To Catch A Thief. Nan Dixon

How can I help?”

      He tried to get his feet under him but stumbled.

      “Let me.” She supported his elbow.

      He clawed his way to his feet and finally looked at the woman who’d knocked him down like he was a bowling pin.

      She was beautiful. Her dark blue eyes looked almost black and her skin was a luscious golden-olive color. And her hair? Black, curly and long enough to play peekaboo with her breasts. He swiped at his chin to make sure he wasn’t drooling.

      “I’m so sorry.” She led him to the chair she’d abandoned. “I wasn’t paying any attention.”

      “I thought you were sleeping.” A shard of pain slammed into him. He grasped his head and couldn’t contain the groan.

      “You hurt your head.” Her fingers explored his skull.

      The bump she was going to find was old, but her touch was cool and soothing.

      “Is this the spot?” she asked.

      “Yeah, but you didn’t cause it.” He swallowed back the nausea that always accompanied his headaches. “I was hurt a—” he couldn’t remember how long ago he’d been hurt “—while ago. I get headaches.”

      “So does my mother.” She kneaded his shoulders, working her fingers up the tendons of his neck. “Does this help?”

      “Yes.” He groaned. “That’s...good.”

      “I do this for Mamá a couple times a day.” She worked her fingers into his temples.

      He didn’t talk, just enjoyed the release of pain.

      “Oh, damnation! I need to get back to Mamá.”

      He caught her wrist and tugged her so she stood next to him. He squinted up into her face. Her glorious skin was tinged pink. “What’s your name?”

      “This is embarrassing. We’re strangers. I shouldn’t have touched you.” She wrung her magical hands. “I’m so sorry. It’s...my mother.”

      “No. This is the best I’ve felt since my accident.” He couldn’t tell a stranger he’d been shot. “Thank you.”

      “But I knocked you down.” She chewed her bottom lip.

      “You didn’t hurt me. Unless you count my being embarrassed because I fell at the feet of the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

      She rolled her eyes. “Right.”

      He wasn’t kidding. “Who are you?”

      “Carolina.”

      “I’m Sage. Sage Cornell.” He took her hand. “Thank you.”

      She settled into the chair next to him, leaving her hand in his.

      “Are you a guest?” he asked. Please don’t be here on your honeymoon.

      “Don’t I wish. I just applied for a job.”

      “You live around here?”

      “Tybee.” Darkness shadowed her eyes. She pulled her hand away and linked her fingers in her lap. “Are you a guest?”

      “Visiting someone I work with. He lives here.”

      Her eyebrows crunched together. “A Fitzgerald?”

      “No.” He grimaced and the sting of pain reminded him to relax his face. “I don’t know why he’s living here. His fiancée’s last name is Smythe.”

      “Oh.” She frowned. “I think Abby’s married to a Smythe.”

      “I don’t suppose I could have your phone number.” Way to be confident. “That is, I’d like your phone number.”

      “I... I’m sorry.” She sighed. “Between taking care of my mother and searching for a job, I don’t have much time.

      “You don’t have time to talk?” He wouldn’t give up.

      Her eyes swam with unshed tears. “I might not be a great conversationalist.”

      “What can it hurt?” He pulled out his phone, raising his eyebrows. Cornells pushed through to meet their goals. “Like I said, I’m Sage Cornell.”

      She sighed. “Carolina. Castillo.”

      He wanted to do a fist pump, but that wouldn’t impress her. He handed her his phone, not sure his eyes would let him enter her digits correctly. Damn this injury.

      “There.” She handed his phone back to him.

      “Let’s try it.” He wasn’t stupid. She could have put in a fake number.

      A phone rang in her purse. She pulled it out, shut off the ringer and created a contact. “I really have to get back to my mother.”

      “Thank you for helping with my headache.” He grinned. “If I call tonight, would that be too soon?”

      “I’d...like that.” She laughed as she walked away.

      He waited until she’d stepped into the parking lot, then pumped both fists. “Yes!”

      “What was that for?” Kaden’s voice came from behind him.

      “I just met the most gorgeous woman.” Sage steadied himself before he pushed up from the table. “And got her number.”

      Kaden shook his head. “A guest?”

      “Nope. She applied for a job.” And if she got the job, he planned to spend a lot more time with Kaden. Excellent. He’d keep his partner happy—and maybe himself, too.

      * * *

      I’M A THIEF! What had she been thinking?

      Carolina parked in their driveway and wanted to pound her head on the steering wheel.

      Not only was she a thief, she’d touched a stranger. Just started rubbing his head. Sage must think she was the stupidest, most forward, craziest woman in the world.

      It’s just—he’d been hurting. His headache had been so much like her mother’s, she hadn’t been able to stand by and let it eat at him. Even though he’d said it wasn’t her fault, it had been. If she’d paid attention, she wouldn’t have made him fall.

      Worst of all, because she’d been so flustered, she’d walked away with the bird. She’d planned to stop in the B and B and return the darn cardinal.

      But Sage had started flirting and she’d forgotten. A small zing had her straightening her shoulders. Would he call? Did she want him to? Time was her enemy—she didn’t have any to spare.

      Shoving her hair off her face, she caught a whiff of something delicious. She sniffed her hand. Chocolate and citrus. Sage’s scent. Was this his shampoo? She’d had her fingers buried in his thick, gold-streaked brown hair. And his eyes matched his name—a sage-green filled with so much pain she’d needed to ease his distress.

      She stared at her mother’s house. It was time to do the same for Mamá.

      The door was unlocked so she pushed inside and set her purse on the coffee table. “You forgot to lock the door, Mamá.”

      Her mother came out of the dark kitchen and stumbled, grabbing the archway. “What did you bring me?”

      Carolina shouldn’t.

      “You brought me something, right?” Her mother touched her hand to her temple and closed her eyes. “Nothing?”

      Carolina didn’t answer her mother’s question. “Do you have a headache?”

      “Don’t worry about me.” Her mother clutched at the doorway, as if she couldn’t stand. “My happiness doesn’t matter. My pain doesn’t matter.”

      “Mamá.