by Seton, Cora
As the paramedics checked her over, she noticed her hero stood by her side, watching. Every now and then he’d cast her a reassuring smile, but she knew why he stayed. He was making sure her attacker didn’t make a move on her again. His eyes stayed on the man who now had cotton stuffed in his nostrils from the young paramedic who treated him. That didn’t stop him from casting glares her way every chance he got.
When the cops showed up he tried to blame her for crossing on a yellow, but the cop shut him down when he said witnesses proved the man had run a red light. Thankfully, the man hadn’t been driving too fast or else she’d be on her way to the hospital already.
“Doesn’t look like anything is broken, but I’d like to take you to the hospital just to be sure,” Tori said.
“No. I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the hospital. I’ll just go home and sleep it off.”
“You took a quite a spill, and that cut on your head could mean a concussion. You really need further tests run,” Tori pushed.
She’d rather drink a pot of coffee and stay up all night in case of a concussion than go to the hospital. “No. I’m fine, really. Let him have it. His nose is going to need repair.”
Tori sighed. “I can’t force you to go, but I’m seriously recommending it.”
“Thank you, but no.”
“All right. We’ll take him.” Tori began packing up her supplies. “Do you have someone who can stay with you tonight? In case of concussion.”
Her chest tightened with a familiar ache. What did she say? Lie and say yes? When in truth she had absolutely no one left to sit with her.
Against her will, tears sprang to her eyes. She quickly looked down so no one saw, forcing them back.
“I’ll be staying with her,” her champion said. “I have some experience with concussions so she’ll be in good hands.”
Cloe’s head jerked up. Her hero watched her with a penetrating gaze, making her feel vulnerable and exposed. Dammit, why was this happening? All she’d wanted to do was go to the store, pick up a frozen dinner, and have a quiet night in front of the television.
Like every night. Quiet and alone. No one to talk to. No one to share it with. Not since…
“Good enough. I’ll sleep better tonight knowing you aren’t alone,” Tori said, causing more tears to well in Cloe’s eyes.
Blinking rapidly, she pushed the tears back. Her heart pounded in her chest. Maybe her rescuer was still helping her and had no intention of staying with her. Had to be it. They were strangers, and strangers didn’t spend the night together. Well, they did, but for other reasons and she didn’t do casual sex so he better not have anything else on his mind. Although, it had been a year since she’d had sex and this guy looked like he could please a woman. More than once.
What the heck?
Giving herself a mental shake, Cloe returned his gaze. Try as she might, she couldn’t read his thoughts but it sure felt like he read hers. She looked away before he could read too many.
Within minutes the paramedics had the driver of the car loaded into the ambulance and were driving away. It wasn’t until they had turned the corner and were out of sight that Cloe let out a relieved breath.
Before she could get to her feet and thank her hero, he leaned down and swept her into his arms. The movement made her head spin and she clung to his broad shoulders.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he carried her into the Italian restaurant she’d passed numerous times on her bike rides, but never stopped in to eat because she refused to dine alone in public. Too many questioning looks. And honestly, it was too lonely.
“Getting you somewhere more comfortable so we can talk.”
Heavenly scents assailed her the instant they entered the café. Her stomach immediately responded with a loud growl.
“Hungry?” Her hero asked, weaving through the crowded tables. “You’re in the right place for that.”
As if she could eat anything with her stomach churning and her head aching. All she wanted was to go home, take a long, hot, bath and try to push the memories of today and yesterday back where they belonged. Buried deep, where the pain didn’t overtake her.
Embarrassed at being carried and making a spectacle of herself once again, she whispered, “Put me down, please. I can walk.”
“As you wish.”
He eased her down into the only empty seat in the restaurant. In the back, next to the window. Aware of the looks she received, she said, “I need to call a cab. Could I use your phone?” Her phone had gone flying when the car hit her. Probably in pieces on the pavement by now.
Her hero knelt beside her. “I’ll take you home. But not until I get you something to eat.”
He wanted to feed her? Leave her sitting here alone, eating alone. Could this day get any worse?
“No. That’s very kind of you, but I’d really like to go home.”
“All right, you win. Let me tell my brothers I’m leaving and then I’ll drive you. I’ll have Luciano pick up your bike and drop it off.”
Something made her nod an agreement. Maybe because this man had protected her from the minute she’d landed, or maybe she had hit her head hard enough to make her lose her good sense.
“What’s your name?” she asked when he rose to his feet.
“Donovan. Demarco. Be right back.”
Demarco? As in Demarco’s Italian Café and Restaurant? This was his restaurant. That explained his charming, dark looks.
She watched him stride away. He truly gave tall, dark and handsome a new name. The grace with which he moved captivated her.
A young, dark haired woman with Donovan’s blue eyes hustled over to her. She wore a black dress that hugged her slender figure and looked like it came straight from a fashion magazine.
“Oh mio gosh,” she exclaimed when she got a look at Cloe. “Are you all right?” The young woman switched to English as she took one of Cloe’s hands in her own.
Cloe nodded.
“My brother better be getting you a glass of wine. You look like you could use one.”
Wine sounded like a good idea, but she knew it wasn’t. “Donovan is your brother?”
“One of four. I’m Angela. Can I get you anything?”
“No. Donovan is taking me home. But, thank you.”
Angela patted her arm. “You’re in good hands, then. I’ll have Luciano put together some dinner for the two of you. Some good Italian cooking will get you back to one-hundred percent in no time.”
Before Cloe could tell her she had no appetite, Angela hustled away. The Demarcos seemed intent on feeding her. She rubbed her pounding temples. This was all too much. Just this morning she’d woken up to another day without—
“Ready to go?”
Startled out her thoughts, she glanced up to see Donovan standing next to her, a white bag in his hand that smelled heavenly, despite her churning stomach.
He helped her up and guided her out of the restaurant through the back door. When they passed by the kitchen she saw two dark-haired men, Angela, and another gorgeous woman busy at work. They bickered as they hustled around, but Cloe didn’t hear any real anger in their voices.
“My family,” Donovan said as they passed. “I’ll introduce you another time.”
Another time? Did that mean they were going to see each other again? Anticipation replaced the roiling in her tummy.
Ridiculous. She had no interest in getting involved with anyone. Just the thought of moving on made her heart ache. Even though Donovan stirred something inside her she hadn’t thought possible.
He led her to the back parking lot, full to the brim with cars. The sun cast a warm orange glow over them as day turned into evening. Donovan led her to a low-slung sports car parked near the back and opened the passenger door for her. She slid onto the leather seat, inhaling the scents of man and leather.
When Donovan climbed in next to her she cast a glance at his profile as he brought the engine to life. Strong jaw, lips made for pleasure.
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She quickly looked away.
“Where to?” he asked, maneuvering out of the parking lot and onto the street.
She gave him her address, feeling a moment’s panic. This would be the first time someone besides her had been in her house.
“You have me at a disadvantage,” Donovan said as they drove through town. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
“Cloe.”
“You have a last name, Cloe?”
“Carter.”
He held out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”
She shook his hand, trying to ignore the little sparks that jumped up her arm. It only took a few minutes to get to the house she rented. A cute little Victorian cottage she’d been lucky to find. The owner, an elderly woman named Ethel, had moved in with her daughter when she broke her hip. Said she couldn’t bear to sell the house she’d raised her kids in so she rented it to Cloe because she ‘had a good feeling about her’. Cloe took the utmost care with the house, unwilling to disappoint the woman who’d helped her stop running. Although her past still managed to catch up to her every time she closed her eyes.
“Nice place,” Donovan said when he pulled into the drive and parked outside the one-stall garage.
“Thanks.”
He turned off the engine, but she stopped him before he climbed out.
“Look, I really appreciate your offer to help me out tonight, but I’ll be fine. You don’t need to stay.”
His blue gaze met hers. “You have nothing to worry about from me, Cloe. If it helps, I’m a Navy SEAL. It goes against our moral code to harm a defenseless woman who almost died today.”
The grin on his handsome face made her belly flutter. Earlier, he had told her he was in the navy. But, a SEAL? She hadn’t seen that one coming. He looked like he should be sitting on a throne, not crawling around the sand in camouflage.
“And I promise not to mention the fact you haven’t decorated for Christmas yet.”
Any attraction she’d felt doused instantly. Her house was the only one on the block, probably in the entire town, that remained undecorated. She had no intention of changing that because just the thought of putting up the decorations she used to love made her heart ache.
She reached for the door handle. “Really. I’m fine. Thank you for the ride.”
The second she climbed out of the car a wave of dizziness hit her. She heard the driver’s door open and close seconds before a strong arm slid around her waist, preventing her from falling.
“Sorry, cara, I’m pulling rank on this one. You’re stuck with me for the night and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
That single endearment spoken in flawless Italian did her in. Not even her fiancé had been able to change her mind so easily.
The thought of Lance made her sober immediately. She pushed away from the steady comfort of Donovan’s arms. “All right. You can come in. But, no funny stuff. I have mace right beside my bed.”
That earned a soft chuckle. No, she would not let it affect her.
“I’ll be good. Scout’s honor,” he said.
She’d rather he be bad. Good Lord, where did that come from? Mentally berating her wayward thoughts, Cloe led him to her front door. Then took a deep breath and let him in. The first man to enter her home since her fiancé died.
Chapter Two
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Donovan carried the bag of food his brother had packed, following the stunning blonde into her Victorian cottage. Her silky hair swayed down her back with each step she took, even if a bit unsteady.
At the door, she reached into the pocket of her shorts, then, frowning, searched the other one. Panic shone in her eyes when she looked up at him. “My key is gone. So is my wallet.”
“They probably fell out of your pocket. I’ll call my sister and have her look around the restaurant. What did your wallet look like?”
He pulled out his cell.
“It was just a credit card case. Slim, silver. My driver’s license and credit cards are inside.”
“Stay here.”
While talking on the phone to his sister, he strode back to his car, popped open the glove compartment and pulled out a small, black case. Cloe watched him as he handed her the bag of food, then crouched down and used the lock pick set to open her door.
He disconnected his call and slid his cell in his pocket. “Ang couldn’t find your wallet. Possible a spectator picked it up. I’ll call the PD and see if anyone turned it in.”
“I’ll report my credit cards as stolen. Crap, my phone is gone too.”
“You can use mine. We can get your phone replaced tomorrow.”
Her gaze moved to the black case in his hand. “Do you always carry around a lock pick set?”
He rose to his feet and took the bag back. “Comes in handy. After you.”
She hesitated briefly before going inside. He set the bag on the counter, able to see the entire house from the kitchen. Bathroom and bedroom to the right, living room in front of him. Not a Christmas decoration in sight. Not even a tree.
“Why don’t you go soak in a hot bath while I get the food prepared. It’ll help with the stiffness in your muscles.” And help her relax. Which she looked like she needed.
“I can help.”
He opened the bag. “I got this. Trust me, you’ll feel better after a bath.”
Her brows furrowed for a second, before she finally relented. “I won’t be long.”
“Take your time. The food’s not going anywhere. Oh, here’s my cell so you can make your calls.”
She accepted the phone, something crossing her face he couldn’t read.
“Thanks.” She headed toward her bedroom, emerging minutes later with a change of clothes.
“Plates are in the cupboard near the sink, silverware in the top drawer,” she said on her way to the bathroom.
“Got it.”
She closed the door quietly behind her and he heard the shower. Respectfully he kept thoughts of her naked, water sluicing down her slender curves, at bay. Damn, it was hard but he managed.
He found the plates, set them on the glossy, cherry wood dining table built for six people, then topped it off with silverware and glasses of water. Luciano had packed a bottle of wine to pair with the ravioli, but Donovan kept that in the bag. No alcohol on his watch.
After that he made a fresh pot of coffee. It wasn’t espresso, but it would help keep them awake tonight.
The bathroom door opened and Cloe walked out, now wearing a pair of stylish jeans and tank top, her feet bare. Her hair hung in loose, damp strands over her shoulders, her face scrubbed clean of makeup. A fresh bandage covered the wound at her hairline.
He’d never seen a more beautiful woman in the world.
Her kelly green eyes scanned the table as she handed back his cell. “My goodness, is all this for us?”
Donovan grinned. “My family believes that food can cure any ailment.” He pulled out a chair for her to sit. She did so, but still stared at the food as if debating whether to believe him or not.
He moved to the chair across from her. “How are you feeling? Headache?”
She picked up her fork and stabbed a piece of romaine lettuce. “I’m fine.”
Donovan took a bite of his butternut squash and walnut filled ravioli. Flavors burst on his tongue. His brother had outdone himself again. Donovan had never really caught on to the whole making fresh pasta thing, but Luciano prided himself in his homemade pastas. Their father had insisted everything in the restaurant be homemade with recipes handed down for generations. It paid off, because the restaurant filled wall-to-wall from opening to closing.
He watched her take a bite of her salad, knowing she wasn’t fine. That seemed to be her go-to answer. Stubborn, or too proud to admit her pain?
“Maybe a couple aspirin after dinner,” he suggested, tearing off a piece of his bruschetta.
“You’re a pushy SEAL aren’t you?”
He grinned. “Irish, Italian and a S
EAL. The trifecta of obstinacy.”
That earned him a smile, brief, but stunning.
“I suppose it is,” she said, spearing ravioli and tasting it. Her eyes widened and his pride in his brother’s culinary skills filled his chest. “This is amazing.”
After that she ate three more bites, then tasted the bruschetta and finished half her salad.
Pleased, he cleaned his plate. Sure as hell beat MREs.
“Oh my gosh. I can’t eat another bite,” Cloe said, pushing her plate away.
Donovan pushed his aside too, impressed such a slender woman had eaten over half of it. If his mama got ahold of her she’d say Cloe was much too thin and would make it her life’s mission to put some ‘meat on her bones’.
“We’ll have dessert later, then,” he said.
She shook her head. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to eat another bite for days.”
“But I have Rosina Al Cioccolato.”
Something flared in her eyes that made his blood threaten to run south. Did she like it when he spoke Italian? A few women he’d dated got really turned on whenever he spoke it. With Cloe, he couldn’t be sure. She masked her feelings pretty well.
“I don’t know what that is, but it sounds delicious.” She averted her gaze, breaking eye contact.
“Chocolate mousse with fresh raspberries and sponge cake soaked in Triple Sec and served with crème angalaise, a light custard sauce.”
She groaned. “I think I gained five pounds just hearing about it.”
“You’d still be beautiful, cara.”
Damn it. Wrong move. She tensed and he regretted his loose tongue. He was here to watch over her, not come on to her.
“Why don’t you go relax on the sofa while I clean this up?” Rising to his feet, he began to clear the dishes.
“I’ll help.”
Yep, stubborn. He pinned her with a hard stare. “Gonna make me pull rank, again, huh?”
She bristled. Cuter than hell. This woman intrigued him on many levels.
“You know I’m not a Navy SEAL. You can’t pull rank,” she muttered, even as she put her plate back down on the table.
