Page 7 of Scorched

Chapter 2

A slight shiver ran through Maggie Archer’s body as she stood outside Declan’s front door. She should have grabbed a heavier coat this morning. Winter was well on its way. But she hadn’t been counting on doing more than walking from her car to her office and back. A whole twenty steps, at most, both ways. She certainly hadn’t imagined she would be standing outside Declan’s house, waiting for him to answer the door. How she let Macy talk her into stopping over here, she didn’t know.

She knocked again, louder this time. Maybe he just didn’t hear her before. He’d had quite the day, after all. She bounced on her toes and hugged herself. Damn, it was cold.

“Declan! Open the door. It’s Maggie.” She pounded again.

A few seconds later, she heard the lock twist. The door opened, revealing the thunderous expression on Declan’s handsome face. It also revealed his naked torso and a pair of black athletic pants that hung low on his hips.

Her mouth watered and heat licked her belly at the sight of all his hard muscles on display. At least, it did until she caught sight of the deep purple bruises coloring the left side of his chest.

“Oh my God. Declan, that looks terrible.”

“No shit. It doesn’t feel good, either. What do you want, Maggie?”

“Macy asked me to check on you. She was going to stop by, but got hung up at the coffee shop.”

“I’m not a child. I don’t need her or you to check up on me.”

She arched a brow, still bouncing. How was he not freezing? “Did you go get an x-ray like you were supposed to?”

His frown darkened. “No.”

“Ha! Then you do need a keeper. Go put on a shirt and some shoes. I’ll take you.”

“I’m fine. I’ll go tomorrow. I just want to get some rest.”

She stopped bouncing. “You really think you can do that without stronger pain killers? I’m betting you were lying in bed—or more likely sitting in your recliner—trying to sleep, but not having much success because you hurt too much. Am I right?”

His blue eyes glittered as he glared at her. She just grinned.

“This is ridiculous. Go home. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not going home. I promised Macy I’d make sure you were okay. You’re not, so I’m staying. Can we go inside? It’s freezing out here.”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s your own fault for wearing that trench coat. I know it looks good with your outfit, but it’s not very practical on a day like today.”

She moved closer, forcing him to take a step back, giving her enough room to slip inside. Maggie crossed the threshold, then turned to look at him. “I wasn’t planning on standing outside. You could have answered the door sooner.” She wiggled her toes inside her heels. They were frozen, too.

His eyes roamed over her, lingering on her legs and her breasts. A tingle ran up her spine at his obvious appreciation. As nice as it was, though, she wanted to move this party along; she still had to prep for court tomorrow and would like to get to bed before midnight. That was probably already a fantasy, since she had to sit in the ER with him now.

“I was hoping whoever it was would go away. When I heard your voice, I knew you wouldn’t.”

“Persistence is my middle name.” She walked further into his house.

“Where are you going?”

“To find you a shirt.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Unless you want to go to the ER like that? I mean, the nurses would probably love it, but…” She trailed off and shrugged, offering him a sassy grin.

He growled, following her. “I told you I would go tomorrow.”

“Uh-huh. Just like you told Seb and your colleagues you would go after your shift?”

The muscles worked in his jaw, but he stayed quiet.

“That’s what I thought.” She poked her head around a doorway, looking for his bedroom. She’d never been any further than his living room and kitchen. This room held a desk and stacks of papers and books. She kept going. “Just agree with me and let me take you. It’ll save us both a lot of time and stress.” She stuck her head in the next door and saw a rumpled bed. Bingo.

Maggie walked inside and went to the dresser, pulling open the top drawer. Stacks of underwear and socks met her. An image of Declan wearing nothing but those tight gray boxer-briefs flitted through her mind. Her cheeks flamed, and she shoved the drawer shut, then opened the next one. Neat rows of folded t-shirts laid inside. She took out the top one and held it out to him.

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