The Player Next Door - Kathy Lyons Page 0,4
think I’ll put in a rock garden,” she said. “Instead of the flox.”
“Then you’d be falling on rocks instead of trampled greenery. Or me.” He frowned at her. “Don’t you want to get dressed?”
She belatedly realized she was walking beside him topless except for her favorite bra. “Damn,” she murmured as she fussed with the dangling lace. “I must have torn this when I dove after the roofing tiles.”
“You—” He cut off his breath. “I don’t want to know.”
She stared at him, a little amused that this big hottie of a guy was clearly embarrassed by her undressed state. He was carefully looking everywhere but at her chest. “This is a full coverage bra. Swimsuits are more revealing than this. Not to mention bikinis or the average sports bra.”
“This is a suburban neighborhood. With kids.”
“It’s a swim top,” she lied. “And you’re being ridiculous.”
He huffed out a breath as they rounded the hedge. “You’re the one talking about flox and a rock garden.”
She was failing at making him laugh. Damn it, she had to distract him from his pain and if that meant parading around in her bra and speaking nonsense, then she’d do it. “Sure, make fun. But rock gardens are sacred to many religions including the Hindu and Buddhist.”
He was moving gingerly, his fingers easily managing her fence latch even though she could never do it without both hands. “Are you Hindu or Buddhist?” he asked.
Her religious affiliation was a complicated matter, though of course, she was a student of all of them. “I kill plants.”
“Wouldn’t that make you a Satanist?”
She knew he was teasing her, but she found people laughed more if she pretended not to understand their jokes. “Oh no. More Wiccen, I believe. They sacrifice plants in most of their rituals. The Satanists are more into bloodletting.” She peered more closely at his shoulder. “You’re not bleeding are you?”
“Not externally.”
Which suggested he had internal bleeding. Oh shit. She started searching for her cell phone to call 911, but it was still up on the roof.
“Damn it,” she muttered as she about-faced.
“Where are you going?”
“If you’re bleeding internally, you need to lie down. Stay calm. I’m getting my phone off the roof.” She stopped long enough to grab her tee off the ground and throw it at him. It wasn’t much, but basic first aid taught that shock victims need to stay warm. “And put that on.”
“What? Wait!”
He was getting more excited and that was bad. Even worse he was moving to follow her. She whipped around and used her best teacher voice. “I told you to lie down, sir, and I mean it!”
He gaped at her. “Did you just go mama bear on me?”
She blinked. “Teacher bear.”
He chuckled. At last! “I’m not dying,” he said.
“You said you had internal injuries.”
“Bruising is an internal injury.”
Oh. Right. Then before she could say more, he held up his good hand.
“I just need ice. And my painkillers.”
“I will help you to your home.”
“I can walk just fine.” Then he threw her tee at her face and it landed with a soft whump.
She lifted her chin even though it was now buried beneath cotton fabric. “I’m helping you anyway,” she said. When she pulled the tee away, he was glaring at her, clearly disgruntled. That was not what she wanted, so she decided to give him a gift. She pulled on her tee with rapid jerks. “There you go. No longer are you tempted to look down and scar your vision with my voluptuous mammary glands.”
She thought he would scowl at her. Edward would always say something caustic when she got sarcastic. But just as she was bracing to be insulted, he started to laugh. It was a low rumble that began as a chuckle but kept going until she had to call it a laugh. It was a lovely sound. Deep and manly. It stirred happy memories of her father reading something especially delightful. In truth, it made her want other things too that had nothing to do with her parent. But that might be a function of him being a large, handsome man with the body of an Adonis.
“Where do you live?” she asked.
He jerked his chin to the house right on the other side of her fence. “Next door.” He used his free hand to wrap around his chest, apparently trying to reach the right side pocket in his shorts. He didn’t bother stifling his curse this time. “Can you grab the key out of my pocket?”
She