Page 25 of Lay Down the Law

Nick turned and felt his pulse spike at the sight of her in uniform with all that hair tumbling over her shoulders. His brain stalled for an instant, but he managed to hang on to his concentration by a thread. “Did you see the driver?”

“The sun was glaring off the windshield. I didn’t see faces, but I think there were two people in the car.” Gingerly, she put her feet on the floor and stood.

“Two people?” At first Nick had thought they were dealing with a drunk driver, but something niggled at him. The car had Illinois plates, for one thing. The time of day didn’t sit right, either. “What’s your take on it?”

Erin straightened, then leaned heavily against the gurney. “Oh, boy…”

Nick moved before he even realized he was going to. His left arm went around her waist. “Don’t pass out on me, McNeal,” he growled.

“I’m not going to pass out.”

His next words died on his lips the instant he registered the feel of her in his arms. Curves and softness and the mysterious essence of woman wrapped around his brain and squeezed until he couldn’t form a single coherent thought. The bustle of the emergency room faded until all he was aware of was Erin. The warmth of her body against his. The clean scent of her hair. The weight of her breast against his forearm. He fought the slow spiral of pleasure winding through his body. But he knew it was a losing battle.

“You’re just what?” he said, easing her to arm’s length. “Weak? Dizzy? Hardheaded?”

“Just a little nauseous. Watch your shoes.”

“Terrific,” he grumbled. “I’ve a mind to call the doctor in here and tell him to keep you.”

“He said to expect nausea,” she pointed out. “I just got up too fast. Give me a break, Chief, will you?”

Nick’s heart was still beating too fast, and an odd mix of sexual awareness and self-recrimination sat in his gut like a hot stone. He’d been without sex too long, he told himself. That’s all there was to it. He was going to have to do something about it before long. Stephanie’s third-grade teacher, Lindsey Burns, was nice enough. Pretty, too, with blond hair and smiling blue eyes. So why hadn’t he called her back after their one and only date?

“Think you can walk out of here without passing out on me?” he asked.

Erin shot him a cocky smile. “Try to keep me here.”

Nick almost smiled, but he didn’t give in to the urge. He didn’t want to get too close to this woman. She had trouble written all over her in big red letters. He’d had his fill of trouble. “Let’s go,” he said, and tried not to think about what he was setting himself up for.

* * *

Erin slipped on the sleeveless nightgown and reached for her robe, trying in vain not to jar her aching head. So much for heroism, she thought grimly. If she wasn’t in so much pain, she might be embarrassed, having Nick baby-sit her like this. As it was, her head hurt too much to care about anything except downing a handful of aspirin and falling into a soft bed in a dark room.

Pausing at her bedroom door, she took a deep, calming breath, then swung it open. Nick stood in the foyer, looking like a nervous date, his expression relaying the fact that he’d rather be anywhere else than in her apartment. His eyes flicked down the front of her, and Erin felt an uncomfortable tug of self-consciousness.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said, pulling the lapels of her robe more tightly together.

“I told the doc I would. You know as well as I do you don’t ignore a concussion, McNeal.”

She wanted to let him off the hook and get him out of there—he was obviously as uncomfortable with the situation as she was. But Erin figured his sense of responsibility—and his need to protect—was too strong for him to leave her alone.

“How’s the head?” Shoving his hands into his pockets, he approached her.

“Feels kind of like the drum set my brother got for Christmas when we were kids. He was a Led Zeppelin fan.” She walked to the sofa, trying not to notice the moving boxes or the clutter, telling herself she wasn’t embarrassed that her apartment was a mess. It had been a mess the last time Nick was there. She told herself it didn’t matter. She was a cop. Nick was a cop. All cops had messy apartments, didn’t they?

“You’re limping,” he said.

“That’s because I’m too proud to crawl.”

One side of his mouth hiked into a half smile. “Where’s your aspirin?”

She risked a look at him, and almost wished she hadn’t. His penetrating stare invariably unnerved her. What was it about those dark eyes of his that left her feeling stripped bare? Like he could look right through her and see all the things she spent so much time and energy trying to conceal.

“There’s a bottle in the bathroom medicine cabinet,” she replied.

He started toward the bathroom.

Erin breathed a sigh of relief at his departure—even if it was only for a minute. She felt unsettled. Jittery. She tried to blame it on the fact that she was still shaken up from the incident at the school, but she knew that wasn’t the only reason. She didn’t want to admit the possibility that Nick was the source of her uneasiness. If she acknowledged the problem, it would become real, and she would have to deal with it.