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“I guess you’ll have to trust me. As a rule, muggers don’t typically take their victims to the emergency room.” He reached for her, holding her steady when she wobbled. His hands were strong, calloused and strangely gentle.
“I’m going to park and I’ll meet you inside,” the woman driving the SUV called out. “Are you going to be okay, Boone?”
“I can’t see much but other than that, great. Don’t be too long,” her rescuer responded.
“Your name is Boone?” Kayla asked as he led her toward the entrance of the ER.
“Boone Wilder.”
“I’ve heard that name before.” She had to stop for a second. Her head was pounding and she felt sick.
“I’m from Martin’s Crossing.” He slipped his hand from hers and put an arm around her back. “Are you going to make it?”
“Of course. I don’t even need to be here.”
“I think we’ll get a second opinion on that.”
“I could refuse treatment,” she said as they headed up the sidewalk toward the entrance.
“Yeah, you could. But it’s hard to refuse treatment if you’re unconscious.”
“How did you become my babysitter, Boone Wilder?” She blinked away the blurriness and kept walking, aware that he was studying her as if he thought she might fall over.
“Your father hired our bodyguard service to keep you out of trouble for the duration of this election. I don’t think he realized you were actually in need of a bodyguard. Any idea who that was back there?”
“Not a clue.”
“But since you were armed with pepper spray, I’m guessing this wasn’t random?”
“It’s been going on for a couple of months.” She stopped as another wave of dizziness hit, making her vision swim.
Without warning she was scooped into his arms. Again.
“You don’t have to carry me,” she protested, albeit weakly.
“No, of course not. But I also don’t want you passing out in the parking lot. Relax. You’re not as light as you look.”
“Charming.”
He flashed white teeth and a dimple. “I try.”
She felt him limp a bit as they headed toward the door. “I can walk.”
“Probably.”
To distract herself she studied his face. Lean and handsome, but rugged. She had never been attracted to the type. As she perused his features she noticed a scar on his cheek. It was a few inches long and jagged. There was a similar scar on his neck, just above his collarbone. Without thinking, she touched it.
He flinched.
“I’m sorry. What happened?” She pulled back, suddenly unsure.
“Nothing personal,” he growled. “But it isn’t any of your business.”
“Of course it isn’t. I’d love to tell you my life isn’t any of your business. But I guess my dad has taken that right from me.”
“And if we hadn’t been there tonight?”
She shivered and his arms tightened. They walked through the doors of the ER and he settled her in a wheelchair that had been left near the entrance. She brought her legs up and huddled tight to warm herself. Boone pushed her to the front desk. There were questions to answer, paperwork to fill out, and then they were directed through double doors where a nurse met them.
“Right this way.” The nurse motioned them to follow her to a room midway down the hall.
“She’s cold. Can you get her a blanket?” Boone said as he pushed her into the room.
“I should call your dad,” he said to her.
“Don’t bother.” Kayla blinked away tears that she told herself were the result of the blow to her head and nothing more. “He’s out of town.”
“Still,” he said, sounding insistent. She wished he’d go away. But if he did, she’d be alone. She was tired of being alone.
What did that say about her life, that she was so lonely she wanted this man, this stranger, to stay with her? There was something comforting about his presence.
“I’ll call your sister, then,” he said. He pulled off his cowboy hat and brushed a hand through short, dark hair. His eyes still watered.
“You should get your eyes cleaned out,” Kayla offered.
The nurse gave him a good look as she helped Kayla onto the bed. “I’ll have an aid flush your eyes out. Right now let’s get you settled. I’ll be right back and we’ll get you changed into a gown.”
Kayla gripped the edge of the bed as another wave of dizziness hit. “I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this. And for the pepper spray. I’ll pay to replace your contacts.”
“No need to apologize.” His voice rumbled close by. She felt his hand on her foot. He was removing her shoes. First one and then the other. She forced her eyes open and watched him. He was looking down so she had a view of the crown of his head, of his dark hair.
“Thank you.” She managed to get the words out, closing her eyes again to block his concerned expression and the tumultuous emotions that bounced around inside her.
Needing someone was not her thing.
“You’re welcome,” he said, standing up. “Is there anything else I can do?”
She shook her head, the movement costing her. She put a hand to her temple. “Make this headache go away?”
He put a hand on her shoulder briefly. “I’m sure they’ll give you something.”
And then he was moving toward the door and the nurse was there, agreeing that they would get her something for pain.
“I can’t,” Kayla tried to explain. The nurse gave her a curious look. “No narcotics.”
Boone Wilder, babysitter, bodyguard, whatever he thought of himself, stopped at the door. “I’ll be here when you get back from CT. And we’ll have to call the police and file a report.”
The door slid open and his partner stepped inside. She wasn’t tall but Kayla got the impression this woman with her long dark hair, dark eyes and pretty face could intimidate almost anyone.
“Kayla Stanford, this is Lucy Palermo. We’re partners in MPW Bodyguard services.” Boone waved at the other woman in introduction.
“Palermo. Wilder. What does the M stand for?” Kayla asked as she leaned back on the bed.
“McKay. Daron McKay,” Boone said.
“Of course.” She covered her eyes with her hand to block the bright fluorescent lighting. “Our dads have worked together in the past.”
“That’s what Daron told us,” Lucy said with just the slightest Hispanic accent.
The nurse rested a hand on Kayla’s arm. “Time to get you into that hospital gown.”
“We’ll be out in the hall,” Boone said as he settled his hat back on his head.
“You don’t have to stay,” Kayla shot back, knowing he wouldn’t listen.
“You can’t get rid of us that easily.”
Of course she couldn’t. And even though she’d said the words, she didn’t mean them. Even strangers who had been paid to keep tabs on her were better than nothing.
She was so tired of being alone.
Chapter Two (#ulink_3cdd0f43-1a4c-5b9b-a226-08991ad19bcd)
Sunshine streamed through the bedroom window of her apartment. Kayla closed her eyes and wished away the brightness. Worse, someone was singing. She put a hand to her head where it ached. Minor concussion, staples in the back of her head and a bruise on her shoulder. The doctor last night had told her she was fortunate. It could have been worse.
The police report they’d taken after the CT scan and stitches had furthered that theory. They wrote it off as an attempted mugging. She’d allowed them to think so. Fortunately Boone Wilder hadn’t been around to add his opinion.
But he was here now. She was sure it was him singing about sunshine.
She groaned, rolled over and gingerly pushed herself to a sitting position on the edge of her bed.
“Welcome back to the land of the living.” Lucy Palermo’s softly accented voice took her by surprise.
Kayla turned and saw her sitting in the chair in the corner, a book in her lap. Her dark hair was braided and she wore a T-shirt and yoga pants.
“I suppose that’s a good thing,” Kayla said as she stood. “Oh, wow, standing is overrated.”
“Take it easy.” Lucy rushed to Kayla’s side.
“I’m not going to fall.” Kayla took a deep breath. “I’m going to take a shower.”
“I’ll be here if you need anything.”
“I don’t need anything,” Kayla said, then she sighed, because it wasn’t the other woman’s fault. “I’m a grown woman and I should have a say in whether or not I allow bodyguards to follow me.”
Lucy shrugged. “I agree. Unfortunately that isn’t up to me.”
The singing grew louder, and Kayla cringed. “Does he have to sing?”
“Yeah, unfortunately he does. You’ll get used to it. Or buy earplugs.”
She made it to the door of the bathroom but hesitated at the opening. “Is that bacon I smell?”
Lucy rolled her dark eyes. “Yeah, he insists on a big breakfast every morning. Do you want to eat before you shower?”
“No, that’s okay. I’m not hungry.”
Dark eyes swept her from top to bottom. “You might not be hungry, but you look as though you haven’t had a decent meal in weeks.”
“I don’t think my dad hired you to make sure I eat.”
“No, I guess he didn’t.” Lucy opened her book and let the subject drop.
Kayla didn’t want food. She closed her eyes and counted to ten as she leaned against the door frame. But she’d have to count to a million to get through this, through strangers in her home, through the fear that stalked her every day, through the cravings that still dogged her at times. Through the emotional roller coaster of losing the mother she hadn’t ever really known. Could you lose someone you never had?
The aroma of breakfast invaded her senses. The bacon smelled so good. She tried to remember the last time she’d had a decent breakfast, something other than a doughnut and coffee. Or just coffee. She couldn’t remember.
“I’ll be out in ten minutes,” she told Lucy as she closed the door behind her.
Fifteen minutes later she emerged. Boone Wilder in jeans, a T-shirt, cowboy hat and no shoes was standing in her kitchen at the sink washing dishes. She glanced past him, to the full pot of coffee, the plate of biscuits and the pan of gravy.
He tossed her a smile over his shoulder. “Hey, sunshine, ’bout time you crawled out of bed.”
She glanced at the clock. Barely eight in the morning. “It isn’t as if I slept until noon.”
“No, I guess not. Grab some breakfast. We have a lot to do today.”
Her mouth watered. She shook her head. “I don’t eat breakfast.”
He looked at her in mock horror. “What? It’s the most important meal of the day.”
Was he always this cheerful? She shook her head and ignored the tantalizing aroma that filled her kitchen. She rarely cooked, and if she did it was a frozen dinner, something on the grill or takeout reheated in the microwave. Boone Wilder was filling a plate with biscuits, gravy and bacon.
He shoved the plate into her hands and nodded toward the seat on the other side of the counter. “Eat.”
She lifted the plate to inhale. “You made this?”
“Of course.”
She took a seat on the opposite side of the counter. “What is it we have to do today?”
He poured her a cup of coffee and slid it across the counter. “First, I need a tux.”
“Why, are you going to a wedding?” She eyed him over the rim of her coffee mug. She hoped he was the best man, not the groom.
“Nope, I’m taking you to the ball, Cinderella.”
“Sorry, but no. I’m not fond of the wicked stepmother.”
