Where is it?” She defiantly held his gaze despite him standing over her by nearly a foot. “Well?”
“I threw it into the back garden.” He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I’ve got a bit of a temper.”
Her big hazel eyes narrowed and he struggled not to squirm. Shaking her head, she nodded toward the table. “Sit.”
He sat, uneasy that he was mildly turned on by her assertiveness. He snapped his gaze to Daisy and closed his eyes in shame.
“Do you feel sick?” Leah’s voice cut through his inappropriately fogged brain. “Dizzy?”
He opened his eyes. “No. I’m good.”
“Well, for the record, you don’t look good. Here.” She gestured toward his wrapped hand. “Let’s have a look, shall we?”
Blowing out a breath, he reluctantly held it out.
With a gentle care he hadn’t expected, she unwrapped his hand, flinching slightly as she looked at his slashed palm. Ethan stared at her bowed head. Her hair was blond, but had every shade from almost cream to shots of shimmering gold. It looked silky soft, falling forward as she gently probed around his wound, her glasses edging down her perfect nose.
She abruptly looked up and he snapped his gaze to hers. “What’s the verdict?”
“The verdict...” She glanced at Daisy before facing him. “...is that this is far too deep to have been done by the accidental slip of a kitchen knife.”
Ethan scrambled for a response. Her intelligent, knowing gaze held his as seconds passed. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but she got there first.
“So, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to bandage this up the best I can and then we’re going to the hospital. I don’t have my car and you can’t drive, but we should be able to get there by cab easily enough.” She looked to Daisy. “Why don’t you go get some warm clothes and shoes on, honeybunch?”
Panic pushed Ethan’s pulse into overdrive. “We can’t do that.”
Leah faced him, suspicion and maybe even a hint of triumph darkening her gaze. “Why not?”
“Because...” He clenched his jaw. Shit, shit, shit. “Because it’s late. Daisy should be in bed.”
“I don’t mind, Daddy.” Daisy clambered down from her seat and walked to the door. “I’ll be really fast.”
Irritation replaced his anxiety as Daisy sped from the room, her feet stomping quickly up the stairs. He faced Leah as she wrapped the dishcloth expertly—and tightly—around his wound. He lowered his voice. “We can’t go to the hospital.”
Slowly, she raised her head. “Why not? Keep that hand up in the air. Put your elbow on the table.”
He glared. “You know why.”
“Tell me.”
Goddamn it. “Because there was no kitchen knife. There was a knife, but it didn’t come from my kitchen.”
“I know, because this is a defensive wound. This is the wound of someone who has wrapped their hand around a blade to stop someone from attacking them with it.” She glanced toward the open kitchen door before looking into his eyes with such concern that he was in danger of weakening, of telling her just what had been going on in his kitchen minutes before she’d appeared at his door holding Daisy.
She sighed and tied the bandage, cupping his hand gently in both of hers. “I’m a nurse, Mr. James. I can help you, but you need to tell me what happened here.”
He shook his head and stood, fighting every instinct in his body that this woman, this stranger, could be trusted. “Look, I can’t thank you enough for bringing Daisy home, but you need to leave and pretend you didn’t see me this way. Can you do that?”
“Yes, I can do that. I shouldn’t, but I can.”
“That’s all I ask.”
Her gaze lingered on his before she gave a curt shake of her head. “Sorry, no can do.”
Her defiance lost its previous sexiness and all he felt now was annoyance. “Look—”
“That cut needs stitches. I can’t leave you this way. Clearly, neither you nor I are happy about the situation, but there it is. Now...” She stood. “Where’s your first aid supplies and sewing kit?”
He stilled. “Sewing kit? Do you mean you’re going to—”
“Yes, Mr. Hotshot Novelist, I’m going to fix you up myself.”
“You know who I am?”
A faint blush stained her cheeks and she cleared her throat. “Of course. I might have even read some of your books.”
He smiled in shameful satisfaction. “Is that so?”
She glared. “Anyway... I’m going to get your darling daughter sitting in front of the TV with some milk and cookies. Then I’m going to come back in here and stitch your hand the best I can. After that, you’re going to put Daisy to bed and then tell me what happened. Agreed?”
He cursed and squeezed his eyes shut, wishing her out of his kitchen, out of his home. Slowly, he opened his eyes and dropped his shoulders in defeat. “The first aid kit’s over there, second cupboard on the right. As for the sewing kit, that will be still in its cellophane in the cupboard to the left of the couch in the living room.”
Her lips twitched as though she fought a smile. “Great. I’ll be right back. Keep that hand elevated.”
Once again, his focus slid straight to her butt as she headed out the door. Holy Mother of God, his messed-up life had just gotten ten times worse.
CHAPTER TWO
LEAH TOOK A deep breath as she smoothed her hand over Daisy’s curls, before leaving her in front of the TV looking as cute as heaven in her panda pajamas and bunny slippers. As she left the living room, Ethan James’s sewing kit in her hand, Leah hesitated. How had she managed to walk into a circumstance so incomprehensible she would undoubtedly read it in one of his novels next year?
It didn’t matter how much her logic told her to sprint for the front door. No part of her could leave the man hurt and bleeding.
She might want to right the wrongs of the world, be the best possible nurse she could, but considering the amount of violence and abuse she’d seen in her job, trusting a situation—a human being—at face value was a huge boulder she wasn’t likely to overcome anytime soon.
Handsome novelist or no handsome novelist.
For better or worse, she was knee-deep in a situation that her stubborn ass would see through to the end. Her work would always come first, and sooner rather than later, Ethan James would realize she owed him no favors, only her duty.
If he didn’t like that? Too bad.
He wouldn’t be the first man she’d annoyed through her commitment to the job. It was all that mattered to her. She strode purposefully into the kitchen. “Okay, then. Let’s get started.”
The weight of his gaze rested on her back as she walked to the kettle on the counter. Running water broke the silence as she filled the kettle before setting it to boil. Her mind raced. What would she say to him once he was stitched up and physically comfortable? She needed to know what had happened. She refused to leave Daisy in a potentially dangerous situation. He seemed far too calm to have disturbed an attempted burglary, far too calm to have undergone an assault by a complete stranger. Which meant he must have known his attacker.
There could be no other explanation. He didn’t want to go to the hospital. Either because his presence there would cause police attention to be directed on him or the person he could be protecting. Then again, he was a recluse. A famous novelist. Maybe he didn’t welcome unwanted attention of any sort...including Leah’s.
She turned and approached him. His gaze didn’t leave hers even as she sat beside him and pulled the chair close. Leah quickly pulled the first aid box and sewing kit toward her. He was a truly handsome man, but how could she trust he was an innocent party in whatever had caused the cut to his hand? She wouldn’t. At least, not yet.
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“Okay.” She opened the boxes and scanned their contents. “There’s enough here for me to be able to stitch and bandage the wound. Before I do that, though, I’ll clean it and then numb the area. I’m going to need to wrap some ice in a cloth.”
He stood. “I’ll get it.”
She straightened and tipped her head back. The guy was tall. Nicely tall. “Sit. You’re not going to be able to wrap ice in a towel, not that I don’t appreciate you offering to help.”
He smiled softly. “This is kind of crazy, isn’t it?”
“That’s definitely one way to put it.” She inhaled a long breath and turned her detective skills on full blast. “But telling me what happened might help level out the crazy.”
His eyes shadowed and he shifted his focus to his hand. “Doesn’t that part come after I put Daisy to bed?”
She stared at his profile. He sounded on edge, but not snappishly so. Did he want to tell her? Did he need to tell her? “You can tell me what happened, you know. It doesn’t mean I’m going to freak out. I’ve seen all there is to see working in the ER.”
He raised his head. “It would be better all round if you stitched me up and forgot about me and Daisy.”
“I don’t think I can do that.”
His jaw tightened, but his gaze seemed to plead with her. “You have to. It’s for the best.”
“For who? You? Me? Daisy? Whatever you’re hiding is clearly dangerous, a threat to both you and her. I’m not prying. I care, okay? You look so...”
“What?” His eyes darkened with challenge. “Angry? Pissed? Afraid?”
She swallowed against the dryness in her throat. “Alone. You look alone.”
The silence stretched and Leah’s heart beat hard as his study darted over her face, lingered a moment at her mouth. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on so I can decide what the hell I’m going to do about it.
When it was clear no revelation would be forthcoming anytime soon, she forced her concentration to his hand. There was something about this man and his daughter that had caught her. When she looked into their eyes, something unfathomable lingered. Almost as though she was meant to walk along that beach, meant to meet them...which was insane.
But she was still here. Still tending, nurturing, caring. And she would continue to do that until her duty was done. Walking away wasn’t an option.
She gently lowered his hand and eased back the dishcloth. “This is one nasty gash, but I’m going to do the best I can. I need you to walk with me to the sink. Okay?”
Supporting his injured hand, Leah cupped his elbow with her other hand, and together they progressed slowly to the sink. She turned on the tap. “This might sting a little.”
Carefully, she eased his hand forward, and the lukewarm water washed away the congealing blood to reveal the cut beneath. She leaned closer. “Good, the wound isn’t as deep as I thought. I can stitch you up, but the dressings are going to need changing every day until I can remove the stitching. I don’t want to risk infection, so I’ll pop back here after work tomorrow, if you like.”
“Here?”
The panic in his voice jolted her gaze to his. She sighed. “Yes, here, Mr. James. You’re my patient now and I’m willing to treat you at home...if I decide your reasons for not going to the hospital are reasonable and there’s no danger to your daughter.”
His jaw tightened. “There’s no danger to Daisy.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m her father and I won’t let anything happen to her.”
“I found her on the beach, Mr. James. I’m going to need more than that.”
“Ethan.”
Leah frowned. “What?”
His gaze bored into hers. “I think we’re past surnames, don’t you?”
Leah softly smiled. “I guess we are. Leah.”
His focus lingered on her face so intensely, she looked again to the wound, steadfastly fighting the sudden warmth in her stomach. He wasn’t to be trusted or liked...at least not until she knew the full story and was convinced he had no part in causing the violence that had clearly occurred before she arrived. He was a patient. A father to a young child, no less.
She guided his hand back under the water, tightening her grip slightly when he sucked in a breath. She gently traced the area around the wound with her finger. “Nice and steady. That’s it. Right, that should do it.” She turned off the tap and pulled some kitchen paper from the roll by the sink. She patted his hand dry. “Okay, back to the table while I sterilize a needle and some thread.”
She helped him sit down, inching up his elbow to keep the wound elevated, then opened the sewing kit and extracted a sharp needle and some thread. She studied both before glancing at Ethan.
He raised his eyebrows. “Will that work all right?”
Always fill the patient with confidence and ease. She plastered on a smile. “Absolutely. This will be no problem at all.”
She carried the needle and thread to the counter and poured boiling water into a saucer before submerging her makeshift suture equipment. Pretending not to feel his gaze on her, she took a clean dish towel from the pile beside the kettle and filled it with ice from the freezer.
“Here, press this firmly to the wound. If you can, make a fist. It’ll be freezing, but the number the area, the better. I’m going to check on Daisy.”
“Leah...”
“Yes?”
His eyes searched hers before he shook his head. “Nothing.”
Leah relaxed her tense shoulders. He wanted to talk to her; wanted to trust her. She was certain of it. That alone gave her reason to give the guy the benefit of the doubt. He was clearly nervous about something, and if she could, she’d help him. “I’ll be right back.”
As she walked into the hallway, she released her held breath. So the man was in trouble. The question was, did he have the courage and confidence to let her help him?
* * *
BY THE TIME Leah had stitched and bandaged his hand, it neared nine before Ethan managed to get Daisy into bed. He left her bedroom door slightly ajar and slowly walked to the top of the stairs. The smooth jazz he’d put on the stereo filtered toward him, along with the smells of the Chinese food he’d felt compelled to order. The chink of glasses and then the pop of a cork meant Leah had found the wine rack and opened the bottle he’d asked her to pour.
The truth was he needed her gone, but how was he supposed to do that without further rousing her suspicions? Her professional interest was obvious every time she looked at him. The woman was a nurse, for crying out loud. What were the chances? Would she be duty-bound to call the police?
It was bad enough that Daisy had walked out of the house without him noticing, but for a nurse to find her? He wouldn’t be surprised if the authorities came knocking. He glanced toward Daisy’s room. She refused to tell him why she’d wandered off the way she did, but at least it had been before Anna, his ex-wife, had turned up on his doorstep after a five-year absence. The woman had lost it the moment he’d refused to give her the money she demanded from him.
If he threw Leah out without at least the offer of food and drink after everything she’d done tonight, he was pretty sure she’d be calling the cops the minute she was out the door.
Not that he’d entirely blame her.
He had no choice other than to play nice if he had any chance of keeping silent about what had happened before Leah brought Daisy home.
He descended the stairs and walked into the living room. He lived in luxury. His earnings were good from his writing, his notoriety under control. The last thing he wanted was his name in the press for all the wrong reasons. He’d come to the Cove with Daisy after Anna left them, and it was the best move he’d ever made—for both himself and his daughter.
Sure, he was a recluse. Not many people kn
ew, or cared, that a bestselling novelist lived in this small coastal town. Whenever he decided to venture into the town center, the residents never bothered him. Daisy had friends. What more did they need than each other? He liked their life and had every intention of keeping it to just the two of them so Daisy never again suffered the pain she’d felt when her mother walked away.
But now Anna was back...and in a hell of a lot of trouble.
Leah stood by the window, staring out into the darkness.
He studied the back of her from head to heel. Her height and petite frame were deceiving. The woman was a force to be reckoned with. Her capability, her care and passion for her work, showed in the astute way she studied him, Daisy, his home and every damn word he said. Leah was not going to let this situation go, plus she’d already said she’d be back every day until his wound was healed.
And how was he supposed to stop that from happening?
“The rain’s stopped.” She turned and walked to the coffee table, picking up a second glass of wine. “Here. Not that wine is a particularly good idea after the painkillers you’ve taken.”
“I’ll live.” He walked toward her and took the glass with his good hand. “Thanks.”
“I’ve left the takeout on the kitchen counter. I’m usually a tray-on-the-lap kind of girl...” She glanced around the room and sighed. “But my living room doesn’t look like this. My house is kind of more open, friendly.”
“Whereas mine is closed and unfriendly?”
She shrugged unapologetically. “Maybe.”
He laughed and the sound filled the room with alien warmth. He gestured with a nod toward the couch. “Have a seat and I’ll get the food. I’ll even get some trays. I’m feeling kind of crazy.”
She raised her eyebrows. “What about your hand?”
“I’ll manage.”
As she walked to the couch, Ethan went into the kitchen and grabbed two trays, pushing them under his arm, then took some cutlery from the drawer and the bag of takeout from the counter. Easy. He smiled. His sudden, unrehearsed burst of laughter had taken him by surprise. Leah had taken him by surprise. He wasn’t dumb enough to think her attentiveness was anything more than professional caring, but still, it was nice that the nurse amused—and attracted—him.
Ethan's Daughter Page 2
