Page 7 of Her Property

“No,” she choked out. She needed to get this guy out of here before she passed out.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern replacing the confusion in his brow.

“I’m fine. Just please leave.”

He hesitated, and she pushed the door closed with both hands.

Her injury twanged with raw agony. It was as if someone had reached in and poked her insides. She couldn’t help it, she let out a quick, audible gasp.

The door swung open again. The man was standing there as if unsure what to do anymore. He looked like he might come towards her.

“Listen. If you step past this threshold,” she pointed down at the space between their toes with her chin, “you’ll be t-trespassing. Unless you have something truly important to say to me, C-Catherine Jones, Attorney…”

Shit. She was rambling.

“Jones? Are you his…” he trailed off, obviously unsure which would be worse to guess: daughter, wife, or something else.

“No relation,” she snapped, the irritation at the assumption giving her a renewed burst of strength. How many times had people asked her that question? How many times had she had to come to her own defense, to make sure people knew it wasn’t nepotism that made her skyrocket to her current role but work? Hours and hours of rigorous, thorough, life-consuming…

Her knees wobbled, the burst of energy vanishing as quickly as it had come.

Jake stepped forward. “Are you hurt?” he asked. Alarm ran through his voice. His eyes went to the cardigan which he must have realized then was wound tightly around her hand rather than being held casually, as if the weather was too warm for it.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Would you… would you excuse me, I…”

Cat could hear herself talking, but it was like her voice was coming from someone else far away. She had a vague idea that she needed to back up to the steps behind her, that if she just got her bottom to land close to them, she might be ok. Then, before she could say another word, the man’s eyes widened. She looked down—she had dropped the sweater. It sat in a bloody heap at her feet. Blood ran down her hand and dripped off her finger onto the floor.

Oh god.

Cat’s knees gave way.

An arm thrust out, catching her as she fell. “I got you,” he said. The words were soft against her ear, like a caress.

She couldn’t think straight, couldn’t see. Her cheek pressed against the taut warmth of his chest. Her head lolled back so that she was looking up into his face.

“I’m sorry, Catherine Jones,” he said, “I’m going to have to trespass to get you inside and sitting down.” He was so close she could feel the warmth of his breath across her face. She blinked a little, wondering from somewhere in this fuzzy place if she was blushing.

She managed to nod. “Yes. Yes, please.”

Jake lifted her completely off her feet and carried her backwards toward the stairs, where he gently lowered her onto a stair. He pulled back from their impromptu embrace and looked her in the eyes, the anger and even the concern gone, his expression now one of kind firmness.

He knew what he was doing, she realized. He’d done this before, helped people in need.

“Are you a d-doctor?” she asked.

He grinned, and it was sexiest thing she’d ever seen.

Cat groaned.

“It’s okay—you’re going to be okay,” he said, mistaking the sound she’d made for one of pain. “I’m going to look at your hand. Is that okay?”

She nodded, unable to find words anymore.

Jake knelt, taking her forearm in both his hands. They were rough and warm. He held her so close her fingertips brushed against his bare chest, making an electric tingle run across her skin.

How the hell was she getting turned on right now?

Turning her arm over, he gently spread her palm open to get a better look at her injury.

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