Winning His Heart: The Millionaire's Homecoming / The Maverick Millionaire. Melissa McClone

just going to see if I can find the stinger.”

      “You are not!” she said, yanking her skirt down over her naked thigh and pressing the fabric tight to her legs.

      “Don’t be ridiculous. The stinger could still be pumping poison into you.”

      She hesitated and he, sensing her hesitation, pressed. “I already saw the sting site. And your panties. They’re pink.”

      To match the blush she could feel moving up her cheeks. Kayla sputtered ineffectually as he easily overpowered her attempts to hold her skirt down.

      “There it is. Quit jumping around like that.”

      “Give me those tweezers!” She made a grab for them.

      “Stay calm, Kayla,” he ordered, amused. “It’s like being bitten by a snake. The more excited you get, the worse it is.”

      “I don’t want you messing around under my skirt and talking about excitement,” she said grimly.

      But for the first time, his stern mask fell. He gave a small snort of laughter, and that damned grin made him more astoundingly attractive than ever! “Just be grateful you didn’t get stung somewhere else.”

      “Grateful,” she muttered. “I’ll be sure and add it to my list.”

      “Got it!” he said with satisfaction, inspecting the tweezers and then holding them up for her to see. Sure enough, a hair of a stinger was trapped in them.

      The amusement that had briefly made him so attractive had completely evaporated.

      “Get in the car.”

      That’s what she had to remember. The very qualities that made David a superb rescuer—detachment, a certain hard-nosed ability to do what needed to be done—also made him impossible to get close to.

      What had she been thinking, leaning toward him, thinking of his kiss?

      She was in shock, that was all. Riding her bike with her dog and sunflowers on a perfect summer day when out of nowhere, a bee. And him.

      She, of all people, should know that. When you least expected it, life wreaked havoc. It was a mistake to surrender control, and the circumstances were no longer life-threatening, so she simply wasn’t giving in.

      “My dog,” she reminded him. “And my bike. My purse. My stuff is all over the road. The phone is new. I need to—”

      “You need to get in the car,” David said, enunciating every word with a certain grim patience.

      “No,” she said, enunciating every word as carefully as he did, “I need to find my dog. And get my bike off the street. And retrieve my phone. It is a very expensive phone.”

      He frowned, a man who moved in a world where his power was absolute. He was unaccustomed to anyone saying no to him, and she felt a certain childish satisfaction at the surprised, annoyed look on his face.

      Slowly, as if he was speaking to a child, and not a very bright one at that, David said, “I’m taking you to the emergency clinic. I’m doing it now.”

      “Thank you. You’ve given me the shot. I undoubtedly owe you my life, but—”

      “I’ll take care of the dog and the bike and the purse and the phone after I’ve made sure you are all right.”

      “I am all right!”

      That was, in fact, a lie. Kayla felt quite woozy.

      And she got the impression he was not the least bit fooled as he looked at her carefully.

      “Get in the car,” he said again.

      He was quite maddening in his authoritative approach to her. Her gaze went to her personal belongings scattered all over the road. “The EpiPen bought me time,” she said, tilting her chin stubbornly at him.

      His sigh seemed long-suffering, though their encounter had lasted only minutes. “Kayla, you need to listen to me. I’ll take care of your stuff after I’ve taken care of you.”

      She scanned his face, the stern, no-nonsense cast of his features, and felt a somewhat aggravating sense of relief swell in her. Why would it feel quite good to surrender control to him? To let someone else be in charge? To let someone else take care of her?

      David was just that guy, and he always had been. The one who did everything right. The one who knew what to do. The one who could be counted on to look after things. The one you would choose to have with you in an emergency: when the hurricane arrived, or the boat capsized or the house caught fire.

      Except he hadn’t done the right thing by Kevin, the time it had really counted.

      “My dog is on the loose somewhere. He could be picked up by a stranger or run over by a car. My bike could be stolen. The new phone could be crushed by a passing vehicle!”

      Irrationally, she trusted David, in some areas, at least. If he said he’d take care of it, he simply would. His strength of purpose had always been nothing less than amazing.

      And intolerant of those less strong.

      Like Kevin, who had never taken care of anything.

      The thought, breathtaking in its disloyalty, came out of nowhere, blasted her and made her feel guilty. And, oddly, angry at David all over again.

      Okay, so Kevin had not been overly responsible. He’d had many great qualities!

      Hadn’t he? The whisper of disloyalty, again, made her feel angry with David as if his presence was nursing these forbidden thoughts to the forefront.

      “I need to find my dog,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. She was not going to have these thoughts, or surrender control to David Blaze—who was overly responsible—without so much as a whimper.

      Had she learned nothing from life? No, she had learned to rely on herself!

      “I’m okay now,” she said, and it felt like an act of supreme bravery, in light of his darkening features. “David, I appreciate you playing knight in shining armor to my damsel in distress.”

      The look on his face darkened so she rushed on, shooting a look at his car, “I appreciate your riding in on your shining gray steed, but really, I’ll take it from here. I don’t need any more help from you.”

       CHAPTER THREE

      DAVID CONTEMPLATED KAYLA, and it was hard not to shirk from the impatience that yanked at the muscle in his jaw and darkened his eyes to a shade of brown so dark it bordered on being black.

      He looked totally formidable, and not a single remnant of the carefree boy of Kayla’s adolescence appeared to remain in him.

      When had he become this? A man so totally certain of his own power, a man not to be messed with?

      “I’m not playing a game here,” he said quietly. “I am not playing knight to your princess. Not even close. Life is not a fairy tale.”

      “I’m the last person who needs to be reminded of that,” she said, and he flinched, ever so faintly, but still she had to hide a shiver at his intensity, and her face felt suddenly hot.

      She was not blushing at the thought of sharing a fairy tale with him! It occurred to Kayla that, despite the shot, her face might be swelling. In fact, with each passing second she probably was looking more like poor Quasimodo, with his misshapen face, than a princess.

      “You are highly allergic to beestings,” he said, his patience worn thin, like a scientist trying to explain a highly complicated formula to a fool. “Anaphylaxis is a life-threatening emergency.”

      She touched her forehead. She could feel the puffiness in it.

      “We have stopped the emergency for