Pat Tracy - Burke's Rules

“Tell me the worst of it,” she instructed.

“The worst?”

“Yes, I need...” She swallowed. “I need to know how bad things are.”

Burke saw that Jayne was becoming more agitated with each passing moment. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why. She was safe from the violence that had broken out on the boardwalk. True, she’d been struck a hard blow, but he sensed the emotions making her voice tremble had little to do with her physical aches. Her color had been normal when she’d regained consciousness, but now she was flushed.

Guilt burrowed deeply inside him at failing to shield her from the vicious mayhem that had erupted around them. The fundamental tenet of being a man was to protect those weaker than himself. He’d placed Jayne under his care, and he’d let her down.

How did a man apologize for failing to safeguard the woman under his protection? Gall burned the back his throat at having to acknowledge to her and himself he’d failed.

He decided to postpone the bitter reckoning. “Backing up to your earlier question, you’re in bed.”

“Whose?” she virtually croaked.

He’d damned well been tempted to put her in his own. But at the last minute, sanity overrode the crazy temptation, and he’d carried her into one of his guest chambers. Under the circumstances, he doubted she was in the mood to appreciate his clear thinking.

“You’re in one of the guest bedrooms of my home.”

He could almost feel the increased tension radiating from her.

Her hand went to her forehead. She pulled off the cloth. “When I open my eyes, I expect you to have removed yourself from this bed.”

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