The Loner And The Lady

She had to smile at herself. How absurd. She was more upset at the possibility of having passed her fortieth birthday than at her missing memories. Did she know on some level that she wasn’t that old yet? Or was she feeling a purely human resentment at the passing of years?

She managed to squirm into her panties without making her head explode, and the bit of throbbing the movement excited eased off quickly. Pleased, she studied both legs.

Well, she thought, flexing one knee, she did have rather nice legs, whatever her age was. Her thighs were firm, and her calves…she ran a hand up from the ankle, and grimaced. Good muscle definition, but bristly. Maybe she could borrow Seth’s razor later.

Or maybe she could borrow it now.

She glanced guiltily at the roof. She really shouldn’t borrow his things without permission, but if she asked he’d probably insist on carrying her. She wasn’t sure if the injury to his leg was temporary or permanent, but she didn’t want his overly developed sense of chivalry making him hurt himself. Besides, she needed to be alone. It wasn’t just a razor she wanted to find in the bathroom.

She needed a mirror.

She swung her legs off the bed. If she took it slow, she reasoned, walking to the bathroom shouldn’t be too hard. Her head was much better today.

She scooted to the edge of the mattress and stood. The room moved.

It was a strange sensation. She clasped her hand to her head as if she could stop the slow gyrations of the room by clutching her head. Maybe it worked. After a moment, the world did steady itself and she started moving.

Her legs were mushy. Spaghetti al dente. She decided it would be wise to have something to hang on to, and swerved to take advantage of the furniture that lay between her and her goal. She paused to catch her breath, gripping the back of the couch where Seth had slept last night. Ridiculous to be all winded from such a tiny bit of exertion, but the room chose that moment to do its dance again. Black fluttered at the edges of her vision while the floor stood itself up on end and smacked itself against her outstretched hand, then knocked the breath from her lungs.

“Sophie!”

She didn’t think she passed out again, but there didn’t seem to be any time between hearing Seth cry out her name from the doorway and feeling him gather her up tenderly against him. Cursing her the whole time.

“…what the hell you thought you were doing? Of all the fool ideas—does that hurt?” He ran his hand up her legs. “You’re a complete idiot, you know that?” He gently eased her head back against his shoulder to study her face intently. “Your pupils look the same,” he muttered.

She wished he’d go back to touching her legs. The shivery sensation she’d had when his hands skimmed up her bare calves was fading. But this position had possibilities, too. His dark hair was tied back, emphasizing the elegance of the bones that underlay both sides of his face, the smooth and the damaged. His face was so near, with her head pillowed on his shoulder. He’d hardly have to move at all to…

To kiss her. Seth couldn’t believe he was thinking about kissing her when one minute ago she’d nearly killed herself, toppling over just as he came inside. Lord, but he’d probably lost five years off his life. She’d scared him that badly. But right now her body was warm and soft against him and her lips were so near, gently rosy and curved up in that smile of hers, as if she knew what he was thinking and liked it, liked the idea of his mouth on hers. Her eyes had the slumberous look of a woman who wanted a man.

The thought that she might actually want him jolted through his body, making him instantly hard and throbbing.

Her hand crept beneath his hair to the back of his heck, where her fingertips skimmed a hesitant circle.

His body responded to the uncertain caress with pure, ravenous hunger. “Good Lord,” he breathed, and jerked back.

She blinked, but if his sudden rejection stung it didn’t show. Unless the huskiness in her voice came from hurt feelings instead of arousal. “That was really weird,” she said. “The room went haywire on me all of a sudden.”

“Try ‘stupid’ instead of ‘weird.’” He shifted her so he could stand. “Didn’t you know I would help you if you needed to use the bathroom?” He interrupted his scolding to grunt as he stood, bringing her up with him.

“Oh, Seth, don’t. Your leg-”

Great. She’d noticed him limping. “It’s fine. Now, do you need to go to the bathroom?”

She ignored his question. “I’m fine, too. Or almost fine, anyway. I can walk. You might have to help me a bit, but I can walk.”

He obviously shouldn’t have given in to her pleas that morning to be allowed to make it into the bathroom on her own two feet. It had given her delusions of health. “You are one damn fool woman. Now which do you want—back to bed, or to the bathroom?”

She sighed. “Bed.”

Sitting with her on the bed was easier on his knee than bending to lay her down. He certainly didn’t do it because the trusting warmth of her body, or the arms she’d wrapped around his neck as he carried her, were already dear to him. Desire was understandable. Predictable, under the circumstances. “Dear” was—well, ridiculous.

“Why were you up?” he asked, scowling. She sat right up against his thigh, much too close. He’d have to move, in just a second. “If you didn’t need the bathroom, why were you heading that way?”

Her teeth gnawed on her lower lip. She looked away. “I wanted to borrow your razor.”

He stared. “You wanted to what?” He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe she’d risked herself over something so trivial. “How could you be so stupid? And if you absolutely had to shave your legs, why didn’t you wait until I came back in so I could help you?”

“Because I didn’t want you to help me! Because—” Now she turned her face to him. Her eyes glistened like rainsoaked grass. “Because I wanted to find a mirror. I don’t know what I look like, Seth, and I wanted—I wanted to be by myself when I found out. I don’t know why.”

Oh, Lord. He ran his hand through his hair.

She didn’t know what she looked like. What an idiot he was, not to have realized she’d need to see her face. “There’s no mirror in the bathroom.”

“But when you shave—”

“I don’t need a mirror to shave.” He didn’t need to look at her, either, when he talked to her. So he didn’t. “There’s a mirror in the pickup. I’ll take you out there. But I’ll let you be alone to look. I won’t intrude.”

“Seth,” she said, sounding as if she was about to cry. He felt like more of a fool than ever. He should have anticipated this. “Oh, Seth,” she said again, “do your scars bother you that much?”

His gaze jerked back to her.

Her lips trembled into a smile. “I’m sorry. I guess you don’t like to discuss it, but learning that you don’t have a mirror in your house, well…” She lifted her hand and touched him on the left side of his face.

He couldn’t move. He tried, he could have sworn he tried to move, but her fingers were kitten-soft. Then she moved. Drew closer. And brushed her lips across his cheek in a gentle kiss.

He carried her out to the pickup. As they crossed the porch, Rocky sighed a gusty canine sigh and heaved herself to her feet. She’d assigned herself two jobs when she moved in with Seth last month: chasing deer and rabbits away from his gardens, and accompanying him whenever he went outside. She obviously didn’t consider advanced pregnancy reason enough to shirk her duties.

Sophie gave him a hard time. She wanted to walk, but he pointed out how muddy the ground was, how she might slip, and how he was already carrying her and had no intention of putting her down, so she might as well quit being so bossy and relax.

“Me, bossy? You’ve got to be kidding. You’re the one who’s studying with the Terminator School of Nursing.”

She went on to explain to him exactly how bossy he was as he and the dog skirted the biggest puddle, and he nodded agreeably. Her fingers still clutched at his shirt too tightly, but the hint of panic fluttering around behind her eyes had eased off as soon as she started arguing.

He knew just how frightening it could be, having to face your image in a mirror for the first time. Of course, her situation wasn’t like his had been, but the fear might be similar.

He opened the pickup’s door and slid her onto the seat. “It’s dirty,” he said apologetically. “I use it to haul stuff.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Her tone was as absent as her straight-ahead gaze, and she still clutched his shirt.

“I’ll let you be alone now,” he said, and patted her hand to remind her that he couldn’t leave until she turned him loose.

“I’ve changed my mind,” she said suddenly.

He waited.

“I don’t want you to leave me alone.” She looked at him. “Stay with me?”

In answer he gently scooted her over and sat down behind the steering wheel.