Debbi Rawlins - Secret Defender

He quickly unlocked the cuffs and picked up her right hand, turning it over to expose the ugly rash spreading across her skin. “These cuffs weren’t that tight.”

His eyes met hers and she was amazed to see concern softening his expression. He looked back down at her wrist, then picked up her other hand and inspected the reddening skin there.

“I’m allergic to some kinds of metal,” she said, alarmed at how close he was, how gently he soothed the surrounding skin with the pad of his thumb.

He lifted his gaze to hers, a mixture of suspicion and confusion darkening his eyes. “You should have told me.”

She shrugged, but hope bubbled inside her. He really didn’t intend to hurt her. He wouldn’t be concerned otherwise.

Abruptly, he dropped her hands and jerked his head toward the bathroom. “Go ahead. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

“You won’t—” She cut herself off. It was silly to ask him not to peek.

After giving her a long, hard look, he turned away.

Sydney hurried back inside the bathroom and almost closed the door out of habit. She stopped herself, convinced he’d have no qualms about doing exactly what he said he would. Unable to resist a final glance, she saw him busy unloading the grocery sack, facing away from her.

She’d started to unbutton her blouse when she realized that she needed a bath. Mud was caked and drying in some uncomfortable places. But with the door open? Not in this lifetime.

“Luke?” Saying his name felt odd. Too intimate.

“Yeah?”

“I need to take a bath.”

“Good idea.”

Anger coiled in her belly. She hated having to practically ask his permission to do something so personal, and then get an editorial. “I can’t do it with the door open.”

His sigh was loud, impatient. “Too bad.”

She could get around a bath by washing at the sink. Certainly not her preference but under the circumstances…

“And don’t think about skipping the bath. I don’t want you messing up the sheets the first night here.”

Tempted to give him an obscene hand sign she’d never given anyone in her life, she gritted her teeth. He didn’t have to know what she was doing in here. She’d use the tub, all right, by sitting on the edge…with her clothes on. She kicked aside the bath rug and leaned over to turn on the faucet. It wouldn’t budge. She sat, hoping for better leverage. Still no luck.

“It’s a little tricky.” Luke’s voice directly behind her made her jump. “Let me get it.”

She started to move out of the way, but he reached over her. His shoulder brushed her breast and she stiffened. Oblivious to the contact, he worked at trying to get the spigot to turn. Muscles corded and bunched on his arm. She could smell his heat, feel the powerful energy he radiated; to her absolute shame, she had an undeniable feminine reaction.

“Sweetheart, you’re going to have to move.”

She abruptly raised her gaze to his. An odd little gleam lurked there. Amusement, perhaps? She took a deep, steadying breath and nearly shoved him aside. “I was trying to do that before you crowded me.” Shoving, however, would require touching. She straightened her spine. “Excuse me, please.”

One side of his mouth lifted as he stepped back and motioned her around him. “That’s far enough,” he said, when she backed out of the door. “I’d hate to have to cuff you to the towel rack.”

That made her plant her feet, and she absently rubbed her reddened wrists. She didn’t want those cuffs on again. She’d cooperate all right, unless the perfect opportunity to escape presented itself. God, she hoped she wasn’t wrong, but she truly believed he wouldn’t harm her. This guy didn’t seem to be any ordinary thug. Her intuition told her otherwise.

He finally got the faucet turned, and water trickled slowly into the tub. It was clear, as though someone had run it recently. Luke turned the spigot some more, and the water pressure increased.

“It’s going to take about a minute to warm up.” He straightened and moved back. She ducked out of his way. He looked over at her, his gaze roaming her body. “It should be ready by the time you undress.”

It wasn’t an insolent look, or even a suggestive one, but it gave her goose bumps. “Thank you.”

“When you’re done, I’ll take my shower while the water’s still hot,” he said, and she must have shown some kind of reaction because the amusement was back in his eyes.

She stepped around him to go back into the bathroom and then turned to look pointedly at him.

“You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before,” he said with a mocking smile and headed toward the kitchen area.

Sydney resisted temptation and kept her mouth shut. She scooted as far away from the door as possible and unbuttoned her blouse. Across her chest there were several small red blotches. Nerves did that to her sometimes. Sitting in cool water would help, but having to take off all her clothes with an open door would probably produce another crop of hives.

Quickly, she shrugged out of her blouse and slid off her skirt, casting several glances out the door. Luke was nowhere in sight. Even so, she left her bra and panties on. There wasn’t much to the scraps of peach-colored silk and lace; wet, they’d be totally transparent. Still, it made her feel less vulnerable to keep them on.

She adjusted the spigot to keep the water from getting too warm, and when it tested perfect, she splashed water on her face and chest, letting the tepid water soothe her fevered skin.

“Are you decent?”

Luke’s voice was entirely too close and she looked around for something to cover herself. “No!” Her blouse was just out of reach. She crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you want?”

“I forgot to give you a towel.”

“Leave it outside the door.”

“I’ll toss it on the sink.”

“No, just—”

His arm appeared, and panicked, she slid down into the claw foot tub. But he merely laid the navy blue towel on the corner of the sink and then withdrew. She couldn’t see the rest of him, but knowing he was that close was unnerving.

“Did I leave you soap?”

God, couldn’t he just go! She straightened a little to check the sink and found nothing. The soap dish for the tub had…

She screamed.

“Sydney?” Luke came through the door like a rocket. “Sydney?”

“Get out!”

He stood over her, his gaze sweeping her body. “What the hell is wrong?”

“Nothing.” Her crossed arms seemed useless under his piercing blue eyes. “It’s a spider, but it’s dead. Go.”

“What’s that?” He stared at the blotches on her chest.

“Nothing. Please leave.”

His eyes met hers, and she was surprised to see uncertainty etched in his face. “You need something for it?”

She blinked. This might be the opportunity she needed. “Yes…medicine. I’ll get horribly sick without it.”

His brows furrowed slightly, and then his expression relaxed. “Sorry, sweetheart, you’re a lousy liar.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll give you ten minutes. And then I come in after you.”

His gaze lowered to her crossed arms again before he turned and walked out.

LUKE CUT INTO the tomato and nearly took the tip of his thumb off. He cursed loudly and threw aside the knife. Meat and cheese were all anyone needed in a damn sandwich, anyway. If it was good enough for him, it was good enough for Sydney Wainwright.

She wasn’t what he’d expected. She didn’t look or sound or smell rich. Maybe because she’d always been rolling in dough. Not like the Hollywood nouveau riche he was used to. The kind that had to let everyone know they had more than you. She hadn’t even complained about being allergic to the cuffs. That had shocked the hell out of him.