Xander’s dizzy spell slowly faded, but his eyelids were heavy. If he could keep them closed and rest—just for a few moments …
The scent of chocolate and cherries and warm woman soothed the aches in his body, eclipsing the memories of blood spurting and calming the remembered surge of adrenaline that had fuelled his sprint to the injured man. He wanted to lock those moments down and not think about them, or the sharp pain of wire ripping his hand when he wrestled the fence panel back to staunch the blood.
But there was something … someone who needed him. Jenny. What was it he had to do for his sister?
‘Are you okay?’ Warm breath skated over his neck. Flick?
His right hand throbbed. Pain relief rested in tablet form in his jacket pocket, if he could find the will to hold his head up and take it. Realising he’d missed several vital seconds, he exerted what felt like superhuman power and lifted his head from her shoulder. ‘What?’
‘Don’t say what; say pardon.’
Xander blinked and focused past Flick’s ear. His sister stood in the open doorway. Arms folded across her chest, she watched them with keen interest. A quickly muffled giggle from Flick brought him to his senses, to awareness of where he was.
And what he was doing.
His one good hand gripped Flick’s hip, and the scent of baking—of berries and rich cream frosting—wafted beneath his nose. Loose strands of her hair clung to his sweaty skin. Beneath his good hand, the curve of her hip was warm, enticing … intimate in an odd way that had little to do with his spinning head.
He forced himself to stand straight, but his hand wouldn’t release his hold of the woman who had prevented him from taking a fall and likely cracking his head on the tiled floor. If anything, his grip tightened as she swayed.
Or he swayed.
Blue eyes scanned his face, peered into his eyes. ‘Maybe you should sit down. Did you hit your head?’ she said very quietly.
‘I’ll be okay.’
Chris appeared behind Jenny, easing past her into the change room. ‘Xander, you okay, mate?’
‘Don’t fuss. I’m fine.’
‘Are you going to get married?’ Jenny’s question dropped into the quiet room and carried through the open door into the work place, quiet except for the hiss of gas and the squeak of rubber-soled shoes in the kitchen beyond.
There was a sense of waiting, a quality of listening with bated breath as the room and the kitchen and his sister and Chris waited for his answer. And Flick? Amusement brightened her blue eyes. Why did the question amuse her?
Xander looked at his sister. ‘Of course I am. One day.’
‘You were kissing Flick. Mum says when people kiss they’re married, or they’re going to get married.’
Chris let out a sharp and quickly cut-off laugh, but his eyes crinkled above the smile he couldn’t quite wipe off his face. ‘Oui, that is often the case, Jenny. People kiss then wham! They get married and have babies.’
‘Shut it, Chris. You’re not helping.’
Flick grinned, took a breath. Her lips parted and, in a lucid moment, Xander knew he needed to stop her denying they’d been kissing. Kissing was far less of a problem than admitting to his sister he’d almost fainted. She would worry if she thought he was sick, and fret over what would happen. Jenny needed strength and stability from him, not the weakness he’d just exhibited. Jenny needed what she thought she’d seen to be true because the reality was scary.
He dipped his head and touched his lips to Flick’s. There—now he had kissed her. Now she couldn’t say they weren’t kissing because … because … Why had Jenny thought they were kissing?
Had he in fact kissed Flick and forgotten the moment?
Startled, wide eyes looked at him and she lifted a hand to her lips.
‘Xander and Flick are getting married. Yay!’ Jenny clapped, and a wide smile settled on her face.
Chris took Jenny’s elbow and led her out of the change room.
‘Why are we leaving, Chris?’
‘Because if they are getting married, then they will want to be alone, ma petite.’
Flick looked up at Xander. Her gaze was no longer deep-blue but stormy-grey. Hands on hips, the look in her eyes threatened emasculation. ‘Did you hit your head as well as rip your hand?’
‘You were going to tell Jenny the truth. She won’t cope if she thinks I’m injured.’
‘So you kissed me to—’ She frowned and tipped her head to the side.
The throbbing in his hand was sharper. With an indrawn breath, he reached awkwardly with his left hand into his right pocket for the small bottle of painkillers the doc had given him. The bottle caught on something.
‘Here, let me get that.’ Flick slipped her hand into the pocket and took the bottle out. She looked at the label. ‘How many do you need?’
‘One for now. I’ve got to take Jenny back to the apartment.’
Without a word Flick half-filled a glass with water and set it beside him before shaking out one tablet into the lid and offering it to him. He tossed the tablet into his mouth, following it with a long mouthful of water and a heavy sigh.
Flick pressed her lips together. ‘We’re going to talk about what happened later. Go and rest.’
Without another word, she opened the door and held it, waiting for him to leave.