What was it he’d said? Something about a beach. Being carried up to a house. She must still be there. Maybe she’d better try getting up after all. She didn’t want to be a burden. She’d need to make arrangements to get home.
Again that nagging feeling of something not right tugged at her. Something to do with going home? Anxiety niggled.
‘You’re awake, then.’
A different voice this time. A man’s voice, deep and rich as homemadedulce de leche. She could almost taste the luscious caramel, sinfully addictive, on her tongue, just from those few words. She swallowed and found her mouth dry.
Slowly, wary of that horrible lancing pain, she slitted open her eyes.
A man stood beside the bed. A tall man with glossy dark hair. Her gaze tracked from strong thighs and trim hips in worn denim jeans, up a long torso that broadened as it went. His pale polo shirt wasn’t tight but she had no trouble making out the impressive musculature of his toned, powerful body.
For a second she wondered if this were a dream after all. This man was...spectacular.
It wasn’t just his height and sexy body. Nor his strong-boned face that had passedgood-lookingand travelled on intogorgeous but severe. There was a magnetism about him that combined attraction and an air of aloofness.
Her heart gave a mighty thump.
He looked familiar.
Maybe she’d seen him on a billboard—that beautiful, stern dark face staring up at a mountain peak while he, in rugged climbing gear, sported the ultimate luxury watch on his wrist. She could imagine him selling something masculine and extravagantly expensive.
One black eyebrow rose, interrupting her dallying imagination.
‘Yes,’ she croaked and circled her dry mouth with her tongue. ‘Awake again. Though I sort of hoped this...’ she waggled her hand to encompass the bed ‘...was a dream.’
He stood, arms folded, watching her. He didn’t even seem to blink. Finally he spoke. ‘No dream, sadly.’
How had she thought his voice smooth and delicious? It was so brusque now she almost felt it graze her skin.
That steady gaze was unnerving too. Why did he stare? Her head hurt but she’d been assured she’d feel better soon. Surely she didn’t look that bad.
‘Are you a doctor as well?’
The man’s nostrils flared and his mouth thinned and she had the distinct impression he was annoyed. But why?
Unease trickled down her spine. He didn’t move towards her yet she felt abruptly vulnerable.
The instinct was so strong she didn’t hesitate. Gritting her teeth, she rolled a little to her side, lifting one leaden hand and planting it on the mattress, then struggling to push herself up.
Pain screeched through her. Her body was clumsy and uncoordinated but she kept going, drawing herself higher with slow determination till she was half sitting against the bed head, trembling with the effort.
When she looked at him again his arms were no longer folded across his chest but hung by his sides, his fingers clenching. A muscle in his jaw flexed and she sensed he reined in emotion. But why? What had she done?
If she could get off this bed she would, but her legs felt useless and she didn’t want to end up in a heap on the floor. All she could do was cross her own arms protectively and meet that dark stare head-on.
‘Who are you?’ she whispered.
A noise escaped his throat. Something between a snort and a huff of disbelief.
‘Really? That’s the best you can do?’
She shook her head, bewildered, then stopped, wincing, as pain darted through her head then bounced around her skull. Her eyes flickered shut as she breathed through the hurt, willing it to subside.
When she looked again he was a step closer to the bed, a frown lining his forehead.
‘I asked who you are.’
Her words were strident, tinged with sudden fear. Did he hear that in her voice? Possibly. For, instead of moving closer, he shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned back.