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A silly grin found her lips, not because the situation was appropriate but because a part of her was so grateful he’d walked through her door to save her and she was too disoriented to smother her honest reaction. “You do house calls? Is that a doctor bag, like in the old movies?”
He scowled, not finding the situation humorous at all. “Be thankful I brought my it, it’s saving you an embarrassing trip to the hospital,” he said, causing her smile to fade. He wasted little time in checking her blood pressure, and then her pupil dilation. When he pulled away, there was a grim expression souring his handsome face. “Without a blood test it’s impossible to know with 100 percent certainty that you weren’t drugged but your pupils aren’t dilated and you’re not vomiting so I’m willing to guess you’re suffering from a terrible hangover. What were you drinking last night?”
“A little of this, a little of that,” she answered mulishly when it was clear how little respect he had for her. Could she blame him? In another life she wouldn’t have respected someone like her either. An internal groan born of misery and regret threatened to bubble from her mouth but she held it back only because she couldn’t stand sinking another notch in Miles eyes. Realizing he was still waiting for a more definitive answer, she admitted with a small shrug. “I don’t know I wasn’t really paying attention.”
“You weren’t paying attention? A little reckless don’t you think?”
“Given the fact that I was assaulted, I guess I don’t have much room to disagree, now do I?” She cast him a short look before glancing away. Was he really going to rub her nose in it like a bad puppy who’d piddled on the carpet? “Does it matter? I got drunk. End of story.”
“It would help if I knew what I was dealing with. Can you be a little more specific?”
She made an exasperated noise. “No…one drink was purple, another pink. Does that help?”
“No, it doesn’t.” He tucked his pen light back into his bag and took out his stethoscope. Without trying to warm up his instrument, he placed it on her bare skin, causing her to yelp at the cold metal. He continued without mercy. “You could’ve gotten a touch of alcohol poisoning. You’re lucky you woke up at all.”
“Is that Dr. Lassiter’s medical opinion or judgment from Miles?” she asked.
“How about a little of both?” he countered flatly. “Now be quiet,” he instructed as he focused on her heartbeat. Satisfied, he removed the scope and put it away, too. “Heartbeat sounds good.” She braced herself for some catty comment about her heart — as in, she didn’t have one — but he remained professional, if not a bit taciturn. “Well, if you can’t provide me with more details of your night, I’ll just have to go off what I see and to me, you seem terribly hung over and likely, dehydrated.”
Her previous elation at seeing Miles again had since died under the weight of the reality between them and she pulled herself into a defensive posture, affecting a bored expression. She wasn’t in the mood for whatever Miles thought he had the right to say to her just because he showed up at the right time. “So, not that I’m not grateful for the whole hero routine but what are you doing here? And how the hell did you know where I lived?” Miles rocked back on his heels with open distaste and she secretly mourned the loss of his love. There’d been a time when he’d looked at her with such adoration that she’d almost bought into the fantasy that true love existed. She rubbed absently at her chest as an errant pain zinged across her nerves. It wasn’t because she missed Miles and seeing him again was more hurtful than she’d imagined it would be, no, that wasn’t it. It was probably trapped gas, right? She met his deep blue gaze and asked quietly, “Miles, what are you doing here?”
He stood and his mouth compressed in a tight line as he answered with a resolute shake of his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was about to say, and said, “I’m here to help you clean up your act.”
#
Even hung over, auburn hair limp and abused, Dani was beautiful. He tried not to focus on the details that were unimportant, such as the softness of her skin and the sweet curve of her hip and waist but it was too easy to remember in startling detail how he’d spent many hours worshiping that body, loving her soft, little mewling cries when he touched her just right, and how she’d left scratches on his back when she couldn’t help herself in the moment. It was easier to forget those kinds of details when he was hundreds of miles away, basking in the Caribbean sun — not so much when he was standing close enough to smell her skin.
“I don’t need a babysitter, Miles,” she said, stung. “And even if I did, you would be the last person I’d want for the job.”
“Too bad. I’m all you’ve got.”
“Is that so? I don’t see the connection as to why you would even care.”
“You want my honesty?” At her slow nod, he launched into it. “You’re right — I don’t care about you or your fucked up sense of priority. What I do care about is my friend and apparently, making sure you’re insurable is the ticket to my friend’s happiness right now and because I owe her big time, I’m babysitting you into sobriety, at least long enough to get you cleaned up and presentable to the people who think you’re too much of a train wreck to insure you.”
Dani blinked as if he’d slapped her with brass knuckles. “What are you talking about?”
He exhaled in irritation. “Don’t you even know what’s being said about you in common circles? You’re toxic out there, babe. You went from top of the world, to bottom of the trash bucket in a relatively short amount of time. That’s talent, sweetheart. But even so, there’s someone out there who still believes you have what it takes to be someone other than yesterday’s news. I don’t necessarily agree with them but hey, it’s not my dime.”
“You’re lying,” she said, paling. “Everyone wants me on their next project.”
“Really? What kind of offers are banging down your door? How many missed auditions have there been? How many times has your agent said, ‘they went in another direction’ for parts that you thought were a shoe-in? Pull your inflated head out of your ass and start smelling what’s right beneath your nose.” For the first time since walking through that door, Miles caught the vulnerable youth of the girl she’d once been and he found himself softening, if just a little, because hell, he wasn’t a total prick. He drew a deep breath and tried again. “Listen, there’s this director who really wants you to play the part of Hattie in the film adaptation of Falling From Grace and for what it’s worth…I think you’d do the role justice.”
Dani wiped her eyes and stared up at him. “Really? You’ve read the script?”
“No, but I’ve read the book and it’s a part that you could play…if you got your shit together. It’s up to you. Get yourself clean and possibly play the role of a lifetime, or keep doing this stupid crap with people who don’t give two shits about you and watch your entire life go down in flames. Your choice.”
She sniffed back tears and wiped at her eyes, remaining silent, fidgeting with her fingers as she contemplated what he’d told her. “Who is your friend?” she asked in a small voice that betrayed her. Good God, was it even possible that Dani was jealous? Dani looked up, waiting. “I mean, she must be a pretty good friend for you to go to all this trouble.”
“Yeah, she is.”
“Do I know her?”
“You probably know of her. It’s Lindy Bell.”
Dani’s eyes widened in recognition as she gaped a little. “You know Lindy Bell? The same Lindy Bell who played Sarasota in the Broadway play, Secrets and Lies?”
“Yeah…and she’s a good friend, so I’m doing this for her. I want to make sure we’re clear.”
Her expression soured and she said, “Right, because you hate me. I get it.”
“I don’t hate you,” he disagreed, but there was probably a thin line he was walking in that regard. “But I sure as hell don’t like you very much, that’s for sure. Do you blame me? You did me dirty and you know it so let’s not try and play the vict
im. Save your acting skills for the screen because it’s a waste of time on me.”
“I wasn’t acting with you.”
Her quiet statement slid like a sharpened razor across his heart and he hated that she still had that effect on him. “Yeah, well, whatever. Are you strong enough to shower?” At her slow nod, he was glad. He needed a moment to regroup. “Good. While you’re showering, I’m going to mix up a protein shake with plenty of electrolytes to replenish what you’ve lost.”
“I doubt I have what you need to make a power shake,” she retorted until she saw him grab a bag and start unloading it on the counter in the kitchen. “Oh. I see you came prepared.”
