Stranded (2 page)

3

Poppy was trying to keep her eyes on the task at hand. Namely, taking off every scrap of clothing from what had turned out to be a very good looking man. When she had stepped off that porch and into the rain to pull him inside, she had nearly lost her breath. What she found standing before her was not a faceless blob, but a tall, handsome guy with deeply black eyes and chiseled good
looks. Now that she had him in the light she could see that “chiseled” extended far beyond his face. From that blade of a nose to those defined abs, the man was a piece of work fit for a museum. He was nothing like Malcolm, the Scot in the trashy romance novel currently sitting behind her on the sofa arm. Rather, the man before her sported an athletic build, solid and large with trim muscles that bulged in all the right places without being overwhelming.

             
She hadn’t realized she’d stopped undressing him until he snapped his fingers in front of her face saying “S-see something you like?”

             
God, that voice was sex on a stick. Deep and rough from being exposed to the weather, it reminded her of the lead singer of Kings of Leon, except he didn’t look much like the singing type. Too clean. Too civilized. He was still staring at her, waiting for an answer. What was the question again? Oh, right, he wanted his ego stroked. Well, unlucky for him, she wasn’t into pacification. 

             
“Well, you’re not a shirt ripper.” She let her words dangle in the air, pleased when she caught a glimpse of heat kiss his cheeks. Good, because it just wouldn’t do for her alone to be embarrassed with what was about to happen here.

             
Getting to her feet, Poppy wiggled her fingers at him, motioning him to stand too. “Take off your boxers.”

             
“I d-don’t think you really want me to do that,” the man said doubtfully. At least his shaking appeared to have lessened a bit.

             
“I already told you,” Poppy said with exasperation. “I’ve seen it all.”

             
“Right.” Pursing his lips, they stared each other down for a long moment, until finally determination flashed across the man’s face and he hooked his thumbs in the waistband and pushed. The sodden fabric resisted at first, then, with a forceful shove, they fell with a plop to the floor.

             
Poppy stared. Really stared. Considering the frigid conditions this man had just come out of, she would have thought his nether regions would be firmly rooted some place north of the border, but instead it hung there in all its glory—a heavy burden to carry around on a regular day, to be sure. It took a lot to impress Poppy, but impressed she was.

             
“Thought you’ve s-seen it all,” the man said wryly.

             
Snapping to attention, Poppy wrenched her eyes away from his dangly bits and quickly began gathering the wet clothes from the floor. “I have,” she insisted.

             
“Then why’d you stare?” he goaded.

             
She stood, her back gone rigid. “I did not stare,” Poppy said indignantly.

             
A grin split across his face. “You did.”

             
“Did not!”

             
A strange look suddenly crossed his face and he swayed on his feet. Dropping the pile of clothes, Poppy grabbed for his arms and helped him back into the chair. He was shaking again, his full lips tinged with blue. Bo moved to her side protectively, but she shooed him away. He didn’t like strangers around her, but he would just have to get over it.

             
“You need to get warm fast before you go into shock. Stay here.” Leaving his side, Poppy rushed up the stairs to the bathroom, wishing that the old house had more than one, and preferably on the first floor. How in the world was she going to lug a guy that size up the stairs? A matter to deal with when it was time to deal, she supposed.

             
Turning on the faucets, she adjusted the water to lukewarm, then plugged the tub and headed back downstairs.

Felix clutched the warm blanket around his shoulders. The almost violent shaking was taxing his muscles and he was beginning to feel the strain. His head was splitting and he was really freaking cold. And that damn dog kept staring at him like he was prime rib.

To take his mind off the cold and the possibility of being eaten alive, he turned his thoughts to the woman whose name he hadn’t yet bothered to ask, but promised himself he would soon.

It was a dangerous thing she was doing, bringing a total stranger into her home in the middle of the night. It didn’t seem to him that there was a man of the house,
which made her that much more vulnerable. She had a dog, yes, but how would he fair against an intruder with a gun? He wasn’t even sure why he cared really. It wasn’t like he was some ax murderer or anything, but the strangest thing had happened once he had laid eyes on her in the proper lighting. An overwhelming need to protect had risen up in him, along with another, more primal, need to ravage her in every way imaginable.

She was small, her features delicate. She had wide brown eyes framed with thick, curling lashes. Her nose was slim and downturned with a small bump that he found oddly sexy
, since he had always considered himself a breast man. His first impression of her curvaceous body had proven accurate, which was a bonus, and he couldn’t help where his mind strayed when he had caught her staring at his body as if she wanted to jump his bones right then and there. He had been eager to oblige, but then his body pulled some kind of sissy move and next thing he knew, he had turned into the damsel in distress.

Humiliating.

He had thought the night might finally be starting to look up, but it was becoming painfully clear that it was just warming up.

“The tub is filling,” the woman said as she stepped off the last stair. “Can you walk?”

Felix looked up to find his hostess standing at the bottom of the staircase. Hell, but she hadn’t even bothered to change. Still dressed in the
cami, skin flushed, hair damp from being outside, she looked like she had just walked out of a fantasy. Any other time, any other situation, and he would have leaped on the opportunity to take her to his bed. His body stirred to life and Felix tugged the blanket tighter around him to hide the evidence.

She had taken up a stance at the wall, and Felix could see from her rigid posture and take no prisoners attitude that she was back in business mode, which was fine with him—someone needed to be an adult here. He didn’t need to get himself into more trouble by sleeping with the woman. With the way the night was going, she would turn out to be the stalker type and he would find himself fighting for his life in some weekend from hell massacre type deal, and he was just too exhausted to handle all that right now. What he needed to do was get warm, get dry and get to a phone so he could call a tow truck and finally go home.

“Hellooo.” She waved her hands in the air to call back his attention.

Felix blinked a couple times before pushing to his feet. It was a struggle, but he managed to stay on his feet this time. “Yeah, I can walk.”

“Good” was all she said as she stepped back and watched him shuffle across the floor and start up the stairs with Bo following close behind.

As it turned out, Poppy had to help the man halfway up the long staircase. His legs were wobbly by the time they hit the top and his skin was ashen.
Just how long had he been caught in the elements, anyway?
She wasn’t an expert, but he seemed far worse for the wear for someone who simply was wet and cold.

             
The tub was half full when they entered the bathroom and Poppy propped the man against the wall so she could bend to shut off the water.

             
Dipping her fingers in the water to test the temperature, she thought about how this man had been in her home for nearly half an hour, she had seen him naked, and was preparing him a bath, and she didn’t even know what to call him.

“Before this goes any further, what is your name?” Poppy asked over her shoulder.

He snorted amusedly. “Just now realizing you have a strange guy in your house and absolutely no information to tell the cops if he turns out to be a violent criminal?”

Poppy’s eyes widened and she turned on him. “Are you?” She hadn’t thought of that. God, how stupid was she? Jimmy had always scolded her on being too trusting of people, and she guessed he was right on that count. She had believed him every time he said he had to work late, after all. Well, she knew better now. Or at least she thought she did before this big slip up.

“Am I what?” the man asked, a smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth, those dark eyes dancing with humor. 

She really shouldn’t find him attractive right now, considering he might be an escaped convict or something. It didn’t even matter that his pallor
nearly matched the white wall behind him or that his lips were tinted blue, because as his gaze travelled over her with unmasked desire, Poppy felt a tingling sensation working its way up from her toes to settle between her legs.

It ha
d been a long time since a man had looked at her like that. Like he could eat her right up.

Catching herself before
she could get too sucked in to his charms, Poppy set her jaw determinedly and narrowed her eyes on him. “Are you a criminal? You don’t look like one, but that’s what they said about Ted Bundy before they found the bodies.”

He made a sound like a small laugh at the back of his throat. “No, I’m not a criminal. Never even been arrested, but do you really think I would tell you something like that if I was?”

              She supposed not, and to be honest, she really didn’t peg him for the malicious type. His clothes alone—a suit coat and slacks and a button down shirt—spoke volumes. He exuded control and pure masculinity, like he owned the room and everything and everyone in it. He was at ease with himself, clearly, judging by the way he leaned against the wall in front of her like he couldn’t care less that he was in his birthday suit with only a blanket to shield him from her eyes. And what would he have to be ashamed about anyway? Despite multiple contusions, he was simply mouthwatering to look at, and she had a feeling that he knew it, too. If she had to place him, she would guess that he worked in an office somewhere, maybe in a high rise, where people answered to him, not the other way around.

             
Well, thanks to her divorce, Poppy was a woman scorned, and she didn’t answer to anyone. Jabbing a finger at the tub, she said, “Get in the water.”

             
His brows pulled down at her tone. Clearly the man was having trouble making sense of her abrupt change of mood, but he was wise enough not to comment on it.

Standing to his full height, he dropped the blanket from his shoulders and Poppy watched almost breathlessly as it floated to the floor, pooling lovingly at his feet. Exuding a wealth of confidence, the man strode carefully past her, measuring every step, yet still managing to appear completely in control of
himself, and slipped into the tub with a sigh that resonated in Poppy like a caress.

             
Poppy was practically salivating, but her admiration quickly turned to worry when her eyes fell to the faint bruises doting his arms, chest and back. How had she not noticed those before?

             
“What happened?” Before she could stop herself, Poppy was beside the tub, her hand poised over his chest. Realizing what she was about to do, she yanking the appendage back like she had been burned. “Uh…”

             
He simply looked down at himself, frowning as he inspected the damage. “Got into a car accident,” he supplied simply, touching a particularly large one on his ribcage that was sure to be nasty later.

             
Poppy gasped. “A
car
accident? Is that what you were doing out there?”

             
Losing interest in his injuries, the man laid his head back on the rim of the porcelain tub and closed his eyes. “It’s been a long weekend and I was on my way home when I dozed off and lost control of the car. Next thing I knew, I was waking up in a ditch. Your house is the first I came across.”

             
Well, she wasn’t surprised to hear that. The house was in the boonies, not a soul in sight for miles. It was that little detail that sold her on it, but now she was wondering if maybe she was wrong. What if she had been the one to run off the road? The country roads weren’t known for being well lit. In fact, they had no lights at all, so it could happen easily enough. It could be hours before someone passed by to help her.

             
“Don’t you have a cell phone?” she asked.

             
“Broken.”

             
She grew irritated with the idea that he had been in danger, without resources, and it none of it had to happen. “Well what the hell were you doing out there on a night like this when you couldn’t even keep your eyes on the road?” she demanded, propping her fists on her hips. “You could have killed not only yourself, but someone else!”