Shirlee McCoy - Private Eye Protector

“Let’s start with the fact that you’re lying in a hospital, hooked up to an IV, with a lump the size of a grapefruit on the side of your forehead.”

“Is it really that big?” She fingered the bump on her forehead, wincing as she probed the tender flesh.

“I might be exaggerating, but my point is the same. You’re not going to be doing anything but resting tomorrow.”

“Hopefully, with my memories intact.” Her words were slurred, her mind fuzzy and, for a moment, she wasn’t sure what they were talking about. Why they were discussing it.

Didn’t even know if she cared.

“You’re drifting off again, Goldilocks.”

“Just resting my eyes,” she mumbled.

“Good. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Fabric rustled, and she knew he was going to leave. Felt sure that if he did, something bad would happen. Nothing about this place was familiar, except for him. His eyes. The warmth of his hand. And she didn’t want to be left alone in the dark again without either one.

“Don’t go.” She grabbed his hand, looked into his face. Familiar and strange all at the same time.

“Okay.” He settled back into the chair. No question about why she wanted him there. No hesitation. No list of things he needed to do.

Just his presence, given without reservation.

Not something she was used to.

Not something Michael would have done.

Michael .

Funny that a stranger was willing to give more of himself than her fiancé ever had.

Or maybe not so funny.

Michael had promised her everything, but he’d given her nothing of consequence. Dinner dates were nice, phone calls on Tuesday afternoons were fine, but when push came to shove, he’d proven he couldn’t be counted on.

If you insist on playing mother to a drug addict’s baby, then we’re through. Are you willing to let that happen, Rayne? Willing to give up what we’ve spent almost three years building?

She’d been willing.

She wasn’t sure she’d been ready to be a mother, though.

Still, she didn’t regret the promise she’d made the day Chandra had given birth to the red-faced, red-haired infant.

Even then, Rayne had loved Emma. She just hadn’t realized she would be her mother.

She was, though, and she’d do whatever it took to raise her, protect her and give her the life Chandra would have wanted for her.

It was the last thought she had before darkness carried her away.

Holding hands with Rayne Sampson was not how Chance had planned to spend his evening. As a matter of fact, the only thing he’d planned on holding was the remote for the television. He’d figured he deserved a couple of hours of downtime. It had been a long day.

A long week.

A long month.

A long year.

And now he was sitting in a hospital room, holding hands with a woman he’d been trying hard to avoid for the better part of two months.

He frowned, slipping his hand from hers.

Frowned again when she didn’t move.

He touched the side of her neck the way he had when he’d found her unconscious in her crumbled car, let his fingers linger on smooth skin and steady pulse.

“Don’t worry. I haven’t died, yet,” she grumbled, and he let his hand drop away.

“Yet?”

“The way my head is pounding, I’m thinking my brain might explode.” Her eyes opened slowly. Eyes the color of Loon Lake in early spring. Misty green-blue. He’d noticed them the day they’d met. Had told himself not to, but he’d been noticing them ever since, anyway.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t. Kane won’t be happy if you die on my watch.”

“I hope he won’t be happy if I die, period.” She flashed a smile that brought out the deep dimple in her cheek. Pretty. Wholesome. Not at all the way Jessica had been. No sultry allure or boldly painted lips. Rayne was all about subtle color and natural beauty.

“You remember Kane?”

“Sure. We spoke several times when I interviewed for my job with his company. I was really excited when he said he wanted to hire me. A new job. A new life,” she mumbled, and he thought she might drift off again.

“Was that the plan?” In the seven weeks he’d known her, he hadn’t asked why she’d moved from Arizona to Washington. Hadn’t asked a hundred questions that he’d wanted to ask, because asking would have meant interest, and he couldn’t allow himself to be interested again. To fall again.

Heart.

Soul.

Mind.

He’d done it once.

Had proven just how little he knew about what it meant to make it work. Failure hadn’t been in his vocabulary, but he’d failed anyway. Hadn’t given enough of himself, spent enough time, done enough to maintain what he’d been so eager to start.

“The plan? I don’t know if I had one. I just wanted to get away from …”

“What?”

“Sometimes a person just needs a fresh start.”

“I can understand that.” He’d made his own fresh start two years ago. Come back to the place he’d grown up, tried to put the past and all its mistakes behind him.

“Yeah, well, it looks like I’m getting another fresh start. Maybe you can fill me in on a few things.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose, her face pale, the bump on her head deep blue and green.

“Like what?”

“When did we meet? How did I end up renting an apartment from your mother? Are we just coworkers or are we more?” she asked.

Straightforward.

Unapologetic.

Handling the situation in the same forthright manner she handled clients. He’d admired that, admired a lot of things about Rayne.

“We’re coworkers. We attend the same church. Your apartment is in my mother’s attic. Kane knew my mother was looking for a tenant, and he knew you were looking for a place to stay. He mentioned it to me.” Chance had seen it as a win-win situation. His mother occupied with a renter who had a baby. Rayne provided with a comfortable home.

“So, we see each other outside of work sometimes?”

“Yes.”

“That explains it, then.”

“Explains what?”

“I can’t remember anything after I left Phoenix, but your eyes are familiar.” She blushed, pink coloring her pale cheeks.

“Like I said, we’re not strangers, but we’re not anything more than coworkers, either.”

“Good.”

“Good? I think I’m insulted,” he said, and she smiled, flashing her dimple.

“It’s nothing personal. I mean, if I were going to date again, I wouldn’t discount you out of hand.”

“That very … magnanimous of you.”

“That’s a big word, Chance, and my head is pounding too hard for a witty response. So how about I just say I’m out of the dating game and happy to be, and we leave it at that?”

“We can do that.”

“Thanks.” She closed her eyes, fell silent, and he let the conversation die.

She looked pale and fragile, her golden hair matted and stained with blood, but she was in better shape than her totaled car. It had flipped at least once when she ran off the road, and if she hadn’t been wearing a seat belt, she’d probably be dead.

He frowned, pacing across the room and staring out the window. Streetlights illuminated the parking lot, gleaming off the icy pavement. Not a good night for anyone to be out. Especially not someone who wasn’t used to driving in slick conditions.

But Rayne had left a client and driven to the airport. Why? It was a question he wanted to ask. One he knew she couldn’t answer. Below the window, someone moved through the parking lot, sticking to the shadows, avoiding the golden glow of the streetlights. Something about the figure’s furtive movements made the hair on the back of Chance’s neck stand on end.