Promises (7 page)

The gentleness of her hands soothed as she re-wrapped his leg, but the feel of her unsteady breath brushing across his skin intoxicated him.
 
His mind strayed back down its previous path, creating all sorts of tantalizing images.
 
He’d never been so turned on by a woman before.
 

What was it about Barbara that made him want her so badly?
 
She was beautiful, sure.
 
She had a fantastic figure too, but something about her tugged at him.
 
Tugged at his heart.
 
Just like before.

He stifled a growl.
 
That memory he refused to pay heed to resurfaced.
 
Sylvia.
 
The only woman he ever let get to him.
 
The woman who’d betrayed him.
  

“There.
 
Now, stop trying to get out of bed,” Barbara said, pulling him from his agonizing thoughts.
 

He buried the unwanted memory and concentrated on her voice.
 
Slowly lifting his lids, he gazed up into a pair of bright blue eyes.
 
Very pretty, but nothing compared to the natural wonder of their true color.
 

She was close enough to pull down for a kiss, but her crinkled brow and slight frown reminded him of his duty, of his promise.
 
He was her protector, her self-appointed bodyguard, dog not included, and she had information he needed.
 
Why else would Steele’s men be looking for her?
 
And sooner or later he would have to break the news to her about Jase.
 
But right now, he just wanted to look at her.
 

No, that was a lie.
 
He wanted to do a whole lot more.
 
As he absorbed every nuance of her face, his gaze lingered on her lips admiring their size, their color, the way she nervously chewed at the edges.
 
He never wanted to kiss a woman as badly as he did at that moment.

Reaching up, he brushed his fingertips down the side of her cheek and across her mouth.
 
The catch in her breath brought his gaze back to hers.
 
He could see the awareness, the arousal, dark and wanting, and she fought it with everything she had.
 
Slowly, he slipped his fingers behind her head and pulled her closer.
 
Just one taste.
 
What could it hurt?

She broke away at the sound of a low growl coming from the edge of the bed.
 

Tripped-up by the dog.
 
Or was that saved by the dog?
 
Either way, he was in deep trouble.
 
Barbara McBride was a very desirable woman.
 
One he didn’t think he’d be able to keep at arms’ length.
 
That was bad.
 
Real bad.
 
He knew from experience he couldn’t protect her if he didn’t keep things completely professional between them.
 

Without saying a word, she straightened the covers and put the first-aid supplies back into the case.
 

So that’s the way things were going to be.
 
Ignore what almost happened.
 
Ignore the sparks flying between them, and there were definitely sparks.
 

Okay, he could do that.
 
He needed to do that.
 
Sure, no problem.
 

Well, maybe.
 
He’d at least try to ignore the incredible need to kiss her, and hold her, and
—
hell, everything.
 
He knew one taste of her wouldn’t be enough.
 

Adjusting the covers so he could examine her handiwork and better hide his aroused state, he looked down at his leg.
 
“You do nice work.
 
Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, but I don’t plan on doing it again any time soon.
 
So, stay put.
 
Understand?”
 
The snippy tone of her voice only served to prove how the current flowing between them affected her.
 

He couldn’t stop the satisfied grin stealing across his face.
 
“Yes, ma’am.”

“Would you knock off the ma’am bit?”

“Whatever you say
—
darlin’.”

With a growl, she snatched up the first-aid kit, slammed it onto the nightstand, and stomped off once again.
 
This time Rocky followed her.
 
A few seconds later, he heard what he assumed to be the front door slamming shut.
 

He chuckled lowly.
 
He did so love ruffling Bobbi’s feathers.
 
She was still all sass and spunk, and turned such a nice shade of pink when he teased her.
 
But she was definitely not a kid any longer.
 

He imagined how beautiful her unusual eyes would be without the contacts, and how they’d darken when they made love.

“When?
 
Oh, boy.”
 
He raked a hand down his face.
 
Yep, he was getting in deep, all right, and she was his best friend’s sister, for crying out loud.
 
He had to think like a brother, not a lover.
 

He wondered if Jase ever suspected how he felt about Bobbi.
 
Had his friend really gone out of his way to keep them apart?
 

Whenever they were supposed to meet, an innocent dinner on one of her many visits to D.C., something invariably interfered.
 

Travis nodded slightly at the thought.
 
His buddy knew he was attracted to her, that he was more than casually interested.
 
If he ever thought Jase felt the same way about one of his sisters, he would have done the same thing.
 
Jase knew he was all wrong for her.
 
Yet that not-so-small reminder didn’t cool the blazing heat steadily running through his body from her touch.
 

Throwing off the blanket, he left only the sheets to cover him and settled back against the pillows.
 
He had to keep his mind on his job.
 
Her life
—
their lives depended on it.

A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance.
 
Looking to the window, he watched the rain pelt against the glass.
 
What was she doing outside in this stuff?

The image of her soaking wet, her sweater clinging to her soft supple skin, renewed the smoldering heat low in his gut.
 
How could he maintain control if the mere thought of her made him hotter than scotch bonnet peppers?

“You can’t,” he snarled.
 

But he had to.
 
No matter how good she looked, he couldn’t have her in any way, shape, or form.
 
She was not only his best friend’s sister, she wasn’t the type of girl who took sex lightly.
 
Bobbi had forever written all over her, and that was something he couldn’t give her.

He absently rubbed his shoulder, his finger following the ridge of an old ragged scar.
 
Forever wasn’t for him.
 
His life was fine the way it was.
 
No complications, freedom to come and go as he pleased, a little shapely female companionship when and where he wanted it.
 
Why would he want to tie himself down?
 

What he needed to do was get Bobbi into someone else’s hands.
 
Hands he could trust, because as much as he hated to admit it, he wasn’t sure he could control this insane need to touch her and more.

Exhausted from dealing with Travis and her whacked-out libido, the constant worry over her brother, and the hours she’d spent carving in her shop, Bobbi slipped between the covers of the unfamiliar bed.
 

She’d managed to avoid her unwelcome guest for most of the afternoon.
 
While serving him dinner, she responded with no more than a curt reply to his thanks and left him to his own resources.
 
It was her only means of defense, considering how easily he managed to get under her skin.
 
That almost-kiss was one very big warning.

Sleep took her quickly and dangerously down a sensual path with Travis in the leading role, but it quickly twisted and turned into a nightmare filled with horrible visions of death.
 

Her eyes popped open at a loud crack of thunder.
 
The world sounded as if it were ending.
 
Reaching for the bedside lamp, she twisted the switch, but nothing happened.
 

“Please, be a burnt out bulb,” she whispered.
 

Her heart jumped to her throat as a flash of lightening lit the room followed by more thunder.
 
With a steadying breath, she eased out of bed.
 
A smooth coat of fur brushed against her calf as she stood.

“Hello, Rocky.
 
I’m okay.
 
I’ve just got the heebies.”
 
The floor felt more cold than usual beneath her bare feet, and she rubbed her arms vigorously against the chill in the air.
 
“The power must be out, boy.
 
The heat hasn’t kicked in.”
 

She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and carefully made her way downstairs.
 
The emergency generator hadn’t been used in a long time, but Uncle Joe assured her it worked.
 
She only hoped she could get the darn thing started.
 
She wouldn’t bother if she weren’t so cold.

As she rounded the corner, she paused a moment in the doorway of her bedroom to see if Travis was all right.
 
The lightening cast his still form in an ethereal glow.
 

Just like a man to sleep through all this noise, she thought as another rumble of thunder peeled over-head.
 
With a shudder, she gripped the blanket tightly around her.
 
The wind howled through the trees like the fabled banshee her grandfather told her of when she was little, sending an icy finger of fear up her spine, spurring her to hurry down the hall.
 

Stepping into the kitchen, she instantly noticed the absence of the soft green glow of the clock from the microwave.
 
The power was obviously out, but still she flicked the switch on the wall.
 

Nothing.
 

She crossed the room to the counter and fumbled in a drawer for a flashlight.
 
With a push of the button, a bright golden beam cut through the eeriness, lighting her way to the back door.
 
Aiming the light through one of the small panes of glass, she spied the generator under the green tarp on the porch being pelted by horizontal rain.
 
Going outside did not look like a very good idea at that moment.

“I guess I’ll have to wait and start it up in the morning if the power doesn’t come back on.
 
Maybe by then the storm will be gone, huh Rock?”

She received a loud sniff at her feet in reply.
 

“Sorry, boy.
 
Now’s not a good time for you to go out either.
 
You’ll have to hold it.”
 
She scratched him behind the ear before making her way back down the hall to the living room.
 

A fire would have to provide them with heat until the storm let up, and it would give her something to do with her jittery hands.
 
Twice she’d almost dropped the flashlight when the thunder boomed.

Minutes later, a roaring fire warmed the room.
 
Folding her legs beneath her on the couch across from the hearth, she let the flickering flames soothe her jumbled nerves.
 
She concentrated on the crack and sizzle of the burning logs, mentally shutting out the storm, but her ears picked up the sound of rustling sheets and low moaning.
 

She glanced at Rocky, who’d taken his place in front of the fire, and told him to stay.
 
He barely lifted his sleepy head as she made her way across the room.

A flash of lightening broke through the darkness as she peered into the bedroom.
 
Travis had kicked off the covers.
 
The image of him lying naked in bed remained in her mind as clear as a photograph.
 
Struggling to push the picture aside, she moved toward him.
 
She placed her hand on his forehead and found it damp with sweat but no fever.
 

Easing onto the bed, she spoke softly while she dabbed his brow with a cloth.
 
He stilled somewhat, but not fully, continuing to toss his head from side to side.

With a startled cry, he bolted upright.
 
His eyes wide, he grabbed her arms.
 
“Sylvia!”
 
His fingers dug brutally into her skin.

“No, it’s Jill!”
 
She could tell by the empty look in his eyes he wasn’t fully awake.
 
“Remember?
 
Jill Proffit.”

His grip eased, yet his face contorted in confusion.
 
“Jill?”

“Yes.
 
It’s all right.
 
You were having a nightmare.”
 
She guided him down to the pillow.
 
“Go back to sleep.”

He slid his hands down her arms and stared blankly at her.
 

“Go back to sleep,” she repeated softly, stroking his forehead then gently ran her fingers over his eyes, urging him to close them.
 

A deep breath slipped from his lungs as he enveloped one of her hands in his and pulled it to his chest.
 
The rapid tattoo of his heart slowed, and she tried to move away as his body relaxed, but he refused to release her hand.
 
She understood how he felt.
 
She had her own demons in sleep, and there had been many a night she would have given her soul to have a hand to hold.