WARNING: This excerpt contains explicit adult content!
"Are you okay?" He asked, voice low and gentle, as if she were a scared kitten. Jayden imagined she looked like one, too. He held out his hand, his gaze locked on her. "Do you need help?" One tear ran down her cheek. She drew a deep breath to stop the next one.
"Honey, you're bleeding. Come inside and let me help you. I can call someone if you like."
Although he had the most tender voice she'd ever heard, and golden eyes that told her to trust, Jayden shook her head and pressed herself even harder into the corner. She could not go inside with this man. She couldn't trust anyone. And she couldn't get caught, not now. She held his concerned gaze and shook her head again, praying, pleading for him to understand.
Mica became more and more concerned for the lady. Blood soaked through her flimsy canvas sneaker, and she was rain-drenched to the skin. Sadly, she'd chosen to wear a matched set of electric-blue-and-black bra and panty under her now see-through white ensemble. He pulled his jacket off and moved forward to wrap it around her shoulders, but stopped when she flinched.
"It's okay. It's down." He held it up for her to see. "I just want you to be warm, and, uh..." He rubbed the back of his neck and averted his gaze. "In case you weren't aware of it..." He motioned with one finger the length of her body. "...white goes transparent when wet."
With a soft gasp, as if she hadn't been aware of her erotic appearance, the woman cautiously took his jacket. At least we're getting somewhere. His jacket covered her from neck to knees. When he got her inside, no one would gawk at her. He figured she wouldn't take well to that at the moment, and the last thing he wanted to do was upset her more.
Mica tried to rein in his imagination. In this city anything could have happened to her, and of course he imagined the worst. The situation must be dire indeed to make her run into the night half-dressed, with no jacket, and wearing bad shoes. It also wasn't lost on him that she hadn't said a bloody word. Was she able to speak but too frightened? Or had...then it dawned on him. Mica smacked his forehead with his palm. He laughed. "Of course. Habla espanol?" Nada. "Uh, parlez vous francais?" Tears started to form in those beautiful eyes, and Mica's heart contracted. "Okay, okay. Parlo italiano? I'm not so good at that one, but we could manage.
"Look, honey, you don't know me from Adam, and you've obviously been through some kind of trauma tonight, but I want to help. I own this restaurant, I'm a member of the community, I have family, friends... Oh! I'm not even from New York."
Oh, brilliant, Mica. As if that somehow makes a difference. Idiot. He rubbed his head, his breath misting as he exhaled into the still night air. Grabbing at straws, he took a step closer, unable to miss how his action caused a tremor to rip through her. He ached to hold her and make everything all right, but he knew he needed her trust first.
"Did you ever see the movie Sweet Home Alabama?" She stared at him like he had an oozing rash on his forehead. He smiled at her and continued. "Well, my home town's like that. We're all nice, normal people who take care of one another. We have a few crazies, but nothing out of the norm for a small town. We bring in the paper and get the mail when our neighbors vacation, walk dogs in the park without leashes, have town barbeques every Friday night down at the firehouse.
"Then one of the local bands plays and folks dance in the street. High school kids sneak off to the duck pond to watch stars fall and submarines race. Though between you and me, there's not much serious watching. Lost my virginity at that damn pond."
He ventured a nervous laugh, and she seemed to drop her terror alert level from red to orange.
"I'm not Lancelot or Galahad or anybody, but I'm a good guy from a good family." He dared to take another step closer; he could see the wheels in her mind spin as she took in this new information. "Let me take care of you, honey."
Jayden blinked, shocked at the unexpected offer from this total stranger.
Take care of me?
God, how long had she waited to hear those words? Only he couldn't; she couldn't let him. If she let him help her, he'd be dead by noon. Everything inside her ached to fall into his arms and forget the world, forget her problems, forget Jerry and his blank-eyed stare, the bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. She didn't think she had much chance to be saved from that. As much as she wished it otherwise, Jerry was dead. She'd killed him, and if she hadn't been so freaked out by the whole ordeal, she would have brought the gun with her.
Even while drowning in her own thoughts, she hadn't missed him edging closer. Engulfed in his heat and scent from his jacket, along with his story of home, she felt herself being lulled into a false sense of security she couldn't afford.
Fight, Jayden. You've been through too much to go back now.
The problem was, she had no place to go. She'd trapped herself in a corner, and the only way out was past the gorgeous man that smelled of expensive cologne and fried foods -- a surprisingly comforting mixture.
So fast she didn't even seen it happen, it was over. His fingers brushed her cheek with such kindness that the walls around her heart broke, and she fell into his arms.
Down boy.
Mica took pains to separate the lower part of his body from hers. The last thing she needed was to feel his hard-on and become convinced he was some type of back alley pervert. He would have passed it off as too long without a woman, if Marlene hadn't stayed over just last night. Even for him, twenty-four hours wasn't long enough to account for this kind of reaction.
Here he was with a woman in need of help, security, and understanding, and he was hard and ready without any preliminaries. Maybe he was some type of back alley pervert.
"Okay, love. It'll be all right now. I won't let anything bad happen."
She burrowed her face against his chest, clutching the front of his shirt like a lifeline while her body shook.
"Let's go inside. I have some clothes..."
She stiffened and tried to push away, as hard as she had pulled him close a minute ago.
"Okay, okay." He tried to soothe her, running his hand over the long black strands of very wet hair that hung down her back. "But honey, I have to take you somewhere. You're soaked through. You'll catch your death." He cringed. "Holy hell, now I'm channeling my mother."
Soft laughter rustled into his shirt. It was the sound of his dreams. He squeezed her tighter, joining her for a moment in laughter, then unconsciously placed a soft kiss to the top of her head as he reconsidered his plan. If she didn't want to go inside, he doubted she'd want to go back to his place, but he was low on options.
He pulled back to look into her eyes, then brushed hair away from her forehead. "Do you want to come home with me? I may be a bachelor, but I have maid service, so you won't catch anything. I also have a great tub."
She looked at him for a long while, emotions warring in the depths of crystalline, and Mica couldn't believe how much he wanted her to agree.
"You'll be safe," he encouraged. He hoped he was right. Hoped even more that she believed him.
Safe. If only.
Jayden knew it wasn't so, but her choices were sorely limited. The thought of a bath -- and maybe even some sleep -- pushed her headlong toward recklessness. She tortured her lower lip with her teeth as she agonized, then she nodded her agreement and hoped they'd both live to see the morning.
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