by Debra Webb
Raine pulled the dazed woman to a standing position and then helped her into the shower. When the hot water hit her she gasped, shuddered violently and sagged against the translucent glass wall. Before Raine could catch her, she slumped to the tile floor, the water spraying directly on her face.
“Damn,” he growled. He reached inside and tried to pull her to her feet, she only whimpered and huddled more deeply into a fetal position. Muttering expletives, Raine stepped into the cubicle and pulled her to her feet, then wished to hell he had turned off the water first. Too late now. Besides, she needed the heat a lot more than he needed comfort.
“You have to get out of these clothes,” he told her. Liquid heat pelted his skin through his flannel shirt.
She lifted her hands to her blouse and worked on a button, her movements stiff and awkward. Raine swore under his breath. At this rate, she’d never get her clothes off. Raising her body temperature was top priority. He had hoped to allow her some privacy during the process. But if she couldn’t do it, he’d just have to do it for her.
What the hell? He’d undressed plenty of women in the past. He pushed her hands away and deftly began to release the remaining buttons.
She jerked back and stared up at him. He could see that it took her a while to bring him into focus. “What are you doing?” she asked weakly and clutched at his hands. Her pupils were unevenly dilated.
He cursed through clenched teeth.
Concussion.
She had a damn concussion. Why hadn’t he noticed that before? He knew the signs. Her left temple was bruised. Gingerly he touched the discolored spot. She winced and drew away but not before he felt the size of the lump that had formed there.
“We need to take the rest of your clothes off. We have to get you warm and into something dry,” he said as he resumed the unbuttoning process. To his relief, her hands fell away and she made no further protest.
“Thank you,” she said softly, her breath whispering across his downturned face.
Raine tightened his jaw. He wouldn’t say she was welcome—because she wasn’t. He didn’t want her here…didn’t need her here. But he couldn’t just let her die out in the cold any more than he could neglect an injured animal. He looked at the woman silently watching his fingers undo the final button of her blouse and wondered if he was making a big mistake.
He peeled the wet blouse down her arms and pitched it to the bathroom floor. Steam billowed around them and sweat beaded on his forehead as he reached for the hem of her undershirt. She automatically lifted her arms and closed her eyes. When he pulled the undershirt over her shoulders and then her head, he tensed. The scrap of cotton slipped from his fingers and joined her blouse on the wet tile floor.
Raine’s gaze riveted to her naked breasts. Not particularly large breasts, but they were nicely rounded and the rosy tips tilted slightly upward. He had the sudden, insane urge to draw one into his mouth and taste it.
She shivered and he forced his gaze back to her face only to find her watching him from beneath half-closed lids. Her lips parted and for one instant Raine allowed himself to want her, but then she whispered, “I’m so cold.”
Raine turned his back and silently cursed himself for the bastard he was. “You can do the rest,” he said harshly. Surely she could get her jeans off. Hell, she probably could have gotten the blouse off if he’d given her time. Perverted SOB, he cursed himself once more.
What the hell had gotten into him? It hadn’t been that long since he’d had a woman. Ogling an injured female was about as low as a man could go. A muscle in his tense jaw jumped when he heard her small sounds of frustration and fatigue as she struggled with the wet jeans. Raine clenched his fists and ignored the urge to turn around and look at her. The spray of hot water on his chest did nothing to calm his mounting tension or the hard-on he had acquired in the last sixty seconds.
He flinched when she touched his rigid shoulder. “I can’t do it,” she said wearily.
Raine licked his lips and swallowed tightly. This was damn ridiculous. He’d seen more than his share of naked women, what the hell was the big deal with this one?
He turned around slowly and met her pleading gaze with an annoyed glare.
“I’m sorry,” she managed to say weakly before collapsing against the shower wall.
Raine set his jaw so hard he thought his teeth would crack. He grasped the waistband on either side of her slender hips and tried without success to peel the material down as he’d done with the blouse, but the tight-fitting jeans wouldn’t cooperate. He sucked in a deep breath and did what he knew he had to. Raine pushed his hands inside and worked the material, panties included, down over her icy skin.
She was lucky to be alive. The last time he’d touched skin this cold, it had belonged to a dead man.
As chilled as her body was, his was getting more heated by the moment. His groin tightened painfully when his hands moved over the swell of her hips and glided down several inches of thigh. He straightened, held her firmly by the waist, placed his bare foot between her legs and pushed the jeans and skimpy panties down to her ankles. He immediately averted his gaze from the triangle of dark curls between her thighs.
He almost groaned. He’d been in these woods longer than he’d realized.
She braced both hands against his chest while she struggled to kick her feet free of the soggy material.
“Thank you,” she murmured on a frail breath when she’d finally freed herself. She squeezed her eyes shut and swayed back against the wall.
Raine kicked the jeans to one side. “No sweat,” he lied.
He knew the hot water wouldn’t hold out much longer, so he stripped off his own shirt, pulled her against him and turned her back to the hot spray. She sucked in a sharp breath and clung to him helplessly. He bit the inside of his jaw to stifle the groan that rose in his throat at the feel of her firm breasts pressed into his chest.
Damn, this woman was going to kill him and she didn’t even have a weapon.
They stood in the steamy shower until the water began to cool and her shivers had subsided. Raine held her steady with one arm while he turned off the water. He guided her out and helped her dry. He focused intently on the job rather than the peach-colored skin flushed from the hot shower.
He used another towel to squeeze her long, thick hair dry. Neither spoke during the drying process. Raine refused to acknowledge how good her made-for-loving body looked. Curvy and firm, yet soft. Tall, but not too tall, with long, shapely legs. Chestnut-brown hair and dark chocolate eyes—eyes that would surely darken even more with passion.
When her hair was as dry as it was going to get without a blow-dryer, Raine wrapped a clean towel around her and tucked the corner beneath her arm. He quickly dried his chest and arms and tossed his towel to the floor, then swiped his wet feet.
She gazed up at him with those dark, shimmering eyes, a ghost of a smile touched her lips. “I feel much warmer now.”
Before he could respond, her knees buckled and Raine barely caught her before she hit the floor. He drew her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. After depositing her on the bed, he rummaged through the chest of drawers until he came up with a bulky sweatshirt. It would fit more like a dress on her, but it would have to do. Besides, he decided, beggars couldn’t be choosers. He looked at his unwelcome visitor as he retraced his steps to the bed. At the moment she didn’t look as if she cared about much one way or another.
“Hold up your arms,” he ordered. She obeyed and Raine immediately regretted his command. With her arms extended above her head, the towel fell away from her upper body, giving him another good look at her perfect breasts.
Raine shoved the sweatshirt sleeves onto her arms and then pushed the neck opening over her head with a bit more force than was necessary. She winced as the material slid down her face.
“Dammit,” he muttered. He’d hurt her, and all because he couldn’t prevent his body’s reaction to hers. Raine stepped to the side of t
he bed and drew back the covers. When he had readjusted the irritating bulge in his wet pants, he walked back to the foot of the bed and lifted the woman into his arms. She pressed her cheek to his chest and closed her eyes. He frowned when his heart skipped a beat or two at the feel of her soft cheek against his skin. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t usually get so worked up over a blasted female.
Raine placed her in the middle of the bed and covered her with every blanket and quilt he could find. He stalked into the great room, fingered the thermostat to a higher setting, then placed several logs on the fire. He stoked the blaze until he was satisfied that it wouldn’t go out for a while. Then he trudged back to the bedroom and adjusted the blinds to let in the warm glow from the sun that had finally broken through the thick clouds hanging in the sky. The rain had stopped.
The newscast had said that the temperature would reach a pleasant forty degrees today, if the clouds cleared. Raine blew out a disgusted breath and turned back to the bed.
There was no telling how far his mystery guest had walked before she had stumbled upon his place. Raine had picked this particular cabin because of its seclusion. With the high volume of tourists floating in and out of Gatlinburg, his was just another face in the crowd on the rare occasions that he went into town. The last thing he had expected way out here was company.
As soon as he was sure the woman was out for the count, he’d put on dry clothes and take a ride to check out her vehicle. There would likely be some form of identification in her car. He wanted to verify her accident story as well, for his own peace of mind. She certainly seemed harmless enough, but Raine hadn’t survived this long by letting his guard down—even for a beautiful woman in distress.
If she had merely had an accident and showed up at his door for help, she had nothing to worry about. He’d keep an eye on her and rouse her every couple of hours just to be safe. When she awoke, he would drive her into town and drop her off at the emergency room. He had enough medical training to know she would probably be fine, but medical attention wouldn’t hurt.
If anything at all appeared suspicious about her ID or the means by which she had arrived at his door, she wouldn’t need medical attention—she’d need an undertaker.
HER EYES OPENED and she blinked to focus. She stared at the white ceiling for a long time before it occurred to her to try to move. Her head ached and felt oddly heavy. She licked her lips. Her mouth was as dry as sandpaper and she could hardly swallow.
On her left, sunlight poured into the room from a large window, spreading its golden glow across deep green carpet. The bright light hurt her eyes, but at the same time felt good against her face. She was tired and it was quiet. Maybe she should just go back to sleep, she thought, her eyes closing of their own accord.
“How’s your head?”
She snapped her eyes open and jerked her attention to the right, toward the deep male voice. Every aching muscle in her body tensed, and her head screamed in protest of the sudden move.
He sat in a chair a few feet away, watching her. She blinked and then frowned. Did she know this man? He looked vaguely familiar. She inspected his features more closely. Blond hair, light blue eyes. His face was lean and angular, exceptionally handsome. He seemed tall, but it was hard to tell with him sitting down. Still, she couldn’t put a name with his face. What had he asked her? Her head…yes…how was her head?
“It…” She cleared her rusty voice and tried again. “It hurts.”
“My guess is that you have a concussion. You probably need to see a doctor. I’ll take you into town to the hospital.”
He didn’t sound as if he relished the idea. She wondered if this man had some reason to dislike her. She pushed up into a sitting position and the room spun wildly for a sickening moment. Her stomach roiled. She groaned and rested her head in her hands.
“Where am I?” she asked in a thready whisper.
“Don’t you know?”
She thought about that for a while, but no matter how hard she tried to form an answer she couldn’t. She had no idea where she was. She shook her head and immediately regretted it.
“Your license says Virginia. Is that where you’re from?”
Virginia? Was she from Virginia? She should know where she was from. If her license said so, then she must be. “Yes,” she finally told him for lack of a better answer.
He didn’t speak again for a while, but his intense gaze never left her. His close scrutiny made her uneasy. “Who are you?” she ventured hesitantly.
“What’s your name?” he asked, ignoring her question.
“What?” That was a ridiculous question. He’d seen her license, he should know her name without asking. She scanned the room once more. Besides, why would she be in a strange man’s bedroom? He must know who she was. He had to be playing a joke of some sort. Well, she didn’t want to play. Her head ached.
“Tell me your name,” he repeated sternly.
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came. She frowned and snapped it closed. Her name…what was her name? She had to know her own name. Panic slid through her veins.
Everyone knows their name.
She threw the covers back and stood too quickly, only to plop back onto the bed. As soon as the dizziness had passed, she stood again, a bit more slowly this time. “I have to go,” she announced as calmly as she could. She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. She had to get out of here. Away from this man. Away from his questions.
“Your name is Denise.”
She silently tested the name as she took another step toward the door. Denise. It didn’t ring a bell, but if that’s what her license said… “Yes, that’s it.”
He snagged her arm and pulled her around to face him. He shook his head and swore, an ugly four-letter word. “Then why does your driver’s license say Kate?”
How had he moved up behind her so quickly, so quietly? Why was he holding her arm so tight? “I…I don’t know,” she stammered, her voice faltered as fear mushroomed inside her.
He pulled something from his pocket and placed it in her hand. A driver’s license. “That’s you.” He pointed to the picture. “Kate Roberts.”
She stared at the picture, concentrating. Was that her? She suddenly realized that she didn’t know what she looked like. Hysteria bubbled up in her throat. How could she not know what she looked like? She jerked free of his grasp and half ran, half stumbled to the dresser. She peered at her reflection in the mirror.
Terror gripped her. She didn’t recognize the face staring back at her. She moistened her lips and swallowed tightly. She looked at the reflection again, mentally inventorying the details. Dark hair and eyes, pale skin. She looked at the picture on the driver’s license once more. It was the same face. Kate Roberts, she read. Kate. That sounded right.
“Your clothes should be dry by now. When you’re dressed, I’ll take you to the hospital.” He started toward the door.
“Wait,” she called after him. When he faced her, she asked, “Why don’t I know my name? Is there something wrong with me?” The panic tightened like a steel band around her chest now. She braced her left hand against the dresser for support. The license dropped from her slack hold as her right hand fluttered to her throat where her breath had caught.
He hesitated, seeming uncertain of how to answer. “You were in a car accident. It looks as if you hit a deer. I think maybe you bumped your head pretty hard.” He shrugged. “They’ll be able to help you at the hospital.”
She released the breath she’d been holding as she watched him disappear. She turned all the way around in the large bedroom then. Absolutely nothing looked familiar. She noticed the bathroom door open and walked slowly in that direction. At least she knew she had to relieve herself, that was something.
After she’d taken care of necessary business, she picked up a comb from the vanity and fought with the tangles in her hair. She stared at her reflection. “Kate,” she whispered. She looked like a Kate—d
idn’t she?
When she was satisfied with the state of her hair, Kate walked sluggishly back into the bedroom. She found that if she didn’t move too quickly, the dizziness didn’t overwhelm her. The man stood quietly waiting for her. He’d piled jeans, panties, T-shirt, socks, shoes and a wrinkled blouse on the bed.
“The sooner you’re dressed the sooner you’ll get the medical attention you need.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. Kate moved to the bed and inspected the stack of clothing. Were these the kind of things she liked to wear? She had no idea.
Kate heard the door close and she looked around to find herself alone. She pulled off the huge sweatshirt and tossed it on the bed. After donning the panties, socks and jeans, she pulled on the T-shirt. Kate reached for the wrinkled blouse, but thought better of it. She’d just keep the warm sweatshirt. She sat on the edge of the bed and tugged on the high-top boots.
Kate picked up the driver’s license and tucked it into the pocket of her stiff jeans. She looked at herself again in the mirror and summoned her courage. A doctor would know why she couldn’t remember who she was. Everything would be fine just as soon as she got to the hospital.
Kate firmed her resolve and went in search of the man who had promised to take her to help. She found him in the great room warming by the fire. He’d already pulled on his coat. He stepped to the sofa and picked up a parka and a small purse. “These were in your car.”
Kate accepted the items and draped the long, narrow strap of the purse over her shoulder, then pulled on the tan-colored coat. The sweatshirt hit the tops of her thighs, the coat only came to her waist. What a fashion statement, Kate mused. But at the moment, she truly didn’t care. Remembering the license, she stored it in the purse.
“Do you know what these are?” he asked, holding out what appeared to be an unlabeled prescription bottle for her inspection.
Kate took the bottle and twisted off the cap. She peered at the small blue pills it contained, then shrugged as she recapped it. “Are they mine?” She met his watchful gaze. Why did he look at her like that?
