“I’ll catch you,” he promised, hoping his temperamental back wouldn’t make a liar out of him. “You said you trusted me.”
“I do. But I’m not exactly Calista Flockhart. I’ve had a long-standing love affair with glazed donuts, and I’m not sure you can catch all of me.”
Considering he’d carried guys weighing over two hundred pounds out of burning buildings, he wasn’t too worried. His back was an issue, of course, but since he fully intended to ignore the pain, he decided not to mention that. Besides, he’d caught a nice view of her earlier, and from where he was standing she looked to be just about the perfect size for a woman.
“I think I’m blushing,” she said when he told her so.
“I think you’re stalling,” he countered.
“Well, yeah, maybe. Like I said, it’s nothing personal.”
He had to grin. The woman was upside down, but still worrying about hurting his feelings. He tried to come up with some other options, but no brilliant alternative solution leaped to mind. “You’re going to get tired and fall anyway,” he said. “You might as well let me catch you.”
He saw fear, then resignation. “You won’t drop me?”
He reached up, his fingertips brushing hers. “Never.”
A muscle moved in her throat. She nodded. “Okay.”
“On three,” he said. “One. Two.”
“Three.” They said the word in unison, and he braced as she let herself fall backward.
Before he could react, she was in his outstretched arms. White-hot fingers of pain shot up his back, and he stumbled on the uneven ground. But he didn’t break his promise. He didn’t drop her.
“Thank you.” Still in his arms, she smiled up at him, her gray eyes wide and her breath coming in small, quick gasps. He held her close to his body, the pulse of his heart echoing against her. Impulsively, he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, breathing in the subtle scent of strawberries. Most of her hair had escaped its ponytail holder, and now it tangled wild and wet around her face.
His first thought was that she was beautiful. His second, that she was dangerous. Hell, even with his back, he felt like he could stand there forever, just holding her.
Oh, yeah. She was dangerous.
She shifted, the movement against him igniting a powerful physical reaction.
Very, very dangerous.
“You can put me down.” Her voice was soft, as if shesomehow realized that speaking would destroy the moment. He mentally cringed. There was nomoment, no anything. He’d simply helped an attractive woman out of a bind.
“Right,” he answered, his back celebrating the decision.
Once her feet were firmly on the ground, she smiled, almost formally, as if she, too, was trying to shake off a queer sense of connection. “Well. I, uh, should introduce myself.” She stuck her hand out. “I’m Kyra. Kyra Cartwright.”
He hesitated, knowing that if he took her hand he’d feel it again. That surge of power, that shock to the senses. Maybe women weren’t on his current agenda, but if he shook her hand, he knew—somehow, he justknew—that, woman or no, Kyra Cartwright would end up penciled in.
What the hell. He closed his fingers around hers, satisfying some deep, primal need to simply touch her.
She licked her lips, her eyes drifting to their interlocked hands. With a gentle tug, she pulled her hand free, the brush of her skin against his like the softest silk. Instead of meeting his eyes, she looked up into the tree. “Guess I risked my neck for nothing.”
He followed her gaze and realized that the cat had disappeared.
“I’m sure the kitten appreciated your efforts.”
“Maybe. But I hope it doesn’t expect a bowl of creamif it shows up at my door after getting me stuck like that.”
He took a step toward her, noting with pleasure that she didn’t move back. “I bet you’d give it some anyway.”
“Yeah. I probably would.” She met his gaze head on, this time smiling. “I guess I’m just a sucker.”
“Not at all.”
He saw a thousand questions dance across her face, but she asked none of them. Instead, she simply stood on her tiptoes, kissed his cheek and whispered, “Thank you.”
Even after she’d stepped away, the feathery touch of her lips lingered on his skin, as if he’d been softly branded. She was smiling, almost shyly, and his stomach twisted as he wondered if she’d be so quick to kiss him if she knew the truth about him. If she’d seen the real Tony under the mask.
He stifled a sigh. The bottom line was that he’d helped her, and she’d looked at him like a hero, not like a pariah.
She saw him as the man he used to be, not the broken man he’d become. Everything he wanted, everything he needed, was right there in her eyes.
But not one bit of it was real.
No wonder he still felt so hollow.
