Page 66 of Dangerous Lover

He didn’t answer immediately, only placed his hand under hers and lifted so that she was forced to take another sip. “You’re a little shocky so you need heat, liquid and sugar. If you were a soldier on a battlefield, it wouldn’t be tea with lots of sugar, it would be a glucose IV. I know it’s not to your taste, but drink up. You’ll feel better afterwards, trust me.”

She did trust him, instinctively. Caroline tried to smile, a little ashamed of her reaction. “I’m not a soldier who’s fallen in battle. I feel foolish even needing the cup of tea.”

“Don’t be.” His voice was quiet as he watched her drinking. “It must have been a shock. I imagine you weren’t expecting him to turn violent.”

It was a question. “No, not at all. I never would have even believed Sanders was capable of behaving like that. I’ve known him for ages.” Time to get a little unpalatable truth out there, too. “We’ve even … dated, now and again. We’ve had an on-again off-again relationship for a long time.”

Jack’s dark eyes sharpened. “Since your teens?”

Caroline stared at him over the cup. “Why yes, how did you know that?”

He just shrugged. “Lucky guess. You feeling better?”

The icy feeling, the tremors—they were gone. “Yes, I do, actually. Though I’m also feeling stupid and a wimp. I’d like to think that Sanders caught me totally by surprise, but the truth is that I didn’t defend myself very well.” The least she could have done was bite Sanders’ tongue and kick him roundly in the shins. “When you set up your self-defense school, I’m going to be your first customer. I want to learn to kick butt in a major way.”

“Yeah?” The tension in his big body had gone and he looked at her with a half-smile.

“Absolutely.”

“Well, you’re going to get as many free lessons as you want.”

“Can you teach me the knee-in-the-balls thing?”

He nodded. “Count on it. And the thumb on the carotid thing, too. Done right, it makes your opponent drop like a stunned ox.”

“Sounds great.” It did, too. “I don’t ever want to be in that position again. Helpless, unable to defend myself.”

“No,” he said soberly. “Never again. It took years off my life coming in and seeing you being hurt. We’re going to get you to a point where you can at least whip the ass of a softie like this guy—what was his name?”

“Sanders. Sanders McCullin.”

“Stupid name.” Jack shook his head. “Name like that, you should be able to learn to take him down in ten lessons. Next time he gets near you, you can toss him on his back.”

Caroline smiled. It was a nice thought. She was feeling very much herself again, thanks to the thought of learning some basic self-defense—which would be good exercise, too—and thanks to the massive sugar infusion.

Jack was watching her closely.

“You’re feeling better. Good.” He looked out the window at the sleety afternoon. Nobody in the past half hour had even appeared on the street. He put his hand over hers, and gripped her hand warmly. “What would you say to knocking off now and going home?” He lifted her hand to his mouth. “We could have an early dinner and then fool around a little. I’ll let you throw me. What do you say?”

Jack Prescott sitting on his chair looked like an immovable force of the universe. No way could she ever in a million years throw him, but it was nice of him to offer.

It was so wonderful sitting here with him, his hand on hers, looking forward to the evening and then—God!—the night. It had been a long long time since she’d looked forward to things and he’d given her this gift.

“Thanks,” she said softly.

He’d been scanning the street outside, but he turned his head at that, with a frown. “For what?”

“Oh, for taking care of Sanders without breaking his arm, even though you were dying to, I could tell. For stopping by to pick me up. For just—being around.”

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. He took the kiss over immediately, hand to the back of her head.

It was exactly the gesture Sanders had used, but oh the difference. Jack wasn’t using his strength to control her, though he was probably ten times stronger than Sanders. It occurred to Caroline that every time Jack had touched her, he did so carefully, careful never to hurt her.

A quick meeting of lips and then he pulled back, his eyes searching hers. “Let’s go home, warrior princess,” he whispered.

Vincent Deaver slumped deeplyin the booth at the diner across the street, head curved over the cup of coffee he’d been nursing for a couple of hours, and watched Jack Prescott leave First Page with his arm around Caroline Lake’s waist.

He needn’t have worried about being detected. He had on a watch cap and heavy dark non-prescription horn rim glasses. Prescott wasn’t expecting him, and anyway, all his attention was on the blonde with him. He’d scanned the street out of habit, but he wouldn’t be expecting trouble from someone in the diner. The street was empty, Prescott’d checked up and down and then his attention was riveted once more on the woman.

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