Matching Mr. Right(10)

“Last I checked, you had two hands,” she yelled back from her bedroom. “Get it yourself!”

Maybe she shouldn’t have said that about his hands. He’d think she was checking out the size of them to gauge the size of his other . . . parts. She’d be more careful about that.

After she put her contacts in, touched up her makeup, and combed her hair, she changed out of her favorite writing sweats into jeans and a sweater. It had been an unusually warm fall, so she’d forgo a coat.

After grabbing one of her latest books from the box her publisher had sent, she signed it, then added an extra get well wish. Ready to roll, she went to find Nick.

He sat on the couch with his arms crossed, his chin resting on his chest, sound asleep. She glanced at the screen of her laptop, relieved he’d fallen asleep at the end of her story instead of the middle.

She couldn’t fight the urge that overcame her. Really, her middle name should be Chester. She leaned down and shouted in his ear, “All ready to go!”

Nick jerked upright and banged his knee on the coffee table.

“Dammit, Shelby!” He ran a hand through his hair and glowered at her.

“What?” She plastered on an innocent smile. “How was I to know you’re such a light sleeper?”

***

When they got to the hospital, Nick held the door open for Shelby. Guilt clawed inside his gut for spying on her. Especially when she hadn’t hesitated to help Emily. He’d been tempted to dig through Shelby’s computer when he’d had the chance, but he couldn’t be that underhanded. He’d just stuck to asking probing questions about her business during their drive to the hospital.

Now to keep Shelby and Lori apart so she wouldn’t accidentally blow his cover. It had been a close call at the book signing. Luckily Lori used her married last name for her business, not Caldwell, so Shelby wouldn’t recognize Lori as her competitor. And hopefully his sister wasn’t back yet after going home to get Em’s favorite doll.

They turned toward the elevators, but after a few steps Shelby wasn’t beside him like she’d been a moment before. Her pale face made him rush to her side and grab her arm. He led her to a nearby bank of chairs. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She lowered her head between her knees.

“Deep breaths, Shelby.” She probably wouldn’t appreciate comfort from him. But he hated feeling so helpless.

Taking the risk, he slowly ran his hand up and down her back, testing the waters. She tensed at first, but relaxed a little as he continued his soft strokes, waiting her out.

While growing up, he’d had more than his share of calming upset women. As an adult, he’d made it a point to avoid upset women at all costs. But he owed Shelby, so he sucked it up.

When his fingers gently massaged the tense muscles in her long, kissable neck, she sighed.

Progress.

Her breathing became more steady, so he said, “I think we may have gotten off to a bad start, but—”

Shelby snorted as her color returned a bit. “Ya think?”

“My sisters tell me I’m a pretty good listener.”

She sent him a smoldering look, but as he stared deeply into her pretty green eyes, he couldn’t help the smile that tilted his lips. She was beautiful, even though she wanted to beat the crap out of him with her bat.

“Stop that! I’m not like other women. You can’t charm me with that you-know-you-want-me smile of yours.” Shelby frowned and looked away.

Just when he thought he’d been shut down, she whispered, “When I was a kid, I lost my family and then spent almost a year in and out of the hospital. Being here, the smell, it sometimes conjures all the bad memories from back then.”

He took her hand and gently squeezed. “What happened?”

She glanced at their entwined fingers and blew out a long resigned breath. “When I was seven, I’d missed dinner one night, so I sneaked to the kitchen and made myself a grilled cheese sandwich. After I ate it, I went back to bed. I awoke later to a house filled with smoke. I must’ve forgotten to turn off the stove, although I swear I remember turning the knob off. Then I heard my little sister crying, so I ran down the hall to her room and pulled her out of her crib. I tried to open her window, but it was stuck and I couldn’t lift it. I finally got it open a little so I held my sister out so she could breathe, but the window crashed down on my back and I got trapped. I woke up later in the hospital and found out my legs had been burned from about here”—Shelby pointed to a place mid-thigh—“to my feet. I had over twenty surgeries to repair my skin.”

So that’s how she’d lost her family. It was obvious she still blamed herself for it, just as he blamed himself for the destruction of his parents’ marriage. Although, in contrast, his pain couldn’t match hers. “I’m sorry, Shelby. I’ll take you home.”