The Damaged Heroes Collection [Box Set #1: The Damaged Heroes Collection] (BookStrand Publishing Mainstream)

by James, Sandy

  Can my face possibly get any warmer? Laurie had held out a little bit of unrealistic hope that he might have lost that awkward memory with the other things he couldn’t quite recall. But... nooo. This he remembered. “I didn’t mean to... Well, yes, I did, but... I kissed you because I can’t read you.”

  Ross’s brows knit in clear confusion. “What do you mean? Couldn’t read me?”

  Laurie stared into her mug. Nice job, blabbermouth. He doesn’t need to know you’re an empath. Why don’t you just blurt out your whole life story while you’re at it?

  He still looked confused. “What did you mean, Laurie?”

  She wasn’t about to tell him. “Never mind. I’m going to find you some clothes.”

  “Can I take a hot shower?”

  Laurie nodded, happy to change the subject. “The water is gas heated. Let’s find you something warm to wear.”

  She headed for the stairs as Ross dropped the afghan and followed.

  Chapter 4

  The upstairs was cold enough Laurie could see her breath. The only interruption of the quiet came from the trickle of the water in the bathroom where she’d left the faucets dribbling to keep the pipes from freezing. Thank God for the generator running the pump. She hugged herself and rubbed her upper arms to ward away the chill as she led the way to her bedroom.

  From a pile of her clean clothes lying on the bed, she ferreted out a hoodie and held it up to Ross’s chest to see if it would fit. The silly thing didn’t even span the distance between his broad shoulders, and his response was an I-told-you-so grin. Damn, this guy was a linebacker. She threw the shirt on the bed and searched through the pile again.

  Laurie finally produced an enormous sweatshirt from her alma mater and tossed it at Ross. Unfortunately, she couldn’t find anything remotely large enough to fit his lower half. Plus she didn’t think flannel pajama pants with little pink and blue flowers were quite his style. When she had just about given up, she suddenly had an inspiration.

  Throwing open the closet door, she rummaged around for a few minutes. When she found what she’d been seeking, she called over her shoulder to Ross. “Can you reach a box for me?”

  He came up behind her. “Yeah. Which one?”

  Laurie took a step back to point to a large box on the top shelf, but she hadn’t realized how close Ross had drawn. The step she took placed her back firmly against his chest. It was like crashing into warm steel. The contact threw her mind into immediate bedlam.

  The thoughts she got around this guy were downright frightening. For once they were her own emotions—not feelings Laurie read from Ross, but her own scattered wits. He probably wasn’t a serial killer, but he was having a devastating effect on her nonetheless. The second she collided with him, the butterflies that had started the night before assailed her again. Just a small flutter, but it spread from her stomach like wildfire and made her feel like her heart had skipped a beat or two. The way her body reacted soundly rattled Laurie. Part visceral, part primitive. And all unnerving.

  Was he trembling too?

  Laurie took a faltering step to the side. “Sorry. I... I didn’t see you there.”

  Ross peered into the closet. “Which box?” His voice seemed a bit gruff.

  She figured he was probably angry at her for being so clumsy. Did I step on his toes?

  “The one with ‘Alex’ on it,” she answered as she pointed to a large white box.

  He hauled it down and carried the container over to the bed.

  Laurie opened the box and began to fish through its contents. She finally found something appropriate. Pulling out a pair of worn jeans, she handed them to Ross. “They might be a little short, but...” Then she reached into the box again and sheepishly handed him some briefs.

  “I prefer boxers.”

  “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

  Laurie led him to the bathroom. “The water will be cold, but let it run for a while and it’ll heat up. Towels are in the vanity. Shampoo is in the shower stall.”

  Ross rubbed his hand over the stubble on his chin. “You got a razor?”

  “Only the one I shave my legs with.”

  “I’ll grow a beard.”

  * * * *

  By the time Ross finished his shower, Laurie had built the fire back up enough to make the great room toasty. She had dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt and looked quite content curled up on the corner of the sofa, reading a paperback book. “Feeling better?” she asked as she glanced up.

  “Just hungry.”

  Laurie slapped a bookmark into the pages and jumped up. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think... I don’t eat on a regular kind of schedule. I just graze.” She walked past him and headed to the kitchen. He followed her to see if he could help.

  She disappeared into the pantry before coming out with several cans that she dropped on the countertop. “I’ll whip up something.” Turning to the stove, Laurie grabbed a carton of wooden matches and lit a burner.

  Ross picked up a can of green beans and frowned. “I don’t suppose we could make cheeseburgers or something.”

  “No meat.”

  He rolled his eyes and groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those, too?”

  As she pulled an old-fashioned can opener out of a drawer, she asked with a note of irritation, “One of what?”

  “A vegetarian.”

  “Oh, I thought you meant a homicidal maniac.” Laurie held her hand out and tapped her foot, obviously waiting for the can he held.

  Surrendering the green beans to her, he shrugged. She opened the can, dumped the contents in a pan, and placed the pan on the stove. She turned back to the cans and reached for the potatoes.

  “I’m not,” she finally said.

  “Not what?”

  “Not a vegetarian. There’s no meat because I figured the power would be down. You can’t trust it during storms. I save the power in the generator for the water pump. I can live without lights, but not without water.”

  “Ah. Makes sense.” While Laurie dumped the potatoes in another pan, he disappeared into the huge pantry.

  The place was well stocked with canned goods, but not much comfort food. He moved a few things around, digging for buried treasure. And then he found it. He grabbed the Oreos, ripped open the wrapping, and gave a triumphant cry. “Ah, ha!” He came out of the pantry holding the bag of cookies as he shoved one in his mouth.

  Laurie looked properly indignant, but her eyes still sparkled with amusement. “Hey. Those are mine.”

  “Didn’t see your name on ‘em,” he mumbled through his mouthful of cookie.

  “You’re insufferable.” She put the wooden spoon she’d been using down on the counter. “Give me one.” She held out her hand. Ross placed an Oreo on her palm. “You obviously don’t know how to eat them anyway.” Twisting the cookie apart, her tongue gave the white icing a long caress.

  It was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. He stared at her as she cooed over the sweet treat, his mind occupied with some entirely impure thoughts about what he would like to do to her. Most involved her wearing red lingerie.

  Where the hell is all of this coming from?

  He was entirely grateful when she shoved the rest of the cookie in her mouth and turned back to the stove.

  “Who’s Alex?”

  Laurie didn’t turn around at his question. “Why were you out driving around in a friggin’ blizzard?”

  Man, did she have a mouth on her. The fact that she was being so evasive pissed him off, but Ross thought he might finally be getting a grip on how to talk to her. “I was looking for a client. Your turn. Who’s Alex?”

  “Old boyfriend.” She stirred the contents of the pot for a moment. “Your turn. What’s the client’s name?”

  “Old boyfriend? You don’t have one now?”

  Laurie shook her head. Ross couldn’t tell if she meant that she didn’t have a boyfriend or that she wasn’t going to answer his question. He was also a bit perplexed as
to why he put so much store in knowing whether she was attached or not.

  “Your turn, Sport. Not mine. What’s the client’s name?”

  “Some guy named Laurence Miller. Do you know him?”

  Her eyes widened and she paused in her work, but only for a heartbeat or two. “I don’t know any man named Laurence Miller.”

  Strange answer. He watched her open a can of ravioli and dump it into another pan. “Ravioli and green beans?”

  Laurie gave him a crooked smiled. “Told you I ate meat.”

  “Your turn. You don’t have a boyfriend now?”

  She shook her head again. Ross let out an exasperated sigh and mentally counted to ten. He was just about to say something when she finally answered him properly.

  “No boyfriend now. Why don’t you grab a tray out of the pantry and I’ll set this stuff up in the other room. It’s too cold to eat in here. Go rest in front of the fire. I’ll bring the food in when it’s done.”

  * * * *

  The ravioli tasted great with green beans and potatoes. Laurie piled the food on the coffee table, and the two of them ate on a blanket spread in front of the fire. It made a cozy little indoor picnic.

  Entirely used to drawing out patients when they were silent, Laurie made easy conversation to try to learn about her mystery man. Ross resisted and insisted several times that she stop psychoanalyzing him.

  Ross prodded Laurie with his own types of questions using a seasoned lawyer’s hit and miss approach to gaining information. Laurie resisted and insisted several times that he stop cross examining her.

  After washing the dishes, Laurie plopped down on the couch with her book, curled her legs underneath her, and began to read.

  Ross stared at the fire for a few minutes, wondering if anyone thought he had died. Sheila would be pitching a fit that he was out of contact. The tiny woman was probably erupting like Mount St. Helens, and by now he’d probably have a hundred or more voicemail messages. It seemed a bit odd to be sitting still for so long, and he was annoyed at having nothing really important he needed to be working on for the first time in literally years.

  I need to work.

  Without anything better to do, he thought about pacing. But he settled on simply staring at Laurie. He liked watching her, every part of her. Her fingers were long and graceful as she turned the pages. She wiggled her toes in her white socks from time to time. Her lashes were long, her nose straight. Her mouth formed a lovely smile at some of the words.

  She glanced up from the book. “What? Why are you staring at me?”

  “There’s nothing to do.” Except watch you, watch the swell of your breasts in that flannel shirt.

  “You sound like me...when I was five.” She pointed over her shoulder to the room just off the great room. “We have a huge library. Go get yourself a book.”

  “I’ve got work to do,” Ross grumbled.

  “Don’t we all?” She tried to read again; he continued to watch her. She sighed. “Look, Sport, we’re stuck here ‘til the storm clears. I’m not traipsing back out to your car in the middle of a blizzard to get your briefcase. Go get a book.”

  He didn’t like the suggestion. “What are you reading?”

  “A Love Beyond Time. It’s a romance.”

  He rolled his eyes and groaned.

  Those amazing blue eyes shot fire straight through him. He wondered if she was that passionate about everything.

  “I’ve had about enough. Go get a friggin’ book.”

  “No.” He just kept staring at her as a blush began to spread across her cheeks. She knows I’m watching. “It’s too quiet.”

  Laurie pointed at the room just off of the great room again. “There’s a boom box in the library. I think the batteries have some juice left. Go find a radio station.”

  “No, thanks,” he replied with a scoffing laugh. “You know I figured out pretty quick they’ve got two types of music out here. Country and western.”

  Laurie turned her attention back to her book. He wondered if she knew that she moved her lips as she read. Such pretty lips too. He needed a distraction. Other than her. Taking an exaggerated deep breath, he let it out in a slow, exasperated growl. “I need something to do. I need to work.”

  She didn’t look up from her book this time. “I’m not entertaining you.”

  When Laurie went back to reading her romance, Ross tried again. “I can’t just...just...sit here.” Don’t you understand? I have to work.

  “Oh, for pity’s sake. Go get a book. Go eat some Oreos or—”

  “They’re all gone.” He knew he sounded like a pouty child, but he didn’t care. He needed something, anything, to occupy his mind. Sitting still was killing him; watching her was killing his sanity.

  She slammed the pages of the book closed. “Fine. What do you want to do?”

  Ross only thought about it for a mere moment. “I want to work.”

  Setting her lips into a thin line, her eyes carried a small storm in their depths. Then a look of understanding suddenly crossed her face. “I get it now. You’re a Type A.”

  “Oh, good God. You sound like my secretary,” Ross groaned.

  “But you are. I’ll bet you never relax. Probably work seventy...no, probably eighty hours or more a week. No girlfriend.” He winched at that comment. “Sorry, Sport. Didn’t mean to rub salt in the wound.” The woman was astute.

  Ross raised an eyebrow. “Why do you keep calling me ‘Sport’?”

  “When I couldn’t get you to move out of the car, I had to pretend I was a football coach,” she replied with a smug grin. “When I yelled at you, then you finally cooperated.” She seemed to have lost interest in her book as she stared at him. “It’s not easy being a Type A. I can help you.”

  “Don’t psychoanalyze me, Kitten. I’m not a patient.”

  “But you will be if you keep it up. Type A’s are just a few steps away from a nervous breakdown—”

  “Or a heart attack,” Ross added, repeating the same sermon Sheila preached at him at least three times a week. “Yada, yada, yada.”

  “So you do know what I’m talking about. What do you do for fun?”

  He shrugged. What’s fun? What do people do that’s fun?

  Laurie persisted. “When did you take your last vacation?”

  “This is my vacation,” he grumbled.

  “What kind of moron takes a vacation in Montana in the middle of January? Did you come to ski?”

  “No,” he replied with a frown.

  “Ice fishing?”

  “Hell, no.”

  She looked confused. He couldn’t blame her. This place was making him a bit loopy too. “Then why are you here?”

  “I blame my boss.”

  “Looking for Laurence Miller, right?”

  Ross arched an eyebrow, wondering if she’d remembered hearing the name after all. “Do you know him?”

  Laurie glanced away. “I told you I don’t know any man named Laurence Miller.” She turned to face him again, a determined look on her face. “Let’s talk about your stress level.”

  That was an abrupt turn in the conversation. He preferred talking about his client to any discussion over the flaws she saw in Ross’s life.

  “Let’s not.” He splayed his hand through his hair in frustration. Were there any more cookies in the pantry?

  She studied him for a moment. “I suppose you’ve got your next thirty days scheduled down to fifteen minute segments. Probably carry everything around on a PDA.”

  “So I schedule things so I can manage my time. So I carry a Blackberry. So what?”

  “That’s your problem,” Laurie explained. “You’ve got a stranglehold on yourself. Every day, every hour, every minute’s regimented. I’ll bet your house is perfect.”

  “My condo. And so what? I like order.”

  “Order is great. It’s predictable. It’s pacifying. But it’s killing you. Before you know it, you’re going to be forty with no family, no life, and waiting f
or your quadruple by-pass. It’s no way to live. Control freaks have short life spans.”

  He wanted to tell her he wasn’t a control freak, but he couldn’t even fabricate a decent lie in his own thoughts. He needed to get away from her uncanny ability to reach right into his brain and pluck out bits and pieces of his life, so he stomped his way into the kitchen.

  Laurie watched him leave and shook her head. She kept hoping to get a read on him, but the man remained immune to her empathic gift. Lord, it was frustrating to fumble around so much.

  She felt bad lying to him about her name, but she convinced herself it was only a little white lie. It was for her patients. For them, not me. Just forget it for now.

  Ross needed some help. If she saw him professionally, she’d give him an “assignment” for the week. He would have to put aside one hour to do absolutely nothing except what he wanted to do. No meetings. No work. No planned event. He desperately needed a break in routine.

  Ross clearly didn’t want her help. Yet she was so irresistibly drawn to him and so desperate to help him that she wasn’t about to give up.

  How do I reach him?

  When he came walking back into the room, he was carrying a jar of peanut butter and a spoon. “Nice snack,” she teased.

  Ross actually growled at her. “I usually lift weights when I’m this frustrated.” His eyes scanned the enormous room. “See a gym around here anywhere?” Opening the jar of peanut butter, he dropped the lid on the coffee table and stabbed the spoon into it. “Besides, I already told you the Oreos are gone.” He sat back down on the couch and licked the peanut butter from his spoon.

  He sure knew how to use that tongue. Remembering their kiss, she could feel her cheeks flush and hoped he wouldn’t notice. Think about how you can help him, not about how you can kiss him.

  Laurie smiled as an idea crossed her mind. If this man desperately needed a break, this situation was tailor made for him. His work remained buried deep in the snow. No one could reach him by phone. She decided to use whatever time they were stranded here to teach Ross how to go with the flow. “Have you ever had a day where you went free falling?”