Tori Carrington - Total Exposure

Damn, but she was beautiful. And despite the shock that had settled over her when they’d crash-landed, more courageous than most women he knew. She hadn’t flinched as the helicopter wove through the rough air currents. Despite the mudslide, she’d jumped right in to rescue the heart attack victim, her movements quick and efficient, her mind clearly on the task at hand. And even in shock she had managed to find the best tree to secure the rope that he hoped would keep the helicopter from being blown out to sea.

Natalie blinked at him, making Dan realize he was staring.

“Why are you smiling like that?” she asked in a small voice.

Smiling? Was he smiling? He cleared his throat and averted his gaze. “I was just thinking how good you were out there, and wondering if maybe you got into the wrong line of work.”

At the mere mention of Natalie’s work, the burn scar on Dan’s side let him know it didn’t appreciate the extra tension he’d put on it. It throbbed and pulled and made every move painful.

Surprisingly, Natalie gave him a small smile of her own. “No. No, I think I’m in the right profession.”

He waited for her to offer more, but she didn’t. Probably still in shock.

“Hopefully I’ll be back in fifteen,” he said, glancing around the place. “Strip out of the rest of your clothes and find a blanket to dry off with. Warm yourself up.”

She nodded.

His fingers were on the door handle when she said his name.

Dan looked over his shoulder.

“Do you need any help?” she asked.

He looked at her standing in the middle of the floor, dripping wet and cold. The woman couldn’t seem to stop shivering, yet she’d thought to offer him assistance.

He shook his head. “I think I can handle it.”

Then he went outside and quickly closed the door, glad for the wind that ripped his breath from his body and the rain that soaked his face. They made him stop thinking about how much he’d like to kiss the lady doc in the room behind him.

NATALIE SHUDDERED as the door slammed shut. Every part of her seemed to shiver, from the wet bangs hanging above her eyes to her toenails.

The dog sitting next to her whined softly. She blinked his dim shape into focus and slowly reached down to pat him. “We need to dry you off, buddy.”

What had Dan said his name was, back at the fire station? Spike. Not Spot. The dog’s grandfather had been named Spot.

She stopped her ridiculous thoughts and bent to pick up her boots and coat, moving them from the center of the room closer to the door. She’d have to look for something to tack up over the broken pane. The howling of the wind through the narrow opening made her shiver more than her wet clothing did.

Slowly, methodically, she made her way around the small cabin, finding a cot, the communications radio, a table and four chairs, and a row of cabinets built into the far wall. She crouched down and began opening and closing cabinet doors until she found an oil lantern. She shook it, heard the promising slosh of fuel inside, then lifted it to the counter, switching her attention to the drawers and a search for matches. Within moments a warm yellow glow fought the approaching night.

Despite the warmth of Southern California in the winter, the sun still set at 5:00 p.m. Here on the island, the temperature would be even chillier than the mainland, storm or no storm.

And Dan was outside without so much as a flashlight.

Using the lantern to guide her way, Natalie found a small stack of blankets, T-shirts and khaki pants in a storage closet. The clothes were likely extras for coast guard personnel. She glanced over her shoulder at the door and curtainless windows before peeling her wet blouse and skirt from her body, followed by her bra, nylons and panties. She made quick work of drying herself with one of the blankets, then pulled on an oversize T-shirt, as well as a pair of pants, rolling up the waist of the khakis until they stopped sliding down her narrow hips. By the time she’d dried her hair, she was feeling marginally better.

After hanging her own clothes over a chair, she bent to dry Spike. The old dog licked her face in gratitude.

Natalie smiled. That was the best thing about dogs. You never had to wonder how they felt about you.

Her hands slowed their movements on the dog’s fur as she questioned her choice of words. She remembered Dan’s face when he’d knelt in front of her minutes ago, his fingers strong and warm against her ankles as he’d helped remove her wet shoes. He’d lingered there, and the storm had seemed to grow quiet as a shiver of a whole different variety worked its way over Natalie’s skin.

She’d known a moment of longing so strong it had rocked her to the core.

And scared her beyond belief.

Then Dan had pulled away and she’d forced aside the thought of his being interested in her, and her own startling attraction to him.

Until he’d grinned at her….

Natalie closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Dan had looked at her the way Charles once had. His features soft. His eyes warm. His smile genuine….

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.