“Just a teeny tiny drop. It’s already dried and crusted over.”
Lovely. Perfect. So attractive.
Hunt took a folded blue paper towel out of his med kit and spread it open on the top of the brick wall next to them. Then he reached up to pull out a needle and she held perfectly still.
“I don’t think this will hurt, but I apologize in advance if it does.”
“Nothing can hurt more than my pride right now, so pluck away.”
No smile from Hunt. He was laser focused on her ear as if he were doing brain surgery. She felt disappointment tug at her chest just as she felt him tug the needle from the edge of her ear.
“Got it. One down.” He set the needle in the center of the paper towel. “Wait. I need to count these first so that I don’t miss one or leave one behind for someone to step on.” He shook his head, looking annoyed. With himself? Her? Serge? God knew; his expression was nothing but business otherwise.
Hunt studied her ears, first the right one, then he passed in front of her face—with too-brief eye contact—and looked at her left ear. He took out a Sharpie and wrote5 per earon the paper towel, then wroteRear L earandbackacross the top edge and moved the needle to the spot underR ear.
Very logical and efficient. I like that.
Hunt touched her bare upper arm and he might as well have had a buzzer in his hand the way her skin reacted, shooting delicious sparks straight to her tummy, heart and…other places.
Please, nips, donotpoke out at him under this very thin, very white sheet.
He gently turned her. No, actually, he very gentlytriedto turn her but she stood rooted in place.
“I, um.” She giggled nervously. “Didn’t exactly have time to grab my clothing.”
Hunt’s eyes did that widening thing again that Wren was quickly growing addicted to.
“Oh, right.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the parking lot. “It’s okay, I’ll shield you from the crowd.”
Oh, yeah. Forgot about the crowd.
Somehow, her attention had zoomed like one of her telescopic lenses into sharp focus, cropping out everything that wasn’t Hunt the Lionesque Paramedic.
Including an actual burning building.That I just escaped from, mostly naked.
“Are you alright? You suddenly look pale.” Hunt touched two fingers to the side of her neck. Sweet Jesus, did he have live wires running through his hands because every time he touched her he sent delicious shocks through her body.
“Pulse is racing but steady. Do you feel light-headed or faint? I should get you seated.” He shook his head again, the annoyed look back in his eyes.
“No, I’m fine, just reality catching up with me, that’s all.”
He blew out a breath. “Let me get these needles out, get your pulse-ox, BP, hydrated, tested for shock,” Hunt half-mumbled to himself. Maybe he was new on the job, reminding himself of what he needed to do? He seemed very professional otherwise. He hadn’t leered at all, didn’t crack a single joke when the low-hanging fruit was right there for the taking.
Darn it.
Now she felt the overwhelming urge to make him laugh. To crack that professional exterior right open and get to the warm, gooey center that must exist inside this lion.
Get a grip. Stop fantasizing.
It wasn’t like she didn’t spend countless hours in the presence of handsome men. Men who graced the covers of magazines, whose faces were all over the internet with headings likeHottest Bachelors of the YearandTop Ten Guys We’d Like to Smother in Honey and Eat Alive.
Problem was, they were usually boring. Or total jerks. Often both. And they’d all started looking the same to her. Haircut of the season lacquered to their heads. Faces symmetrical. Perfectly balanced. Flat-outboring. Total Ken dolls, really—guys who visually paired well with Barbie. Sure, the camera loved them as they pouted and sneered and only sometimes smiled, but they were always looking at the camera lens, not at Wren. She was merely the human extension of a device that took their picture and increased their fame.
So, why was she going gaga overthisguy? Handsome men didnothingfor her anymore. Interesting faces did.
Wren braved another good look at Hunt. Yes, he was handsome, but his face wasn’t symmetrical, it wasn’t perfect after all. The nose was just a tiny bit crooked, like it had been broken at one point, but whoever fixed it did a good job. Not a hint of hair gel, and the messiness wasn’t contrived but looked natural, like the result of Hunt running his fingers through it. Maybe his forehead was a little too broad, his cheeks tapering too extremely? Yeah, Hunt had an imperfect but interesting face that reminded her of a lion.
But those eyes were nothing except gorgeous perfection.
