Star Witness (15 page)

She breathed in his scent, felt the rough stubble on his cheeks scrape her skin. He was deliciously male, solid and strong in a fascinating way that was so different from her own body. His arms and chest felt like steel wrapped in silk. Just as she reached up to wrap her hands around his neck and pull him closer, greedy for more of the breathtaking desire, he froze.

“What?” she said against his mouth, her heart jackhammering in her chest. “Did you hear something?”

“No,” he rasped, his voice hoarse with emotion. He pulled away from her and leaned back against the wall.

“Then what? Is it me?” She winced as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Even if that was why he had pulled away, she didn’t want to know.

He gave his head a shake and rose to his haunches.

“Harte?”

“Don’t make something of nothing. You’re soaking wet and you haven’t stopped shivering. I’m pretty miserable too. We need to find some dry clothes and see what else is around here that we can use.”

Dani wanted to tell him that yes, she was chilly, but her shivering was caused not by the weather, but by his kiss, his scent, the warmth of his skin. But before she could speak, he was pushing himself to his feet.

“And we can’t forget that those guys are still out there, looking for us. Thank God they no longer have a car. But there are four of them.” He turned his attention to the front windows for a moment, then wiped his face.

“I’ll go see what I can find,” he said in what she thought of as his prosecutor’s tone—formal, a bit detached, professional. He could have been talking to anybody. Anybody except the person he’d just shared a hot, erotic kiss with.

It was clear as glass. He was sorry he’d kissed her—and she was very sorry about that.

Chapter Eleven

Harte cursed himself silently but fluently as he clenched his jaw and forced his breathing under control. How had he let that happen? Being so close to Dani was too enticing. He was apparently not capable of controlling himself around her.

He’d promised himself that he’d protect her. As her attorney, it was his duty. And in no dictionary did any definition of the word
protection
include seduction. He’d gotten her into this dangerous situation, and there was no way he was going to allow himself to be blinded by his raging attraction to her. Her safety, her life, depended on his self-control. It was important that both of them understood that.

He took a deep breath and turned back toward her, digging deep inside for the strength to face her dispassionately.

“Dani,” he said tightly. “Your safety is my responsibility. If I’m going to protect you, you’re going to have to help me. We need each other’s warmth and support, and it’s natural that our closeness might lead to—tension.”

He stood and looked down at her, his expression grim. “But I can’t let anything happen between us. If I let my guard down for even a minute, it could get you killed.”

Mortification flooded her face, and her cheeks flamed. His heart ached to pull her into his arms and assure her that he desired her, but it was better for her to think he didn’t want her than to risk her safety.

“I’m aware of the danger,” she said archly.

“I know you are.”

“And I understand what you’re saying. I suppose you’re right. It is the normal male reaction—”

“That’s not what I said.”

Dani held up her hand. “It’s all right. We’re in a deadly, dangerous situation and the only way we’re going to survive is if we can depend on each other to be strong. I didn’t mean to distract you.”

“Damn it, Dani. I’m trying to keep us alive. This is not personal.” Hell. That hadn’t come out right. He’d gone about this all wrong, and she was not helping. If she’d just stop and think, surely she’d realize what he meant. Irritation flared inside him.

“Just try to stay focused, okay?” he said, and turned to shine the flashlight toward the main floor of the store.

Dani could see the muscle in his jaw working. His chiseled features looked sculpted in marble. She watched as he withdrew, physically and emotionally. His back was ramrod straight, the muscles knotted. His whole body exuded intense control.

What she’d told him was true. She knew he was right. They had to stay focused. Distractions could be deadly. Harte might have lost his focus for an instant to indulge his lust, but now Mr. Prosecutor was back.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, just as lightning flashed and thunder roared.

Dani jumped and gasped. “Where are you going?” she asked anxiously.

Harte heard the apprehension in her voice. It reminded him that, as brave as she’d been, she was deeply afraid of storms.

“I just want to check things out.” He turned to look out the glass front of the drugstore as another bolt of lightning flared. The thunder seemed to be roiling continuously. The rain and wind made it almost impossible to see anything, and all the lightning did was to brighten the grays.

“I don’t think they will suspect that we’re here. I couldn’t see inside from out there.”

She turned to look, and cringed when a flash of lightning flared, followed immediately by a clap of thunder. “Why isn’t the storm moving away?”

“I guess that low front stalled it.”

“I guess.” Dani’s voice was a mixture of apprehension and weariness.

Harte picked up the big flashlight and shone the narrow beam on the signs about the aisles of shelves. “Batteries, aisle four,” he read. “Stationery, toys, paper towels. Looks like we’ve got all the comforts of home.” He turned the flashlight in the opposite direction. “Ah, kitchen,” he said, and headed in that direction.

“Kitchen?”

“Sure. I want some towels to dry off with. As soon as I get them, I want to find an elastic bandage.”

He grabbed some dish towels. “These should work,” he said, and tucked them under his arm.

Dani was reading the signs on the other aisles. “Look, Harte,” she cried. “T-shirts.”

They picked out long-sleeved T-shirts that read The Big Easy. “And hoodies!” Dani cried. “Ooh—fleece.”

His heart twisted painfully in his chest at the look on her face. She beamed as if the fleece were golden. It took all his self-control not to hug her tight and promise her he’d make it his personal mission to see that she never felt cold again.

“Here,” he said, spotting fleece throws. He grabbed two. “These will be good if we get chilly.”

“I wish they had pants,” she said wistfully. “Although these jeans are hard enough to get on and off dry. I’ll probably never be able to peel them off soaking wet.”

Harte couldn’t help looking as she held up a pink hoodie with a graffiti design, measuring it against her.
Tight
didn’t begin to describe her jeans, now that they were wet. They looked as though they’d been painted on her sexy hips and legs. He loved her body. It was curvy in all the right places and in precisely the right amount. He swallowed hard and did his best not to get lost in an image of her wiggling her way out of those wet jeans.

“Harte, look!” she cried.

He turned. She’d gone to the end of the aisle and was reading the signs farther along. “Scrubs and socks—and oh, thank God, underwear.”

She ran. When he caught up, she handed him a pair of scrubs. “Here’s a pair of XL for you and a medium for me.” She headed up the aisle to a display of socks, boxers and briefs and panties. She grabbed a package of cotton panties and one of socks, then paused. She looked up at him. Her face held a pained expression. “We’re looting, aren’t we?”

“I guess so, in the strictest sense of the word. But I’ll bet the owner wouldn’t begrudge us these few items, under the circumstances.” He gave her a small smile. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll send him a check when we get out of here.”

“When we get out—” she echoed, then turned toward him, doubt and fear darkening her eyes. “Swear to me that we will get out of here.”

“Of course we will,” he said, unable to resist reaching out to touch her cheek and berating himself for his weakness. A fluttery feeling rippled in his chest when her head inclined toward his hand. “As soon as we’ve rested for a few minutes, we need to get out of here and get as far away from this area as we can. As soon as I figure out what street we’re on, I’ll be able to find a police station.”

She lifted her head and gave him a searching gaze. “A police station. Really?”

“Really,” he assured her. He wished he was as confident as he sounded. “Now we need to get out of these wet clothes.”

A sudden blast of wind rattled the windows and doors and made the roof creak loudly. It roared like an oncoming train. Dani threw herself into Harte’s arms with a small shriek. He held on to her until the noise died down.

“I’m so sorry. I’m trying not to react every time it thunders,” she said as she picked up the items she’d dropped.

“You’re doing real well.”

“You don’t think that was a tornado, do you?”

He shook his head. “It sounded more like straight-line wind. But I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the damage we’ve seen and heard has been from tornadoes. These spring storms can spawn them.”

“I know,” Dani muttered.

Harte cringed, his heart aching with understanding. Her father had died in a tornado. Of course she was terrified that any wind and rain would turn into a deadly funnel cloud. He shouldn’t have gone on and on about them.

“There’s the pain-relief aisle. I need an elastic bandage for my ankle. Then we can check out the back.” He grabbed a bandage and headed toward the back of the store.

“There,” he said, pointing toward a door that said Employees Only. When he opened it, he found a dark, musty storeroom with shelves groaning under the weight of boxes and bins of all shapes and sizes. There was a door marked with an Exit sign.

Throwing the latch on the exit door, he eased it open. The rain was still coming down in buckets, and the alley behind the store was running at least six inches deep in water. He set his jaw and stuck his head out, wincing at the chilly wind that blew rain in his face. He’d almost dried enough that he didn’t feel waterlogged. He wasn’t anxious to get out into the rain again. But he’d needed to check out their means of escape. “We can get out this way if we need to,” he said, closing and latching the door.

Dani sighed. “Okay. Can we go back inside the store? It’s chilly out here. And look.” She pointed. “The roof is leaking like a sieve.”

“Sure, go ahead,” Harte said. “I’ll change in here. Take some of these towels.”

“Stand over here near the door while you’re changing,” she said. “Otherwise your clothes will be wet again before you get them on.”

She left and Harte quickly shed his shirt and peeled off his jeans, remembering what she’d said about hers. She was right. The wet denim felt like duct tape as he peeled them down his legs. He dried off quickly and donned the scrub pants. Then he sat on one haunch as he quickly and efficiently wrapped his sore and swollen ankle and pulled on clean dry socks. But once it was wrapped, he found that he couldn’t get his shoe back on. He tried the bandage alone, but no. It was still too large. Finally, sighing with frustration and the anticipation of more pain, he unwrapped his foot and tossed the bandage aside. He was able to get the shoe on over a dry sock. Just as he reached for the long-sleeved Big Easy T-shirt, he heard a crash and a scream.

Grabbing the flashlight, he bolted through the door and almost ran headlong into a shelf. Careering around it, he sprinted to the front of the store. “Dani? Dani!”

He heard her whimper.

Turning toward her voice, he saw the narrow beam of her flashlight canted across the floor, illuminating a pale body sprawled on the floor. “Dani!”

She was sprawled facedown on the floor with her wet jeans and a pair of white panties tangled around her feet, and scrubs and hoodie in a pile beside her. She was wearing nothing but the T-shirt.
Nothing
but the T-shirt. Her pale, shapely backside was bare.

He blinked and clamped his jaw tight. “Dani—” he said, and started to bend down. Thank God there was at least one part of his brain that was holding on to rational thought, even though the rest of him was reacting to the exquisite sight of her beautiful, bare body.

“No!” She turned her head and looked up at him, horrified. “Get away!”

He froze.

She wriggled as she tried to pull the tail of the shirt down to cover her butt. She wasn’t successful. “Go—somewhere, please,” she begged. “Don’t look.”

Harte didn’t know what to do except turn his back.

“Are you hurt?”

“No,” she said shortly.

He heard fabric rustling and a couple of quiet groans of frustration.

“So you tripped over your jeans when you tried to take them off?” he asked, trying his best to sound serious and supportive, although in a different situation, it would be really funny.

“Don’t you dare laugh at me. I swear I’ll—” She yelped in pain.

Harte whirled. She was holding her left wrist. “What is it?” he asked. “Your wrist?”

“Don’t look,” she cried. “Turn around!”

“I need to look at your wrist.”

“It’s fine,” she said. The stubborn tightness of her voice was in sharp contrast to the mortified and pain-filled look on her face. She raised her gaze to his. “Please.”

He turned his back again. While he waited for her to dress, he occupied himself by trying, without much success, to banish the vision of her exquisite curves. He heard her moving around. Then she bit off another gasp of pain.

He almost turned around, but he restrained himself. “Be careful with your wrist. If it’s broken—”

“I am,” she grated. He could practically hear her jaw clenching. After a few moments, she said, “Okay. I’m dressed.”

He turned around and looked at her. But she was looking at the pile of clothes on the floor, and her face was turning bright red.

He looked down to see what was so embarrassing for her. There, nice and white and pretty, were the cotton bikini panties she’d found on the store shelves. He stared at the dazzling white scrap of fabric lying on the drugstore floor, every bit as mesmerized as she’d been, and certain he was thinking the same thing she was. He raised his gaze to hers and felt himself grow hard at the thought that she had nothing on under the thin cotton scrub pants.