Rescue Me (a quirky romance novel about secrets, forgiveness and falling in love) (17 page)

"I'm not in grade school anymore, ya know."

His gaze heated. "Believe me. I know that."

She drew back, realizing she had been leaning against him. "Can I have my glass now?"

"No. I think you've had enough."

"Who are you? My damn mother?"

"No. I'm your friend."

"Oh, God, not that. I know all about you and your friends."

"You know all about it, eh?" he asked with a laugh. He was enjoying this conversation way too much.

"What the hell is so funny?"

"Nothing."

"You're laughing."

"Okay, okay." He threw up his arms in surrender. "I'm laughing. You're funny, you little spitfire."

"You're not. You big...you..." She couldn't think of a word that summed him up. He was the epitome of contradictions. Gorgeous, a pain in the ass, funny, a pain in the ass, smart, sexy...her body heated even more as her gaze settled on his mouth, surrounded by a day's worth of stubble. Yup, she was feeling alive, all right. Alive and hot.

He moved closer, and her heart shuddered.

"I'm what?" he asked.

"Nothing."

He shook his head. "If two glasses of wine can't even loosen you up, what will?"

"What are you talking about? I'm as loose as a goose." She lobbed her head, rolled it from side to side, then shrugged her shoulders up and down several times. "See? I couldn't get any looser."

"That's not what I meant."

"What'd you mean, then?"

"I thought you might be more honest with a couple glasses of wine warming your belly. More honest with yourself and with me."

"I am. Hell, I was just noticing how sexy your mouth is." She smiled. Had she just said that? "See? Honest."

"Hmmm. Honest, all right. My mouth? Sexy?"

"Hell, yes. Hasn't anyone ever told you that before?"

"Nope."

"Damn shame."

"What else are you thinking?" He asked, his smoldering gaze making her temperature spike.

"I'm thinking..." she paused. What was she thinking? She had been thinking about business, her mother, her sister. Her mood started to sour, the cold air seeping into her pores again.

"I'm thinking it's not fair my sister's lying in that bed and not me. I'm thinking I've lost my business because the jerk I trusted to donate the majority of the capital I needed is being arrested for tax evasion. And I'm thinking my partner's in love with me. I'm thinking I'll never get the opportunity to make things right with Heidi, not that I deserve it. And I'm thinking I'm the only one who sees how much my mother hates me." She looked at Rainer, expecting his expression to be smug, and silently challenged him to give her some cocky comeback.

"I'm sorry," he said drawing her into his arms.

His heart thumped in her ear as she snuggled against him. This honesty thing had its benefits. "I'm liking this." She felt his hand run down her hair, enjoying how safe and loved the simple touch made her feel. She hadn't felt like this in such a long time. For once, she thought if she died tomorrow, someone might care. Rainer.

What a strange turn of events.

She tipped her head to look at his face. It was such a strong face. Strong jaw line, strong cheekbones, if cheeks could be called strong. Strong eyes. Strong body. Strong will. Strong soul.

His gaze met hers, and she sucked in a deep breath. He looked so...tortured.

She sat up. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

She saw his body stiffen, even though her eyes swam around in her head. "Now who's lying?" She didn't want him to back away. Her body screamed to be safe in his arms again. Warm and loved.

"I'm not lying." He scowled. "Damn it! How am I supposed to act? You're practically sprawled overtop me. I'm a man."

"I noticed."

"Stop that."

"You said you wanted honesty. What's wrong? Isn't this what you expected?"

"I do want honesty."

"Then I'll give it to you. You want to know what I'm thinking, I'll tell you. I feel dead. Cold. Inside and out. Like there's this arctic bubble around me I can't shatter. But when I'm with you... tonight, I don't feel that way. You shatter my bubble."

He didn't speak, and she feared she'd scared him away for good. She scrambled to find something to say, some way to salvage what they had. When no words came to mind, she threw caution to the wind and did the only thing she could.

She kissed him.

Her mouth met his, but it felt tight under hers. His hands clamped around her upper arms, and he pushed her back. Yet, she refused to be flouted. His grip loosened. She wrapped her arms around his neck and ran her tongue over his lips, tasting the wine's lingering sweetness.

His resistance evaporated. His grasp became a caress, and his mouth softened, then opened, welcoming her tongue into its sweet depth. She moaned, and he moaned in return.

His kisses sent wave upon wave of energy through her body. It came alive, heat pulsing up to the roots of her hair and down to the bottom of her feet. A fireball formed in her center, and she pressed against him.

She ran her hands down his chest, feeling muscles moving oh so slowly under his t-shirt. Needing to see what she felt, she trailed her fingertips down his abdomen, gripped the bottom of his shirt and lifted.

The kiss broken, she dropped her eyes to his stomach, mesmerized by the deep furrows of lean muscles. "Wow. Where do you find time to work out? You've got to spend half your life in a gym to look like this."

He gently tugged the shirt out of her hands and covered himself. "I do what I can."

"What are you covering it up for?" she asked, disappointed and frustrated. Then she realized how pushy she was being, and an unsettling embarrassment washed over her. "Sorry. I'm acting so weird."

"Wine'll do it to you every time."

"That must be why I don't drink."

"That must be it." He stood. "Well, I'd better leave now, before we both do something we'll regret in the morning."

"You'd regret being with me?" she asked, hurt. Men didn't regret sex. Did they?

"You wouldn't?"

"I don't know."

"Well, when you're sure, let me know." He kissed the tip of her nose.

"Is that a proposition?" She wrapped her arms around his neck again, then rested her forehead against his. He was swaying, and she had to tighten her hold, or she'd fall over.

He hesitated, then smiled. "I don't know."

"Touché."

"You're a funny little thing, Hailey Jensen." He gently extricated himself. "But I suspect you won't be feeling so clever and funny in the morning."

"Another reason--I'm sure--why I don't drink."

"I think you'll be okay." He walked to the door and turned to face her. "Sweet dreams."

"Oh, don't you worry. I know I'll be having sweet dreams tonight," she said, settling into the pillow. Sleep was pulling her, the heady rush of the wine easing into a foggy haze. She felt good. Not too drunk, not sick, or sad, or lonely. Just warm and good.

But when she woke, sometime later, she didn't feel so good. In fact, she felt downright lousy. "That's why I don't drink. Always knew I had a good reason," she mumbled to herself as she sat up and rubbed her throbbing temples. Her stomach felt like a fire pit. She dropped back onto the bed and considered spending the rest of the day exactly where she lay.

She didn't have anywhere to go, anyway. Her new rescue was basically history, her sister was still unconscious, or so she assumed. What did she need to get out of bed for?

Sure, she wasn't usually the lull-in-self-pity type, but what would one day hurt? She closed her eyes, willing the headache to go away, but knowing it wouldn't. She didn't know what to do for a hangover. Aspirin, maybe? Wasn't there some old adage about dogs that bit you?

Not really wanting to know what time it was, but compelled to look anyway, she rolled over and glanced at the clock. A big pitcher sat on the nightstand, blocking her view. Propped against the pitcher sat a folded up piece of paper with her name scribbled on it in Rainer's distinctive scrawl.

And then she remembered what she'd done last night...

"Oh my God!"

What a fool she'd been. She'd practically thrown herself at him.

"Oh my God!"

That memory was enough to rouse her from bed. But, as she cringed with the pain of jackhammers in her head, and paced the floor, she couldn't decide what to do next. At a total loss, she picked up the letter and read it.

Dear Hailey,

As you read this, I assume you'll be steeped in pain, dread, and embarrassment. But, I wanted to tell you that the painkillers can ease the pain, and the other emotions are unnecessary. Although what happened last night came as a complete surprise to me, I'm not sorry for what happened, and neither should you be.

Looking forward to seeing you later,

Rainer

Hailey read it again and felt even worse. He was happy? Now, that was a surprise. But not a good one. Not only had she done something stupid and impulsive, but also insensitive! She was going back to Sequoia Valley as soon as the donation was through and she'd made her peace with Heidi. She didn't need another complication--especially from a man like Rainer. He was a nice guy. He didn't need to get tangled in her web.

Another reason drinking was a bad idea. She'd thrown away caution, acted so unlike herself. That stuff was poison!

She downed four painkillers with the help of a healthy swig of water. As the water hit bottom, her stomach cramped, and she thought she might throw up. She slumped onto the bed, willing her stomach to settle and considered what she would do next.

The first thing she needed to do was find a hotel room. Enough being a cheapskate. Staying with Rainer for the rest of the week was a sure ticket to disaster. It would keep her too near him--too near for his good.

She needed a rental car, too, complete independence. With a car, she could go to the hospital as she pleased. She needed to remain focused. This was about Heidi. That's it.

Her cell phone, laying next to the pitcher of water, rang, the shrill tone drilling her head and making her want to scream. Anxious to stop the noise before her head exploded, she scrambled for the phone and punched the talk button, then muttered, "Hello?"

"Good afternoon!" Rainer's cheery tone did nothing to brighten her mood.

"Yeah." And then she realized what he'd said. "Afternoon?"

"Yep. Afternoon. I take it you haven't looked at a clock yet?"

She groaned, scooted the pitcher aside and stared at the blood-red numbers glowing back at her. "Two o'clock?"

"How are you feeling?" His voice was heavy with concern.

"I'm fine."

"Good. I'll be there in fifteen. We're going out to celebrate."

"Celebrate what?" she asked, her stomach convulsing at the thought of food.

"Heidi's awake and doing much better, we'll be performing the procedure within forty-eight hours."

"Two days? But I thought you said it would be the end of the week."

"I added some time, just to be on the safe side. You'll be in recovery by this time Thursday, and Heidi'll receive your stem cells by the following morning at the latest."

"And then I can go home?"

"And then you can go home. Unless..."

He didn't have to say more. She knew what that word meant. At least, she assumed she knew what it meant: unless there were complications.

"Of course, after we celebrate, I'll be bringing you back here to talk to Heidi. She's awake. This is your prime opportunity to take care of what we discussed."

"Yeah." The thought of eating held even less appeal. "Maybe we should do that first?" the thought leapt from her mouth. Why had she suggested that?

"Great idea! See you in a few."

She pushed the talk button before she said something else stupid, dragged her aching frame to the bathroom, climbed into the shower, pelted her miserable head with scalding hot water, and started feeling somewhat human. She quickly dressed, fixed her hair and applied a little make-up.

Her stomach did a funny little dance when she heard the front door open downstairs. Ignoring the flutters, she sat on the bed to tie on her tennis shoes, then gathered her phone and purse.

He looked much too happy to see her as she half walked, half stumbled down the staircase. Poor guy. He didn't deserve to be abused.

"Morning," she mumbled.

"Afternoon," he responded. "Hungry?" He opened the front door.

"Not really." The bright sunlight drove blades of pain through her eyes to the back of her head. She squinted. Michigan had so few clear, sunny days. Why did today have to be one of them?

"Well, we'll go take care of our business at the hospital first. Maybe by then, you'll be feeling better." He said, running to the passenger side of the car and opening the door.

She sat, immediately nauseated from the car's stuffy interior. In miserable silence, she rode, staring at the cornfields and trees. The hour dragged on, even though Rainer chattered like a squirrel, once stopping at a traffic light and asking her if she was okay before continuing.