Page 26 of Kissing Her Rescuer

She snapped a picture of him. He was a sight, even mad as hell.

“Eliza!” He roared and pointed back at her car. “Get back!”

Then the world exploded.

She heard the thunderous sound a split second before the force of the explosion launched her backward. Her body slammed onto the hot asphalt.

One moment of dead silence was followed by the sound of her breath, ragged and too loud in her ears.

She blinked, willing her eyes to focus. Dewey wasn't where she'd seen him last.

“Eliza? Eliza?” She finally registered her name being called, the ringing in her ears subsiding more after a few deep breaths. Strong hands gripped her shoulders to help her sit up. “Eliza?”

“I...I’m fine,” she stammered. “What happened?”

Dewey's soft hazel eyes were there, peering into her own. “I don't know. Why the hell are you here?”

“It's my job.” She started to rise, but he wouldn't let her. “Let me up, Dewey.”

“I'm taking you back to your car.” He scooped her under her knees and behind her back, cradling her the same way she carried her daughter.

“I can walk.” She looked down in her hands. Her camera appeared to be in one piece. But when she saved her camera, she managed to bruise her side. She hissed as she touched the spot.

“What is it?” He set her down beside her car.

“Nothing.” But she took a deep breath and knew that was a mistake. “Maybe it is something. I think I landed on the camera.”

Dewey started to pick up her shirt.

She snatched it back down. “What are you doing?”

“Looking to see if you need to go to the hospital.”

“I'm not going to a hospital.” Besides the fact she didn't have insurance, a bruise didn't require a hospital stay. She gave him a small push. “Go back and help them. I'm fine. I think I can squeeze my car through that gap between those two trucks. I got enough pictures, I guess.”

“Eliza,” Dewey ran a hand over his hair. A long scrape on his forearm oozed a thin line of blood.

“You should be concerned about yourself. You're bleeding.”

He spared it half a glance. “I don't care. Let me look at your chest.”

“I'm glad you were a little more romantic the first time around.”

But he didn't seem to be in a joking mood. Scowling, his hand slipped underneath the bottom of her shirt, warm and strong as it slid along her waist. “It needs to be checked out,” he murmured. “You know I'm a trained paramedic with the fire department. Where does it hurt?”

Another siren sounded in the distance, this time it was probably an ambulance.

His thumb caressed her ribcage, along the bottom edge of her bra. “Here?”

Swallowing down the mixture of desire and pain, she said, “more toward the center.”

His hand moved, fingertips lightly skimming along her skin. “Here?” He pressed, only a little, but she grimaced. “You need to get that x-rayed.”

“It's really not worth the money—”

“I'll pay for it. Get it checked out.”

She didn't need his money. Those words almost left her lips until she took an unguarded breath, the sharp pain almost had her agreeing to go to the hospital. “Don't worry about me. You need to get back. They need you.”

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