Love's Own Reward Page 3

  He smiled. It was a very slow, very wide, very sexy smile. “No need to thank me. It was no trouble at all.” He was still grinning when he began to crack eggs into one of her little-used skillets.

  Wait a minute. Just wait a minute, Charley thought. There’s a man in my kitchen whom I’ve never seen before. He’s making me breakfast in his bare feet. He’s talking about filling my prescription and taking off my clothes as if he’s been doing it for years. And I’m sitting here with a cup of coffee when I should be dialing 911! Except she didn’t feel threatened. Whoever he was, he could have done anything he wanted to her while she was knocked out cold. For all she knew, the entire Detroit Lions backfield could have filed through to have carnal congress with her. She’d have no way of knowing. But she didn’t believe he’d taken any unfair advantage. And she didn’t think he meant her any harm. So that left one last question.

  Who was he?

  “Here you go,” he was saying as he slid a plate in front of her. “This ought to perk you up a little.”

  Charley looked down at the eggs dressed up beneath several spoonfuls of salsa and framed by triangles of buttered toast. Then up at him as he dropped onto the opposite stool to take up his fork. As if sharing breakfast was the most natural thing in the world. He took a bite and sighed in appreciation.

  “Dig in. Nothing’s worse than cold eggs.”

  His eyes. Gray and clear.

  “If the meter’s still running, I’m going to have one heck of a tab,” she mumbled.

  “What?”

  “You’re the cabdriver from the hospital.” Then she was less sure. “Aren’t you?”

  “No. I’m sorry.” He put out his hand, and she reached for it unthinkingly. He caught just the tips of her fingers and curled them into his palm. It was a wonderfully gentle gesture. “I’m Jess McMasters.” He waited as if that would mean something to her. Then his brow furrowed. “You don’t remember me.”

  Charley examined his regular features. How could she forget such a face? “No. I’m sorry. Should I?”

  He gave a tight smile, shuttering something behind that cool steel gaze, and shook his head. “Just from the hospital. I gave you a ride home in my car.”

  “I thought you were . . .” Charley broke that train of thought. Good Lord, he could have been anyone! She’d gone along with him as compliantly as a lamb. Thank heavens the only thing wolfish about him was his smile.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I made myself at home. You weren’t in any shape to take care of yourself, and I had no idea who to call. So I just made you comfortable and bunked out on the couch in case you needed someone.”

  Charley could feel her features growing as hot as the salsa. She thought of him carrying her from the car, up three flights of stairs, tucking her into bed after stripping off her skirt and blouse. Of his big hands and his intense eyes on her while she was unaware. Of him moving about her apartment with an intimate familiarity that even Alan didn’t share. It was disturbing. But it was strangely exciting.

  Seeing her delightful flush of color, Jess was prompted to say, “I’m sorry if that undressing business embarrassed you. Had my eyes closed the whole time. Honest. I thought you’d rest better—well, hell, now that I think about it, I probably could have hung you up in the closet, and you wouldn’t have cared a bit.”

  That teased a small smile from her, but her mind was still cluttered with ill-fitting puzzles. She stared at this handsome stranger and she had to wonder . . .

  “Why?”

  “What?”

  “Why would you go through all that trouble for me? I don’t understand. I don’t know you, yet you’ve done things for me that no one else thought to do. Start from the beginning. What were you doing at the hospital?”

  Jess took a minute to sip his coffee and compose his thoughts, then said smoothly, “I was visiting a friend and kind of stumbled into the middle of your little media party. You looked like someone who needed rescuing and I’ve always been a soft touch when it comes to helpless women.”

  Something was wrong with the way he said that. Charley couldn’t pinpoint it. There was a rougher edge to his voice, a colder glint in his eyes. Something. She wasn’t sure it should matter. But she knew it did. She pushed on with her questions, hoping for more clues about who and what Jess McMasters was.

  “So you picked me up like a lost stray and brought me here. How did you get in? Where did this food come from? I know I didn’t have eggs, and I’ve never bought salsa. Where did you get my prescription?”

  He grinned at her with a disarming smugness. “I’m a resourceful kind of guy, Miss Carter.”

  Charley smiled back. “I think you’re a very nice man, Mr. McMasters.”

  He looked uncomfortable with that claim. His stare lowered to his coffee cup, and the muscles of his face tightened. Modesty? Almost but not quite. What exactly?

  “Your eggs are getting cold.”

  Charley stopped trying to figure him out. He’d been there when she needed someone. Why make more of it than that? Mainly because handsome men didn’t ordinarily pay her much attention. Oh, she got her share of interested inquiries, but none of them followed through. She wasn’t interested in games of courtship, and that put them off in an instant. They wanted more joie de vivre in their women, not the studious quiet of a Charley Carter. The male ego was a fragile thing. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to coddle it; she just didn’t know how. She’d never been good at personal relationships. What was it about Jess McMasters that made her feel her luck was about to change?

  “Not hungry?”

  She shook herself from her musings and made a concentrated effort to eat. Easier said than done. The simple effort it took to pick up a fork brought the sweat of pain to her brow. She had always taken the free movement of her fingers for granted until every little bend, every tiny twist, woke an incredible agony. By the time she brought the first forkful to her mouth, her hand was trembling.

  Jess watched, his expression pinched. He’d never have believed the simple act of eating breakfast could be so heroic. He could see how much discomfort she was in, yet she kept going, without complaint, without reaching for the numbing crutch of painkillers. When she finished, he was nearly as breathless as she was.

  “I’ll clean up in here if you want to put yourself together.” He said that gruffly, and Charley was reminded of how she must look. While he gathered up their dishes, she excused herself and headed for the bathroom.

  Jess leaned against the sink and exhaled raggedly. This wasn’t how he’d planned it. Oh yes, he was close to Charlene Carter. Too close. He’d carried her curled trustingly in his arms. He’d felt the enticing softness of her skin and watched the way her slow breathing rocked the filmy bodice of her slip. He’d watched for a long, long time, until he couldn’t even name the disquieting emotions wadding up within his chest. He’d spent the evening wandering about her cluttered little apartment, poking into personal things she doubtlessly wanted to keep secret. And he felt guilty doing it. That was a first. He wanted to despise her. He wanted to call her on her less-than-honorable greed, but somehow the anger got lost whenever he was with her. He turned the water on full blast and began to savagely scour their plates. Didn’t she know how to take care of herself? For the love of Mike, there wasn’t even any food in her icebox except a couple of freezer-burned microwave dinners. How had she expected to feed herself? He slammed the faucet off and stood still, with eyes closed.

  He wanted to get a story. That was his reason for being here, for spending the night on a too-short couch. Not because he was nice. He wasn’t here to play housekeeper to a woman who could now afford a staff of servants to wait upon her every whim. What was wrong with him? No one had ever accused him of being nice before. He didn’t even know anyone who used the word “nice” in normal conversation. He flung the tattered dishrag into the
drain. No more Mr. Nice Guy.

  Then he heard the shattering of glass and a soft cry. And Jess went running.

  Three

  SHE WAS LEANING against the tiled wall of the bathroom with shards of a broken drinking glass scattered about her bare feet. When she turned to him, he was struck by the teary frustration in her face.

  “I’m sorry. It just slipped. I couldn’t hold on to it.”

  “Don’t move. You’ll cut yourself. I’ll get it.”

  She stayed where she was, her breath laboring with agitation while he crouched to pick up the pieces and dump them into the plastic wastebasket.

  “There. It’s all right. No harm done. Just a glass.”

  She gave a hiccuping sob and stared down at her bandaged hands. “It’s more than the glass. It’s everything. I can’t seem to manage the simplest things. I can’t brush my teeth. I can’t comb my hair. I can’t even wash my face. I hate being helpless. I just hate it.” She sucked a long, shaky breath and let it out with a contrite smile. “I’m sorry. I’m usually not such a baby.”

  “Which do you want to do first?”

  She blotted her eyes on the sleeve of her robe. “What?”

  “The teeth, the hair or the face?”

  Her dark eyes went round. “Oh, you don’t . . . I didn’t mean for you to . . .”

  “Now don’t be such a baby,” he scolded mildly.

  “Mr. McMasters—”

  “Jess,” he corrected as he soaked and soaped her facecloth. “Shut your eyes.”

  “Jess—”

  “Better shut your mouth, too.”

  While she stood with eyes closed and mouth frowning, he lathered her cheeks and chin and nose, trying to concentrate on each individual part rather than the enticing whole. It wasn’t easy. With her skin freshly scrubbed and glowing, he was more aware than ever of the full curve of her lips and the dark sweep of her lashes.

  “Hair next. Turn around,” he ordered somewhat hoarsely.

  Charley turned and sighed as he pulled the stiff bristles through her fine hair. She’d never known how wonderful it felt to be pampered. It made the humiliation easier to handle. He was being so good about all of it that she couldn’t object to placing the currently impossible tasks in his capable hands. When he revolved her to face him once more, her eyes were still shut, and she was smiling slightly in contentment. Then she felt the distinct warmth of his breath brushing upon her lips. He was going to kiss her! Her mind registered the shock, but her body refused to respond. Let him, all her senses whispered in hope.

  But then he was leaning back, and her eyes flickered open. The coldness was back in his gaze. She was sure that’s what it is was now. And she still didn’t know why. All she knew was the flutter of disappointment within her breast because she wouldn’t get to feel the sweetness of his mouth on hers.

  He was reaching for her toothbrush.

  “Don’t even think it,” she warned with a strained laugh. “If you could squeeze out some of the paste, I can take care of the rest.”

  He did, then handed her the brush. She took it gingerly. “Sure?”

  “Yes. Now thank you very much, but get out of here. I can manage everything else.”

  The hard glint was gone from his eyes. A teasing warmth was there in its stead. “Are you sure you won’t need my help in the shower sometime in the near future?”

  “I’ll let you know, Mr. McMasters.” She pushed at him with her knee, then used her toe to shut the bathroom door behind him. She found that she was quivering with an odd excitation. Shower, indeed. Her heartbeat seemed to skip several repetitions just imagining it.

  Charley managed her teeth and the change into a comfortable jogging suit without any challenging fasteners. Her hands ached fiercely, but she was proud of her scant accomplishments. She would do all right. Without Jess McMasters. And that brought a slightly wistful sigh. It had been nice, though. Very nice.

  He was standing at her balcony slider finishing the last cup of coffee. She paused and let herself admire him, from the back of his head, over his wide shoulders, down his straight back and firm seat to long legs and athletic shoes. She eyed them sadly. She’d liked his bare feet. There was a kind of forbidden thrill in thinking of a man’s naked toes tangling in her carpet. One she might never have again. Alan rarely visited her apartment. Too risky. And she didn’t think his bare toes would be quite as provocative. Not a very charitable thought, but a truthful one. She couldn’t picture Alan without his shoes and socks. He wasn’t the type. Nor was she, and it was time she remembered that.

  “Well, Mr. McMasters, I want to thank you for your kindness.”

  He turned, his brows elevated in surprise. “That has a rather final sound to it.”

  “I really appreciate all you’ve done, but I have to get to work and—”

  “Work? You can’t possibly be—”

  “Just checking in, not doing any manual labor,” she reassured him. She liked the thought of his concern. And the way it wrinkled the bridge of his nose just between his eyebrows. “I have some lab results to check, and it can’t wait the full three weeks my doctor insists I take off.”

  “So you’re throwing me out.”

  She blushed. “Well, not anything quite that rude.”

  “Politely asking me to leave, then. How are you going to get to work? Have you thought of that? You can’t drive.”

  “I’ll call a cab.” There was an angle of stubborn independence to her chin. That delicate little chin he’d washed with soap and water.

  “At your service,” he told her with a roguish smile.

  “Really, I can’t—”

  “Of course you can. You’re at the university, right? That’s what I read anyway. That’s where I’m going, too. I . . . um . . . teach in the English department.”

  That wasn’t a lie. He did have a night class once a week, instructing a group of bored underclassmen who thought journalism would be an easy credit. Not in his class. He didn’t believe in easy As or sloppy work, a professional quirk of his that was the first lesson he taught. So if it wasn’t a lie, why did he feel so churlish when her features lit with pleasure?

  “Do you? Then we’re practically neighbors.”

  Jess forced a smile that didn’t reflect the sour state of his emotions. “Yeah. Something like that. Come on, neighbor. I’ll give you a lift.”

  Part of Charley was ridiculously glad she didn’t have to say goodbye to Jess McMasters, at least for a little while longer. The other part was thinking ahead to realities she’d let escape her. Like the reporters. And the money.

  It was then her phone began to ring. And it rang four more times before she could leave the apartment. With each call Jess watched her color fade to a whiter shade of pale as she stammered her excuses. The haunted look was back in her eyes, the hunted panic back in her rapid little breaths. So the next time the phone shrilled, he yanked it up off the cradle.

  “Carter residence,” he growled in the receiver. “Miss Carter will not be giving interviews until further notice, so if you’ll just leave her the hell alone—” His words broke off. His tone softened with chagrin. “Oh. Sorry. Yeah, just a minute.” He passed the phone to Charley. There was an unmistakable tension in the lines of his face. “For you. It’s personal.”

  She took the phone from him and hesitantly said hello. Then her features warmed with an intimacy that cut through Jess’s heart. He wasn’t aware that his teeth were grinding, only of a sudden ache along his jaw as he listened without appearing to eavesdrop.

  “I’m fine. Thanks.” Charley’s eyes flirted up to Jess and away. “A friend,” she told the man on the other end of the line. “No. You don’t know him. Okay. I will . . . Don’t worry . . . Okay, go ahead and worry. See you soon. Love you, too.”

  Jess’s gut had writhed in
to a series of hard knots, and that last phrase jerked it tight. Until Charley hung up the phone and explained with a small, fond smile, “My brother,” and his insides raveled in relief. “Guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  The phone rang again, and her body snapped rigid.

  “Don’t answer it,” Jess advised.

  “I really should—”

  “No, you shouldn’t. Not if you don’t want to. Where’s your coat?”

  He helped her on with it while the insistent rings continued into the dozens. Then the silence was almost as disturbing. Charley swallowed the feeling of invasion. Tonight she would upgrade her bare bones phone package to include voice mail and caller ID to screen and block the calls. That would be the first thing she’d buy with the Osgood windfall. Rather ironic when she thought of it.

  “Let’s go.”

  They went down the back stairs of her building and made a wide loop to where Jess had parked his car. Charley stiffened when she saw several unfamiliar men lingering outside her usual exit.

  “Don’t look at them,” Jess warned as he handed her into the car. But she couldn’t help it. These strangers were pushing their way into her privacy, and the intimidation they forced upon her was slowly giving way to a simmering resentment.

  “Why won’t they leave me alone?” She didn’t know she’d said that aloud until she discovered Jess’s piercing stare upon her. There it was again. That glittering chill quickly masked by his smile.

  “Just doing their jobs. Ignore them.”

  “Ignore them,” she muttered. She sighed heavily and let her head rest against the back of his seat. Ignore them. How? She couldn’t answer her phone, she couldn’t walk to the dumpster, she couldn’t open her drapes without being confronted by their probing stares. Was that their job, to force her into hiding as if she’d done something wrong?