Debra Webb - Safe by His Side

He almost groaned. He’d been in these woods longer than he’d realized.

She braced both hands against his chest while she struggled to kick her feet free of the soggy material.

“Thank you,” she murmured on a frail breath when she’d finally freed herself. She squeezed her eyes shut and swayed back against the wall.

Raine kicked the jeans to one side. “No sweat,” he lied.

He knew the hot water wouldn’t hold out much longer, so he stripped off his own shirt, pulled her against him and turned her back to the hot spray. She sucked in a sharp breath and clung to him helplessly. He bit the inside of his jaw to stifle the groan that rose in his throat at the feel of her firm breasts pressed into his chest.

Damn, this woman was going to kill him and she didn’t even have a weapon.

They stood in the steamy shower until the water began to cool and her shivers had subsided. Raine held her steady with one arm while he turned off the water. He guided her out and helped her dry. He focused intently on the job rather than the peach-colored skin flushed from the hot shower.

He used another towel to squeeze her long, thick hair dry. Neither spoke during the drying process. Raine refused to acknowledge how good her made-for-loving body looked. Curvy and firm, yet soft. Tall, but not too tall, with long, shapely legs. Chestnut-brown hair and dark chocolate eyes—eyes that would surely darken even more with passion.

When her hair was as dry as it was going to get without a blow-dryer, Raine wrapped a clean towel around her and tucked the corner beneath her arm. He quickly dried his chest and arms and tossed his towel to the floor, then swiped his wet feet.

She gazed up at him with those dark, shimmering eyes, a ghost of a smile touched her lips. “I feel much warmer now.”

Before he could respond, her knees buckled and Raine barely caught her before she hit the floor. He drew her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. After depositing her on the bed, he rummaged through the chest of drawers until he came up with a bulky sweatshirt. It would fit more like a dress on her, but it would have to do. Besides, he decided, beggars couldn’t be choosers. He looked at his unwelcome visitor as he retraced his steps to the bed. At the moment she didn’t look as if she cared about much one way or another.

“Hold up your arms,” he ordered. She obeyed and Raine immediately regretted his command. With her arms extended above her head, the towel fell away from her upper body, giving him another good look at her perfect breasts.

Raine shoved the sweatshirt sleeves onto her arms and then pushed the neck opening over her head with a bit more force than was necessary. She winced as the material slid down her face.

“Dammit,” he muttered. He’d hurt her, and all because he couldn’t prevent his body’s reaction to hers. Raine stepped to the side of the bed and drew back the covers. When he had readjusted the irritating bulge in his wet pants, he walked back to the foot of the bed and lifted the woman into his arms. She pressed her cheek to his chest and closed her eyes. He frowned when his heart skipped a beat or two at the feel of her soft cheek against his skin. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t usually get so worked up over a blasted female.

Raine placed her in the middle of the bed and covered her with every blanket and quilt he could find. He stalked into the great room, fingered the thermostat to a higher setting, then placed several logs on the fire. He stoked the blaze until he was satisfied that it wouldn’t go out for a while. Then he trudged back to the bedroom and adjusted the blinds to let in the warm glow from the sun that had finally broken through the thick clouds hanging in the sky. The rain had stopped.

The newscast had said that the temperature would reach a pleasant forty degrees today, if the clouds cleared. Raine blew out a disgusted breath and turned back to the bed.

There was no telling how far his mystery guest had walked before she had stumbled upon his place. Raine had picked this particular cabin because of its seclusion. With the high volume of tourists floating in and out of Gatlinburg, his was just another face in the crowd on the rare occasions that he went into town. The last thing he had expected way out here was company.

As soon as he was sure the woman was out for the count, he’d put on dry clothes and take a ride to check out her vehicle. There would likely be some form of identification in her car. He wanted to verify her accident story as well, for his own peace of mind. She certainly seemed harmless enough, but Raine hadn’t survived this long by letting his guard down—even for a beautiful woman in distress.

If she had merely had an accident and showed up at his door for help, she had nothing to worry about. He’d keep an eye on her and rouse her every couple of hours just to be safe. When she awoke, he would drive her into town and drop her off at the emergency room. He had enough medical training to know she would probably be fine, but medical attention wouldn’t hurt.

If anything at all appeared suspicious about her ID or the means by which she had arrived at his door, she wouldn’t need medical attention—she’d need an undertaker.

HER EYES OPENED and she blinked to focus. She stared at the white ceiling for a long time before it occurred to her to try to move. Her head ached and felt oddly heavy. She licked her lips. Her mouth was as dry as sandpaper and she could hardly swallow.

On her left, sunlight poured into the room from a large window, spreading its golden glow across deep green carpet. The bright light hurt her eyes, but at the same time felt good against her face. She was tired and it was quiet. Maybe she should just go back to sleep, she thought, her eyes closing of their own accord.

“How’s your head?”

She snapped her eyes open and jerked her attention to the right, toward the deep male voice. Every aching muscle in her body tensed, and her head screamed in protest of the sudden move.

He sat in a chair a few feet away, watching her. She blinked and then frowned. Did she know this man? He looked vaguely familiar. She inspected his features more closely. Blond hair, light blue eyes. His face was lean and angular, exceptionally handsome. He seemed tall, but it was hard to tell with him sitting down. Still, she couldn’t put a name with his face. What had he asked her? Her head…yes…how was her head?

“It…” She cleared her rusty voice and tried again. “It hurts.”

“My guess is that you have a concussion. You probably need to see a doctor. I’ll take you into town to the hospital.”

He didn’t sound as if he relished the idea. She wondered if this man had some reason to dislike her. She pushed up into a sitting position and the room spun wildly for a sickening moment. Her stomach roiled. She groaned and rested her head in her hands.

“Where am I?” she asked in a thready whisper.

“Don’t you know?”

She thought about that for a while, but no matter how hard she tried to form an answer she couldn’t. She had no idea where she was. She shook her head and immediately regretted it.

“Your license says Virginia. Is that where you’re from?”

Virginia? Was she from Virginia? She should know where she was from. If her license said so, then she must be. “Yes,” she finally told him for lack of a better answer.

He didn’t speak again for a while, but his intense gaze never left her. His close scrutiny made her uneasy. “Who are you?” she ventured hesitantly.

“What’s your name?” he asked, ignoring her question.

“What?” That was a ridiculous question. He’d seen her license, he should know her name without asking. She scanned the room once more. Besides, why would she be in a strange man’s bedroom? He must know who she was. He had to be playing a joke of some sort. Well, she didn’t want to play. Her head ached.