“How is she?” Well, that was a stupid question, she told herself. You know how she is.
The nurse’s smile was kind. “About the same, but her vitals are good. That’s a positive sign.”
Brianne reached down to take her sister’s hand in her own and gave it a gentle squeeze. It felt so cold to her.
“Is she warm enough?” she asked the nurse.
“I was planning to get her another blanket. When you don’t move around, it’s hard to maintain a body temperature.”
“But—it’s no worse than it was, right?”
“Right. It’s about the same.” She finished what she was doing and typed notes into the computer on the rolling stand, then pushed the stand toward the door. “They X-rayed her arm and her leg today. The doctor says they’re healing nicely.”
Peyton swallowed hard. “I just hope she wakes up so she can use them.”
The nurse smiled. “I have faith. I’ve seen worse situations than this turn around. And the way you sit with her, holding her hand and talking to her?”
“Thank you. It’s just so hard seeing her like this.”
“I know, but you being here is the best thing for her.”
“Good. That gives me hope.”
Peyton bent over the bed and brushed a kiss on her sister’s forehead. The one thing she wasn’t looking forward to was the moment when Brianne woke up and she had to tell her that Dane was dead.
First things first.
Then she plucked a donut from the box, grabbed the coffee and sat in the chair next to the bed. Snatches from her meeting that afternoon kept playing in her head like scenes from a movie. She could not erase the image of Blaze Hamilton, and it had nothing to do with his ability to help her.
She could still feel the warmth of his palm when he’d shaken her hand at the end of their meeting. Sense the raw energy radiating from his body. She’d bet her next royalty check he was a medal-winner in bed, too, more than living up to his name. Not that she was ever going to find out. She was aware that she appealed to men and she never lacked for dates if and when she wanted them. But she had no illusions about who and what she was. She was sure the women that Blaze Hamilton spent his hours with belonged on magazine covers.
Maybe not. Maybe that kind of woman doesn’t appeal to him. Maybe he likes them a little less glamorous, more down to earth.
But just as hot in bed.
Out of nowhere an image of the man naked, lying on the sheets, blasted into her brain. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on his bones. Every corded muscle, every inch of tan skin was visible, along with a cock that would take honors in any competition. His lips were curved in a hungry smile and need flared in his golden whiskey eyes. Heat surged through her body and every pulse point throbbed with need.
Holy mother of god!
She was never this undisciplined. Her trademark was unbroken self-control at all times. That was partially the reason she was able to concentrate on writing when she was into creating a novel. She could use her laser-like focus to shut everything else out. Why wasn’t she doing it now?
No, her brain was elsewhere, focused on a man who was sex personified. And here she was, sitting next to her sister’s hospital bed, with aching nipples and a throbbing pulse at her core. What kind of person was she, for her mind to wander like that and her body to send her messages when her life was centered around her sister and finding who had driven the car? Why on earth was she even having these thoughts, anyway? She made a concerted effort to banish the unwelcome thoughts from her brain. No such luck. She needed to focus on what was important, not what her traitorous hormones were trying to distract her with.
Enough, she told herself. She had a brain and she should use it. Focus on her missions. She took a sip from the coffee she was holding, hoping the now lukewarm liquid would counteract the heat threatening to consume her. Then she lifted a donut from the box, took a small bite and stared at Brianne’s still form. That was what she should be focusing on, that and whoever the asshole was who had run into her and Dane with a car.