.
Then she heard a car start and peeked out the curtains on the door to find the porch empty. Closing her eyes, she laid her burning right cheek against the curtain. The windowpane beneath felt cool to her flushed face. Her head began to spin. Breathe, Angie! She tried to fill her lungs with air before she passed out, but her legs began to shake violently. The tremors soon spread throughout her body. She kicked off the shoes and stumbled around the chintz-covered sofa, collapsing face down and curling into a ball on her side.
She had no idea how long she lay there before she heard the doorbell again. Allen had come back! Her heart thudded against her chest. Run!
Where was her damned cell phone? She tried to rise too quickly and winced as her stomach pitched. Don’t get sick. Hair tumbled in her face and she pushed it back, then groaned as the muscles in her shoulders and neck protested.
Her numbed mind registered the murmur of deep voices. Marc and Luke, not Allen. Relief flooded her senses, until she looked down at her blood-splattered dress. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes and she blinked several times.
How could she answer the door looking like this? She’d certainly get a visceral response from them both—just not the one she’d hoped for when she’d chosen to wear this dress. Her anticipation of another fun evening with them had vanished. Maybe if she pretended she wasn’t here, they’d think she’d stood them up and go away. At this moment, all she wanted to do was crawl into bed—alone—and hide.
Chapter Six
As he stood on Angelina’s porch, Marc remembered the kiss he’d given her here last night. What had possessed him to kiss her like that? He never kissed the subs he played with. Shit, she wasn’t even one of his subs. A kiss was too intimate, giving more of himself than he was comfortable sharing.
Tonight, he wouldn’t let his libido rule his actions. This evening was about Italian cuisine from the Old Country. Nothing more. He shifted the bottles of wine in his hand, along with the Hershey bar. After watching her eat the chocolate during aftercare at the club, he’d fantasized about feeding her an entire bar. Images of her naked in his arms again caused his cock to stir to life.
Shit . Reining in his wayward thoughts might be harder than he thought. If only he hadn’t kissed her. The damned kiss had changed things, for the worse.
He looked at the bouquet of roses Luke had picked up on their way here tonight. They’d actually gone back to Denver this morning so they could dress appropriately. The clothes they’d packed for the hiker rescue this week weren’t special enough for the occasion.
He glanced over at Luke as they waited for Angelina to let them in. He noticed the band of white skin where Luke’s wedding band had once been worn. Well, shit, the man was ready to move forward. About time. Knowing his friend was interested in Angelina both pleased and disturbed him. But if Luke were interested in her, he’d step back before he got in any deeper with her.
He looked at the door. What was taking her so long to answer?
“Something sure smells good, Angel!” Luke called out. “Don’t make us wait much longer!”
Luke reached out and rang the doorbell again, as Marc looked down at the porch, then stepped back. Dark droplets. He took the toe of his shoe and smeared it. Looked like fresh blood. Looking up, he noticed more blood on the doorjamb.
Marc pointed out the stains to Luke and pounded on the door. “ Cara , open this door. Now.”
“I’m coming!” Her muffled voice reassured him she was alive at least, but held an edge that didn’t sound like the Angelina from last night. Her voice was strained, as if from pain. If she didn’t open this damned door soon, he was going to bust it down.
What the hell had happened?
* * *
Angelina used the coffee table to pull herself to her shaky feet. The slightest movement caused pain, even in places
Then she heard a car start and peeked out the curtains on the door to find the porch empty. Closing her eyes, she laid her burning right cheek against the curtain. The windowpane beneath felt cool to her flushed face. Her head began to spin. Breathe, Angie! She tried to fill her lungs with air before she passed out, but her legs began to shake violently. The tremors soon spread throughout her body. She kicked off the shoes and stumbled around the chintz-covered sofa, collapsing face down and curling into a ball on her side.
She had no idea how long she lay there before she heard the doorbell again. Allen had come back! Her heart thudded against her chest. Run!
Where was her damned cell phone? She tried to rise too quickly and winced as her stomach pitched. Don’t get sick. Hair tumbled in her face and she pushed it back, then groaned as the muscles in her shoulders and neck protested.
Her numbed mind registered the murmur of deep voices. Marc and Luke, not Allen. Relief flooded her senses, until she looked down at her blood-splattered dress. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes and she blinked several times.
How could she answer the door looking like this? She’d certainly get a visceral response from them both—just not the one she’d hoped for when she’d chosen to wear this dress. Her anticipation of another fun evening with them had vanished. Maybe if she pretended she wasn’t here, they’d think she’d stood them up and go away. At this moment, all she wanted to do was crawl into bed—alone—and hide.
Chapter Six
As he stood on Angelina’s porch, Marc remembered the kiss he’d given her here last night. What had possessed him to kiss her like that? He never kissed the subs he played with. Shit, she wasn’t even one of his subs. A kiss was too intimate, giving more of himself than he was comfortable sharing.
Tonight, he wouldn’t let his libido rule his actions. This evening was about Italian cuisine from the Old Country. Nothing more. He shifted the bottles of wine in his hand, along with the Hershey bar. After watching her eat the chocolate during aftercare at the club, he’d fantasized about feeding her an entire bar. Images of her naked in his arms again caused his cock to stir to life.
Shit . Reining in his wayward thoughts might be harder than he thought. If only he hadn’t kissed her. The damned kiss had changed things, for the worse.
He looked at the bouquet of roses Luke had picked up on their way here tonight. They’d actually gone back to Denver this morning so they could dress appropriately. The clothes they’d packed for the hiker rescue this week weren’t special enough for the occasion.
He glanced over at Luke as they waited for Angelina to let them in. He noticed the band of white skin where Luke’s wedding band had once been worn. Well, shit, the man was ready to move forward. About time. Knowing his friend was interested in Angelina both pleased and disturbed him. But if Luke were interested in her, he’d step back before he got in any deeper with her.
He looked at the door. What was taking her so long to answer?
“Something sure smells good, Angel!” Luke called out. “Don’t make us wait much longer!”
Luke reached out and rang the doorbell again, as Marc looked down at the porch, then stepped back. Dark droplets. He took the toe of his shoe and smeared it. Looked like fresh blood. Looking up, he noticed more blood on the doorjamb.
Marc pointed out the stains to Luke and pounded on the door. “ Cara , open this door. Now.”
“I’m coming!” Her muffled voice reassured him she was alive at least, but held an edge that didn’t sound like the Angelina from last night. Her voice was strained, as if from pain. If she didn’t open this damned door soon, he was going to bust it down.
What the hell had happened?
* * *
Angelina used the coffee table to pull herself to her shaky feet. The slightest movement caused pain, even in places
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