indicated her cushioned leg. “You’re hurt worse than you let on.”
Color washed over her face as she started to rise from the sofa. Dane was beside her in an instant. He caught her shoulders, pressing her back down, feeling the narrow bones beneath his hands, aware of her smallness, her softness. “Be still. It’s obvious you overdid it today. You shouldn’t have been up and around.”
He perched on the sofa cushion next to her, feeling her apprehension while he examined her leg, trailing his fingers gently over her smooth skin. Just seeing the scars left behind made him wince in sympathy.
She seemed to gather herself all at once. “Just what are you doing here?”
“Checking up on you.”
“How? How did you find me?”
“I had you followed.” His gaze swung from her leg to her outraged face. “Why use an alias?”
Angel paled a little. “What are you talking about?”
“Your mailbox.”
Rather than answer, she tried bluffing her way with anger. “That’s none of your business. And why do you care anyway?”
He was good at lying when it suited him. “Because I have the feeling you’d never have let me get this close. But I second-guessed you, didn’t I?” He waggled a finger in her face, bringing back her healthy surge of angry color. “I think I’ll keep close tabs on you from now on.”
She gasped and he added a not-too-subtle warning. “You can keep your secret, Angel—for now. But when I’m ready, I will know what’s going on.”
Her lips firmed and her look became obstinate. But beneath it all, he saw a measure of pain. “You’re not completely mended yet, are you? Were you hurt anywhere else?”
She gave him another stubborn frown and his attention dropped to her body. Holding her gaze, he asked quietly, “Would you like me to find out for myself?”
She jerked and her arms crossed protectively over her breasts. “All right! I also had some bruised ribs and a few cuts and scrapes—all of which are now healed.”
He continued to look at her, and she turned her head away. “My shoulder was dislocated, too.”
“Good God. What the hell happened to you?”
Even before she spoke, he knew no truths would cross her beautiful lips. Amazing that he could read her so easily after only knowing her such a short time, but he could.
Her chin lifted and she said, “I fell.”
“Down a mountainside?”
“Down a long flight of stairs, actually.”
Keeping his hands to himself became impossible. He cupped her cheeks in both hands. Whatever had happened, it had been serious, and talking about it obviously agitated her. “You could have been killed.”
She started, and her eyes met his. For the briefest moment she looked so lost, he wanted to fold her close and swear to protect her. Idiot. Then she shook her head and that stubbornness was back tenfold, forcing an emotional distance between them. “My leg is the only thing scarred. Nasty-looking, isn’t it?”
Without missing a beat, he said, “You have beautiful legs. A little scarring won’t change that.” And it was true. Her legs were long, smooth, shapely. He imagined those long legs wrapped around him while he touched her again, only this time she would climax, holding him inside her so he could feel every small tremor, every straining muscle. He nearly groaned.
He let his hand rest lightly on her knee and moved his thoughts to safer ground. “You’ve no reason to be embarrassed, Angel. The scars will fade.”
“You think a few scars matter to me?”
He did, but he wasn’t dumb enough to tell her that, not when she was practically spitting with ire. She hadn’t forgiven him yet for Derek’s past sins, and for his own, in questioning the baby’s parentage. But she would. He’d see to it.
He put his hand to her cheek and noticed again the way her pulse raced, how she held her breath. “I’m sorry you were hurt.” Then he kissed her. As angry as he was, he needed a taste of her again. She may have decided her little sampling of lust in the office was enough, but he’d found only frustration. He’d barely touched her, barely begun to excite her, and she’d heated up like a grand fireworks display, perilously close to exploding. He was still semi-hard because of it and caught between wanting to bury himself inside her, to see her go all the way, climaxing with him, and wanting to shake her into telling him what her ridiculous game was.
At first she froze, but seconds later her body pressed into his. One small hand lifted to his neck and that simple touch made him shudder. He pulled back, not wanting to test himself. Angel stared at him, wide-eyed.
“Nice place,” he said, hoping to distract her and himself. His gaze wandered around the sparse room, taking in the worn wallpaper and faded carpet. He didn’t really mean to be facetious, but she took it that way.
“You don’t have to like it, Derek, since you don’t live here.”
He dropped his gaze back to her flushed face. With one arm above her, his body beside her, he effectively caged her in. He could tell she didn’t like it; he liked it a little too much. “I want to know why you’re living here. What happened to your apartment?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I lost it.”
“Why?”
“Because I hadn’t paid the rent.”
He sighed. This was like pulling teeth, but she obviously wasn’t going to make it easy for him. “Okay, we’ll play twenty questions. Why didn’t you pay the rent?”
Angel stared at him, then put one arm over her eyes and laughed. “God, you’re incredible. Everything is so simple for you.”
Wrapping long fingers around her wrist, he carried her arm to her stomach and held it there. He felt her muscles clench. “Why didn’t you pay your rent?”
In a burst of temper, she slapped his hand away and half raised herself to glare at him. “Because I had no money, you ass! I lost my job, thanks to you, and no one else would hire me for what I was good at. After you finished, I was considered a bad risk. I tried everywhere, and in the process, ran through a lot of my savings. For a short time, I had a job as a waitress, but then I had the accident and was laid up for a while. People won’t hire women on crutches, you know. My savings weren’t so deep that I could afford to stay in an expensive place, keep up my medical insurance, and pay additional medical bills besides, so I moved here. Satisfied?”
Her shout had awakened the baby, and Dane looked toward the sound of disgruntled infant rage. Angel groaned. “Now look what you’ve done. Well, don’t just sit there, get out of my way.”
Her mood shifts were almost amusing, and fascinating to watch—when she wasn’t ripping his guts out with regret for the way his brother had treated her. She started to sit up, and again he pressed her back. “I’ll get him.”
“No!”
He caught her chin and turned her face up to his. “Now or later, Angel, what difference does it make? I want to meet him. I promise, I’ll bring him to you.”
She bit her lip and her eyes were dark with wariness, but she apparently realized there would be no contest if they tried to match strength or wills. At least, not at the moment. He had the feeling, on a better day, her strength would amaze him.
Dane stared a second more, wishing there was a simpler way to reassure her, then went to fetch the baby. He followed the sounds of the cries to where Grayson was making his discontent known. When Dane entered the room he was assailed by the scent of powder and baby lotion, soft soothing scents. Grayson’s pudgy arms and legs churned ferociously, and with incredible care, Dane lifted him to his shoulder.