Heartfire (9 page)

She didn't open her eyes, and he could have sworn she wasn't breathing!

Chapter Six

Tessa gasped and coughed, dragging air into her lungs.  It seemed easier when she tried it a second time.

"Tessa, look at me."

The familiarity of Max's voice forced Tessa to open her eyes.

 He looked grim and a little...scared?  When she tried to sit up, his arm came around her shoulders.  "Nice, slow breaths.  Easy."

Following his directions, she thought about how strong and comforting he felt against her.  She could smell sun, grass, Max.  Forgetting she had a lead weight on her chest, she basked in the protective feel of him...the male power of him.  She closed her eyes to savor the sensations.

"Tessa, are you dizzy?  Does anything hurt?"

  Opening her eyes again, she could have melted under Max's concerned look.  Trying her voice, it came out scratchy but audible.  "I'm fine.  I just had the wind knocked out of me.  I couldn't get my breath for a minute.  But I'm okay now."

"Ms. Kahill, I'm terribly sorry," someone on the edge of the players around them said.

Max ignored the apology and didn't release her.  "Do you think you can stand?"

"Sure.  No problem."  But as Max helped her up and let her try to stand on her own, her knees wobbled.

"That's it."  He swept her up into his arms.

"Max!  Put me down."

He strode toward the picnic area.  "Not on your life.  Not until I make sure you're in one piece."

"Max, I'm fine.  Just a little shaky."

"You just ran into a semi and you're too pale.  Now why don't you be quiet and breathe easy till we get where we're going."

She wondered if his brusqueness stemmed from the fear she'd been hurt.  All she knew was that she couldn't breathe easy with his arms wrapped around her.  His hand almost covered her breast, and she was aware of his other arm under her thighs.  As he walked, her head bobbed and her cheek brushed his shirt.  She'd like nothing better than to lay her head there and listen to the beat of his heart.

What was she thinking?  Those thoughts were the kind she'd been trying to avoid!  She squirmed in his arms.

"Stay still."  His breath stirred the curls on her forehead.

"Where's Ryan?  If he sees you carrying me..."

"He's at the playground.  He got bored around the third inning."

"He's with other kids?" Tessa asked hopefully.

"No, Flo and Scruffy.  Flo said she wanted to swing and needed Ryan to hold onto Scruffy for her.  Sometimes I wonder if I should get Ryan a dog."

"But?" Tessa prompted, hearing the doubt in his voice.

"But I don't know if he's ready for the responsibility."

Max shifted Tessa in his arms, and her nose grazed his neck.  She hadn't felt dizzy before, but she did now, and she was incapable of carrying on a coherent conversation.  Max didn't try, either.

A few minutes later, he gently deposited her on a picnic bench.  Tessa hadn't been aware she'd caused a commotion, but in no time at all she was surrounded by the man who'd run into her, other players and a group of Max's neighbors who wanted to help.  She sent Max an annoyed look.  If he'd let her walk off the field, this wouldn't have happened.  She didn't like being the center of attention.  She got her best stories by being inconspicuous and blending in. 

Tessa tried to reassure everyone she was fine and was suddenly overwhelmed by the sense of community spirit that made them all care.  Her throat tightened.

As they accepted her reassurance and scattered, the player who'd collided with her turned his cap around and around in his hands.  "I'm truly sorry, Ms. Kahill.  I guess the sun got in my eyes."

She smiled at him.  "I still want you on my team the next time I play.  You know how to go after a ball."

His cheeks flushed.  "If I hurt you in any way—"

"No.  I'm fine.  Really.  I'm not going to let a softball game do me in."

The burly ball player clasped her shoulder.  "You're a good sport."

"You go back to the game and win.  In fact, in a few minutes, I'll join you."

"You're not going anywhere," Max said in a low, even voice.

She stood.  "If I want to play ball—"

He pointed to the bench.  "Sit down.  I'll get you something to drink.  Then we'll check for scrapes and bruises."

She didn't sit.  "Don't order me around, Max."

He looked as angry as she was determined.  He clapped the ball player on the back.  "You go win the game for her."

The bigger man looked from one tense face to the other, put his cap on his head and headed for the field.

Max faced her.  "I'm not ordering you around."

"It didn't sound like a request to me."

He rolled his eyes.  "Tessa Kahill, will you have a ginger ale with me?"

"You don't even like ginger ale."

He shook his head with apparent exasperation.  "How could I forget you journalists are so observant?  I'll find something I like and bring you a ginger ale.  Deal?"

She reluctantly sat on the bench and mumbled, "Deal."

Max couldn't understand the tension still dancing in the pit of his stomach as he headed for the sodas.  From the moment he'd known Tessa was in danger, he'd realized he was starting to care all over again!

He bent over and plucked a can of ginger ale and a can of root beer from the cooler.  He flipped a paper cup from a stack in a basket by the cooler, opened the ginger ale and poured Tessa a glass.  Then he went back to the table, more concerned about her than he wanted to be.  All right, so she'd been in Iraq and Afghanistan and goodness knew where else in the middle of wars.  She'd still just had a hard collision and a thudding fall.  She might be tough, but she also might be hurting.

When Max returned to the table, he handed her the ginger ale.  "Do you want to go home?"  Max knew that word conjured up a different meaning for him than it did for Tessa. 

She threw him a sideways glance.  "We didn't eat yet."

He smiled.  She could always make him smile, though more often than not, he wanted to shake her at the same time.  "You're hungry?"

"Sure am."  When she grasped her cup to take another sip of soda, her arm rubbed the edge of the table and she winced.

Max set down his can.  "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

He picked up her arm and was about to pull up her sleeve when she jerked away from him.   "Tessa, if you scraped something, it should be tended to."

"For thirty years I've taken care of myself just fine."

He gentled his voice.  "Let's look at your arm."

She expelled a breath and pulled up her sleeve.  A scrape ran from mid forearm to her elbow.

Max frowned.  "That could get nasty.  I have a first-aid kit in the car."

Her lips twitched.  "And I guess you want me to be here when you get back?"

"If you're not, I'll track you down."  It was a threat and a promise, and he couldn't believe the way her defiance kicked up his determination.  Macho male meets liberated female.  Details at eleven.

Max returned with a plastic box and flipped it open on the table.  "Peroxide first."

"So you've done this before?"

He smiled.  "More times than I care to count.  Just ask Ryan.  I'm an old pro."

"Not so old," she mused.

Max took out the bottle of peroxide.  "Some days I feel sixty instead of thirty-one."

"It's been hard for you, hasn't it?" she asked softly.

Max's stomach tightened, and he felt the muscle that Tessa had noticed jump.  "It's been harder on Ryan.  As much as I try, I can't be a father
and
a mother."

He unscrewed the top of the peroxide bottle and soaked a cotton ball.  "Put your arm on the table."  Before she could protest, he said, "It's at an awkward spot.  Come on, get your elbow up here.  Or do I have to promise you a candy bar when we're finished?" he teased.

"Make it a banana split and you're on."

He laughed.  "Your demands are steep.  But it can probably be arranged."  When his fingers lightly brushed her arm, she started.  He was filled with the desire to stroke her, to quiet her, to soothe her, to give her the caring she'd missed along the way.  But most of all, he wanted to kiss her again.  The wanting was becoming much too powerful for his peace of mind.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked.

"No.  It tickled."  Her voice was husky and did strange things to his insides.  As he lifted the cotton ball, he warned, "This might sting."

She held still as he swabbed the area, trying to do it quickly.  But her green eyes watched him cautiously.  When he finished, he said, "Let it dry a few minutes.  Do you have scrapes anywhere else?"

"I'm not going to let you strip search me to find out," she retorted.

The idea made his blood surge, and he turned away so she couldn't see her words had any effect.  Taking a tube of cream from the kit, he wiped his finger with peroxide and squeezed the ointment on the top of his forefinger.  "I'll try not to hurt you."  He dabbed it on carefully then took a gauze strip and adhesive from the box.  "You don't want the scrape to rub against your sleeve.  You can take the bandage off when we get home."

She didn't argue, and he was relieved.  When he secured the tape, his knee brushed her leg and he shifted away.

"Max, can I ask you something?"

Uh-oh.  He could imagine what was coming.  Maybe she could sense his change around her, the turbulent response he didn't want to have.  And maybe they should talk about it and take the mystery out of it so it would go away.

"Go ahead and ask."

"Would you mind if we redecorate Ryan's room?" 

"Redecorate Ryan's room?" Max repeated.  "Why?"

As Max had ministered to Tessa, her pulse had galloped.  She'd gotten hot all over and she'd been afraid something of what she was feeling would show.  To hide it, she'd decided to ask the question about Ryan's room.  It had been on her mind all week.

Pulling her arm away from his hands, she sat up straighter.  "Because he's getting older, and I don't think baby animals on his curtains interest him anymore.  He's interested in cars and sports.  Did you know he knows the difference between a Lamborghini and a Ferrari?  And I found out Peyton Manning is his idol.  Next to you, of course," she teased, hoping Max could see she had Ryan's interests at heart.