The paleness of Liam’s face made her wonder if he might lose consciousness instead. “Who was that man?”
“A loan shark, I think. My dad borrowed money from him. A lot.”
“And now he’s come after you?”
“Seems that way.”
More swearing. He stood and ran his hands through his hair.
“Don’t go,” she said softly. Not again.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Liam’s voice rose. “What if he comes back? We need to call the police.” He pulled his cellphone out.
She touched his hand and his head snapped up, his gaze locked on her. “Please, Liam. Just give me a chance to breathe first.”
He frowned, but put the phone away. “Okay, breathe.” He touched a hand to her brow, checking out her eye, grazing her skin softly so as not to hurt her. “I don’t suppose you have any frozen steaks in your freezer?”
“Is that all you can think about? Food?” Wanting to cry, she’d made a joke instead. Maybe humor, as feeble as her attempt might be, would ward off the tears.
He glared at her, as if angry she could kid under the circumstances. But then his mouth relaxed and his husky eyes glimmered. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”
“I wouldn’t argue the point tonight.”
He brushed a hand over her head and sighed. “I’m going to raid your freezer for a bag of…gluten-free peas or whatever. Are you okay for a minute?”
The waterworks threatened like a tsunami gathering momentum, but she blinked them away. “I’m sure I’ll even be okay for two or three.”
With a look that suggested his desire to turn her over his knee, Liam stood and made his way into her kitchen. She couldn’t help but look at his ass, but then remembered she was on the verge of having a nervous breakdown and shouldn’t be noticing men’s rounded tushes at all. Especially not his.
The pain in her head launched another assault on her, making her see stars. Or were they dancing pumpkin carriages? She wasn’t sure. She just wanted to close her eyes, take a lot of medication and forget the world for a few hours. Groaning, she held her head and turned into the pillow.
As much as she’d always dreamed of being able to put her one jujitsu lesson to work, tonight was proof she’d never have a career in martial arts.
She heard Liam’s footsteps return and opened her eyes. Her pain must be written all over her face because he began cursing again. The man knew a few colorful words, probably from hanging around his casinos. He came bearing a bag of frozen peas, a glass of water, Tylenol and what looked like a clean, wet tea towel.
He put the items on her bedside table and helped her sit up. “Here. Let me clean you up.”
She reached for the tea towel. “I can do it.”
The laser-like focus of his eyes resembled a lead dog sprinting forward on the Iditarod. “Kate Callender, you will sit still and let me help you. Understand?”
She nodded, unsure if she was grateful or pissed off for his macho attitude. Grateful might be the better plan, given his current frame of mind. She could easily see how Liam had become such a powerful businessman. As thoughtful as he could be, he made it very clear when he wouldn’t take “no” for an answer.
He opened the Tylenol bottle and popped a couple into her hand. As she swallowed the pills, he held the glass to her lips. Again, she wanted to argue and say she could manage a drink on her own, but she was embarrassed to admit she sort of liked this dynamic.
He continued to stare at her lips as she drank, but he might have been staring at a puzzle whose last piece he couldn’t locate. After a few sips, he removed the glass and turned away.
“Now,” he said, grabbing the tea towel. “Let me see if I can clean that cut. You’ll probably have a black eye from this. If I ever see that bastard again…”
He didn’t say what he would do, but from the darkness in his eyes she knew it wouldn’t be good. She had no idea why Liam would be so upset about her being hurt. Sure, most guys would hate to see a woman battered, but there was something in his face that told of more than just general concern. Still, they barely knew each other, and just when they’d begun to get along, she’d managed to piss him off again. Although the set to his jaw certainly hinted at a possibility of him caring. Maybe a little.
No, that punch must have made her loopy. He was only being nice.
So why had he come back?
He wrapped his hand in the wet towel and applied a soft pressure to the cuts on her brow. Shit, it hurt. Despite trying to appear strong, she let out a slight moan. As soon as she winced, he pulled his hand back. He sighed and continued gently, cleaning the blood from her brow. His fresh breath fanned over her, minty, despite drinking beer earlier, and his amazing cologne combined to enhance his already-intoxicating aura of manliness. She felt a little light-headed. Had he found the old prescription for Tylenol 3 in her medicine cabinet and fed her that, rather than the regular stuff?
“There,” he said. “I think the worst of it’s gone.” He placed the towel on her bedside table, then ran his thumb over her forehead. The touch sent ripples of warmth through her, and she fought the urge to grab his hand and make him touch her properly.
