T-shirt over her forearm to free up her hands. But it wasn’t her reaction she should have worried about. The second her fingers folded around the waistband of his jeans—the backs of her fingers brushing against warm skin—he sucked in a sharp breath and tensed. Her gaze darted upwards and tangled with his, the mixture of heat and pain in his eyes making her grimace.
‘Sorry,’ she whispered.
‘Don’t be,’ he gritted back before the heat in his eyes intensified to drown out the pain.
Miranda slipped the button into the loop and removed her hands. ‘Sit.’ She lifted the T-shirt. ‘Bad arm first...’
The eye contact was broken to allow her to negotiate dressing him with as little discomfort as possible, but when the task was complete he forced her gaze back to his by capturing her wrist.
‘I’m fine,’ he said firmly.
‘No, you’re not.’ Her voice trembled a little on the words. ‘You got shot. With a gun.’
‘Technically speaking I got shot with bullets fired from a gun.’ A corner of his mouth tugged when she frowned. ‘Still here, aren’t I?’
A landslide of the emotions she’d been burying tumbled down on her, hammering her heart into a bruised ball of pulp. She’d known he would leave soon but if he’d died...
He was so much more than she was. While she’d slept off the alcohol she’d consumed in a bid to escape reality he’d been on the front line, protecting the city. He’d dedicated his life to making the world a safer place without seeking anything in return. How could a man like him ever love a woman like her? He deserved so much better.
Lifting her free hand, she ran trembling fingers over his short hair and down the back of his neck. He closed his eyes in response—what looked like agony crossing his face before he opened them. She wanted to take away his pain and soothe the tension from his body. She wanted to take care of him, listen to the things that troubled him and put his needs above her own. She wasn’t any good at cooking or cleaning or doing laundry—doubted she would ever fill the role of domestic goddess—but she was willing to try. If there was anything she could do to make his life easier she would put her heart and soul into it. She just wished she thought she could be happy that way.
Even if she hadn’t already planned to find something that could allow her to make a difference to people’s lives, getting to know him would have inspired her. The irony was they could probably have teamed up. One of the charities on her shortlist dealt with victim support...
‘You know this means I’m not your bodyguard any more.’
She stared at him. The thought hadn’t occurred to her.
As her hand lowered to her side he explained, ‘They’ll make me take time off. If I’m lucky I’ll get desk duty in a week but I won’t be back on tour until after the election.’
Miranda felt the time that had meant so much to her slipping through her fingers. She twisted her wrist free and took a step back, turning away to pack what few things he had into the open sports bag on the bed beside him. His family must have brought what they thought he needed. They had the right to do that. She probably shouldn’t even be there. Purposefully keeping her tone light, she told him, ‘You’ll heal quicker that way.’
‘And you’ll be busy with the campaign.’
‘I will.’ If he was trying to let her down easy there wasn’t any need. She’d known a day would come when he wouldn’t be there any more. She was just thankful he would be somewhere—could take comfort from that while spending the rest of her life trying to make him proud to say he’d known her. ‘It can get hectic in the last few weeks.’
‘When it’s over you’ll be free.’
‘I’m looking forward to it. I’ve made a lot of plans—things I want to do, places I want to see.’ Silently clearing her throat, she lifted her chin and informed him, ‘I’m going to check in with your doctor. Lewis should be up in a minute. Then we’ll take you home.’
She headed for the door.
‘Miranda, stop.’ The forceful edge to his rough voice froze her feet to the ground. ‘Don’t run away this time.’
Pinning a bright smile in place, she turned around to give the performance of a lifetime. ‘If I was running away I’d take my bag. It’s