Loree Lough - Suddenly Home

Taylor only gasped.

“Cat got your tongue?” he added.

“Funny,” Taylor said. “Real funny.”

But by the look on her face, he reasoned she hadn’t found his comment the least bit humorous. On closer inspection, he could see that she was terrified. Of losing the cat? Or of being up so high?

The latter. No, both, he decided.

“You want I should come up there? See if I can get her to come to me?”

“Him. His name is Barney.”

“Pardon me,” he said, smiling, hoping to ease her tension, “but we were never formally introduced.” Waving one arm above his head, Alex said, “Pleased to meet ya, Barn.”

He was still grinning when the cat launched itself from the roof, legs flailing, tail twitching, claws extended to get a grip on something.

Alex turned out to be that something.

Ignoring the stinging, piercing pain, he wrapped both arms around the cat and held on tight. “Is the front door open?” he asked, wincing and clenching his teeth.

Taylor nodded.

“Good. I’ll meet you inside, then.”

Thirty seconds later she was beside him, relieving him of the cat, who made a beeline for the living-room sofa.

“Oh my goodness,” Taylor gasped. “Just look at you.”

He glanced in the hall mirror. “Mmm, mmm, mmm,” he said. “Looks like I’ve been—”

“In a catfight?”

They shared a moment of nervous laughter, and then she took his hand. “Come with me,” Taylor said. “Let’s get something on those scratches. We don’t want them to get infected.”

Her hand was warm. And despite her size, she had an amazingly strong grip. Alex liked that.

For the next five minutes he sat in one of her kitchen chairs, alternately cringing and sucking air between his teeth as she swabbed his cuts with antiseptic. Taylor leaned in, brow furrowed in concentration, as if she were a skilled surgeon and Alex an unconscious patient.

His own mother hadn’t fussed over him this gently when he’d skinned his knees as a boy. She’d put Mercurochrome here, bandages there, a slap on his behind and a warning to be more careful next time. And he’d had his share of minor accidents over the years—no surprise, considering what he’d chosen as his life’s ambition. A wide variety of nurses had doled out medication, changed the dressings on his wounds. But like his mother, there had been a matter-of-factness to their ministrations.

What made Taylor’s attentions seem so…different? Maybe the way her hands shook, ever so slightly, as she touched the swabs to his cuts. Maybe it was the way her voice trembled, just a little, when she asked, “Does that hurt?” and “Am I being too rough?”

And maybe, just maybe, it was the look in her eyes that said even something as insignificant as cat scratches were important…because he was important.

Right here, right now, Alex thought he could look into her pretty face forever. If only—

“You were the answer to a prayer,” she said, interrupting his thoughts.

“Who? Me?”

She tossed the swab into the trash can and recapped the brown peroxide bottle. And pressing one small hand against her chest, Taylor sighed. “I’d been up there…”

She closed her eyes, and when she did, Alex felt as if someone had turned off the sun.

“I don’t know how long I’d been up there,” she finished, eyes wide again. “Seemed like forever!”

Alex said a silent prayer of thanks heavenward, amazed, because he hadn’t asked God for diddly in who knew how long, yet he’d asked Him to make Taylor open her eyes. He was even more amazed at the rush of warmth he felt swirling around inside his chest when she did.

“If I’d been up there another minute,” she said, laughing, “you’d probably have had two people to rescue.”

He could think of worse things than having a woman like this beholden to him for rescuing her. Because a woman like this—

Barney sauntered through the room just then, stopping only long enough to give both Alex and Taylor a look that said, “Who are you calling people?”

Laughing, Taylor added, “Well, you would’ve had two somethings to rescue.”

He was about to say she was as far from a “thing” as a woman could get when she said, “What’re you doing here, anyway?”

You’re a magnet, he thought, and my innards seem to be made of iron ore. “You left the church brunch just like that—” he snapped his fingers “—without a word.” He was beginning to sound to himself like a guy who’d fallen head over heels. Couldn’t have her thinking that, he decided. And so Alex gave a nonchalant shrug. “Just checking, makin’ sure you’re okay, is all.”

She laid a hand on the shoulder he’d shrugged. “Thanks, Alex.” And her voice was sweeter than honey when she added, “That was really nice of you.” Then, as if she thought maybe she sounded like someone who’d fallen head over heels, she spread her arms wide. “Well, as you can see, I’m fine.”

You can say that again, he thought. But “I’m glad” is what he said.

She clasped both hands in front of her. Small gesture, really, and yet because it seemed sweet and old-fashioned and feminine all rolled into one, it made his heart pound.

One hand on the refrigerator door handle, Taylor said, “Would you like a soda? Coffee? Tea?”

He chuckled, relieved to have something to focus on besides her dainty hands, her gorgeous eyes. “You sound like the stewardess on our flight back from Ireland.”

“Flight attendant,” she chided good-naturedly, her fore-finger moving like a silent metronome. “You don’t want a ticket from the Politically Correct Police, now, do you?”

Alex slapped himself in the forehead. His intended “Wash my mouth out with soap” was replaced by a “Yeee-ouch!” inspired when he hit one of the still-smarting cat scratches.

She was beside him in an instant, hands fluttering around his wounded face, a worried frown on her own. “Oh, no…you’ve got this one bleeding again.” Taylor grabbed the bottle of antiseptic, slid open the box of cotton swabs. “You really ought to be more gentle with yourself,” she scolded softly, daubing the open wound.

She was near enough to kiss, and it took every ounce of self-control he could muster to keep from doing just that. Would her lips feel as soft as they looked? Would those big eyes grow misty, or would she close them and—

“Just because you’re a big burly man,” she continued, “doesn’t mean you have to be so rough with yourself, you know.”

Alex swallowed. He didn’t know why her innocent comment struck a nerve. But it did. No one had ever been so tender with him. Why, if he didn’t know better, he’d have to say Taylor believed he was capable of breaking.

An ugly thought surfaced in his mind.

The accident had all but broken him, physically. But how could she have known that the aftereffects of it had all but shattered his spirit, when they’d spent no more than fifteen minutes, total, in one another’s company?

He needed to get out of this place, away from this woman. He had no business feeling drawn to her, not this soon, maybe not at all, ever. It was a good idea, this plan of his to heal on his own, alone. Because alone, he could think. Could reason things out. No way he could do that with her standing there looking at him like some kind of guardian angel.

Getting to his feet, Alex ran a hand through his hair. “Well, thanks for—”

“No,” she interrupted, “I’m the one who’s supposed to say thanks. You saved Barney, and very likely me, too.” She was smiling prettily when she added, “You’re our hero!”

He felt the heat of a blush creep into his cheeks. Hero? If only you knew, he thought glumly. “Well, guess I’d better get on my way.” He forced a grin. “You stay off rooftops now, y’hear?”