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Probably, she looked pale and shaken, her pretense of bravery through the situation now shot to heck. “Yes, okay. Thanks for, you know, crushing me with your body so I didn’t get crushed worse by flying debris.”
“You’re welcome. Except I didn’t completely succeed. Your coat is torn.”
She followed his gaze to the large rip in the shoulder seam of her coat, and couldn’t help the little dismayed sound that came from her lips. “Oh, no! I just bought this last month! Must have happened when you tackled me.”
“Better a torn coat than a broken head. Which you would have deserved for not leaving when I asked you to.”
“Not even I deserve a broken head.”
That statement made his lips quirk as he reached out to brush his finger across her dusty eyelids. “You’d better get washed up.”
“Me? You look like a gray-haired old man right now.” Which couldn’t be further from the truth, since no old man had the kind of wide, muscular chest that was mostly bare right in front of her, or flat, rippling abs, or such a chiseled jaw. And because she couldn’t stop looking at him and was enjoying their banter far too much, she forced herself to look away up the sidewalk, pretending to focus on all the emergency equipment and personnel. Then her peripheral vision caught bright red drops of blood splattering on the sidewalk behind his feet.
Wide-eyed, she jerked her attention back to him. “You’re bleeding! Oh, my God.”
“I can tell it’s just a scrape. Maybe a gouge, too, but nothing worse than that.”
“Take off your coat so I can see.”
“I’ll freeze.”
“Better to freeze than die from blood loss.” She pushed at the shoulders of his open coat and, shaking his head and grumbling, he finally slid it off. She turned him around, then stared in dismay at the swollen, raw scrape and shallow puncture wound that was the source of the drops of blood. “For heaven’s sake, you really did take a boulder for me!”
“I’ll live.”
“Does it hurt anywhere else?” She ran her hands across his shoulders and back, wiping off the dusty debris from when he’d had his coat off earlier, looking for other injuries that might not be obvious. “I feel just terrible that I was pushing and jabbing you to get off me when you really were hurt.”
“Like I said, just a scrape. And I’m tough.”
He tried to turn around, but she stopped him. “And you call me stubborn! Just be still a minute.” With her scarf gone, the best she could do to staunch the trickle of blood was a pathetic wad of tissue she scrounged from her coat pocket, pressing it firmly against the bruised indentation as her left hand continued to roam his hard contours and smooth skin.
Abruptly and without warning, he surprised her by turning, her hands moving along with him, and the sight of that manly chest and the feel of his skin and soft hair on her palms had her mesmerized again, touching him the same way she’d touched his back, slowly and thoroughly, though there was clearly no injury on this side of his body.
“You about finished examining me, Doctor?”
Oh, my God. His low rumble made her realize exactly what she’d been doing. Dropping the tissue and yanking her hands back like she’d touched a hot furnace, horrified that she’d practically been fondling the man, she stared up at amused brown eyes.
“I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to, you know, run my hands all over you like that, I was just, um, checking for more injuries, but you seem...” She cleared her throat, utterly mortified. “Fine.”
He gave her a slow smile that said he knew exactly why she’d been touching him, which had been way too softly and leisurely to be considered a medical necessity. Heat flooded her face because, yes, the man was very, very fine and she’d just made an utter fool of herself.
Beyond relieved that he slid his coat back on, she wished with all her heart that he’d button it up, too, so she wouldn’t have to keep finding other things to look at. Like his gorgeous face.
“Thanks for the first aid.” He reached out to gently smooth a finger down her dirty cheek. “You’re a mess. Do you live nearby?”
“No, I live in Brooklyn. But I’ll go to the hospital and use the showers there.”
“Be careful walking—looks like some of the sidewalk has heaved in the collapse.”
He turned and, astonishingly, it looked like he was about to head back inside the collapsed street they’d just come from. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve got to find John’s dog.”
“What? Surely you’re not going back in there! Or at least get the safety equipment and hard hat on before you do.”
“Unless he somehow got out, it won’t take long. The space beyond where John was injured ends just another thirty-five feet or so back.”
And with that, he disappeared, leaving her with her hands clutched to her chest and her mouth gaping open after him.
What should she do now? Go on to the hospital like she didn’t know the crazy man had gone back into harm’s way? Go tell the first responders that one of their men was insane? She felt bad about John’s poor dog and understood why he’d gone back in for it, but what if the whole ceiling collapsed and neither one of them survived? He should have gotten help before going back in to look for him, and protected himself somehow.
She stood there with various horrible scenarios running through her mind, each worse than the last, making her feel a little woozy. After several minutes ticked by she decided, nearly hyperventilating, that she had to tell someone so that he wouldn’t be in there alone, knocked unconscious by a slab of concrete or buried under a shower of rubble, and just as she was about to rush to one of the fire trucks, an even more dusty Mateo trudged up out of the wreckage. A small dog was tucked into the crook of his elbow like a football, and Miranda wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or yell at him.
She planted her hands on her hips and sucked in a shaky breath. “Are you out of your mind? You had me worried to death!”
“Unnecessary. But when a beautiful woman worries about me, it’s appreciated nonetheless.” He held up what she could now see was a rather chubby dachshund that was probably brown, though it was hard to tell for sure. “Benny likes it, too, don’t you, buddy?” Mateo scratched beneath the dog’s chin, who managed to feebly wag his tail despite his ordeal.
Miranda smoothed her hand across the pup’s back, smearing the dust around, and her fear and desire to yell at Mateo faded into a smile of her own. “He’s so cute. John will be very glad. How in the world did you find him?”
He stuck two fingers into his mouth, and the shrill whistle was so loud it made Benny squirm and Miranda cover her ears.
“Oh, my gosh! That would make me run instead of come to you. And you do realize your hands are filthy.”
“Eating a little dirt is good for one’s immune system, which you surely know, Dr. Davenport.”
“Yes. Well, I already ate my quota of dirt for the day.” Aware of a ridiculous desire to just stand there and talk with him for hours, filthy and cold or not, she managed to remember that she had to see if the hospital had a big patient load after the collapse. “Gotta go. You want me to find John and tell him? What are you going to do with the dog?”
“Take him home. I’ll call the hospital and have them tell John, and he can find someone to come pick him up.”
“That’s...nice of you.” In spite of her best intentions, her eyes kept wandering from the dog to Mateo’s naked chest beneath his coat, remembering how his skin and body had felt, and she decided she’d better get out of there before he could see exactly what she was thinking. “Well...”
Fixated as she was on his handsome face and beautiful physique, she didn’t even hear the chime of her cellphone announcing a text until his finger pointed to her purse. “That your phone?”
“Oh! Yes. Thanks.” Lord, had he noticed her distractedly, ridiculously, staring at his body? Again? She quickly fished in her bag and read the message. “The hospital says they don’t need me. That there aren’t too many injured, they’re sure it wasn’t a terrorist event, and everything’s under control. So that’s good news.”
“It is.”
She lifted her eyes to his brown ones, and something about the way he was looking at her made her chest suddenly feel oddly buoyant. The thought of going to her apartment and being all alone for the rest of the day pushed that air right back out, but she shook it off. When she wasn’t working, didn’t she spend most of her time alone anyway?
“Well, good luck with the dog and all.” She cleared her throat. “See you at the hospital sometime.”
She turned away from that mesmerizing brown gaze and started walking, then realized she’d have to rethink her route, since the subway she usually rode might be out of commission. She pulled up the subway updates on her phone to check which ones were running and which weren’t, when a large, dirty hand rested on her forearm to stop her in her tracks.
“So where are you going?” Mateo asked.
“Brooklyn. My subway might be open but if not, I’ll just take a taxi.”
“In this mess? It’ll take you hours.”
And wasn’t that the truth? The clogged-up traffic looked even worse than when she’d left the taxi. “Then I’ll go to the hospital after all.”
“Do you have a friend or boyfriend who lives close enough to walk to their place?”
“No boyfriend, and most of my family live on the Upper East Side.”
“I live just a couple of blocks from here. You might as well come with me and Benny and get cleaned up there. I probably have pants that’ll fit you that you could wear home.”
She’d hardly be surprised if a man as hunky as Mateo Alves had clothes women had left at his place, but she wasn’t about to wear any of them. “Thanks, but no. I’ll be fine.”
“Suit yourself. Walking ten blocks to the hospital, covered with dirt, wearing a torn coat and pants with one bare leg exposed in this cold, is going to feel very uncomfortable.” An indifferent shrug made her wonder why he was even asking. “And if you can ride the subway, people will think you’re homeless and want to sit far away from the strangely dusty woman with ripped clothes. Or offer you money.”
She had to laugh at that, but as she looked down at herself, she realized he was right. Not to mention that her leg already felt a little numb from the cold wind. And what if she ran into someone she knew, or a former patient, and had to answer a gazillion questions and have people think she was crazy to run into a collapsed tunnel, just like Mateo had?
She thought about how her sister Penny always accused her of doing everything in her life as safely as possible, and today she’d proved that wasn’t always true. And taking Mateo up on his offer would definitely not be the quiet, boring route either, would it?
“Fine.” Her pulse quickened as she agreed. “I appreciate it.”
“I have a secret reason for asking, you realize.”
Her heart lurched at the wicked glint that suddenly appeared in his eyes, and a whole lot of possibilities swirled through her head. Was she out of her mind to actually go with him? Her eyes glued to his, she breathlessly asked, “What?”
“Benny can’t be returned in his current condition.” He held out the little dog. “I’m hoping you’ll take him in the shower with you to get him washed up as well.”
* * *
Miranda felt warm from head to toe as she shoved her arms into the oversized white robe Mateo had given her before her shower. She had a bad feeling that the heat pumping from her pores was from more than just the hot shower. That it might have something to do with feeling embarrassed that she was naked in Mateo Alves’s bathroom, and that she’d been thinking thoughts that should not have formed in her brain at all.
Thoughts of Mateo coming into the small space while she was in the shower, which of course would be horrifying and creepy in real life. But in her fantasy world, safe behind a locked bathroom door? Very, very exciting. And what woman wouldn’t think about that for at least a second, when the man was the most gorgeous male specimen she’d ever laid eyes on?
Not to mention that there was something about him that made her feel utterly safe. Had even felt absurdly safe in that tunnel with debris showering down on them, which was ridiculous. His body, big though it was, couldn’t have fully shielded her if the entire street had collapsed on them. But that he’d thrown himself on her to protect her the best he could made her feel a little warm glow, even though she knew it was part of his job and he’d been angry with her for even being there in the first place.
She stared into the mirror and finger-combed her damp hair, glad she’d decided to cut it into a bob a couple of years ago. With her work schedule it was easier to take care of now, and after today’s crazy events it would have been a tangled mess if it had been longer. She shook her head at the sudden wish that she had more than just lipstick, making a mental note to put some makeup in her purse for next time.
As though there’d be another time she’d rush into danger, be yelled at by the world’s most handsome paramedic, then insistently brought to his home to get cleaned up. No, this was a once-in-a-lifetime moment, and she needed to get her clothes dried fast and get out of there before she embarrassed herself again by ogling him. Before he remembered he’d been annoyed about her getting in his way today. The kind of annoyance she’d gotten all too used to once Vanessa Davenport had grudgingly allowed her to live with her father and half-siblings.
“Thanks again for your robe,” she said as she walked into his small but comfortable living room, tying the attached terrycloth belt of the over-large robe even tighter. She stared at him lounging on his sofa and licked her dry lips, trying to sound calm and normal instead of absurdly nervous. Which was obviously a ridiculous way for a mature woman to feel, but boyfriends had been few and far between in her life, mostly because she’d quickly learned that none of them had been interested in her, just in her name and the Davenport money and connections. “Are my...are my clothes almost dry?”
“They need maybe ten more minutes.” Unfolding his body from the deep leather sofa, he moved toward the bathroom with Benny, now wrapped in a towel to keep the dust from getting everywhere, tucked under his arm again. “I hope you left some hot water for us.”
Her mouth went even dryer. “You’re...going to shower? Now?”
Dark eyebrows lifted at her as he paused. “Do you object to me using my own shower? I believe I’m covered in even more silt than you were. And I can’t exactly pass Benny on in his current state, since you refused to take him in with you.”
“Of course I don’t object.” Which was a lie, because she really wanted to say, Yes! I’d really rather you wait to take off your clothes until after I’m gone! “And I didn’t refuse, you said you’d take care of washing him.”
“Because I’m an excellent dog washer, and I suspect you don’t have much experience with canines.”
It was true, but the way he said it seemed to imply he thought she was a prima donna or something. “You sure do claim to be excellent at everything. And I’m sure I could handle washing a little dog.”
“I have no doubt you handle all kinds of things with aplomb, Dr. Davenport.” That quick grin of his flashed before he disappeared into the only bedroom.
Apparently, she’d fooled him pretty well, because there was only one thing she was really good at, and that was being a doctor. Something she’d worked hard to do, trying to live up to the Davenport name. The family she only sort of belonged to, and would probably never be worthy of.
The sound of the bathroom door clicking behind him sent Miranda to perch on the end of the sofa, looking around his small apartment. His decor could be described as minimalist, but the furniture was obviously expensive, and the few pieces of art unusual and eclectic. Not posters from a cheap store but beautifully framed originals hung on the walls, and several excellent sculptures were placed on the modern tables.
She ran her finger across a bronze with fluid lines. Interesting and unexpected that an EMT would have the financial resources for art like this. Maybe he was the kind of man who bought very little, but when he did, it was only the best.
Pondering the man, she absently picked up a magazine, surprised to see that it was about horses and horse-breeding, and flicked through the photos of beautiful animals, hoping for a distraction from her nerves. Until the sound of the shower put a completely different image in her head. Picturing a naked, muscular Mateo with water streaming down the dark hair on his chest shortened her breath and did other things to her body that embarrassed her all over again, reminding her of exactly how she’d felt in that tunnel when he’d been lying on top of her.
Lord, this was ridiculous. What in the world was wrong with her? She was twenty-nine years old, for heaven’s sake, and a doctor who’d seen plenty of naked men in her career. Naked men were in her life every day!
Except Mateo wasn’t a patient, and she couldn’t remember a single man she’d ever known, patient or otherwise, who’d been even close to as gorgeous as he was.
She blew out a breath, and just as she was about to go to the small laundry closet to check on her clothes and throw them on, damp or not, a loud knock sounded at the door to his apartment.
She stared, frozen. Should she answer? The distant sound of the shower told her Mateo wasn’t even close to being done, and if she hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t be answering anyway, right? Besides, what if it was a girlfriend or something? How could she explain being in his apartment in his robe? Then she remembered it might be whoever was coming to get Benny, and decided she’d better answer before they left, assuming no one was home. She moved toward the door as a man’s voice boomed through it.
“Mateo! Are you there?”
To Miranda’s surprise, she heard the keypad beep just before the doorknob turned. The door opened to reveal an older couple, probably in their early sixties. The petite woman had dark hair with streaks of gray, coiffed into an elegant chignon, and the man was tall and unusually slender. He held a cane and was walking slowly, a step behind the woman as they came into the apartment. Both stared at her with raised eyebrows as their gazes took in her wet hair and the fact that she was standing there naked except for Mateo’s robe.
The embarrassment she’d felt before flamed another hundred degrees, and if there’d been anywhere she could have run, she would have torn right out of there.
“Is Mateo here?” the woman asked, her eyes remarkably cold-looking for being a warm, velvety brown.
“Um, yes. He’s...he’s in the shower. See, there was an accident today, part of the subway tunnel collapsed, you might have seen it on the news, or gotten stuck in all the traffic? So I went to help and Mateo was in there rescuing a man and his dog, and we got all dirty, and then...” Her voice faded away. Lord, she must sound like a raving lunatic. “Um, come in. I’m sure he’ll be out in—”
“Mother. Father. What are you doing here? I thought you’d already left for home.”
Miranda turned to see Mateo standing in the doorway to his bedroom, and what little breath she had left backed up in her lungs. Because he was wearing a towel around his waist and nothing else, with a sheen of water droplets in relief on his wide shoulders and athletic chest, a few dripping down the dark hair on his taut stomach just as she’d visualized earlier. Only even better.
She gulped. Obviously, he’d heard voices and hadn’t taken the time to fully dry off, and between the vision in front of her and her embarrassment that these two people were his parents, she thought she just might go into a swoon.
“Our plane is ready to go, but we decided to come here before we left, hoping to convince you to come home with us now, instead of waiting. But apparently you are otherwise engaged.”
His mother turned those cold eyes to Miranda, and they reminded her so much of the way her stepmother had always looked at her, it made her heart constrict oddly. Made her feel as unwelcome as she had in her teens when she’d first shown up at the Davenport mansion, which was absurd. She didn’t even know these people, but she couldn’t help feeling like she’d somehow shoved herself somewhere she was unwelcome anyway.
Mateo folded his arms across his damp chest, his features stony. “I told you I’d be coming home soon. And I will.”
“It must be very soon. There are things we need to address right away. You are the heir now!” His father pulled a sheaf of papers from his coat pocket and held them out to Mateo, his hand shaking with what looked to be a tremor as he did so. “Your mother and I are trying to manage until you arrive, but it is difficult for us to attend to everything. Too many people are relying on me, on you, to be ignored.”
Miranda looked from Mateo to his parents, and back. What in the world were they talking about? Unlike his mother, his father’s attention was focused exclusively on Mateo, who made no effort to introduce her to them. Which shouldn’t have bothered her, except it made her feel even more like the lowly interloper that Vanessa Davenport had clearly viewed her as thirteen years ago. And still did.
“I understand. I’ll let you know when I’m going to arrive, which I promise will be in just a few days.” Mateo’s biceps bulged as he lifted his arm to squeeze the back of his neck, his expression grim. A now clean, tail-wagging Benny ran from the bedroom to stand next to Mateo’s feet, looking up at him adoringly as Mateo dropped his arm back to his side. “However, as you can see, I’m rather busy right now.”
“You have a dog? In this ridiculously tiny apartment you insist on living in?” his mother asked in an incredulous voice.
“It’s not my dog.”
