to the parking lot. “My car is over there. I’ll just go get it.”
Jack nodded and leaned wearily against the building, wondering if she could manage to get him home without any major catastrophes. He couldn’t help but feel a horrifying sense of impending doom.
Chapter Two
It took Marissa several minutes to rearrange the car to make room for Jack. She quickly moved the diaper bag to the floor at Nathaniel’s feet in the backseat. She then pushed the passenger seat back as far as it would go and reclined it. Jack Coffey was tall, and she knew he’d need as much leg room as he could get.
A moment later she pulled up against the curb where he stood waiting for her. She jumped out of the car to help him, but he waved her away. “Just take these,” he said as he held out the crutches. “I’d prefer to get into the car without your help. It’s safer.”
He eased down onto the seat, then groaned as he lifted the cast-encased leg into the car. Marissa placed the crutches between them, then got in behind the steering wheel.
“Are you okay?” she asked worriedly. Even with a scowl cutting into his forehead, the man was handsome as sin. His scent filled the interior of the car, a bold, masculine smell that was at once both attractive and disturbing.
“Just get me home,” he replied. His seat was reclined so far back, his head was almost even with Nathaniel. “He’s buckled in real tight, isn’t he?”
“Of course,” Marissa replied as she put the car into gear. “You’ll have to tell me how to get to your house.”
“Go out the hospital exit and turn left.” He closed his eyes.
“By the way, my name is Marissa. Marissa Criswell. And that big guy in the backseat is my son, Nathaniel.”
“I prefer to think of you and your son as my own personal nightmare,” he returned without opening his eyes.
Marissa flushed, but reminded herself that his rudeness was warranted and probably intensified by the fact that he was in pain. “Do you have a wife? Somebody who can take care of you?” she asked.
His eyes opened. “A wife would be my other personal nightmare. I’ve been by myself for the last five years and that’s the way I like it. Just get me home and I’ll be fine.”
So, he had no wife and apparently no significant other. Marissa frowned, wondering if he had any real concept of how a broken leg and a few broken fingers could complicate even the simplest things in life.
“You mentioned you have reports to type and cases to take care of. What kind of work do you do, Mr. Coffey?” she asked to break the stifling silence.
“I’m a ballet dancer. Think I’ll be able to get tights over this baby?” He banged the cast with the back of his good hand.
“You don’t have to get sarcastic,” she said softly.
He frowned and rubbed a hand across his forehead. “I’m a private investigator.”
“Really? Are you any good?”
His eyes glittered and a small smile curved the corners of his lips. Marissa felt the power of his devastating smile right down to her toes. She tightened her hands on the steering wheel and tried to ignore how that smile of his affected her on a distinctly female level.
“I’m the best,” he said. In the blink of his eye, the smile disappeared, replaced by a scowl so menacing, Marissa decided to let the subject drop.
For the next few minutes he spoke only to give her directions. As he pointed her down a narrow road with tall trees and heavy vegetation on either side, a small flutter of anxiety whispered through Marissa. She could see no houses, no indication of civilization anywhere. They passed a tree with a sign reading No Trespassers.
Was it possible he was bringing her out in the woods to strangle her? She knew nothing about him other than his name. Maybe he intended to break her leg, just to teach her a lesson or vent his ire.
She cast him a quick glance, then relaxed. She could outrun him. Even with Nathaniel in her arms, she knew she could run faster than an angry maniac with a cast. Besides, his face was sickly pale and he looked as if just getting out of the car would provide challenge enough.
The woodland on either side of the road disappeared and suddenly they were on what appeared to be a sheltered private beach, the ocean a huge expanse of blue on their left.
Jack pointed to the single house on the right, a glass-fronted structure that seemed to be clinging to the hillside. “That’s it.”
Marissa parked the car, slid out and grabbed the crutches, then hurried around to the passenger side to help him out.
“I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure, but it hasn’t,” he said as he situated the crutch pads beneath his arms. He started toward the house, then paused, looking up at the set of steep stairs that led to the door.
“I’d better help you,” Marissa said. She checked Nathaniel, who was safely buckled in, then moved to Jack’s side and took one of his crutches. “You can lean on me, and that will make it easier.”
He hesitated a moment, obviously reluctant to accept her offer.
“Or you can do it yourself and risk the possibility of falling, in which case you’ll have nobody to blame but yourself,” she said with a touch of impatience.
“And if I fall with you helping me, then I get to blame you?”
“Exactly,” she replied dryly. He nodded and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She placed a hand on his back to steady him. His skin was pleasantly warm, and as he leaned into her she smelled the faint scent of a spicy cologne.
It had been a very long time since she’d been this close to a man who was so overwhelmingly masculine. Despite her concern about him, pleasure winged through her at the tactile contact between her hand and his broad, muscled back.
“Aren’t you afraid Baby-Face Nelson will steal the car while you’re helping me?” he asked gruffly as they carefully maneuvered the first two steps.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “Nathaniel is just barely two, and he’s certainly not a hardened criminal.” They went up two more stairs.
“Ah, the mother is always the last to admit there’s a problem.”
Marissa halted their forward progress. “Mr. Coffey, you don’t strike me as a stupid man. But it’s incredibly stupid to malign a woman’s child when said woman is helping you up a very steep set of stairs.”
He turned and looked at her in surprise. “Touché.” The hint of a grudging smile glittered in his eyes. Marissa’s breath caught in her chest.
She had a feeling that beneath the scratchy whiskers and without the lines of pain that tightened his features, Jack Coffey had the kind of face that could steal more than a heart.
With the curve of his lips, he could make a woman think of silky sheets and hot nights and arms and legs tangled in desire. She frowned, wondering if perhaps she’d suffered a touch of sunstroke. Surely that was the only explanation for her crazy, out-of-character thoughts.
Once again they continued the arduous climb up the remainder of the stairs. When they reached the top, Marissa handed him back his crutch and released her hold on him. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?” she asked worriedly.
Once again his face was unnaturally pale and a light sheen of perspiration shone on his forehead. “I told you, I’ll be fine.” He turned and entered the house and shut the door in her face.
Marissa fought the impulse to bang on the door and tell him he was a rude jerk. Instead she reminded herself that pain often made people extremely ill-tempered.
As a nurse’s aide, she’d seen pain transform rational, intelligent, nice people into cursing,