Cat. I just hope you like my company as much as I’m going to enjoy yours.”
Cat refused to look at him. “I’m not a small child that needs to be told bedtime stories.”
Slade’s grin was wide, revealing white teeth. “We’ll see,” was all he said. He glanced at his watch. “Time for a nap. You close those beautiful eyes, and I’m going to talk with Dr. Scott about what time we can get you out of this godforsaken cell.”
Cat wrinkled her nose. “Why should I be so anxious to trade one kind of prison for another?”
Slade came around and pressed a quick kiss to her fragrant hair. “It’s really me who is your prisoner.”
“Want to bet?” And yet, another part of her relaxed. If nothing else, the cave-in had taught Cat how alone a person could really be. Slade had reached her during those terrible hours, and her heart knew it even if her mind tried to tell her differently. “Don’t mind me,” she muttered in apology. “I’m not normally this crabby. I do appreciate your offer to take me in.”
Slade enjoyed her pout; her lower lip was full and petulant. The urge to capture her mouth and gentle it beneath his was growing, but Slade gently tucked the desire aside. “I understand your apprehension, Cat. Things have moved mighty fast today. But you sit back and concentrate on getting well. Let me take care of you for a while.”
With a merry look, Slade opened her door. “Rest. You’re getting dark shadows beneath those lovely eyes of yours. Just dream of the Mourning Dove Ranch.”
Cat watched Slade leave, enjoying his irrepressible, little-boy spirit that magically coaxed her out of her darkest moments. She shut her eyes, aware that the monstrous fear she had wanted to bury had miraculously vanished. Was it because of Slade? With a groan, Cat tried to look objectively at her motives for capitulating to him. He had vaguely mentioned discussing a business deal with her when she was better. Cat clung to that bare-branch offering and turned away from other feelings toward him.
Since when had she ever backed down from the demands of life? Only once. When she and geologist Greg Anderson had called off their relationship. But this was different, a voice whispered to Cat. Not only that, she reluctantly conceded, she didn’t have the emotional fortitude it took to wage the necessary battle to get out of Donovan’s clutches. And clutches they were, Cat thought grimly. Or were they? She couldn’t ignore the tender light that burned in his sapphire eyes every time he looked at her. Right now, as never before in her life, Cat needed help from someone other than herself. And Slade had offered that help to her. Instinctively, Cat knew that Slade could help rebuild her strength from the rubble of the mine cave-in.
Chapter Three
Well, Cathy, you’re certainly going to be in good hands.” Dr. Scott smiled as he looked through the release forms, while Cat sat patiently on the edge of the bed. With the help of one of the nurses, she had awkwardly pulled on a pair of cinnamon-colored slacks and a white tank top. Maine’s summer weather was usually on the cool side, but at eight o’clock this bright August morning, it was already a sunny seventy degrees.
“We’ll see about that, doctor,” she told him dryly. Cat automatically touched her tightly taped ribs. Two of the lowest had been broken and if the break had been any higher, her breasts would have prevented the elastic torso wrap from being applied.
“Mr. Donovan’s a paramedic, you know,” the physician said, hurriedly scribbling his signature on the last paper.
“Is he?” Cat looked up with interest.
“Yes, a very capable one. I’ve given him a list of all the prescriptions you might need, Cathy. He’s going to be watching you rather closely for the next couple of weeks because of your head injury. Let him know if you ever get dizzy.”
Dizzy? The first time she’d sat up, she’d nearly keeled over. If it hadn’t been for Slade’s quick action, she would have fallen off the bed. At first, Cat had retreated from his watchfulness; she was unused to being confined by an ailing body and resented being taken care of. But after three days, Slade had remained his cheerful, positive self and Cat had had to beg him not to tell any more jokes. She had feared she would laugh out loud, and that awful, ripping pain would take her breath away. Slade’s normally ebullient personality had sobered slightly, then shifted into a new gear–that of charming conversationalist.
A nurse arrived with the wheelchair for Cat’s ride to the front doors of the hospital. “The dizziness may or may not be permanent,” Dr. Scott warned, helping her into the chair. “The next two weeks will tell us quite a lot. Off you go, now. I understand you’ve an air trip ahead. Mr. Donovan’s quite a good pilot.”
Cat couldn’t resist a smile. “Did he tell you that?”
“No, I saw his flight logbook sitting with some other items. Being a pilot myself, I got him talking. He’s not only multiengine rated, he’s up on all the instrumentation demands, too. Judging from the hours he’s flown, I’ll lay you odds he flies around the world. He certainly has a lot of stories to tell.”
“Slade Donovan is a born storyteller, I suspect. Thank you, doctor, for everything.”
“Have a good flight, Cathy. We’ll be eager to hear how you’re progressing.”
At the curbside outside the hospital, the nurse eased the wheelchair to a halt. Slade was waiting next to the rental car for her. He was dressed in a freshly pressed blue shirt with epaulets on each shoulder. The shirt matched the color of his eyes, Cat thought. She had to stop herself from staring as if she were a gawky teenager instead of a woman older than thirty. His hair was dark and shining from a recent shower, his skin smooth of the stubble that always gave him a five o’clock shadow by four o’clock.
As Cat took his large hand and stood up, she suddenly saw Slade in a new light. His touch, as always, sent a warm rush through her. He had brought sunshine to her during her recent exile to Hades. She closed her eyes, allowing a fleeting feeling of dizziness to pass. Slade, observing her hesitation, moved closer to her left side, in case she should fall. Cat opened her eyes and raised her face to the sun.
“Do you know how good it feels to be outside again?” she asked, drawing in a deep breath of fresh air.
“Spoken like a true tunneler,” Slade replied. His fingers tightened on her elbow. “Ready? I’ve got Maggie all fueled and waiting.”
“Maggie?” Cat looked up at Slade tentatively.
Slade helped her into the front seat of the rental car and then shut the door. “Yeah, Maggie’s my twin-engine Cessna. And she’s as pretty as her name.”
The sun shone warmly through the windows and a fragrant scent of pine drifted in, making the day magical for Cat. As Slade eased into the car, he flashed her a heart-stopping smile. “You’ll like Maggie. She’s built like a sleek greyhound. Red and white, lean and mean.”
“The way you like your women, Donovan?” Now why had she made that remark? He had looked absolutely elated, as if flying were going to release him from his captive state on earth. Cat felt like a genuine wet blanket, but Donovan cheerfully snapped the safety belt across his lap and chest.
“Jealousy will get you nowhere. Maggie’s big-hearted enough to embrace both of us. Now, young lady, we’ve got a light westerly wind and clear skies waiting for us. Ready?”
Yes, she was ready, Cat realized. Perhaps it was partly relief that they were putting miles between her and the mine that had almost claimed her life, but another part of her was ready for a new adventure. Cat closed her eyes, allowing the wind to flow across her, moving her hair languidly against her temple and neck. Slade’s hand settled momentarily on her own.
“Okay?”
The concern in his voice soothed her. “I’m fine. Just enjoying my freedom, Donovan.”
There was hurt evident in his voice. “My friends call me Slade.”
Cat