A Love Beyond Words

Not once in recent years had she given in to her own desires. She had become cautious and practical and self-protective. Heaven help her, without even realizing it, she had turned into her parents.

And two nights ago she had almost died. Maybe it was time she got back to living every single minute of every day.

“If you’re absolutely sure that it won’t be an inconvenience,” she said finally, trying to ignore the wave of heat that continued to build simply from that light touch against her cheek. “And it’s just for a few days.”

His gaze locked with hers. “A few days,” he echoed softly. He bent his head, his mouth hovering a scant inch above hers.

She yearned for him to close the distance, prayed for it, but he jerked away instead, his expression suddenly troubled.

“Sorry,” he said roughly. “I’ll go find the doctor.”

And then he was gone.

Sorry, Allie thought, sinking gingerly to the side of the bed. He was sorry he’d almost kissed her. She was trembling inside, filled with anticipation, and he was sorry?

If she could have backed out of this deal of theirs right now, she would have, but he would have no trouble at all guessing why. It would be too humiliating.

She could keep this crazy lust under control for a few days, especially if he was gone most of the time as he’d promised. It was probably no more than some out-of-whack hormonal reaction to coming so close to dying. It probably had nothing to do with Enrique Wilder at all.

He walked back into her room just then, and her pulse ricocheted at the sight of him. Okay, she thought despondently, it had everything to do with him.

But she could control it. She had to.

“All taken care of,” he announced. “Let’s get you out of here and go home.”

Just the mention of the word did her in. Two days of pent-up emotions crowded into her heart. Allie thought of her own home, unrecognizable now, and had to fight the sting of tears. Ricky regarded her with alarm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “What did I say?”

Before she could respond, he gave a low moan and knelt in front of her, taking her hand in his. “Home? That’s it, isn’t it? I’m sorry. You’ll rebuild, Allie.”

“Of course,” she said with sheer bravado. “It just caught me by surprise for a second, realizing that I don’t actually have a home anymore.”

“Well, for now you have a home with me,” he reassured her.

The promise gave her comfort. It might be only a stop-gap solution, but it was enough for now. For the first time since the whole ordeal began, she didn’t feel quite so terrified and alone.

Chapter Four

Ricky wasn’t sure exactly what had possessed him to insist on taking Allie home with him. He’d never in his life lived with a woman, had always assumed he wouldn’t until he got married. He’d never been serious enough about any female to allow her into his world. A few had slept in his bed, but all had left the next morning, most never to return.

He protected his freedom with blunt words and clean breakups, when necessary. No woman had helped him decorate, not even his mother or sisters. From the color of the paint to the spread on the bed, he had chosen it all. It was a haphazard decor, because he’d made impulsive choices depending on what struck his fancy or what he’d been able to find when he’d had a few minutes to shop.

The house itself was small compared to the homes in the area where Allie had lived—two bedrooms, a living room and dining area, one bath and a kitchen that could best be described as cozy. He could stand in the middle and reach the stove, the refrigerator or the table without taking a step. He considered the setup efficient, when he thought about it at all.

The house might not be fancy, but it suited him, because the backyard was filled with trees—grapefruit, avocado, mango and orange. There was nothing better than walking outside first thing in the morning and plucking fresh fruit for his breakfast. Once he’d seen those trees, nothing else had mattered.

The fenced-in yard was also perfect for Shadow. On the first day Ricky brought him home, the shepherd had chosen a favorite spot in the shade, which he guarded as zealously as Ricky did his privacy. Eventually Shadow had allowed Ricky to put a lawn chair in the vicinity to share it. They spent a lot of relaxing hours out there, Shadow dreaming his doggie dreams about chasing squirrels, and Ricky sipping a beer and thinking about as little as possible.

How was Allie going to fit into their bachelor life? Surely in just a few days—which was all he’d bargained for—she wouldn’t get any ideas about putting artificial flower arrangements all over the place or sweet-smelling soaps in the bathroom.

Suddenly an image of lacy underwear and panty hose hanging over his shower rod popped into his head. But rather than making him shudder, he found himself eagerly anticipating the intrusion. Did she wear skimpy little scraps of sexy lingerie or practical cotton panties? The speculation heated his blood by several degrees.

“Geez,” he muttered under his breath. “Get a grip.” He glanced over guiltily, relieved to see that her gaze was directed out the car window. Obviously he was losing it.

No, the truth was, he had lost it earlier, back at the hospital. When Allie had faced him in that faded hospital gown, looking battered and bruised and vulnerable, he hadn’t been able to stop the invitation from crossing his lips. Even if he’d managed to keep silent initially, the impulse would eventually have overwhelmed him. He knew he could never in a million years have made himself walk out of that room without insisting on taking her along. The more she’d resisted, the more determined he had become. The woman got to him, no doubt about it.

Still, this wasn’t a permanent living arrangement. It was only a temporary solution to an emergency, he reassured himself. It was nothing personal, though that didn’t seem to stop his body from reacting predictably every time Allie so much as glanced his way. If he’d spotted her in one of the clubs on South Beach, he doubted he would have given her a second glance. She was too all-American, too petite for his taste. So why did he want her so badly? Because he’d mentally declared her off-limits the second he’d invited her into his home?

He felt a light tap on his shoulder, and his body jolted. He made himself turn, his gaze clashing briefly with troubled blue eyes.

“Are you really sure you want to do this?” she asked.

“I said I did, didn’t I?” he said, grateful that she couldn’t hear the tenseness in his voice.

“But you managed to get me sprung from the hospital. I’m sure I could manage on my own, if you wanted to drop me off.”

“Where?” he asked testily, then cursed himself when he saw the quick rise of hurt in her eyes. There was the problem. She might not be able to detect the nuances of his voice, but she could obviously read his expression. And her every emotion was in her eyes, right there for even an insensitive jerk like him to see.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I shouldn’t be reminding you that you don’t have a home of your own.”

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. You’re being kind enough to do me a favor and I must seem incredibly ungrateful.”

He reached for her hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze until they reached a red light and he could turn his head to face her so she could easily read his lips. “Allie, we’re going to make this work, okay? Having you at my place is not going to be a problem,” he lied, because to even hint otherwise would send her running and they both knew that, for now, she had no where else to go.

And, if he were being totally honest with himself, even if she had, he would have wanted her with him. The troubling question was why? Duty and obligation didn’t seem to cover it. And any other possibility was unacceptable.

Allie desperately wanted to believe that Ricky meant what he said, because he was right—for the moment she had nowhere else to turn. She vowed, though, to cause as little disruption to his life as possible.

She had to admit to being curious about how a man like Enrique Wilder lived. He was all male, and she imagined that, despite his disclaimers earlier, he had his share of women. Would they have left their imprint on his home? Would his sisters have descended on the place to see that their baby brother had all the material comforts a man required?

She fought a smile as she realized that unless he had made a rushed phone call from the hospital, there had been no time for him to invite in a swarm of people to tidy up and ready the house for her arrival. His invitation had been too impulsive. She would be seeing exactly how Ricky lived, for better or for worse. The thought of tossed-aside shirts and damp towels on the bathroom floor, an atmosphere more male than any she had ever experienced, gave her an inexplicable little quiver of anticipation.

As Ricky turned onto a street in an older section of Coral Gables, Allie eagerly studied the neighborhood for clues about his personality. Small, modest homes sat cheek by jowl with brand-new mansions. She knew the area had strict rules for everything from setbacks to the color of paint that could be used, which somehow made the mix of old and new work.

She was relieved when Ricky pulled into the driveway of a stucco house with a tile roof and a lush front lawn, covered with a thick, green carpet of grass. Towering palms and dense shrubbery lined the walkway from the garage to the house. Bright-purple bougainvillea climbed up the sunlit walls of the garage. Other than a few stray branches and a littering of leaves, it didn’t even look as if it had been touched by the hurricane. The landscaping seemed to have been in place for years, unlike her pitiful attempts to turn her yard into something more verdant than the small plots of green sod and one pin oak sapling the developer had considered sufficient for each property.

“It’s lovely,” she told Ricky, captivated by the effect.

When he would have led her inside, she stalled, peppering him with questions about the names of the various plants. To his credit, he not only knew, but responded with patience and increasing amusement.

“Allie, don’t you think we could do this another time, perhaps when you’re not in pain?” he finally asked. “I’ll write it all down for you.”

For a few minutes in her excitement she had actually forgotten about the pain and about the awkwardness of the circumstances. Now it all came flooding back.

“Sorry,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “It’s just that I love to garden and everything down here is so new to me. I’m still trying to figure out what works in this climate. Did you do this yourself?”

She had to make herself look at his mouth, so she could understand his response. Gazing at those sensual lips was not exactly a hardship, but she was beginning to realize that it was dangerous. The more she focused on his mouth, the more she wondered what it would feel like against her own.