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Capturing The Millionaire
Capturing The Millionaire
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Capturing The Millionaire

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Dimly, Kayla could make out the back of a man’s head. His face appeared to be all but swallowed up by the air bag that had deployed.

She heard a groan and realized it was coming from her, not him.

Her runaway, Winchester, was hopping on his hind legs, as if to tell her that he had discovered the man first. This had to be the canine variation on “He followed me home, can I keep him?”

The man wasn’t moving.

Kayla held her breath. Was the driver just unconscious, or—?

“This is the part where I tell you to go for help,” she murmured to the dogs, trying to think. “If there was someone to go get.”

Which there wasn’t. She lived alone and the closest neighbor was more than three miles away. Even if she could send the dogs there, no one would understand why they were barking. More than likely they’d call the sheriff, or just ignore the animals.

In either case, it did her no good. She was on her own here.

Setting the lantern down, Kayla tried the driver’s door. At first it didn’t budge, but she put her whole weight into pulling it. After several mighty tugs, miraculously, the door gave way. Kayla stumbled backward and would have fallen into the mud had the tree not been at her back. She slammed into it, felt the vibration up and down her spine, jarring her teeth.

She hung on to the door handle for a moment, trying to get her breath. As she drew in moist air, she stared into the car. The driver’s face was still buried in the air bag, and the seat belt had a tight grip on the rest of him, holding him in place. Admitted to the party, the rain was now leaving its mark, hungrily anointing every exposed part of the stranger and soaking him to the skin.

And he still wasn’t moving.

Chapter Two

“Mister. Hey, mister.” Kayla raised her voice to be heard above the howl of the wind. “Can you hear me?”

When there was no response, she shook the man by the shoulder. Again, nothing happened. The stranger didn’t lift his head, didn’t try to move or make a sound. He was as still as death.

The uneasiness she felt began to grow. What if he was seriously injured, or—?

“Oh, God,” Kayla murmured under her breath.

Moving back a foot, she nearly stepped on Winchester. The dog was hobbling about as if he had every intention of leaping into the car and reviving the stranger. At this rate, she was going to wind up stomping on one of his good legs.

“Stay out of the way, boy,” Kayla ordered, and he reluctantly obeyed.

She frowned. The air bag was not deflating, but still took up all the available space on the driver’s side. After having possibly saved his life, it was, in effect, smothering the man.

Kayla pushed against the bag, but it didn’t give. She tried hitting it with the side of her hand, hoping to make the huge tan, marshmallow-like pillow deflate.

It didn’t.

Desperate, Kayla put the lantern down on the wet ground and felt around in her pockets. In the morning, when she got dressed, she automatically put her cell phone in her pocket, along with the old Swiss army knife that had once been her father’s prized possession.

A smile of relief crossed her lips as her fingers came in contact with a small, familiar shape. Quickly taking it out, she unfolded the largest blade and jabbed the air bag with it. Air whooshed out as the bag deflated.

The moment it was flat, the stranger’s head fell forward, hitting the steering wheel. He was obviously still unconscious, or at least she hoped so. The alternative was gruesome.

Kayla felt the side of his neck with her fingertips and found a pulse. “Lucky,” she muttered under her breath.

The next step was to free him from the car. She’d seen accidents where the vehicle was so badly mangled, the fire department had to be summoned, with its jaws of life. Fortunately, this wasn’t one of those cases. Considering the conditions, the driver had been incredibly lucky. She wondered if he’d been drinking. But a quick sniff of the air near his face told her he hadn’t been.

Just another Southern Californian who didn’t know how to drive in the rain, she thought. Leaning over him, she struggled to find the release button for the seat belt.

Was it her imagination, or was he stirring? God knew she hadn’t been this close to a man in a very long time.

“Have…we…met?”

Sucking in her breath, Kayla jerked back, hitting her head against the car roof as she heard the hoarsely whispered question.

She swallowed. “You’re awake,” she declared in stunned relief.

“Or…you’re…a dream,” Alain mumbled weakly. Was that his voice? It sounded so high, so distant. And his eyelids, oh God, his eyelids felt heavier than a ton of coal. They kept trying to close.

Was he hallucinating? He heard barking. The hounds of hell? Was he in hell?

Alain tried to focus on the woman in front of him. He was delirious, he concluded. There was no other explanation for his seeing a redheaded angel in a rain slicker.

Kayla looked at the stranger closely. There was blood oozing from a wide gash on his forehead just above his right eyebrow and his eyes kept rolling upward. He looked as if he was going to pass out again at any moment. She slipped her arm around his waist, still trying to find the seat belt’s release button.

“Definitely…a dream,” Alain breathed as he felt her fingers feathering along his thigh. Damn, if he’d known hell was populated by creatures like this, he would have volunteered to go a long time ago.

Finding the button, she pressed it and tugged away his seat belt. Kayla looked up at his face. His eyes were shut.

“No, no, don’t fade on me now,” she begged. Getting the stranger to her house was going to be next to impossible if he was unconscious. She was strong, but not that strong. “Stay with me. Please,” she urged.

To her relief, the stranger opened his eyes again. “Best…offer…I’ve had…all day,” he said, wincing with every word that left his lips.

“Terrific,” she murmured. “Of all the men to crash into my tree, I have to get a playboy.”

Moving her fingers along his ribs gingerly, she was rewarded with another series of winces. He must have cracked or bruised them, she thought in dismay.

“Okay, hang in there,” she told him as she slowly moved his torso and legs, so that he was facing out of the vehicle. With effort, she placed her arm beneath his shoulder and grasped his wrist with her hand.

The man’s eyes remained closed, but he mumbled against her ear, “You shouldn’t…put your trees…where…people can…hit them.”

Kayla did her best to block the shiver that his breath created. Gritting her teeth against the effort she was about to make, she promised, “I’ll keep that in mind.” Spreading her feet, she braced herself, then attempted to rise while holding him. She felt him sagging. “Work with me here, mister.”

She thought she heard a chuckle. “What…did you have…in…mind?”

“Definitely not what you have in mind,” she assured him. Taking a deep breath, she straightened. The man she was trying to rescue was all but a dead weight.

Curling her arm around his waist as best she could, she focused on making the long journey across her lawn to her front door.

“Sorry…” His single word was carried away in the howling wind. The next moment, its meaning became clear: the man had passed out.

“No, no, wait,” Kayla pleaded frantically, but it was too late.

He went down like a ton of bricks. She almost pitched forward with him, but let go at the last moment. Frustrated, she looked at the blond, striking stranger. Unconscious, he was just too much for her to carry.

She glanced back toward the house. So near and yet so far.

Catching her lower lip between her teeth, Kayla thought for a moment as all three of the dogs closed ranks around the fallen stranger. And then a rather desperate idea occurred to her. “There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

Taylor barked enthusiastically, as if to add a coda to her words. Kayla couldn’t help grinning at the large animal.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Okay, gang.” She addressed the others as if they were her assistants. “Watch over him. I’ll be right back.”

The dogs appeared to take in every word. Kayla was a firm believer that animals understood what you said, as long as you were patient enough to train them from the time you brought them into your house. Just like babies.

“Oilcloth, oilcloth,” she chanted under her breath as she hurried into her house, “what did I do with that oilcloth?” She remembered buying more then ten yards of the fabric—bright red—last year. There’d been a healthy-size chunk left over. She could swear she’d seen the remainder recently.

Crossing the kitchen, she went into the garage, still searching. The oilcloth was neatly folded and tucked away in a corner. Kayla grabbed it and quickly retraced her steps.

She was back at the wrecked vehicle and her still unconscious guest almost immediately. Spying her approach, Winchester hobbled to meet her halfway, then pivoted on his hind legs to lead her back.

“Think I forgot the way?” she asked him.

Winchester took the Fifth.

As the rain continued to lash at her, Kayla spread the oilcloth, shiny side down, on the muddy ground beside the stranger. Working as quickly as she could, rain still lashing unrelentingly at her face, she rolled the man onto the cloth. His clothes had been muddied in the process, but it couldn’t be helped. Leaving him out here, bleeding and in God only knew what kind of condition, was definitely not a viable option.

“Okay,” she said to her dogs, “now comes the hard part. Times like this, a sled would really come in handy.” Winchester yipped, looking up at her with adoring eyes. She was, after all, his savior. “Easy for you to say,” she told him.

Gripping the ends of the oilcloth, one corner in each hand, she faced the house. “Here goes nothing,” she muttered under her breath, and began the long, painfully slow journey of pulling him, hoping that the stranger, with his upturned face, didn’t drown on the way.

The first thing Alain became aware of as he slowly pried his eyes opened, was the weight of the anvil currently residing on his forehead. It felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds, and a gaggle of devils danced along its surface, each taking a swing with his hammer as he passed.

The second thing he became aware of was the feel of the sheets against his skin. Against almost all of his skin. He was naked beneath the blue-and-white down comforter. Or close to it. He definitely felt linen beneath his shoulders.

Blinking, he tried very hard to focus his eyes.

Where the hell was he?

He had absolutely no idea how he had gotten here—or what he was doing here to begin with.

Or, for that matter, who that woman with the shapely hips was.

Alain blinked again. He wasn’t imagining it.

There was a woman with her back to him, a woman with sumptuous hips, bending over a fireplace. The glow from the hearth, and a handful of candles scattered throughout the large, rustic-looking room provided the only light to be had.

Why? Where was the electricity? Had he crossed some time warp?

Nothing was making any sense. Alain tried to raise his head, and instantly regretted it. The pounding intensified twofold.

His hand automatically flew to his forehead and came in contact with a sea of gauze. He slowly moved his fingertips along it.

What had happened?

Curious, he raised the comforter and sheet and saw he still had on his briefs. There were more bandages, these wrapped tightly around his chest. He was beginning to feel like some sort of cartoon character.

Alain opened his mouth to get the woman’s attention, but nothing came out. He cleared his throat before making another attempt, and she heard him.

She turned around—as did the pack of dogs that were gathered around her. Alain realized that she’d been putting food into their bowls.

Good, at least they weren’t going to eat him.

Yet, he amended warily.

“You’re awake,” she said, looking pleased as she crossed over to him. The light from the fireplace caught in the swirls of red hair that framed her face. She moved fluidly, with grace. Like someone who was comfortable within her own skin. And why not? The woman was beautiful.

Again, he wondered if he was dreaming.

“And naked,” he added.

A rueful smile slipped across her lips. He couldn’t tell if it was light from the fire or if a pink hue had just crept up her cheeks. In any event, it was alluring.

“Sorry about that.”

“Why, did you have your way with me?” he asked, a hint of amusement winning out over his confusion.

“You’re not naked,” she pointed out. “And I prefer my men to be conscious.” Then she became serious.“Your clothes were all muddy and wet. I managed to wash them before the power went out completely.”She gestured about the room, toward the many candles set on half the flat surfaces. “They’re hanging in my garage right now, but they’re not going to be dry until morning,” she said apologetically. “If then.”

He was familiar with power outages; they usually lasted only a few minutes. “Unless the power comes back on.”

The redhead shook her head, her hair moving about her face like an airy cloud. “Highly doubtful.When we lose power around here, it’s hardly ever a short-term thing. If we’re lucky, we’ll get power back by midafternoon tomorrow.”

Alain glanced down at the coverlet spread over his body. Even that slight movement hurt his neck.“Well, as intriguing as the whole idea might be, I really can’t stay naked all that time. Can I borrow some clothes from your husband until mine are ready?”

Was that amusement in her eyes, or something else? “That might not be so easy,” she told him.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t have one.”

He’d thought he’d seen someone in a hooded rain slicker earlier. “Significant other?” he suggested. When she made no response, he continued, “Brother? Father?”

She shook her head at each suggestion. “None of the above.”

“You’re alone?” he questioned incredulously.

“I currently have seven dogs,” she told him, amusement playing along her lips. “Never, at any time of the night or day, am I alone.”

He didn’t understand. If there was no other person in the house—

“Then how did you get me in here? You sure as hell don’t look strong enough to have carried me all the way by yourself.”

She pointed toward the oilcloth she’d left spread out and drying before the fireplace. “I put you in that and dragged you in.”