Page 12 of Legacy of Danger
"You're right. Maybe I misread the situation." Vaughn made a quarter turn and locked onto her with a dark, narrowed stare. A whiff of shaving cream and vital, warm male made her take a deeper breath. It was a lovely scene, watching Vaughn hand Wyatt his ass. "You want to talk with him?"
She crossed her arms and glared at Wyatt. "Nope."
"Works for me." Vaughn turned back to the incapacitated jerk. "The good doctor has work to do, like take care of people who need her help. She doesn't want to waste her time talking with morons. She needs to check on my sister and friend."
Wyatt grinned. "Yeah. How are they doing?"
"Now it's my turn to say none of your business." He released Wyatt's wrist like it was toxic slime and continued to walk forward, imposing his body into the guy's space.
Wyatt slipped on the pool of coffee on the floor and landed square on his butt. Scrambling to his feet, the sweating man craned his head around. Rage played across his contorted face. One of his eyelids twitched. A red glow came and went in his eyes, along with a weird whiff of burnt sulfur. Had to be a trick of the light along with a chemical smell. She didn't move.
"You've made yourself an enemy, missy." He pointed at her before facing Vaughn. "And you, Taggart. Mark my words. Everything is about to change. You've only seen a tiny amount of what's to come. We've nearly completed—your family will soon become extinct." He spun on his feet and stomped down the hall, the squeaks of wet boots on linoleum fading away.
For several seconds, she mutely stared at the broad back and shoulders in front of her. Then the thermal-clad torso fully rotated until she came nose to chest with one of the best sets of pectoralis muscles she'd ever viewed beneath cloth. What would those muscles feel like under her fingertips? Would his skin be as warm as she imagined? She only wanted to know for clinical data, of course. No other reason.
After too long of a delay, Mariah stuck her hand out, determined to salvage her unprofessional lapse. "Well, thanks for that..."
"Vaughn Taggart."
The same hand that had incapacitated Wyatt now enveloped hers, somehow generating a physical sensation of safety. She frowned as a swift headache throbbed for a few beats then dissipated. As his thumb moved over her skin, a jolt of interest headed from her chest due south and arced between her ovaries. Wow.
Oddly, his big frame and presence took up a lot of space, but she didn't feel threatened.
Eyes with irises the color of gold glitter swirling in dark coffee locked onto her, and her cheeks warmed.
Okay, she didn't feel exactlysafe. But whatever the sensation, it didn't scare her.
"Mariah West. I've been taking care of your sister and Mr. Patterson."
"I know who you are." The hard slash of his mouth formed words in an economy of movement.
"Okay, then. Thanks again for the help." Her hand rested in that warm paw of his, and she tugged.
Nothing happened. His fingers remained locked around her hand. Not painful, not intimidating, but firm. Unmoving. Making it clear: he would let go when he chose to do so.
Her heart fluttered, a bird banging around a cage.
After studying her for more long seconds, a line formed between the thick, nearly black brows.
"What the hell?" he breathed, almost to himself.
"Pardon?" She pulled on her hand again. "Um?"
"Sorry."
He released her hand.
In a vacuum-like sensation, the feeling of safety receded, leaving her reeling on her heels with what probably passed for a dumbstruck expression.
He rubbed his chin with the heel of his hand. "Weird."
"What?"
He shook his head, the hall lights catching glints of auburn in his dark brown hair. "Before I forget. My apologies for my behavior in the emergency room."
"Well. Okay." She licked her lips. "Family members are often stressed out in those situations."
"Anyway. Yeah. Sorry." He shoved a hand into the front pocket of his jeans, accentuating areas she had no business contemplating without being board certified in urology. "So what's the deal with that Brand asshole?"
