Page 2 of Too Guarded to Love

Three.

The disconcerting feeling intensified with each second. She spun to face the street. A rumble sounded above. Her gaze met eyes as dark as the sea. A scream wrenched up her throat and mingled with the thunder. She stepped back from the hooded figure dressed in black. Arms flailing, she fought for purchase on the slick pavement. As her backside skimmed the ground, warm fingers wrapped around her bare bicep and yanked her upright.

“Careful.”

She jerked back from the deep voice, her breathing as uneven as her balance.

Careful.

Not even three hours ago, Jonathan had issued the same warning. Well, too bad if her ex hadn’t appreciated her tone, or the insults she’d flung at him at the airport. She hadn’t appreciated the horseshit-loaded bomb she should have seen coming.

She hadn’t seen this stranger coming either. What did that say about her instincts?

The hooded man shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. He stood still, as if his imposing height and formidable body were enough to make even the storm think twice about challenging him.

“He’s gone.” The stranger cocked his head toward the mini-golf place at the end of the street.

“Who? The lunatic driver who tried to kill me?” She darted her gaze up and down the street. “Of course he’s gone. Why would I expect anything to go right today?”

“I couldn’t catch him, but I got his plates.”

She snapped her full attention to the sultry voice. His hood obscured his features, but his intense stare blazed electricity through her body. She crossed her arms under her breasts despite the heated rush, wishing she hadn’t thrown her sweater at Jonathan before she stormed out of the airport.

“How did you get his plate number?” The street had been deserted when she’d taken a forced detour to the sidewalk. “The asshole who hit me took off minutes ago.”

Just long enough for her to smash her only means of communication and come face to face with…

Lightning illuminated the sky again. For a heartbeat, she caught a glimpse of full lips and golden skin marred by an angry-looking bruise on his impossibly high cheekbone. Evidence of another blow he’d taken to the face shadowed his angular jaw. The bruise, from a fist if she had to guess, straddled the line where smooth skin met a heavy five o’clock shadow.

The lamppost flickered, as if the God who created this dark man granted her a much-desired second peek. Biting her lip, she shifted her gaze upward to his patrician nose, the evidence of an old break detectable to her clinical eye. The slight imperfection, along with the fresh bruises, didn’t detract from his classical beauty. Nothing could overshadow those obsidian-colored orbs framed by heavy lids and lashes so thick they looked store-bought. If anything, the carnage to his face made him more alluring, like whatever mayhem he’d gotten into mirrored the mysterious danger she couldn’t shake.

Except on him, the visible shadows and wounds seemed mesmerizing. Tragic. Like he was the one who needed to be saved tonight. But he wasn’t an injured horse or a patient on her operating table. This man looked more powerful, more beautiful than her gray quarter horse back home on her family’s farm in West Virginia. Stronger than any athlete she’d ever treated, and more dangerous than Jonathan’s treachery.

In her six-month relationship with the neurosurgeon—only three really counting the time her mind and heart were present—her body had never responded like this.

Damn, was it responding now. Her brother would kill her for allowing a pretty face to erase his years of “don’t be stupid” training. But Jonathan’s stunt at the airport left her feeling more vulnerable than standing in the rain with a larger-than-life man who ignored her question.

Thunder cracked above. The cacophony yanked her out of the stranger’s spell and into the cold present. “How did you get the driver’s plate? Were you watching me?”

The accusation sounded as ridiculous in her head as it did on her tongue. Why would anyone be watching her tonight? Or ever. She was Dr. Olivia Darren. Orthopedic surgeon. Not someone like her brother’s fiancée, who was targeted last year because she held lifesaving, classified knowledge. Still, she couldn’t chalk up the unexplainable occurrences at work to “shit happens.” The unexpected call from Harlee reinforced Olivia’s gut feeling that something weird was happening back in Atlanta.

“I wasn’t watching until you swerved into the parking meter.” The stranger darted his gaze down the street again. “But I think whoever tried to hit you was watching long before.”

“Holy shit.” If Gran were here, she’d tell her to stop cursing like a sailor. Her brother would swear to rip the driver apart while he made a call to a buddy to run the plate. But Olivia could only manage an obscenity. Her weird feeling meant something.

Someone had been watching her—at least in the last few minutes.

The hooded man angled his body between her and the wind. “I tried to chase him down. Sorry I couldn’t catch him.”

“You ran after a car? On foot?” She wasn’t sure if his actions were as ridiculous as her I’m-being-watched thoughts or if he was some sort of cloaked superhero who patrolled the neighborhood.

Based on his fresh bruises, he’d recently found trouble, and then some.

The damaged may-or-may-not-be vigilante shrugged his shoulders. “I was out for a run anyway.”

“In this weather? It’s after midnight.” The lamppost flickered again. A light sheen of perspiration shone on his skin, the only sign of exertion emanating from his body. He wasn’t even breathing hard.

She was, though, for a half dozen screwed-up reasons.