‘In here.’ His voice sounded infinitely fatigued and her step quickened.
Ben sat on the edge of a wide white bed with a towel around his waist. She pulled her eyes and thoughts back from considering what lay underneath that towel—what on earth was she thinking?—and looked at his face.
The profile she recognised from the vision now seemed indelible in her mind. His chest showed lines of angry abrasions and her sensible side returned as she crossed the room quickly.
She sank to her knees beside the bed in front of him and looked up into his face. She examined his eyes as well as she could in the dim room. Both pupils seemed equal and reactive when she shaded the light.
‘How is your head?’ She ran her fingers lightly over the spongy swelling under his hairline and he winced.
‘Ouch,’ she said in sympathy, but didn’t pause as she continued her check. He’d have to put up with the discomfort because she needed to know if there was something worse to find.
‘I can tell you’re in the medical profession,’ he murmured.
She grinned and palpated his scalp to ensure the bone didn’t feel displaced underneath. The bump seemed slightly smaller already than when she’d first checked it.
Her hand slid around the base of his skull to check for further injury and his ink-black hair felt soft and springy, and curled around her fingers as if welcoming her touch. It seemed so long since she’d done that, she’d forgotten the sensation of running her fingers through a man’s hair.
‘It seems OK,’ she said as she forced her fingers to untangle themselves from a warm and welcoming place they didn’t want to leave.
‘My head is improving all the time, especially when you stroke it.’ His voice held a whisper of weary teasing and her hand bounced away as if scalded.
When she met his eyes he smiled wryly at her reaction. ‘I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m cold and headachy. But I am curious to know your name.’
‘Misty.’ She nodded at his chest and looked at him for tacit permission before she touched it. The jagged scratches were red and welted but she couldn’t see any pieces of shell in the wound. She rested her hand over the wounds and felt the heat of inflammation.
‘Look at your poor chest.’ A sudden mad impulse to kiss her fingertips and pat his wounds better made her straighten away from him. What on earth was the matter with her? This man was an unknown entity and after today she’d never meet him again. She glanced at the blood on her fingers and admonished herself.
She stood and nodded towards the en suite she could see across the room. ‘May I use that?’
‘Of course. And there’s antibiotic powder on the shelf we could use.’
After washing her hands, she used a small clean towel to blot the blood from his chest and then puffed the powder onto his wounds. She stood back and tried to think what else she could do for him, but her mind was suddenly blank so she returned the towel and the powder to the tiny bathroom. When she returned at least she’d thought of something. ‘Is your tetanus booster up to date?’
‘Yes,’ he said quietly, ‘and scratches are a small price to pay.’ He patted the bed next to him.
Seconds later Misty found herself sitting hip to hip with him and she had no idea how she’d got there as he slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer in mutual comfort. They sat there side by side, contemplating his lucky escape.
It did seemed weirdly appropriate to hold each other at the memory of the event and surprisingly she drew the comfort he had intended from the gesture.
Suddenly she felt at ease with this man whose life had hung so precariously in the balance that very afternoon, and with the heat of his skin against hers came the reinforcement of the knowledge of his survival. The satisfaction grew that this man was here safe and solidly warm against her, and the other world outside the house seemed a million miles away.
He turned and dropped a gentle kiss, warm and fleeting, on her lips, and it was over before she could begin to avoid it, unlike the impact. Her lips seemed to vibrate with the memory and she mashed them together as if to blot the imprint out because the thrumming continued in decreasing waves.
She felt suspended in time and his voice floated over her. ‘Thank you for saving my life, Misty.’ She could do nothing but stare back at him. His eyes were as blue as the ocean he’d come from and his gaze roamed her face. She could feel heat beneath her skin under his scrutiny and suddenly there was a clawing tumble of unbidden sensations in her belly.
She blinked and broke eye contact as she looked away. ‘Let me see your back.’
Ben closed his eyes and twisted his body so she could see.
He sighed. At least one of them had their feet firmly on the ground. Perhaps it was his concussion but he was having difficulty concentrating on anything else but her beautiful mouth and luscious body pressed against his. This was a damn inappropriate time to start dreaming about what she would look like with her shirt off.
Then she touched his back with those slender mermaid’s fingers of hers, and not being able to see her hands on him made it more erotic than it should have been. He could imagine her leaving luminous trails on his skin, like lines in the water at night.
He shifted uncomfortably as desire stirred beneath the towel and he turned and reached across to capture her hand to still her fingers.
He looked down at her hand. Such long fingers as they lay in his. Such invisible strength within them. She must have a heart as strong as a lioness’s. He had no doubt that was her secret.
There was something pure and golden and unselfish about Misty that shone so brightly even someone as jaded as he could see her worth.
His grip tightened and unconsciously he inched her back to face him until their sides touched again. And then he froze. What was he doing?
His head ached, his chest hurt and he’d nearly died. And he owed his survival to this woman.
All the more reason to act on the moment, his inner demon suggested unhelpfully.
He did not need another complication in his life and from the little he’d seen of her he had no doubt this woman could be extremely complicating.
There seemed a certain naiveté about her that warned him he was the much more experienced of the two of them, but it also unmanned him.
‘Thank you, Misty. I think you’d better go.’
Her eyes widened and he saw the moment she realised what he meant. Heat dusted her cheeks and she stood up quickly and looked around the room as if she’d forgotten where the exit was.
He smiled at her disorientation even as it showed him more than anything that he’d done the right thing. So she could feel it too, he thought.
He stood to follow her to the door when without warning the room tilted away from him like the deck of a ship.
A rush of cold doused him and then nothing as he fell backwards.
Misty managed to reach out and guide him sideways and back onto the bed, but even lifting his muscled legs reminded her of the struggle she’d had to get him out of the water.
She bent to lift his lids but his eyes flickered open again and he blinked groggily as he tried to sit up.
His face shone like alabaster even in the dim room. ‘What happened?’
‘You fainted. I think you should stay down, Ben. I’ll call an ambulance so they can check you out at the hospital.’
He lifted his hand and rested it over his eyes. ‘I don’t need a hospital. It would be a wasted trip for emergency services when they could be saving someone else.’