What the hell just happened? MacGyver had the uneasy feeling he’d argued in a circle and had given away some clue that Travis had been hot for, though what that was, and why, MacGyver had no idea.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, hoping to ease the dread that had his stomach wound tighter than his gram’s antique alarm clock. He was finally alone—though not really. Kellie’s angelic face made him feel like a fraud without even trying to convince her he wanted to be her savior. His next task—getting her out of that dress, cleaned up and between the sheets—would no doubt make him feel even worse. By the time he was finished, Travis’s words would be prophetic.
He wouldn’t stand a chance in hell of convincing her of anything.
Chapter Four
Kellie stretched and burrowed deep into the delightful warmth. Her bed had never been so comfortable. She pulled one hand from beneath the covers and rubbed her heavy-lidded eyes. That was a mistake. The pressure against her eyelids started a tambourine jangling in her head. Not good.
She tried to roll onto her stomach to bury her head under the pillow, but something was holding her down. Something that draped over her hip and spread a welcome heat across her belly. Ever so slowly, she cracked her eyes open. The resulting throb reverberated between her ears and settled in the center of her forehead, making her stomach lurch, and she slammed her eyes closed.
Wait a minute. Where am I? Where were her Tandoori Red walls? The picture of her mother on the nightstand beside her bed that grounded her every morning? Nothing in her brief glimpse of the room was familiar. As the pain eased somewhat, she peeked through mere slits this time at the walls that were too far away and not nearly the right color. She held her breath and tensed, a groan starting deep in her chest, ending in a whimper. The warmth holding her in place tightened around her middle and tugged her against something hard and unyielding. With hair?
Oh, hell! Eyes wide open, Kellie threw the covers back, grabbed the thumb of the hand that splayed across her abdomen and wrenched it back toward the tattoo that ran the length of the forearm. The intruder in her bed growled and jerked his arm away with such strength she lost her grip. She rolled from the mattress, landing on her butt on the floor, and crab-crawled away from the tattooed arm. Her already aching head cracked against the wall, stopping her retreat. She sprang to her feet, glanced around for a weapon, and, finding nothing, instinctively assumed the fighting stance that had become automatic her first few weeks in boot camp.
Feet shoulder width apart and turned slightly, dominant foot behind, she balanced solidly on the balls of her feet and waited for his next move.
Stretched on his side and propped on one elbow, the sheet scarcely covering his hips, he had the nerve to smile. It faded, though, as his heated gaze traveled slowly down her body.
What the…? A cursory glance confirmed her fears. All she had on was a white lacey thong!
Her quick inhale nearly choked her as she flung her arms across her chest. “Don’t move! Stay right where you are!” Kellie dove toward the blanket that hung over the foot of the bed, grasped it and dragged it in front of her.
Sufficiently covered, she glared at the strange man in her bed. Early thirties, give or take a year, with dark brown hair, cut short, and piercing blue eyes, a dimple appeared beneath his five-o’clock shadow emphasizing the lift of one corner of his full lips into a crooked grin. He looked tall, all stretched out on a king-size bed. His body was sculpted muscle from his shoulders to the one leg that rested on top of the sheet. Black briefs peeked from where the sheet had slid away, molded tightly to well-formed glutes.
Her dumbfounded scrutiny climbed right back up his relaxed frame and settled on his well-defined abs as he rolled casually onto his back and laced his fingers behind his head. Unable to look away, she stared at the impressive tent that formed in the sheet over his obviously aroused male anatomy. She swallowed hard.
His easy laugh snapped her attention to his face. Her cheeks burned. That he’d caught her gaping was evident in his amused expression.
With a toss of her head, she drew herself up straight. “Who are you? Why are you in my bed…with…without…?” Words to properly describe her outrage failed her, and Kellie waved a hand in his direction. She refused to look away, her anger and indignation vying for control over the humiliation that heated her skin.
“Name’s Matt Iverson, but, like I told you yesterday, most everyone calls me MacGyver. And…I’m not in your bed. You’re in mine.”
Wait! Yesterday? There was something vaguely familiar about him, but she couldn’t piece together where she’d seen him before. Certainly she didn’t know this man well enough to spend the night with him. What was he trying to pull?
She snapped her mouth shut, trapping the retort that flew to her tongue, and closed her eyes, hoping the dizziness that was agitating her stomach would go away, along with this…Matt Iverson, who claimed to know her. It wasn’t even partially effective.
“Okay. Mr. Iverson. Where am I? And how did I get here? While you’re at it, tell me exactly how I ended up in your bed with next to nothing on.” Oh, God. Why can’t I remember?
Unfortunately, she was fairly sure she already had the answer to that one. The taste of road tar, or something equally as vile, plus the drum beating in her head was eerily similar to the last time she’d had too much to drink. An elusive memory teased the edges of her brain, but nothing came into focus. Kellie gripped the blanket with her elbow and raised her hand to the side of her aching head. A lump as hard as a golf ball made her hiss and jerk her fingers away.
“Yeah…that,” he said. “You passed out in the lady’s room. Hit your head. You really don’t remember any of this, Kellie?” Matt or MacGyver, or whatever his name was, almost convinced her he was concerned.
Wait! “How do you know my name?”
“It was on your license.”
“What?” She heard the panic bubbling up in her voice. Could he hear it too? Not that it mattered. If he didn’t explain what was going on in the next sixty seconds, she was going to lose it big-time.
MacGyver sat up and slid his legs over the side of the mattress. The sheet slipped into the dangerous category, baring more of his all-male anatomy.
Kellie fumbled with the blanket, wrapped it around her and tucked one corner under the top edge before she spun around and faced the wall. “Don’t get up on my account.” Dizziness overwhelmed her, and she reached toward the wall to steady herself. Oh good Lord. She was going to be sick.
His soft laugh came again. “Relax, Kellie. I’m getting dressed so we can talk.” Funny how sincere his voice sounded…for a con man or whatever the hell he was.
She waited a few seconds and glanced over her shoulder. True to his word, he’d pulled on a pair of sleep pants and was tying the string. That only left his incredibly muscled chest and shoulders, plus abs that literally rippled with each movement, for her eyes to avoid. She turned slowly, sagged against the wall and slid all the way to the floor. Once there, she folded her arms around her knees and buried her face. Maybe I’m still asleep. This can’t be happening.
MacGyver’s feet padded across the carpet until his leg rubbed her elbow. The next instant, he pressed against her side as he joined her on the floor with his back against the wall. Though he was totally invading her personal space, she had no energy left to move, nor would she give him the satisfaction. Oddly, fear wasn’t one of the emotions she was struggling with. Confusion. Disbelief. Regret. All of those were present, plus some others she couldn’t put a name to…but not fear.
Then again, she’d just woken up, nearly naked, wrapped in a complete stranger’s arms. Even though she’d been warm, comfortable and relatively safe, she wasn’t naïve enough to believe he’d merely held her all night. Why should she be afraid of him now when she’d apparently been at his mercy for some time? Unless he planned to kill her to keep her quiet about
the rest.
“I’m getting the idea you don’t really remember me, and it’s wreaking havoc on my fragile ego.”
She didn’t look at him—just shook her head.
“Well, hell.” He sounded genuinely disappointed. “Why don’t you tell me the last thing you do remember?”
It hurt too much to sort through the partially obscured memories that swirled in her mind at the speed of a comet. If she kept this up, she really was going to be sick.
“How’s your head?” He bumped her shoulder gently.
God! Does he have to smell so good?
Sudden pounding startled her, and she was halfway to her feet when the connecting door to the room next to them burst open. She closed her eyes, bit her lower lip and groaned as nausea enveloped her.
“Whoa. It’s okay.” MacGyver’s hand landed on her blanket-covered knee, and his calm voice encouraged her to sit again. “He’s a friend. In spite of incredibly lousy timing, he’s harmless.”
The new arrival wheeled a small, carry-on-sized bag through the doorway, then disappeared for a second before he returned and shouldered farther into the room. Kellie gaped between MacGyver’s reassuring smile and the largest African-American male she’d ever seen. She might have doubted his harmless status if he hadn’t been holding two cups and a steaming carafe. The rich aroma teased her senses, and she practically whimpered with need for the hot, dark liquid.
“I see you’re both awake. How are we today?” The man’s gruff voice and sober expression did little to convince her that he cared how they were. Besides, she loathed people who used the all-encompassing we.
“Kellie, this is Travis Monroe.” MacGyver leaned into her shoulder and continued in a loud whisper. “He drove the getaway car last night, but you probably don’t remember him either.”
Her fists clenched as she turned her scowl on MacGyver. If he doesn’t start explaining, I swear I’m going to blacken both of his eyes.
Travis smiled, and two rows of sparkling white teeth appeared as he walked toward them. “I’d be surprised if she did remember much.” He handed the cups to MacGyver, who passed one to her.
Really? I’m right here. She also despised men who talked about her instead of to her.
MacGyver glanced at her as though she might change her mind. “Apparently not.”
Travis poured her coffee and then MacGyver’s. “She doesn’t remember meeting you in the bar?”
This time MacGyver studied her, Travis’s question reflected in his eyes. He looked so grim, she almost hated to answer.
“Nope.”
“Not us saving her ass from those biker dudes?”
Wait. A faint memory niggled at the back of her mind, but no—nothing substantial materialized. She shook her head miserably.
“MacGyver said you had a lot to drink. You’re lucky he got you out of there. Some bikers are okay, but others can be dangerous and unpredictable, especially if they’re drunk…and they’re drunk a lot.” Travis winked at MacGyver and hooked his thumb toward the bed with a knowing grin. “But…you really don’t remember all the…”
Oh God! Her face, neck and shoulders smoldered with the hot flow of blood through her body, and she couldn’t look at either of them. Surely she hadn’t…She would never…
Travis snickered. “Cuz, damn. Kept me awake most of the night. Our boy’s got stamina—I’ll give him that.”
“Travis, shut the fuck up.”
Kellie shrank back at the anger in MacGyver’s voice.
“In fact, why don’t you get the hell out of here for a while so Kellie and I can talk?”
From beneath lowered lashes, she watched Travis stare at MacGyver and then nod. “Sure, man. Sorry, Kellie. I was only kidding. Just my warped sense of humor. If I know MacGyver—and I do—he was a total gentleman.” Travis retreated the way he’d come, leaving the carafe on a coffee table by the fireplace.
When she and MacGyver were alone again, he rubbed the back of his neck, then shook his head. “Sorry about that. Not sure what got into him. He’s really a decent guy most of the time. I hope you won’t hold that against him.”
Kellie snorted, his implied suggestion that either he or his friend were the good guys magnifying her distrust. “I’m waiting for you to tell me exactly what happened. Why I’m here—wherever here is. And while you’re at it—what is it you want from me?”
He leaned his head against the wall and stared at the ceiling, but he didn’t respond.
Frustration made Kellie want to scream. She threw her hands in the air instead. “You know what? Never mind. I’m just going to get dressed and get the hell out of here.” She placed her coffee cup on the floor and pushed to her knees, bracing one arm against the wall. “If you’ll tell me where my clothes are.”
MacGyver stood in one fluid movement and offered his hand. No way did she want his help, but the blanket, twisting around her legs, apparently had a mind of its own. As she stumbled, the tucked corner of the blanket came loose and slipped toward the floor. Still off balance, she threw her arms out in front to catch herself and braced for the spectacular loss of what little dignity she had left.
Suddenly, MacGyver’s arms came around her waist, sweeping her against him just in time to catch the tip of the blanket before it fell. In relief, Kellie propped her hands on his chest. For a moment, they were suspended at an odd angle, gazes locked on each other. He caught her even closer as he pushed them both upright. The warmth of his breath on the side of her neck sent a small shiver through her nerve endings.
The fresh, clean, masculine scent of him surrounded her. His heart thumped rhythmically beneath her hands, quickening somewhat but strong and steady. Tucked against his surprisingly relaxed body, cradled by his muscled arms, Kellie felt as though she was safe, though safe from what was the question. She squeezed her eyes shut, and, for just a second or two, let herself enjoy the sensation.
When she opened her eyes, he was studying her face, the barest trace of a frown marring his chiseled good looks. Belatedly realizing how far the blanket had slipped and how much of her bare skin pressed against his shirtless chest, she tried to wiggle from his grasp. He held her without effort.
“Got your balance?” An amused grin emerged, lending a sparkle to his eyes.
“Yes, thank you. You can let go of me now.”
“Not quite yet.” MacGyver shook his head.
“What?” Anger instantly returned, replacing the safety she’d reveled in a moment ago.
“We need to talk before you leave. I’ll let you go after you give me your word you’ll hear me out.” He raised one brow, obviously used to being in charge.
She scanned his handsome features. Rough whiskers shadowed his face. His hair was short like the men she’d served with at security checkpoints inside Iraq. His shimmering blue eyes were confident, intelligent and sexy all at the same time. And that was an observation she had no business making. Uneasiness rocked her, and she squirmed in his arms…to no avail. It appeared the only way to end this face-off was to accept his terms.
“Okay.” She was more than a little curious about what he had to say anyway.
“Yeah?” His quizzical expression morphed into a frown as though he didn’t get why she’d agreed so readily and possibly didn’t trust her to keep her word.
“Sure. Frankly, I have a few questions about last night, and I’m dying to hear the answers.”
With a smile sweeping over his surprisingly boyish features, he released her. Kellie pulled the blanket into a more respectable position and tried to keep it there as she stepped away. She glanced around, taking visual inventory of the room, before looking to him questioningly. “Do you mind if I get dressed first? Where are my clothes?”
MacGyver grimaced and pointed to a pile of nearly-white fabric on the floor halfway between the bed and the bathroom door. “Besides a small purse and
a cell phone, that’s what you were wearing when we met.”
“You’re kidding. Is that a—?”
“A wedding dress? It was before you threw up on it.”
A wedding gown? Why would I…
In a flash, she remembered. The coerced wedding plan. The conversation she’d overheard between Tony and his uncle. Running from the hotel…and Pop! She’d called and warned him to leave town. Had he gone?
A gasp escaped as the memories dropped her in the midst of a life she’d blessedly forgotten for a brief time. Her reproachful glare darted back to MacGyver. “Where’s my phone?”
He motioned toward the coffee table where Travis had left the carafe. “I turned it off.” He followed her and brushed against her arm as she reached for the device.
She pressed the on button and, while waiting for the home screen to appear, Kellie glanced again at the tabletop. “You went through my stuff?” The glaring evidence of the invasion of her privacy was scattered beside her upturned clutch. “What were you looking for?”
MacGyver stepped toward the table and picked up her driver’s license. Gripping it between two fingers, he held it in front of him. “Sit down and call your stepfather, Kellie. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
How did he know who she was planning to call? Did he work for Tony? Her thoughts tumbling over each other, she sat, only so she wouldn’t collapse. She hadn’t risked her life to escape from Tony to be bullied by one of his thugs. Funny how that term didn’t seem to fit MacGyver at all.
Quickly, she dialed Pop’s number. It went straight to voice mail, and she ended the call without leaving a message. Worry ate away at her already tumultuous stomach, while common sense said Pop had probably turned his cell off.
Honor Among SEALs Page 6
