Kelly Jamieson - How to Save A Life

She saw him looking around, taking it in. She bit her lip as she noticed the clothes strewn over the chair in the corner, the shoes kicked off and laying on the carpet, the pile of books on the floor beside the bed. She wished she were a neater person.

"I know you weren't drinking at the bar...does that mean you don't drink at all? Or do you have a bottle of wine or whiskey or something here somewhere?"

"Um..." Her mind was a bit foggy. "I have tequila." She frowned. The last time she'd drank tequila was when this whole mess had started. If she and Krista hadn't argued that night...

"I'll get you some. Where is it?"

"No. I don't want tequila. There's a bottle of wine in the fridge."

"Okay. You get into bed. I'll be back in a minute."

She went into the bathroom, gazed longingly at her big Jacuzzi tub. Probably not a good idea with Trey here, but after he left, she'd have a long, hot soak. That would relax her.

She peeled off the denim jacket she wore, then the long silk and lace camisole under it. She washed her face mindlessly, scrubbing away the mascara smeared under her eyes, making her nose even pinker. Then she wriggled out of her snug jeans and walked back into her bedroom in her bra and panties, just as Trey entered with a glass of wine.

His eyes moved over her, then went dark and hot. Her mouth went dry. Her nipples tingled. Jeez. How could she be having an attack of lust at a time like this, after what had just happened to her?

"Get into bed," he ordered roughly. He followed her, arranged pillows behind her so she was propped up, then handed her the glass of wine. He sat down at the end of her bed, far, far away from her. "Drink that," he said. "Then try to get some sleep."

"Yes, sir," she snipped. Then she softened. "Um...thank you Trey. I didn't say it earlier, but thank you for coming along when you did and rescuing me. I'm really, really grateful." God, what would have happened if he hadn't come? He'd probably saved her life. Her chest constricted painfully.

He nodded shortly.

"Are you going to San Francisco tomorrow?"

He frowned. "Hell, no."

"Why not?"

He passed a hand over his face. His dark shadow of a beard was prominent, this late in the day...or rather, this early in the morning. It was after two o'clock. He, too, looked weary. "I'm going to talk to the cops tomorrow," he said. "I don't know if they've made the connection between your breakin and the attack tonight and the fact that Sheldon Barnes knows you."

His words reminded her of what deep shit she was in, and she gulped the wine.

"They need to know he may have changed his appearance," he told her. "And that he may be still here in the LA area."

She nodded. Then she carefully set the wine glass down on her bedside table. "I'll see you out," she said quietly. "So I can lock up behind you. And I'll need to disarm the alarm so you can get out."

He just looked at her. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll sleep on your couch. I'm not leaving you here alone."

"That's why I got the alarm," she protested. "You don't have to stay."

"I'm staying."

They stared at each other for a long moment.

"Fine," she huffed out, flopping back on the pillows. "But you'll have to sleep on the couch. My spare bedroom is an office."

"I can sleep on the couch. Just tell me where I can find a pillow and a blanket."

She started to get out of bed, but he pushed her back down without much apparent effort on his part. "I'll find it," he said mildly. "Just tell me where."

"But--"

"You are one stubborn, independent woman," he marveled. "Is it that you don't like me telling you what to do? Or are you just ornery?"

She glared at him. "Both," she snapped.

He grinned. She couldn't help but smile back and suddenly she was reliving how exciting and fun flirting with him had been. Awareness that they were alone in her bedroom and she was dressed only in her skimpy underwear hit her low in the belly.

Warmth slid over her, starting in her cheeks, down over her throat and chest, and she slowly pulled the duvet up under her chin, pressing back into the pillow.

"Don't worry, Marli." He touched her cheek, then stroked a strand of hair back off her face. "You know I'd love nothing more than to get in that bed with you, but this is not the time. I know that."

She nodded, eyes still fastened on his. "I know," she whispered. "But if it wasn't a bad time, I'd love it, too."

His eyes darkened. "God, you shouldn't say things like that."

"Oh, Jesus, I know." She closed her eyes. "I can't help it. I just say things. And it comes across all wrong."

"And what was the right way for that comment to come across?"

When she opened her eyes, she saw his face still tight with control, but one brow was raised and humor glimmered in his dark eyes. She smiled slowly back at him.

His fingers continued to stroke her hair back from her face and it was so sexy, yet soothing, warm sensation sliding over her. Her eyes drooped with fatigue. "There are blankets and a pillow in the closet in my office. The room next door." She yawned. "I'm sorry...I feel I should get it for you."

He touched her mouth, smiling at her yawn. "I can find it. Go to sleep. You must be wiped."

He turned out the lamp beside her bed and left the room quietly. She could hear him in the room next door, getting things out of the closet. When he walked by her door, she called out.

"Trey?"

He stopped in the doorway, his big body a dark, solid silhouette. Reassuring.

"Could you leave my door open a little wider? And leave the hall light on?"

He nodded and pushed the door open. She heard his heavy steps going down to the living room and then she closed her eyes and drifted into sleep.

She might have been asleep for two hours or two minutes when a loud wailing noise pierced her consciousness. For a moment, she tried to figure out what it was. Then her heart jumped into her throat and she bolted up in bed.

Her new alarm was going off.

What the... She pushed her hair back from her face and held her head. Then she remembered.

"Trey!" She scrambled out from under the covers, terror gripping her in a frigid clasp. He was down there. She dashed out of the room, oblivious to the fact she was half-naked. In her haste, her bare foot snagged on the carpet and she tripped. She grabbed the railing, caught herself, hair falling in her face, then stumbled down the rest of the stairs.

The front door was still secure. Blankets were in a heap on the floor and Trey was nowhere to be seen. Her glance ricocheted around the room, then she lurched into her kitchen. The back door stood open, the cool night air blowing in and raising goose bumps on her bare skin. She ran to the door and grabbed it, using it to hold herself up, her legs shaky, knees weak.

"God, no," she whimpered looking out into the darkness. Frantically she searched her small dark yard for Trey, but saw nothing. "Oh. Oh, no."

She grabbed the cordless phone off the charger on the counter and, with fingers shaking almost uncontrollably, she punched in 911, running back out onto her deck to scan the yard. She was gasping out answers to the operator's calm questions when Trey appeared on the steps of the deck.

"Son of a bitch." He bent at the waist, panting. "He got away." He lifted his head and looked at her. "Get back in the house, for God's sake. You have no clothes on."

She looked down at herself, then back at him. "Who cares? Jesus, you're bossy."

"Marli, someone just tried to break into your house. Again. Listen to me."

She backed up, and he came toward her, slamming the door shut behind him. It bounced open again. The lock had been damaged so it wouldn't close. "Shit," he muttered.