Retribution. Ruth Langan

dizziness?”

      “I’m…” She struggled to find her voice. “I’m fine.”

      “I’m driving you home.”

      She started to turn back. “My bike…”

      “I’ll put it in the back of my Jeep.” He walked with her to his car and held the passenger door open, practically lifting her off her feet until she was settled inside.

      After stowing her bike in the back, he climbed into the driver’s side.

      He turned to study her and she felt again that quick sizzle of heat along her spine. “You okay?”

      She nodded, afraid to trust her voice.

      They drove the entire distance in silence. When he pulled up to her cabin, he turned off the ignition and turned to her. “I’m really sorry about this.”

      “No harm done.”

      “You may think so now. By tomorrow you’ll be cussing me out. A spill that hard, I doubt you’ll get away without a few cuts and scratches.”

      She managed a weak smile. “Nothing I won’t survive.”

      He walked around and held the door open, then eased her out of the Jeep and put an arm around her shoulders as she walked toward the cabin. This time, though she steeled herself against feeling anything at his touch, she couldn’t deny the reaction. Despite the cold she was sweating.

      The minute she unlocked the door, Picasso and Toulouse raced out and began dancing around her feet.

      “They act like they just got set free from prison.”

      She managed a quick laugh. “That’s probably what they’re thinking. They whine every time they’re left alone.”

      Adam paused by the door. “Where do you store your bike?”

      “In the shed in back.” She handed him her keys.

      He returned to the Jeep and lifted her bike out, examining it for damage before heading toward the shed. Minutes later he found her kneeling in front of the fireplace, struggling to coax a fire on the hearth.

      Crossing the room he handed her the keys. “Your bike doesn’t seem any the worse for wear. But if you should find any damage, I’d like to pay for it.”

      She looked up at him, and for the first time he noticed the bruise beginning to bloom on her cheek.

      He swore again, causing her to arch an eyebrow in surprise. “Sorry.” He put his hands under her elbows and nearly lifted her off her feet as he propelled her toward an overstuffed chair. “Sit here. I’ll see to the fire.”

      “What’s wrong?”

      He touched a finger to the spot. Just a touch, but he saw her wince in pain. “You didn’t get as lucky as you’d hoped. That’s a nasty bruise.”

      She lifted her hand and probed. “I don’t remember hitting the ground. But I may have bumped the handlebars. Or maybe a rock on the ground.”

      “Whatever you hit, if it moves up just a little, you’re going to have a dandy shiner by morning.” Feeling another round of guilt, he tended to the fire. When it was blazing, he made his way to the kitchen and put the kettle on the stove.

      A short time later he handed her a cup of tea. “Drink this.”

      “Thanks.” She sipped. “Did you make one for yourself?”

      “I don’t deserve one.” Besides, what he really wanted right about now was a good stiff drink. “Got any whiskey?”

      “Sorry, no. But there’s some wine in the cupboard.” Seeing him hesitate, she added, “If you’d like to open the bottle, I’ll have some.”

      “Right.” He rummaged around and found the wine and a corkscrew, and filled two glasses.

      After handing her one, he perched on the edge of the hearth and studied her pale face. “You sure you’re all right?”

      She nodded. “I’m fine. Really.” She paused. “Did you happen to find a pumpkin pie in the basket of my bike?”

      He shook his head. “The basket was empty.”

      She sighed. “I guess that means the raccoons will feast on Trudy’s pumpkin pie tonight.”

      He started to stand. “I could go back and look for it.”

      “Leave it, Adam. I’m sure it’s nothing but a soggy mess by now, anyway.”

      Adam frowned as another layer of guilt rolled over him. “Would you like something to eat?”

      “No thanks. I couldn’t eat a thing.”

      Feeling suddenly weary, Sidney set her glass beside her cup on the end table and leaned back, closing her eyes. “I think I’ll just clean up now and get ready for bed.”

      He knew she was politely asking him to leave. But guilt held him back. “Maybe I should stay.”

      She gave him a weak smile. “What could you possibly do that I can’t do for myself?”

      “Wake you through the night and see if you can focus your eyes. If you can’t, I’ll know you’ve suffered a concussion and I can call a doctor.”

      “That’s very kind of you. But my sister Emily is a doctor, and if I’m suffering any ill effects in the morning, I’ll be sure to call her.” She got slowly to her feet and stood a moment, waiting until the room stopped spinning.

      Seeing the way she was holding on to the back of her chair, Adam took a step toward her.

      She lifted a hand to stop him. She didn’t think she could bear another round of the weakness his touch seemed to cause. “Please. I’m fine now.”

      “You don’t look fine. You look…” Like a piece of fragile crystal, he thought miserably. Or like a tiny bird, its wing broken, hopping just out of reach, refusing to allow itself to be caught by the very one who could most help.

      She misread his silence. “I’m sure I’ll look much better after I’ve had a shower. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

      Hearing the edge to her tone, he set aside his empty glass and wrote on a slip of paper before passing it to her. “This is the number of my cell phone. It’s always with me. If you should need me for any reason tonight, just call.”