Page 13 of Suddenly Tempted
“Are you sure? I don’t want you adding peeping Tom to your complaint about me.”
“I’m sure,” she replied, almost smiling. “And peeping Tom makes what you did sound sweet. You’re more of a voyeuristic weirdo. I’ll add it to the list, along with unhinged and dangerous.”
She didn’t mean to sound unkind, but the way he had turned so quickly away from her undressed form was still poking her incessantly between the ribs.
He walked past her, opening the door of the wood burner and throwing in the logs. There were firelighters next to it, and he threw a couple in, sparking them up with a lighter he pulled from his pocket. Within seconds, the flames were roaring, the logs crackling. The room filled with soft firelight and welcome warmth, and suddenly the storm outside didn’t seem so scary.
Devlin tried to get up, groaning in pain and almost falling. Darcy ran to him, her annoyance momentarily forgotten, taking his good arm and helping him up. His shirt was drenched, patches of skin visible beneath it.
“You can’t stay in that,” she said. “I found some bits and pieces that should fit you.”
“I can manage,” he said, his voice cool.
He blatantly couldn’t. He was so pale she thought he might fall over. Trying not to think too hard about what she was doing, she unbuttoned his shirt. It took some effort to pull the wet cotton from his skin, and when it finally came free, it was Darcy who felt like she might pass out.
“There you go,” she said, not sure where to look. “You know, I once entered a wet T-shirt competition by accident. My shirt looked much like yours just did, all stuck to my skin and see-through. I only wanted to go for a walk in the park — how was I supposed to know there was a film crew from some dodgy cable channel? A guy came running at me with a hose and, bam, soaked right through. If I’d known half the town was going to see my bra that morning, I’d have worn a nice one.”
She winced, willing herself to shut up. There was no need to draw Devlin’s memory back to the grey monstrosity he’d witnessed moments earlier. Devlin blinked at her, his body tensing at her touch. Or maybe it didn’t, maybe it was Darcy’s mind playing tricks. She was tired and hungry, and her thoughts were fuzzy around the edges as she tried not to look at Devlin’s rounded swimmer’s shoulders, or the bulging muscles of his arms, or the wide expanse of his chest, or the clearly defined washboard abs. There wasn’t an inch of fat on him, his body as sublime as if it had been sculpted by Michelangelo. Only his right arm looked out of place. The lower part of it had turned an ugly shade of yellowy purple.
“I could have done it,” Devlin argued, his voice weaker now. He looked at his arm, and once again she thought she saw a chink in his arrogant exterior.
“It looks broken,” she said, and he nodded.
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
He was trying to undo his trouser button, and Darcy felt her face burn even hotter. He swayed, looked as if he might fall, and before she could even think about what she was doing, she pulled down on the waist band of his trousers and lowered him onto the sofa. Working the dripping suit legs over his shoes, she tossed them next to the fire and stood there staring at the flames, at the wall, at the sofa, atanywherethat wasn’t a half-naked Devlin Storm.
“Um . . .” she said, flapping like a landed fish. “Try these.”
She grabbed an old grey shirt from the sofa and eased it over his head. He pushed his left hand through, before gingerly manoeuvring his right, billowing the material as large as it would go. The dry trousers were like something from a museum, complete with braces, but she helped him into them, pulling the braces over his shoulders. He winced, then sat back without so much as a thank you.
Darcy ran from the room, ridiculously hot and flustered. Out in the corridor, she pressed a hand to her burning face, exhaling sharply. Devlin Storm, half-dressed and looking like every bad decision she’d ever been tempted to make, was not what she needed right now. She shook out her hands, willing away the heat creeping over her skin. No big deal. Just a man. A very unfairly built, infuriatingly attractive man.
“What are you doing out there?” he called through, some of the strength back in his voice. She didn’t reply. All she could think about was that despite the way his body made her feel in heat, it was going to be a long night trapped here with a man as awful as Devlin Storm.
Chapter 7
DEVLIN
Of all the people to be stuck here with, he thought,why did it have to be someone so prone to incessant, distracting chatter?
Devlin sighed, trying to ignore the agony that pulsed from his right arm. For a second back there, he’d thought he was going to pass out. Luckily, Darcy had helped him change rather than just leaving him in his wet clothes. But the thought of listening to her talk on and on was almost as painful as the thumping in his arm. How was he supposed to get them rescued if he couldn’t hear himself think? Why couldn’t he have been stuck here with a mountain ranger, or a survival expert?Theywouldn’t get side-tracked by the idea of a wet T-shirt competition.
Instead, he was stranded with a ditsy, fearful, argumentative pain who wouldn’t know the meaning of the word silence if it hit her in the butt. Oh, but what a butt it was. He’d seen his fair share of women with minimal clothes on, but from the brief but full-on glimpse he’d been afforded of Darcy, Devlin guessed that unlike the women he usually socialised with there had been no surgical alterations, no fillers, no Botox, or butt-lifts. Darcy was as real as they came, and it had been a refreshing change. And a shocking one, given the way his body had started to react, even though he had been freezing and in a lot of pain.
“Did you check the bedroom?” Darcy called through from the corridor, interrupting his daydream.
“I didn’t have time,” he shouted back, gruffly. “I was too busy finding firewood, so we wouldn’t freeze. You know, important stuff.”
“You didn’t exactly go out and chop down a tree,Paul Bunyan,” she said. “We both know you found it in the convenient pile I’m staring at right out here.”
She was so infuriating. Devlin sat forward, preparing to stand up, but another wave of dizziness gripped him. Why couldn’t he have been stuck here with a doctor? That way, maybe he wouldn’t be in so much agony. What he really needed right now was an IV full of pain relief, then he might be able to focus on what to do next.
“Here,” said Darcy, reappearing. She had a small, green first-aid kit in her hand, along with a long, sturdy stick that she must have found in the wood pile. Despite himself, Devlin’s eyebrows shot up.
“Good find,” he said, and she nodded.
“Well, I, for one, am trying to make myself useful.”
