Roberts, Sarah - Action Hero Junkie [Movieland] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (3 page)

He glanced up, kind of quick, and his electric-blue eyes seemed to flare. But he just nodded, so Mia went away.

Mia didn’t take too long in the bathroom. She didn’t want to leave her guest by himself. He might feel lonely. She threw on a loose T-shirt and some comfortable sweat pants and hurried out to the living room.

The gun was all put back together and was leaning against the sofa. Her hunk was lounging against the corner sofa pillows, one leg straightened out on the cushions, the other leg sprawling over the side of the sofa. He looked gorgeous and tired.

“Why don’t you go to bed? You probably need the rest.” Mia sat down on the arm of the big stuffed chair that was kind of angled at the side of the sofa. She combed her fingers through her damp, naturally wavy hair.

He shook his head. “Someone has to keep watch.”

“I usually stay up for a few hours after I get home. I’ll take first watch
.” I’ll take first watch?
How dumb is that?
Mia shook her head at herself. “I’ll wake you when I get sleepy.”

He got a slow, sexy grin. “Thanks.” He sat up and swiveled his body, putting his bare foot down to the floor. The beach towel pulled open, and Mia got a real nice glimpse of thick, corded thigh. She was still processing that when he stood up and walked past her. Her eyes widened at sight of the nice flare of flank and butt. “Uh—”

“What?” He stopped and turned. The bulge behind the beach towel was about at her eye level. That close, it looked a little bigger than it had before.

Mia looked up quickly, up the long, long length of his abs and chest and pecs.
God, what shoulders!
When her gaze collided with his electric eyes, she felt a spear of heat sear right down to her toes. “Your gun—” Mia swallowed and tried again. She flapped a hand. “Your gun. You should—should take it with you.”

He shook his head. “I must be more tired than I thought. Thanks.” He brushed past her again and bent over. Mia closed her eyes then snapped them open again just as he straightened with the gun in his hand. He padded past her a second time, and her head acted like one of those bobblehead toys. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his hard-as-steel ass. He didn’t look back as he walked down the hallway to her bedroom. Mia bent way over the chair arm, craning her neck.
Wait. My bedroom!
Mia snapped upright, nearly giving herself whiplash. Visions of tangled sheets and hot sex careened madly through her head. She snorted at herself.
Like, ri-ight.
“Get a grip!”

Mia didn’t remember hitting the TV remote. She didn’t really remember what she watched. When she started yawning, she turned off the TV. Then she crept down the hallway to her bedroom.

As she eased the bedroom door open, she wondered what he would do. Actually, she wondered if he would shoot her, but that was really just a tiny thought in the back of her mind. She was too busy hyperventilating, in lust, as she tiptoed over to her bed. “Hey, soldier boy.”

She got no response. She just heard a heavy snore.
Well, damn.
Disappointment didn’t begin to cover it. In the dark, she walked to the bathroom and fumbled inside the open door to flip on the overhead. A bar of yellow light fell across the bed. She crossed back across the floor to look down at the man lying under the bedclothes on her bed.

He looked dead to the world. There were dark circles under his closed eyes, and now that his face was relaxed, she could see lines of fatigue that she hadn’t noticed earlier. All of her lustful inclinations poofed out of existence.

Mia picked up his wrist, her fingers pressed on his pulse. Under her fingertips, she could feel the rapidity of his heartbeat. She frowned down at him. She was a little concerned. He had lost some blood, no doubt about it. His shirt and undershirt had been stiff with it. She laid the back of her hand against his forehead. She could feel the hectic heat of fever. “This is so not good.”

She gnawed on her lip, thinking about her options. He hadn’t wanted to go to a hospital. There had to be a doozey of a reason for that. Again, the words “psycho” and “escaped convict” sprang to mind. She shook her head, telling herself again to get a grip. She had no reason to think he was either one. Not really, anyway.

Well, I’ll watch him. If he gets too bad, I’ll call
EMS
.

If that happened, there would, of course, be awkward questions that she couldn’t answer. But she guessed that would be better than trying to dump a dead body. It wasn’t like she could call 1-800-BODY2GO.

Mia checked the bandage on his upper arm, but she didn’t see any seepage.
That’s a good thing, at least.
She gently laid down his arm and smoothed the bedclothes up over his broad chest. Somehow, touching him that way—to make him more comfortable—made her feel a little tender toward him.

Mia turned off the bathroom light and returned to the living room, leaving the bedroom door open so that she could hear him if he wakened. She’d sleep on the sofa and get up again in an hour or so to check on her crazy-good-looking but nutty patient.

Lying down on the lumpy sofa, she punched one of the cushions into an indented pillow for her head. She pulled a woolly afghan over herself and wriggled around until she was more or less comfortable. She knew she wouldn’t get much sleep, so she would be tired when she went back in to work. She told herself it wouldn’t bother her too much. She was used to long hours. What she didn’t want to think about was what she might have to do if her patient got really, really worse.

He got worse. He was hot and restless.

Mia popped a thermometer into his mouth, one of the instant LED kinds, and read it. His temperature wasn’t that bad, but she still didn’t like how restless he was.
I can’t just go in to work and leave him.

She decided to call in sick. She was never sick, so she had a lot of sick leave saved up. Mia didn’t think she was very convincing, but her supervisor bought it.

Her patient slept for a long time. When he woke up, it was like instant on. His eyes just popped open, and he was looking up at her. Actually, he was frowning at her. Mia smiled back. It was important to project a positive attitude. “How do you feel?”

He moved around, gingerly flexing his body and stretching his legs back and forth under the covers. Mia watched with interest. His voice sounded gravelly. “I’m okay. What time is it?”

“It’s way past second watch. You slept for hours.” Mia was feeling really cheerful. He looked a lot better. She offered a glass of water to him, and he sat up to drink. The bedclothes fell down to his waist, leaving his naked torso exposed. She looked at his bodacious chest and felt a tingling in parts south. She didn’t feel at all platonic toward him like she had a few hours before.

He gave the emptied glass back. Mia set it down on the bedside table. When she looked back at him, she saw that he had narrowed his eyes, and he was staring coldly at her. “You should have woken me up.” He clenched his jaw like he was biting back some more words, only not the polite kind.

Mia realized he was angry. That surprised her. Then she realized he was still feeling the weakening effects of the wound and resultant illness. For someone like him, an almost perfect human specimen, it must be worrisome that he felt so unlike himself. She spoke soothingly to him, just like any good nurse would. “Look, you lost a lot of blood. You were dehydrated, and you probably started suffering from hypothermia after being out like that all night in the cold. You needed the rest.”

He looked like he was going to pop off at her, so she popped the thermometer into his mouth. He looked like he might bite it in two, but she shook her head at him. “Be good.” Mia took hold of his wrist, and they tussled a little bit before he would let her take his pulse. All the while, his electric-blue eyes were blazing at her. When she was done with his pulse, she took out the thermometer. His pulse was steady, and his temperature was falling back to normal. Mia was pleased, and she smiled at him. He narrowed his eyes again.

Her cell phone rang. She plucked it out of her pocket and looked at the caller ID. She flipped open the phone. “Hi, Marti.”

“Are you okay?”

Her hunk sat up and reached for the frou-frou beach towel. Mia whipped it away out of his reach. He glared at her. “Oh, sure. Just a touch of food poisoning, I think. Must have been the shellfish.”

“Mia, you don’t eat shellfish.”

He got an evil grin on his face. He reached for the edges of the bedclothes and grasped them, slowly pulling them down past his naval. A narrow, south-heading line of red-gold hairs was revealed. Mia instantly got that he was threatening to throw off the bedclothes. He was buck naked underneath, of course. It wasn’t like she was bashful or anything. In fact, at any other time, she probably wouldn’t mind seeing what he had. However, now was so not the time. She didn’t want to lose control of her patient.

Mia hurried to end the call. “A bad hamburger. Whatever. Look, I’ve got to go puke.”

“Eeew! Okay, bye!”

Mia snapped the phone shut. Sternly, she leveled her finger at him. “
You’re
the one who said no hospital!
You’re
the one that got a fever!
You’re
the one who couldn’t be left by himself, oh no! So
I
had to lie and take off from work. Stop being such a big baby!
Stay in that bed!
Got it?”

“Got it.” His intensely blue eyes glittered like deep lake water struck by bright sunlight. He looked mulish, but he settled against the pillows and pulled the bedclothes back up to his gorgeous chest. Watching that nice flat belly disappear, Mia sighed regretfully. He growled at her. “Who’s Marty—Martin?”

“Just my best girlfriend in the whole, whole world! Marti hates her real name—probably because her mom is the only one who calls her Martina.” Mia shot a stern look at him as she picked up the water pitcher and poured another glass of water. She palmed a couple of aspirin and handed the glass and the aspirin to him. “I don’t like fibbing to Marti or to my boss. You better appreciate it.”

He was quiet for a second while taking the aspirin, but he was watching her with eagle eyes. He put the empty glass on the bedside table beside the water pitcher. “You said you had to puke.”

“I needed to get off the phone quick.” Mia frowned down at him. “You’ve been trouble from the get-go, do you know that? Men make the very worst patients! Now, get some more rest! You’ve still got a little fever. I don’t want to lie any more than I have to, to cover your pretty ass.”

He didn’t grin, but she could see the rise of laughter in his eyes. “You’re the boss.”

“Yeah, hotshot, I am.” Mia marched out of the bedroom, mumbling under her breath.

It was a long day. Mia filled in the time by cleaning the apartment and catching up on the laundry and cooking. It was actually kind of fun. It was almost like a mini vacation because she didn’t have to hurry through everything just to get out the door. She sniffed appreciatively. Her place smelled all lemony fresh, even under the aroma of homemade chicken soup. What was good for the soul was good for the body, too. Especially if it had extra garlic.

Her patient was docile. She only had to scold him once, when he had stumbled into the wall on the way back from the bathroom. She had heard the hard bang and rushed into the bedroom in time to help him safely back into the bed. After she had gotten over her fright and finished giving him a piece of her mind, Mia thought it was a shame that he’d been covered up with the blue-and-orange-and-pink beach towel.

* * * *

Actually, he didn’t mind staying in the comfortable bed. He felt inordinately tired, so he knew he was still in pretty bad physical shape. He could feel the dying flames of the fever still licking his bones dry. Yet from time to time, he caught himself shivering with chill under the warm covers.

He had been very, very lucky. He could have bled to death overnight. That shallow cave might have ended up becoming his tomb. Instead, a brave, smart woman had rescued him and patched him up.

Experimentally, he lifted and rotated his wounded arm. He was rewarded with a spasm of fiery pain, so he didn’t do it again. Instead, he concentrated on getting better.

He ate when the woman gave him something to eat. He let her take his pulse and his temperature. He made no complaint, even though he had to grit his teeth, when she changed his dressing. Most of the time, he dozed. Other times, he stared at the ceiling, wondering about the woman.

Whenever she came into the bedroom, he felt the way his whole being instantly felt more alive. He tried hard not to show it. He tried even harder to ignore the pleasant sexual tension that she aroused in him, but that was becoming difficult.
I’m a mindless, hopeless, horny idiot.

* * * *

Mia thought he must have hated being regulated to the bed, but he didn’t say so. His eyes lit up whenever she came into the bedroom, so she figured he must have been bored out of his mind. He didn’t seem to care that she bullied him a little. He just grinned up at her and “yes-ma’amed” her.

Mia could mentally feel herself swooning.
He is just so cute. I’d like to keep him.

But he was steadily getting better, which meant things were going to change.

When Mia placed his clean, folded uniform and underclothes on top of the dresser in the bedroom, his handsome face was powered up by a big, flashing smile. “I guess this means I can get up soon?”