know you’re hurting,” Bennett said. “The best way to deal with that is to distract yourself. Close your eyes.”
She peered at him.
He looked down and smiled. They had already covered half a block, and he wasn’t even winded.
“Close ’em,” he commanded.
She obeyed, letting her eyes drift shut.
“Okay,” he soothed. The sound of his voice rumbled in his chest, lulling her. “I want you to think of your favorite place. A beach, a meadow, a mountain. Do you have a mental picture?”
Her favorite place? Why, right here in his arms. But yes, she’d play along. “Uh-huh.”
“What do you see?” he asked.
See? Hmm, it was hard to visualize when there were so many distractions, the least of which was her sore ankle. Unable to visualize a picture of her own, she stole one from Great-Gramma Kahonachek.
“A meadow in the mountains with a babbling brook running through it.” She recited by heart the description of Great-Gramma’s girlhood home outside Prague.
“Very good,” Bennett said.
What was very good was the heavenly way he smelled and the sound of his voice wrapping around her ears like the most lyrical of melodies.
“What time of day is it?” he crooned softly.
“Early afternoon.”
“And the time of year?”
“Spring.”
“Can you feel the sun on your skin? Can you smell the scent of lilies in the air? Can you hear cattle lowing in the field?”
Lacy tried to concentrate on the mental image, but what she felt were Bennett’s arms holding her secure as steel cables. What she smelled was the fresh scent of starch on his crisp white shirt. What she heard was his guiding voice, distracting her from the pain in her ankle.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m there.”
“And we’re here.”
“Where?” She opened her eyes, and sure enough they were standing in front of her apartment complex.
“Which apartment?” he asked.
“Two seventeen.”
“It would be on the second floor.” He winced, but he certainly didn’t look as if he’d just carried a one-hundred-and-seven-pound woman three blocks.
“You can put me down. I’m sure I can make it from here.”
“No way.”
“Please, Bennett, you’ve already done more than enough.”
“Don’t argue, Lacy.” He started up the steps.
She thrilled at his forcefulness. Here was a man who took care of his lady. No doubt about it. He made her feel safe, protected.
“Keys?” He stopped outside her door.
She fished in the tiny purse and extracted her keys. She was startled to see her hand tremble. She’d never brought a man to her apartment before. Ever. Not that anything was going to happen between them now that she’d sprained her ankle. Lacy was both relieved and distressed at this.
He took the key from her and braced one knee against the doorframe. He juggled her against his leg to get one hand free to open the door.
A few seconds later, he swung the door inward, shifted her in his arms once more, and stepped over the threshold.
“Hang on,” she said. “I’ll get the light.” Fumbling along the wall in the darkness, she found the switch and bathed the room in unexpectedly brilliant illumination.
They both blinked, then Bennett kicked the door closed with his heel, effectively shutting out the rest of the world.
“Would you like something to drink?” she asked. “Coffee, tea, soda? I’m afraid I don’t have any beer.”
“You’re not up to playing hostess.” He stepped across the room to settle her onto the sofa. “How about I brew you a cup of hot tea and then have a closer look at that ankle?”
“That sounds heavenly,” she admitted. The only man who’d ever made tea for her was her father.
Bennett took CeeCee’s shoes from her hands and tossed them in the corner. Then he plumped up two sofa pillows around her before peering at her ankle.
“The stockings have got to come off.”
Lacy looked into his eyes. How was she going to get them off by herself? Yet how could she ask him to help?
He didn’t even give her a chance to waffle. He leaned over and ran his hands up her leg.
She squirmed, giggled.
“Ticklish?” His grin made her insides quiver.
They were face-to-face, Lacy leaning back against the couch, Bennett bent over her, his hands under her skirt, fingers searching for the thigh band of her stockings.
“Good thing there’s no one to walk in on us and misinterpret this situation,” he said.
“Good thing,” she repeated breathlessly.
What if her mother could see her now? Or her grandmother Nony, or her great-gramma Kahonachek. Would they be shocked at her behavior?
Or pleased?
Bennett’s unintentional caress built a heated fire inside her. Lacy had to bite her bottom lip