In Blackhawk's Bed. Barbara McCauley

look. “One cookie, then up to your rooms.”

      The girls skipped out ahead of the doctor, who cast one long, disapproving look at Seth, then went out the front door.

      “I don’t believe it.” Seth laid his head back against the sofa and stared at the ceiling. “I crash my bike and your neighbors are out socializing in your front yard and passing around cookies. Probably fruitcake cookies.”

      “Probably chocolate chip, if Mrs. Lansky made them.” Hannah moved closer to the couch. “Would you like one?”

      He glanced up at her, and his narrowed, dark expression might have made her step away if she hadn’t already figured out he wasn’t nearly as dangerous as he appeared.

      Well, at least, she didn’t think he was.

      She’d been so worried for the past hour, she hadn’t taken the time to really look at the man. With his long legs and broad shoulders, he practically filled her small, rose floral sofa. Dr. Lansky had raised his patient’s left leg onto her coffee table, and she’d slipped a sofa pillow under his sprained ankle. He hadn’t complained once that he was in pain, but she’d seen a muscle twitch in his jaw when the doctor had asked him to bend his foot.

      His hair was long, nearly to his shoulders, black and thick and shiny. His eyebrows, just as dark as his hair, slashed over eyes as hard and black as obsidian. His strong, square jaw hadn’t been shaved for a while, which only added to that menacing look of his face, and underneath his firm, serious mouth, was a small, jagged scar.

      She noticed another scar that sliced like a lightning bolt across his right bicep, let her gaze slide downward to his broad, bare chest, a chest lightly sprinkled with dark hair that narrowed downward over a hard, flat belly and disappeared behind the snap of his jeans.

      Oh, my.

      Hannah swallowed hard, then jerked her eyes back up to his face. Her heart skipped as he met her gaze with his own. His expression wasn’t quite as fierce as it had been a moment ago, though it was certainly just as intense. She might have been offended at the blatant interest in his eyes if she hadn’t been the one staring so hard at him.

      “Mr. Granger—”

      “Seth.”

      “Seth.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “I don’t know how to thank you for saving Maddie the way you did.”

      When he said nothing, just gave her a look that said he might have a suggestion or two, Hannah quickly continued. “I’m still not sure exactly what happened, but from what little I managed to gather, she’d accidentally tossed Suzie, her doll, up in the tree and it caught on a branch. Both of my daughters then conveniently forgot they aren’t allowed to climb trees without adult supervision. If you hadn’t come along when you did—”

      “I did,” Seth said with a shrug. “And she’s fine.”

      “Yes.” Hannah heard her daughters’ laughter outside on the porch and said a silent prayer of thanks. “But you, however, and your motorcycle, are not. I’m deeply sorry for that, and any inconvenience we’ve caused you.”

      “Look,” Seth sighed, “it’s done, and it is what it is. I’ll stay overnight in town, get my bike back in the morning and be on my way.”

      Hannah put a hand out to stop Seth when he lifted his leg and set it on the floor, but he ignored her warning. She watched as his jaw tightened, and his face went pale. The slow breath he exhaled pretty much said it all: he wasn’t going anywhere on that leg. Not now, and not in the morning, either.

      Men. They could be such fools at times.

      “Seth.” She sat on the sofa beside him and gently lifted his leg back up on the cushion. Perspiration beaded his forehead. “I admire your determination, but it might be time for you to consider a new plan. I have a suggestion.”

      “I can hardly wait to hear.” Seth closed his eyes and laid his head back on the sofa.

      “Good. Because you’re going to.”

      One of his eyes slid open. Hannah ignored the frown he gave her, then reached for the damp washcloth she’d laid on the coffee table and dabbed at his forehead.

      He reached up and wrapped his hand around her upper arm.

      Breath held, she waited for him to release her, but he didn’t. Both of his eyes were open now, that dark, intense gaze completely focused on her.

      Hannah felt her pulse race as he continued to stare silently at her. His hand moved slowly up her arm; the texture of his callused palm on her skin sent ripples of electricity shimmering through her body.

      She stared back at him, too startled to move, too startled even to speak. She’d never experienced anything like this before. Never experienced anything like him. When his gaze drifted to her mouth, her insides fluttered. The heat of his body, the masculine scent of his skin, overwhelmed her.

      Time stopped. Time and a sense of where she was, who she was, and certainly who she was with. Nothing seemed to exist but this moment, this incredible heart-stopping, mind-blowing instant. If she’d had the presence of mind, she would have pulled away, would have even been offended at the brazen stroke of his thumb on her arm. But she didn’t pull away. She wasn’t offended.

      She was turned on.

      Her skin felt hot, she had trouble breathing and her breasts ached.

      How is this possible? Hannah asked herself numbly. She certainly wasn’t the kind of woman who could be turned on by a stranger—she wasn’t even the kind of woman who was turned on by men she knew, for heaven’s sake. She’d accepted the fact long ago that she wasn’t like most women. Sex, when she’d been married, had been all right, she supposed, but she’d never understood what all the hoopla had been about.

      “So what do you suggest I do?”

      “What?” Hannah blinked, stared at Seth, then blinked again. She had all kinds of suggestions, none of which she would have had the courage to speak out loud. “Suggest?”

      “You said you have a suggestion.” His hand slid up to her wrist, then he tugged the washcloth from her fingers and tossed it on the coffee table. “So what is it?”

      A suggestion? Hannah struggled to gain her composure and remember exactly what she’d said before he’d touched her and turned her world upside down.

      “I—you…well—” Hannah felt her cheeks flush, knew she sounded like a babbling idiot. So she just blurted it out. “You can stay here.”

      “Here?” He tilted a look at her. “You mean in your house?”

      “Yes.” Her pulse was still racing, but her breathing was nearly back to normal, thank goodness. “I’ve been converting my house to a bed-and-breakfast for the past six months. I only have two more bedrooms to finish and then I can open for business. You can stay in one of the rooms I’ve finished.”

      He stared at her for what felt like minutes, though it was only seconds. She waited, breath held, until he finally said, “You’d let a complete stranger stay in your house?”

      “I realize how naive that sounds,” Hannah said evenly. “But after what you did, the way you never even gave a thought to yourself when you saved Maddie, the way you talked to her when you climbed out on that branch, well, I’m certain you’re a person I can trust. I’ll just consider you the first guest of the Wild Rose.”

      “The Wild Rose?”

      “That’s what I’m going to call my bed-and-breakfast,” Hannah said. “You won’t even have to walk up any stairs. I have two finished guest rooms on the ground floor. You can have your pick.”

      “Hannah.” Seth shook his head. “You don’t know anything about me.”

      “Well, actually, that’s not completely true.” Hannah shifted awkwardly. “Mrs. Peterson found