A Sheltering Love. Terri Reed

Nick back. When he’d come storming into The Zone she’d thought she was dreaming. Dreaming about a dark warrior who used his powers for good, not evil. Like some comic book character, except the strong arms that had held her so tenderly had been very real.

      And the concern in his eyes called to her in a way nothing else could. It had been a long time since anyone had shown any real concern for her well-being. Oh, people had shown her kindness, but she often felt it came from obligation to her late aunt’s memory rather than for herself.

      The need to belong to someone rose sharply and she squashed it like an irritating fly. She couldn’t allow herself to want anyone, to expect anything from anyone because expectations only led to disappointment.

      More likely, Nick wouldn’t stick around as he’d promised. She sternly steeled herself against any pain from hope. She wouldn’t fret over it, wouldn’t let it matter.

      She was thankful he’d arrived when he had and that she hadn’t inhaled too much of the smoke. The doctor had said her lungs might hurt for a few days and she’d probably have a headache from smacking her head on the floor, but otherwise she was in good health and could return home. He’d gone off to tell the nurse to discharge her.

      But what would she be going home to?

      Her stomach twisted. She had a pretty good idea who’d set the fire, but she hadn’t told the police when they’d arrived because she wasn’t a hundred percent certain.

      She had to focus on moving forward no matter how much this incident set her back. She’d push through it, as always.

      First she had to get back to The Zone. She didn’t have money for a cab with her. She shrugged. She’d walk. She didn’t relish putting on the smoke-scented clothes she’d arrived in, but she’d do what she had to.

      The nurse pushed aside the curtain and stepped in. She was tall, African-American and very striking. Her black hair was pulled back into a fancy twist and her smile was kind.

      In one hand she held a clipboard and in the other a brown paper bag, which she set on the counter. “The doctor says you can be released. I have a few forms for you to sign.” She handed Claire the clipboard and pen.

      Quickly looking over the form, Claire worried her bottom lip. She wasn’t sure how the bill would be paid—if the insurance would cover it or not. She signed where appropriate and handed the clipboard back. She’d deal with the financial stuff later. “Where are my clothes?”

      The nurse moved to the counter behind the gurney and picked up a clear plastic bag that contained Claire’s dirty clothes. Wrinkling her nose, she said, “You’re not going to want these anymore.”

      She set the bag down again and then grabbed the brown paper bag she’d brought in and handed it to Claire. “Your boyfriend brought you these. When you’re dressed, come on out.”

      Claire blinked. Boyfriend? She opened the bag and pulled out her red polo shirt and fresh jeans. Embarrassed heat crept up her neck and settled in her cheeks.

      Someone had gone through her things.

      Nick?

      A jittery panic hit her stomach like a spray of pebbles. He couldn’t be her boyfriend. Not in a million years. She didn’t need a boyfriend.

      But she had to admit it felt good to have someone care.

      Anticipation quickened her pulse. She put on the clothes. Finger-combed her matted mop of hair. Then sedately walked out from behind the curtain toward the administration desk.

      Her nervous flutters fled, replaced with a melting warmth as Nick unfolded his long, lean frame from a chair and strode to her, reminding her of a dangerous panther stalking its prey.

      And to her utter dismay, she realized she wanted to be hunted.

      “The doc said you’re okay,” Nick stated by way of greeting as Blondie—Claire, he corrected himself—slowly drew nearer to him.

      He’d waited to come until after the fire engines had disappeared and the investigators had finished scouring the area for clues to the arsonist. He’d answered the investigator’s questions and told them what he could about Blondie and the teens.

      She’d changed into the clothing he’d brought her. Smudges of soot stood out in stark contrast on her pale face. Her hair poked out in different directions with bits of green grass peeking out here and there. He stifled a smile.

      She was adorable, vulnerable and in need of protection.

      In need of help from someone other than him.

      He’d get her settled safely, then leave.

      She blinked up at him. “What are you doing here?”

      “Came to get you. I didn’t figure you’d have a way back. I hope the clothes are okay. Your roommate, Gwen, picked them out. She was pretty upset but I told her you’d call her as soon as you could. She had to get to work or she’d be here now.”

      “Thanks. I’m glad Gwen did the responsible thing and didn’t come here.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “How…how bad is the damage to the building?”

      Anger flared in his gut at what those punks had done. “The porch is gone. You’ll need a new back door.”

      They headed toward the doors of the hospital. “And the puppy?”

      He slanted her a glance. “Nick is fine. I found him in the park chasing bees.”

      Ducking her head, she chuckled. “I hope you don’t mind that I named him after you. I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

      He held the door open. “I’m flattered.”

      To his amusement, her cheeks turned pink. “I guess I’ll have to call him Little Nick. So I don’t get you two confused.” They walked in silence for a moment before Claire glanced back up at him. “Thanks,” she said.

      “For what?”

      She stopped and tilted up her heart-shaped face. “I could have died if you hadn’t rescued me.”

      The glint of admiration in her baby blues spread through him, making him think of knights, damsels in distress and fire-breathing dragons. Making him feel like a hero.

      Stupid.

      He was nobody’s hero.

      “You were almost to the door,” he said.

      “Why did you come back?”

      “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He ushered her to the parking lot where he’d parked her little green four-wheel drive Subaru.

      “Try me.” Her eyes widened. “Uh, thanks for bringing my car.”

      He lifted a shoulder as he unlocked the door and held it open for her. “Gwen gave me the keys—we didn’t think you’d want to ride on the back of the Harley.”

      A gleam of longing entered her blue eyes. “Actually, I would have liked that.”

      He raised a brow. “Then I’ll take you for a spin before I leave.”

      The hunger in her eyes set his blood to racing at full throttle on an open road, then abruptly she shook her head and wariness entered her gaze. “No, no. That wouldn’t be such a good idea.”

      She climbed in the car and primly folded her hands in her lap.

      Nick shut the door, grateful for the reprieve. The thought of her with him on his bike with her arms wrapped around his waist sent a shiver through him.

      Not a good sign.

      He wouldn’t allow himself to become attracted, attached or anything else to her.

      Gotta keep moving, he warned himself.

      Chapter Three

      Driving