Love On The Ropes (Ringside Romance) (27 page)

She was right; she did deserve
better. For now he’d make it up to her, act like a civilized man and not a
temperamental jerk. He grabbed his smart phone and found a florist that would
make an emergency delivery of purple flowers; then he got busy with dinner.

He went in search of lettuce when
he noticed the full jar of pesto in her refrigerator. She lied about going out
for pesto because she needed an excuse to get away from him. He couldn’t blame
her. He’d been a son of a bitch, verbally attacking her for his own failings.
It wasn’t her fault she could see right through him and put her finger on his
emotional scars. And that scared the crap out of him. So he snapped at her,
chasing a strong woman like Sandy out of her own condo.

She should be home soon, right? He
put on an apron with colorful fairies floating on a blue background. That
should make her smile: a big, macho guy wearing a little lady’s apron. He
didn’t care how ridiculous he looked. He’d do anything to get back into her
good graces. Time to eat major crow.

He found a bottle of cabernet and
removed the cork, giving it time to breathe. He boiled water on for pasta and
tossed some lettuce with grated Parmesan. Digging into the vegetable bin, he found
some fresh tomatoes.

It was all coming together. This
would be a nice dinner, an apology dinner, maybe even a romantic dinner?

No, he had to keep things light
and friendly. He froze, his hand holding the knife he used to chop the tomato.
What if she wanted to make love again? A knock at the door interrupted his
thoughts. Perhaps it was the florist. He crossed the room and looked through
the peephole.

“Sandy?” He whipped open the door
and his heart plummeted. Her left cheek was red and scratched, and she clutched
her arm against her stomach. A tall, middle-aged man stood next to her.

“I wanted to take her to the
emergency room, but she insisted on coming home,” the stranger said.

J fought back the panic twisting
his gut and put his arm around her. “Hey, what happened?”

“I saw it,” the man offered. “Some
crazy driver practically hit her.”

“What kind of car? Did you get a
plate number?” Jason’s instincts kicked in.

“White compact—a Saturn, maybe?”
the guy said. “Didn’t catch the plate number. I was more worried about her.”

J smoothed a strand of her hair
behind Sandy’s ear. She glanced up at him, pain coloring her eyes, and his
chest tightened. If anything would have happened to her...

“I’m fine,” she said, again,
reading his mind. “It was my fault. I stepped into the street and wasn’t paying
attention.”

“Well, I’ll be on my way,” the
stranger said.

J shook the guy’s hand and shut
the door.

“Wait,” Sandy said. “I wanted his
address, to send him a thank you note or something.”

J led her to the couch. “Don’t
move. I’ll be right back.”

He went after the guy and spotted
him at the bottom of the stairs. “Hang on, the lady wants an address so she can
properly thank you.”

“Not necessary.”

“I know, but it would make her
feel better.”

The Good Samaritan handed him a
business card.

“So, what did you see, exactly?” J
asked.

“Honestly? It looked to me like
the car was gunning for her.”

J’s blood ran cold.

“But what do I know?” the guy went
on. “Could have been a teenager reaching for his iPod. It all happened so
fast.”

“Thanks, again. We’re lucky you
were there.”

The men shook hands and J took the
condo steps two at a time. The driver had been gunning for her? Hell.

He pushed open her door, which
Sandy left propped open for him. She wasn’t on the couch.

“Sandy?” Was she in the bathroom
vomiting? He raced toward the bathroom.

“What?”

He froze at the sound of her voice
coming from the kitchen. He rushed back and eyed her. “What are you doing?”

“Finishing what you started.” She
stirred the pasta. “Looks good. I especially like the apron.” She winked at
him.

Which would have been a sexy
gesture if she didn’t look so damned beat up.

“We’re going to the hospital,” he
said, untying the apron.

“I’m fine. The car didn’t hit me.
I stumbled over my own two feet and went one-on-one with the pavement. That’s
all. Honest.”

“Then why are you clutching your
wrist to your stomach like that?”

“I used it to break my fall. It’s
a sprain. I’ve got an Ace bandage and splint in the closet. If it will make you
feel better, you can play doctor and splint it for me.”

“Hospital,” was all he could say.
He couldn’t stand the thought of her being hurt.

“Jason, trust me, I’d know if was
a serious injury.”  She put down the spoon and sighed. “Look, my
sister-in-law’s mom and one of her cousins works at the hospital in Emergency.
If I go in, word will get back to my mom and it will start a lot of drama. What
I really need is peace and quiet, okay?”

He gripped the trim of her doorway,
trying to calm down.

“I’m a medical professional,” she
said. “Trust me, I’m okay.”

Maybe she was okay, but Jason
wasn’t.

“At least sit down.” Cupping her
elbow, he led her to the couch and sat next to her. He really studied her then,
touched her bruised cheek and raw skin.

“You can wash it with warm water
and put antibiotic on it for me...” She hesitated. “If you want.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“That’s okay, I can do it.” She
started to get up.

“Stop.” He placed his hand on her
shoulder. “I’m sorry about before, about what I said.”

She nibbled at her lower lip.

“I’m going to make it up to you,”
he said. “I’m going to take care of you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. But you’re always taking
care of everyone, healing their bruised muscles and scarred emotions.”

She glanced into his eyes with
melancholy and resignation.

“It’s time someone took care of
you.” He kissed her uninjured hand. “Let me do that for you.”

“O-okay.” Her voice hitched.

He pulled her against his chest
and held her gently but securely. She must have been scared shitless when she
saw that car barreling straight at her.

“I’m here as long as you need me,”
he promised.

She couldn’t remember being taken
care of like this. Jason held her in his arms most of the night, cooked her
breakfast and now, this morning, he pressed a cool cloth against her cheek,
murmuring something into her ear. She wasn’t sure what.

It didn’t matter. What mattered
was this gentle man’s presence, his ... love?

Sure, it could be love in a
friendship sort of way, but it wasn’t a romantic,
spend-the-rest-of-my-life-with-you kind of way, although if he kept tending to her
like this she was tempted to recruit him for the position of husband.

She had to stop thinking like that.
What would Mama think about her marrying a federal agent? Then again, it had to
be better than marrying a pro wrestler, right?

“It’s not that bad,” Jason
whispered.

Sandy opened her eyes. “What?”

“Whatever you’re thinking about,”
he said, stroking her hairline with his fingertips. “You’ve got this pained
look on your face.”

Now he was reading
her
mind. She smiled to herself.

“I was thinking about the coming
week,” she said. “Portland, Oakland, San Francisco.”

He frowned. “I want you to take
some time off.”

“What? Why?” She sat up on the
couch.

“You deserve a break.”

“I’m okay.” Shifting, she winced
at the pain in her sprained wrist. “Fine. Maybe I’m not completely okay, but I
don’t need time off.”

“Everyone needs time off. Stay
home for a few days, relax and take care of yourself for a change.”

She wanted to argue, but noticed
something new in his expression: deep concern.

“You’re really worried about me,
aren’t you?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“Don’t be. I’m tough.”

“Even tough girls can get hurt.”

Silence stretched between them.
Was he referring to her physical injuries, or the emotional ones she hoped to
avoid this time around?

“If I’m so tough, why don’t I want
to attend my family barbeque?” she asked.

He sat back and crossed his arms
over his chest. “Sandy Ryan, you’re a coward.”

She bristled. “Am not.”

“Maybe it’s your lack of an impressive
date to bring to the party?”

She laughed. “You’re plenty
impressive— especially with your new haircut.”

She still couldn’t believe it.
She’d awakened late this morning to find a clean-cut Jason washing dishes. He apparently
sneaked out earlier and found a barber to cut his shoulder-length hair. He
looked completely different now—a good kind of different.

“Love the haircut, by the way,”
she added.

“Thanks. So, what’s bothering you
about the party?” he asked.

“All the fuss, the pressure.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “Mom fusses over my
job, my lack of a boyfriend, my future. Dad pressures me about working harder
to help the boys.”

“You work hard enough,” he
reminded her. “Would you please take a few days off this week?”

“I’ll think about it.”

He nodded. “I’ll get more tea.”

She started to tell him he didn’t
have to, but she was enjoying the attention. She was usually the one doing the
caretaking: healing the boys and keeping peace in her family. For once it felt
good to be taken care of by someone else—by Jason.

He brought a ceramic pot of brewed
tea into the living room and poured tea.

“What’s your next move with the
investigation?” she asked, reminding herself why he was here in the first place.

“Not sure. It depends on a few
things.”

“Like?” Curling her fingers around
her mug, she sipped her tea.

“Like, whether your accident had
anything to do with this case.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The guy who brought you home
yesterday said the car looked like it was aiming for you.”

“He was imagining things. I was
distracted and stepped into the street, that’s all.”

J placed the teapot on a hot pad
on the coffee table. “Distracted by what?” He sat on the sofa next to her.

“Just stuff.”

“What stuff?” he pressed.

She studied her tea.

“You were thinking about me,
weren’t you? About what a bastard I was?”

She didn’t answer. What could she
say? She’d been hurt by his acerbic words and hadn’t been thinking straight.

“Damn it, Sandy.” He stood and
paced to the bookshelves and back. “So I’m responsible for you getting hurt.”

“Stop,” she said. “Come sit down.”

He hesitated.

“Please?”

He collapsed on the couch and she snuggled
against his chest.

“Sandra?”

“Yes?”

“I couldn’t stand it if anything
happened to you because of me.” She looked up at him but he avoided her eyes.

“Jason?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you please stop taking the
blame for everything bad that happens? It’s not all your responsibility.”

He actually chuckled. “You should
take some of your own advice, sweetheart.”

“I guess,” she agreed with a
smile.

A few seconds passed. She loved
listening to his heartbeat. The steady rhythm made her feel grounded and safe,
but for how long?

The sooner he solved this case,
the sooner she’d know if what they shared was real.

“I want to help with the investigation,”
she reminded him.

“Then you’ll keep your distance.”

That sounded ominous. She sighed.

He reached down and tipped her
chin to look up at him. “So I can focus on nailing the perp, is what I meant. I
have a hard time concentrating when you’re around.”

“Oh really?” she smiled.

“Ah, none of that. Not today.
We’ve got a barbeque to attend.”

She pouted.

“Besides, you’re sore.”

“Not that sore.” She winked.

“Stop flirting. We have to get
ready.”

She didn’t want to get ready. She
wanted to flirt and tease, and touch Jason all day long. She wanted to cherish
him so he’d know how truly special he’d become. Instead, he helped her to her
feet and pointed her at the bedroom to get ready.

Instinctively, she turned and her
body pressed against his. He leaned down for a kiss and her world exploded
again. Man, this guy could kiss.

“At this rate we’ll never get out
of here,” he said, his breath warm against her cheek.

“Mmm.”

“Go on, get dressed.”

Jason led Sandy to her bedroom and
shut the door behind her, staying safely in the hall. He knew if he stepped one
foot inside that room they’d be tangled in passion all afternoon, completely
blocking out the rest of the world. He wished they could do that, and not just
for one afternoon. More like six months, six years … a lifetime.

It shocked him how much he needed
to be with her. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so close to another human
being.

That’s because he’d let her in,
sharing his darkest secrets and paralyzing fears. He was completely honest and
open with Sandy. It was a new and different experience for Jason McBain, and he
wasn’t motivated by any professional angle or objective. It felt right to share
that part of himself with this woman. It even felt safe.

His cell phone rang and he fished
it out of his jacket pocket. ‘‘McBain.”

“It’s Hicks. The substance you
gave me? Definitely not steroids.”

He wanted to say he knew, but he
needed Hicks’ official report to satisfy Meek.

“Nothing illegal then?” J pressed.

“No, sir.”

“Thanks.”

Jason appreciated the call, but in
a way he wished he could pretend he wasn’t a federal agent, that he wasn’t in
Sandy’s living room because of this case. Instead he called Meek, wanting to
redirect his train of thought.