Aimee Carson - That Wild Night

No, on second thought, she could definitely live with herself.

Raising a hand to her temple, she offered a weak shrug. “I think maybe I’m a little more worn-out than I realized. A little light-headed is all.”

The muscles of Jeff’s throat worked up and down… and then before she realized what was happening, the man had her scooped into his arms.

“Jeff!” she squeaked, gripping his shirt as he shouldered his way in through the terrace door.

“I’ll get you into bed and call Grant to come over.”

“Jeff, no,” she started and he stopped midstride to look down at her.

“Is it bad?” But before she could answer his attention seemed to have shifted inward and then he turned around, ready to carry her back out the door they’d just come through. “We’ll go straight to the hospital.”

Oh, hell.

“Jeff, no. Stop a second. Jeff. Jeff. ” She squirmed in his arms, trying to get a leg down, but the man wasn’t having any of it, at least until she grabbed his collar in her fist and gave it a solid shake, demanding, “Set me down this minute, damn it.”

And then her feet were on the ground but he was still holding her far too close for comfort, especially because it had become painfully clear, she was going to have to own up to her crimes, or take a ride to the E.R.

“Darcy, if something’s wrong—”

“Listen.” She squared her shoulders, and dug up a bit of the no-nonsense steel she used to find so readily on hand. “I lied.”

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