Hannah knew she’d annoyed him with her ground rules. But the way she saw it, she hadn’t exactly had a choice—especially after that kiss back at Angela Pearl’s. She was vulnerable to him not only because of her amnesia and the fact that someone had declared open season on her, but because of her insane attraction to him. With her life in turmoil—and apparently in danger—she couldn’t afford that kind of distraction.
John Maitland definitely distracted her.
Since the moment he’d swooped down from the helicopter and taken her into his arms, she hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind. Even in the face of danger, he made her feel safe—though she knew another kind of danger may very well lie within the man himself. Falling for those arctic-blue eyes and daredevil grin would be a fatal mistake. No matter how stressful the circumstance—or how intense the attraction—the fact remained that she carried another man’s child within her womb.
She was insane to be thinking of John in terms of the way he’d kissed her when she was obviously involved with someone else. Just because she couldn’t remember her lover’s name didn’t mean she wasn’t in love with him.
“Home sweet home.”
Hannah was so caught up in her thoughts, she didn’t notice the Jeep had slowed. She looked up in time to see a narrow lane, the headlights playing over hundred-year-old pines and aspen the color of old bone.
“Nice neighborhood,” she commented.
“So long as the neighbors stay out of the garbage.”
She cut him her best what’s-that-supposed-to-mean look.
He grinned. “Bears.”
“Oh. Friendly bears, I hope.”
“They make pretty good neighbors, actually. They hardly ever complain about the music.”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “Or borrow tools and forget to return them.”
“Right.” He parked in front of a detached garage and shut down the engine. “The place needed a lot of work when I bought it, but the location and view were too good to pass up.”
Ahead and to her left she could make out the shape of a small cabin nestled in a shadowed forest. The moon wasn’t full, but enough light reflected off the snow for her to make out the wraparound front porch and river-rock chimney.
She started when John opened his door. “I guess we’re both a little jumpy tonight,” he said.
“All that talk about bears.”
“Stay put,” he said. “The walkway is slick. I haven’t shoveled the snow yet.”
Hannah opened her door, but before she could get out, he’d walked around the Jeep and reached for her. His hands slipped beneath her arms, and he gently lowered her to the ground.
“Thank you.”
The night was bracingly cold and so quiet, she could hear the wind whispering through the treetops.
“It’s so…quiet,” she said.
“The wildlife is pretty incredible, too. Mule deer. Raccoons. I saw a small herd of elk last weekend.”
Ice crunched beneath their feet as they tromped through the snow toward the front door. Hannah wasn’t sure why she felt so apprehensive. She told herself it was a combination of her amnesia and the shooting back at Angela Pearl’s, but she knew the tingle of nerves as John opened the door had little to do with either of those things—and everything to do with the way she was reacting to him.
The door swung open. The first thing she noticed was the tang of burning pine from an earlier fire, the remnants of this morning’s coffee and the faint scent of aftershave and man. John flipped a switch next to the door, and light from a single lamp illuminated a small living room. Rough-hewn beams and dark paneling bestowed a rustic ambience. A brown leather sofa draped with an Indian-print afghan lined the wall to her left. A mismatched chair and a braided rug lent an air of masculine comfort. A river-rock hearth dominated the center of the room and swept up to the rafters like a stone waterfall. One look at the mismatched pillows piled on the floor in front of it, and the hardback thriller lying facedown, told Hannah it was used often and enjoyed.
“Nice place.” Her voice sounded high and tight in the silence of the room.
“It suits me.” He took off his coat and hung it on the rack behind the door. “I can hang your coat if you like.”
“I’ve got it.” She slipped the coat from her shoulders and hung it on the rack.
“Hungry?” He started toward the kitchen.
“No thanks.”
She knew better than to watch him cross the room, but her eyes took on a life of their own and played over the length of him. The man knew how to fill out a pair of jeans, that was for sure. He didn’t do too bad in the area of filling out that flannel shirt, either. In fact, he seemed to do a pretty good job of filling the entire room.
“I’ll just get you something to drink, then. I’ve got milk or juice. Hot chocolate if you prefer.”
Thinking of the baby growing inside her, Hannah was about to opt for milk when movement in the kitchen sent her heart to her throat. Something large and dark lumbered toward them. Good Lord, a grizzly bear? In the cabin? Weren’t they supposed to be hibernating this time of year?
The scream died in her throat when she realized the bear wasn’t a bear at all, but a monstrous dog with a thick black coat, massive head and a lolling, pink tongue.
The dog galloped from the kitchen toward John.
“Whoa! Down!” John raised his hands, but the dog paid no heed. Two huge paws crashed against his chest. Hannah heard a grunt, and then John reeled backward and landed on the floor with the giant beast standing proudly on his chest.
“Get off me, you big mutt!”
Realizing they were no longer in grave danger, Hannah put her hand to her chest and laughed. “I think he missed you.”
John turned his head to avoid the dog’s overzealous tongue. “I forgot to warn you about my watchdog.”
“What does he do, lick prowlers to death?”
“Uh, he’s still in training, actually. Midlife career change.”
“That’s tough.”
The dog sat, his tail thumping hard against the pine floor. John struggled to his feet, wiping his cheek with the sleeve of his shirt. “He didn’t get his walk today.”
“No wonder he decked you.” She looked down at the dog, charmed by the sagging eyes and jowls. “What is he?”
“Newfoundland Retriever.”
“What’s his name?”
“Honeybear.” He shot Hannah a sheepish grin. “I didn’t name him.”
The denial freed the laugh from her throat. “Of course not.” She ran her hand over the animal’s head. “He’s beautiful. Where did you get him?”
“He was a search-and-rescue dog for an outfit up in Vail. He got hurt during a mission—broke his hip—and couldn’t work anymore. No one on the team could take him at the time. My buddy asked me.” He scratched the dog’s head with shoddily concealed affection. “One look at those eyes, and I couldn’t walk away.”
Hannah caught herself grinning back, not sure if she was more charmed by the dog or the man. “He’s lucky.”
The look he gave her went on way too long. “I’ll just put him outside. Make yourself at home. The guest bedroom is down the hall. I’ll get your bag when I come back.” His eyes skimmed down her legs. “I’ll have a look at those skinned knees, too.”
Without waiting for a reply, he snagged the dog’s collar. Honeybear proceeded to drag him toward the kitchen where Hannah assumed the back door was.
The cabin was exactly how she’d pictured it from the outside. Practical. Comfortable. A hint of male clutter without being messy. Clean, but not immaculate by any means. She looked around the living room for pictures or photographs or mementos, but found nothing. Either John didn’t have a family, or he chose not to be reminded of them.
Grabbing her bag, she made her way down the hall toward the bedroom. A navy towel lay on the floor in the bathroom. In the room across the hall, a set of weights cluttered the floor next to a desk and leather chair. The larger bedroom was masculine, as well, with dark paneling, a geometric bedspread in hues of navy and cream, and a bookcase loaded with everything from the latest thriller to search-and-rescue emergency field medicine guides.
“The first-aid kit is in the kitchen.”
Hannah spun at the sound of his voice. John stood in the doorway, his arm braced against the jamb, watching her.
The sight of him made her feel breathless. The thought of him getting close enough to look at her knees, of him putting his hands on her legs made her dizzy. Abruptly the room seemed too small for the both of them. “That’s not necessary.”
He pointed in the general direction of her knees. “I hate to point this out to you, Red, but your knees are probably scraped.”
She looked down at her knees in question, realized she’d been so distracted she’d forgotten about the fall. “Oh.”
“I can’t stand to see unattended wounds.” Not waiting for a response, John turned and headed toward the kitchen. “Come on. I’ll fix you up.”
Taking a deep breath, Hannah followed.
The kitchen was as no-nonsense as the rest of the cabin. Pine cabinets lined the walls. A plate and a single mug drained neatly in the sink. The butcher-block counter held a set of knives. A navy dish towel was tossed haphazardly on the counter. A fifty-pound bag of high-quality dog food sat in the corner.
John opened the cabinet above the sink and removed a first-aid kit. Setting the kit on the kitchen table, he pulled out a chair. “Have a seat.”
“This really isn’t necessary.”
“I’m a medic. It’s what I do. Humor me, okay?”
She didn’t have a comeback for that, so she sank into the chair.
“That glass of milk is for you,” he said.
“Oh.” She picked up the glass, sipped. “Thanks.”
He knelt in front of her and slipped her foot out of the too-large sandal. “We’ll need to get you some decent shoes in a couple of days.”
“I tried some sneakers at the hospital, but my feet were swollen from the frostbite.”
“The inflammation should go down in a day or two. Maybe even tomorrow.”
Hannah knew she should say something, but the power of speech deserted her when he set her foot on his thigh and began to roll the hem of the scrub toward her knee. “H-how long have you been a medic?” she asked, trying to keep herself from noticing the gentle brush of his knuckles against her calf.
“I’ve been with Rocky Mountain Search and Rescue for six years.”
“Do you like that sort of work? I mean, jumping out of helicopters must be…stressful.”
He shot her a cocky grin. “I’m an adrenaline freak, so it’s not stressful at all. I love it. But it’s not all exciting work, either. We get called out for bee stings. Lost dogs. Last summer we geared up and flew to a site only to realize a hiker had fallen and broken his pinkie finger.”
“Oops.”
“Buzz wanted to break the other one for good measure, but we talked him out of it.”
“Is your boss always so surly?”
“Ever since his divorce, the man’s had the personality of a rabid wolverine.”
Hannah knew firsthand just how cutting the older man could be. “Is search-and-rescue work what you’ve always wanted to do?”
“Well, when I was a kid, I wanted to be a cop,” he said.
“What made you decide not to?”
The shadow crossed John’s expression so quickly, she wasn’t sure she’d seen it at all. But she didn’t miss the tremor in his hand as he peeled the hem of her scrub pants over her knee.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said.
“You didn’t.” Glancing up at her, he grimaced, then turned his attention back to her knee. “Hurt?”
“Not too much.”
“Liar. You’ve got a deep abrasion and a hell of a bruise. Those hurt.”
“I guess that’ll teach me to dive onto somebody’s icy lawn the next time bullets start flying.”
“Let’s just count our blessings that it wasn’t worse.” His jaw flexed. “I’ll clean it and apply some antibiotic. You’ll be good as new in a day or two.”
She watched as he removed a cotton ball from the kit and saturated it with antiseptic. Then with those doctor’s hands, he held her calf and pressed the cotton to the wound. The sting was sharp and instantaneous.
“Yow.”
“Sorry.”
She bit her lip against the sting. “So what did you do before you started with the search-and-rescue outfit?”
“I was a paramedic in Denver.”
“That’s how you met Angela Pearl?”
“Yep. She was my first transport.”
“What happened?”
After removing the cotton ball, John opened a tube of ointment. “My partner and I were called out to a domestic. She was in bad shape when we got there. Broken nose. A couple of broken ribs.”
“Her husband?”
“Yeah. He cried like a baby the whole time the cops were arresting him. The spineless worm.”
“That’s very sad.”
“I don’t have any sympathy for men who hit women. The cops had been called out to their apartment a dozen times. The warning signs were there. But no one did anything.” Something dark and angry flashed in the cool blue depths of his eyes. “We thought we were going to lose her that first night.”
The words put a lump in Hannah’s throat. “Things worked out for Angela.”
“She was smart—and very lucky. We kept in touch. She became somewhat of an advocate after that. I’d see her every so often at the hospital. She took some social work courses at the community college. Got a license from the city. Then she opened her shelter.”
“She’s making a difference.”
“She’s found her calling. She’s incredibly committed. I admire her.” He shot Hannah a canny look. “It takes guts to walk away from something like that.”
The statement made her think of her own bruises and the dark mystery surrounding them. She didn’t relish the thought of being trapped in an abusive relationship. She couldn’t believe she would do that to herself. Certainly not while carrying an innocent unborn child.
After applying the ointment with a cotton swab, John withdrew a gauze bandage from the first-aid kit and set it against the abrasion.
Hannah watched his hands move expertly over her skin, mesmerized by the smooth efficiency with which he worked.
“You never answered my question,” she said after a moment.
“Yeah?” He looked up from his work. “What question is that?”
“You mentioned you wanted to be a police officer. I think you would have been good at it. What made you decide not to?”
* * *
John’s hand quivered slightly as he pressed the first-aid tape to the gauze. It had been a long time since he’d thought of why he wasn’t a cop, even longer since he’d discussed it with anyone. The topic still had the power to eat a hole in his gut. “Let’s just say I make a better medic than police officer and leave it at that,” he said.
“Raw area?”
“Off-limits.”
“Oh.” She made a show of brushing at a smudge on her scrubs. “Sorry.”
He saw the question in her eyes, but he wasn’t going to elaborate. The biggest failure of his life wasn’t a topic he liked to discuss. He wasn’t going to lie about it, but he sure as hell didn’t want to analyze it over milk and cookies, either. The last thing he wanted to discuss with this woman were the secrets he’d left back in Philly—and the one that had brought it all rushing back to him five years ago right here in Colorado.
Shoving thoughts of the past aside, he secured the last strip of tape and put it back in the first-aid kit. He’d been so intent on the bandaging—and dodging her much-too-perceptive questions—he’d barely noticed the softness of her flesh beneath his fingertips. When he finally looked down and saw her calf cradled in his hand, he swallowed hard.
Her skin was soft against his palm, the muscle rounded and firm. He wasn’t sure why he’d noticed something like that at a moment like this. He’d bandaged hundreds of arms and legs over the years. But as he felt the blood pool in an area he didn’t want to think about, he couldn’t deny this particular patient had the most incredible legs he’d ever laid eyes on.
“That should keep it from getting infected. Bandage can come off tomorrow.” Clearing the cobwebs out of his throat, he unrolled her hem then eased her leg aside, praying she didn’t notice the state she’d left him in. Oh, yeah, it was going to be a long night.
When he straightened, she was looking right at him with those striking eyes. The power of her gaze stopped his brain cold. The space between them seemed to shrink. Awareness of her close proximity, of her scent washed over him. He knew he should step away, give himself some breathing room, but his legs refused to obey the command.
“I was wondering,” she began, “why did you come back tonight? I mean, after you left the shelter?”
The truth hovered on the tip of his tongue, but John swallowed it, knowing it wouldn’t do either of them any good for him to acknowledge what he could no longer deny. That something had clicked between them up on the mountain, that he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head, that she was in danger and he couldn’t bear the thought of the bastard getting his hands on her. Or that every time he thought of that kiss, his blood heated, and all he could think about was one more taste of her sweet mouth.
“I didn’t like the idea of you spending the night in a shelter. Not after what happened with the SUV.” It was a half-truth, but it would have to do for now.
Hannah worried her lower lip. “What do you make of all this?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
“Do you think the SUV incident is related to…what happened to me up on the mountain? What happened back at Angela Pearl’s?”
“I think that’s something we’ve got to consider at this point.” John watched her hand settle protectively over her abdomen and felt the need to protect flare within him. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he said.
He hadn’t meant to say it; the last thing he wanted to do was take on the role of protector. He wasn’t sure he was qualified. Not after Philly. Not after what had happened to Rhonda.
Her gaze met his, and in the depths of her eyes he recognized the first vestiges of a fragile trust he didn’t deserve.
“Thank—” She jumped in midsentence when a scratch sounded at the back door.
John laughed outright. “Sorry, Red. That’s Honeybear’s way of letting us know he’s ready to come it.”
Rising, he strode to the door and flipped on the rear porch light. Honeybear sat on the step, wagging his tail, looking happy and impatient at once. Normally John would have opened the door and let the dog inside without so much as a second thought. Tonight he found his eyes scanning the shadows of the wooded area beyond. He’d never been uneasy living miles away from his nearest neighbor. But tonight the thought made the hair on the back of his neck prickle.
He hated to think of Hannah being in trouble. She was genuine and warm and more alive than any woman he’d ever known. She was brave in the face of danger. Hopeful in the face of crushing odds. Then there was the matter of her pretty eyes and all that red hair. The combination completely undid him.
Somehow she’d managed to tumble the wall he’d so carefully erected. She’d trespassed into territory he normally kept off-limits, managed to touch him despite his efforts to keep her at a distance. John figured the only question that remained was what the hell he was going to do about it.
As much as he didn’t want it to happen, he’d stepped into the role of protector. The irony left a bitter taste at the back of his throat. He wondered how she would react if she knew about Philly. If she knew he was no better than the man who’d put those bruises on her.
Sighing, he opened the door. Honeybear bounded inside with a rush of cold air and a flurry of snow. John turned in time to see Hannah stoop and scratch Honeybear behind his floppy ear.
“I think he likes me,” she said.
“He’s just using you to get his ear scratched.”
She laughed, a musical sound that made his heart stutter in his chest. Even with the bruise on her cheek, dressed in an oversize sweatshirt and shapeless hospital scrubs, she was undoubtedly one of the most attractive women he’d ever laid eyes on. That she was standing in his kitchen, playing with his dog and laughing made John realize that for all his intentions, he wasn’t doing a very good job at keeping this impersonal.
“Tonight,” she began, “when we were in Angela Pearl’s kitchen, and that woman with the bruised face came down, you seemed…upset.”
An alarm trilled in the back of his head. That he was so transparent annoyed him. That she’d hit a sore spot dead on put his back up. “What do you expect? The woman had just had her face pounded in by some scumbag. That ticks me off.”
“Oh, well, I just thought maybe you knew her or—”
“I don’t.”
She cast him a startled look. “I didn’t mean to—”
“You didn’t upset me.” He stared at her, aware that his hackles were up, all too aware that she’d noticed. “Look, I’ve got an early day tomorrow.”
“Oh. Of course.” She straightened.
John hadn’t meant for his words to come out so harshly. But he couldn’t risk her getting the wrong idea about him. He wasn’t a hero—not by a long shot. Hell, the way he saw it, he barely qualified as a nice guy. The sooner she got that through her head, the better. He figured he’d be saving them both a lot of grief in the long run if he put a stop to whatever was happening between them before it solidified into a problem he might actually have to deal with.