Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Jake
Since when are paparazzo so…so…
Sexy?
Confusing. So confusing.
I adjust my arm’s position on the back of the unconscious woman’s thighs, roll my shoulders a little to make sure they aren’t digging into her stomach and chest, scowl, swallow, and resume stomping home.
Since inadvertently launching myself into the public eye, the paparazzi stalking me have all been men of dubious personal hygiene with no obvious moral compass.
None had looked terrified when I confronted them.
This one, though…
And this’s why you’re carrying her back to your place? Rather than calling Robert and have her charged with trespassing? Or is it because looking at her stirs parts of your body that staring at the others didn’t?
No, that has nothing to do with it. She knocked herself out with her own camera. Of course, I’m not going to leave her unconscious on my driveway. Not with night falling. Her ilk might piss me off, but I’m not a jerk.
Giving my shoulders another gentle roll, I tighten my grip on her limp wrist and lengthen my stride, stare locked on the dark shape of my home. I’ll deposit her on the sofa and then call Robert. The Hartley Ridge sergeant can deal with—
A sharp gasp cuts the quiet dusk, and the woman becomes a writhing banshee, thrashing about on my shoulders.
“Put me down!”
With a grunt, I do just that, unceremoniously returning her to the ground a few yards from my front door.
“Fucker!” she shouts, slamming her hands into my chest as I turn to face her. “Don’t even try to kill me!” Is that a faint American accent? Did she really come all this way to photograph me? Surely not?
Scowling again, I hold up my hands, palms out. “I’m not going to kill you. But you paparazzi need to take the hint and stay out of my hair before I really lose my temper.”
A frown dips her eyebrows. “Paparazzi? I’m not paparazzi?
” She rakes a look over me. Damn, her eyes are gorgeous.
A deep-ocean blue that seem to sink straight into my very existence.
“Are you famous?” Rubbing at her wrist, her frown deepens, and she glares at me.
“And oh my God, I think I broke my wrist when I hit you.”
I step forward, reaching for her arm. “You didn’t hit me that hard. Let me take a—”
She twists to the side, smacking my extended hand with her other one. “Hey!”
A dry laugh falls from me. She’s fierce. And stunning. I retreat the step I’d taken, palms up again. “Sorry. Force of habit.”
Blue eyes narrow. “You’re a habitual grabber?”
I snort. “No. Firefighter. If someone requires assistance, I…” I wave my hand at her wrist. Help them. At least, that’s what I hope the wave conveys.
“Firefighter? Why would paparazzi want to photograph— Oh my God.” She gapes at me, growing still.
Tension floods through me. Here we go. She’s just realized who I am. Great.
“The dragonfly!” she moans, dismay etching her face. “And my camera!”
I let out a hiccup of a confused laugh. “The dragonfly?”
She flings me a look of pure exasperation and digs her hands into the thick mop of honey-blond waves on her head.
“I was chasing a petalura gigantea, a Giant Dragonfly—that’s its name and size.
They’re endangered and usually only found in the swampy areas of the region, and the second I saw it, I knew I had to get a good shot of it, but the thing kept darting away.
” She rolls her eyes and waves her hands in the air.
“I mean, dragonflies, right? And I kept chasing it, and then you—” she glares at me “—burst out of nowhere yelling at me for some reason, and frighten the thing off. Why the hell did you yell at me like that? Who made you king of the mountain? Huh? And then I was suddenly unconscious somehow, and you were carrying me who knows where like some kind of psychopath and…” Her eyes close, and she sways a step sideways, a wince creasing her forehead.
“Oh my God, why do I feel so freaking tired? And giddy? I think…” Her gazes float up to mine, blue eyes unfocused. “I think I would like to lie—”
She tilts forward like a limp doll, and I lunge and catch her before she hits the ground.
Again.
“I got you,” I murmur, scooping her into my arms. No firefighter’s hold this time, just an old-fashioned arms-under-the-back-and-knees carry. I need to monitor her face as I bring her inside, after all.
“You got me,” she slurs, with heavy-lidded eyes. A wobbly smile stretches her lips, and she reaches up and taps my cheek with a weak hand. “Why are you so good-looking?” Eyes closing, she drops her head to my shoulder. Her breath tickles my chin and throat. “I bet you’d be amazing to f…”
She falls silent and limp in my arms.
“Stay awake for me, okay?” I give her a gentle shake, keeping my voice calm.
She mumbles an indistinct protest and swats at me with a boneless hand.
I chortle, even as my brain zeros in on the last thing she almost finished slurring.
I bet you’d be amazing to f… To what? Fight? Feed?
Fuck, Conroy. That’s what you want it to be, right? I bet you’d be amazing to fuck.
I grind my teeth. With how soft and warm she is pressed to my chest, I’m not surprised my brain and my body have gone from detached rescuer to horny caveman in one second flat.
I need to focus. Not on how amazing she feels in my arms—Jesus, why does she smell like cinnamon donuts? —but on helping her.
“Tell me your name,” I say with another gentle jiggle.
“Waverly,” she murmurs, and for a split second, her eyes lock with mine, sharp and direct. “Mom calls me Lee.”
I smile, adjusting my arm hooked under her knees. “Hi, Waverly. I’m—”
Her eyes flutter closed, and her head returns to my shoulder.
“Waverly.” I jiggle her again, quickening my pace home. “You need to stay awake. Tell me something about the dragonfly.”
A grumpy moan vibrates from her, and she smooches her face into the side of my neck. “It’s big,” she mumbles, the words little more than an exhalation. “Like you.”
Her warm breath teases my skin, and my heart thumps harder. Other parts of my body decide harder is the way to go as well.
She taps my cheek again. Well, tries. She misses twice and taps the air. “I’d really like to kiss—”
And once again, she falls silent and limp.
Fuck.