Running for Her Life - Beverly Long Mills & Boon Intrigue

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wrapped an arm around her. She felt fragile and vulnerable, and he wanted five minutes alone with the idiot who’d been too much of a damned coward to stop and help her. He stepped behind her and gently parted her hair. On the back of her skull, almost level with her ear, she had a bump and a small cut. There was quite a bit of blood, but he knew that head wounds bled more than almost any other part of the body. “It looks as if you might have sliced it on a rock. You’re going to be fine,” he said, wanting to reassure her. “The doctor may tell you that you don’t even need stitches.”

      She turned to look at him. Her green eyes were big. “I’m not going to a doctor.”

      “You could have a concussion,” he said. “You should be checked.”

      “No.”

      Hell. Scratch fragile and vulnerable. “Can I at least drive you home so that you can wash the blood off?” Once there, he’d take another look, and if he needed to, he’d throw her in the car and head for the nearest emergency room.

      She swallowed hard. “That would be okay.” She looked at Gordon. “Can we give you a lift?”

      “No, thanks. Can’t stand anything with an engine. Just glad to see you’re okay.” The two men, with Tara between them, walked up the hill. Jake kept his hand just inches away from her elbow, ready to catch her if she faltered.

      Andy stood next to Jake’s car. “Got a hold of Lori Mae. Officers in the surrounding four counties will be looking for the vehicle.” He smiled at Tara. “I guess it’s a good thing Chief Vernelli decided to look for you.”

      Tara stared at him. “Why did you do that?” she asked. Her tone wasn’t as friendly.

      He could hardly tell her that from the moment she’d answered the door last night and tried to rearrange some of his favorite parts with her knee, he’d been thinking about her. That would make him seem like some kind of nut. “I’m a cop. It’s what we do.”

      It took a minute but finally she gave him a halfhearted smile. “I’m sorry,” she said. “We started off on bad footing and I guess I haven’t regained my balance yet.”

      Then they were even. He felt short of breath and a little light-headed himself. He opened the passenger door and motioned for Tara to sit. “Andy, I’ll give Tara a lift home. Go have breakfast with your grandfather.”

      They drove the short distance to her house in silence. He barely had the car stopped before she opened the door and got out. He followed her up the steps and waited while she opened the screen door and unlocked the wooden door.

      She turned. “Thank you.”

      He was being dismissed. And he didn’t like it. She was pale and her hand wasn’t quite steady. “Maybe I should come in. What if you fall over in the shower?”

      “I won’t.”

      Given that he’d already forced his way into her house once, he stepped back and sat down on the cement step. “If you’re not out in fifteen minutes, all bets are off.”

      She chewed on her lower lip. “Fair enough.” She pushed open the door. “Since you’re going to be here and all, could you make sure nobody else comes in while I’m in the shower?” It was an offhand request, made casually. Too casually, perhaps.

      “You’re expecting someone?”

      “No. But once Gordon gets to town, he might tell the story, and it wouldn’t be that odd for someone to come out and check on me.”

      It sort of made sense. But there was something that wasn’t right. “Okay. Nobody gets past me.” He didn’t miss the relief in her eyes before she turned away.

      Chapter Four

      Thirteen minutes later, she unlocked the door and came out onto the porch. She was dressed in a blue jean skirt that showed off her tanned, well-toned legs—the bandage on her knee and the fresh scratches couldn’t even distract from their appeal. She wore a long-sleeved cotton shirt. She looked young and fresh and innocent, and it made him think that maybe he was crazy for suspecting that she was hiding something. His experience with Marcy had warped his judgment.

      “Have a seat,” he said, motioning to the step. He separated her silky hair to take a look at the cut. Her skin, her hair, something, smelled like raspberries and he was afraid to breathe too deep, afraid that it would be a scent that he wouldn’t be able to easily shake.

      The cut was a half-inch long. It had stopped bleeding and looked clean. “I think it’s okay.”

      “Good.” She stood up. “I need to get to work. Janet has got to be going crazy.”

      “While she and I didn’t have much time to get acquainted, I got the impression that Janet is pretty competent. Couldn’t she handle the place for a while so that you could rest?”

      “I don’t need to rest. And you’re right. On a normal day, Janet could probably take care of the place with one hand tied behind her back. But we’re short a dishwasher and, more important, tomorrow is the town picnic. The Chamber of Commerce provides the meat and pays Nel’s to make the sandwiches. We’ve got over a hundred pounds of roast beef that needs to be cooked today so that we can slice it tomorrow for Italian beef sandwiches.”

      Town picnic. Chase must have been really worried about his mother to have forgotten to mention that. A hundred pounds of beef meant a lot of sandwiches. Which probably meant that a whole lot of people were expected. “So what happens at this event?”

      “Everyone gathers for a parade. Then there’s lunch in the park, some games for the kids, maybe some volleyball for the adults. By late afternoon, people drift off. There are lots of people in this community who still have milk cows, so they don’t have the luxury of missing chores.”

      Cows. Chores. Town picnic. He was in the middle of a Norman Rockwell painting. All his debts to Chase were definitely going to be paid in full. He couldn’t wait to get home to his apartment, where he knew his neighbors by sight but he sure as hell didn’t spend any time talking to them.

      “Any more thoughts about who might have been driving that car?” he asked.

      “No.”

      “It strikes me as somewhat of a coincidence that you get a baseball through your window last night and this morning you’re almost run off the road. Are you sure there’s nobody pissed off at you?”

      She stared at him. “Look, I appreciate the help. Both last night and this morning. But I can’t imagine the two things have anything to do with one another. Last night was petty vandalism, and this morning it was an accident. The driver lost control, swerved, probably didn’t even see me. Now I really have to be going.”

      Without another word, she walked to the garage and pulled her van out. When he motioned that he’d shut the garage door, she shook her head sharply, got out and did it herself. Then she waved her hand, making sure he understood that she expected him to leave first.

      She couldn’t have made it any clearer. I don’t need or want you watching over me.

      * * *

      BY THE TIME Tara locked the restaurant’s door that afternoon, she was almost shaking with fatigue. She wasn’t surprised when she closed out the cash drawer that receipts were up almost twenty percent. The broken window had sparked plenty of interest, and by the time Gordon had told his tale around town, the lunch crowd had swelled to standing-room only.

      Yes, I’ve got someone coming to fix the window.

      Yes, I did take the ditch this morning.

      I’m not sure either what this world is coming to.

      Tara had refilled coffee cups and offered thick slices of strawberry rhubarb pie. One of her regulars offered her a dog. Said that he had a pit bull that could protect Nel’s and her, but then again, maybe not, because he wasn’t sure if the dog was a jogger.

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