A Wolff at Heart. Janice Maynard

I’m sure it’s not as bad as it looks. And it’s not my right foot, so I’ll be fine to drive.”

      Pierce had dealt with a fair number of sporting injuries over the years. He was certified in CPR. In fact, he could be called upon to stitch up a life-threatening wound if no help was at hand and hospitals too far away. When he took groups into the wilderness, his responsibility was to care for them in every way.

      But seeing Nikki in pain made him a little woozy. Her fair skin was so soft and beautiful it was a crime to see it damaged. Her feet were long and narrow with high arches. Only when she moved restlessly did he realize he was caressing the bottom of her injured foot with his thumb.

      Immediately, he dropped her leg, and then felt like a jerk when she gasped softly. “I’ve got plenty of first-aid stuff at my house, and you could use a break with a change of scenery,” he said. “No arguments.”

      “I was born to argue,” she said, smiling at him despite her injury. “And besides...I have to be out of here by midnight or I have to fork over another month’s rent. So thanks for your chivalry, but I’ll be fine.”

      He knew she was an independent, successful woman, but her stubbornness at the moment frustrated him. “I know a couple of guys who owe me a favor. You can trust them with your belongings, I swear. I’ll ask them to get the last few things out. Will that satisfy you?”

      She gnawed her lip, clearly not used to letting someone else take the wheel. He understood self-reliance...hell, he even applauded it. But it was foolish not to accept help when help was at hand. Fortunately, Nikki must have come to the same conclusion. “Thank you,” she said. “That would be wonderful.”

      He eased her legs to one side and stood up, situating her on the settee carefully. “Let me call and make sure they’re available. Don’t move.”

      * * *

      Even though her foot throbbed like a bad toothache, Nikki didn’t move. Not only because of her injury, but because she wanted to study Pierce while he wasn’t looking at her. She’d been right about his ability to sweep a woman off her feet. He’d lifted her as if she were no heavier than a child. And she was not a lightweight.

      It was in his nature to take over. She could see that. But he was genuinely making an effort to defer to her wishes. Which endeared him to her, despite his innate bossiness. She should never have made this lame bargain. Pierce was too handsome, too charismatic, too everything.

      Her plan to take time off and decide on the next step in her life had to be a priority. Giving in to a moment’s infatuation with a would-be client was impulsive and possibly foolish, neither of which normally described Nicola Parrish.

      There was, however, some justification for her momentary lapse in judgment. Pierce Avery was the whole package: smart, funny, kind and strong. Heck, next to him a Boy Scout would look like an unmotivated slacker. Nevertheless, she’d do well to ignore the way her heart pitter-pattered when he touched her. The man was being solicitous, that’s all. And he wanted something from her, so even his attentiveness was suspect.

      Pierce needed her in his quest for answers. And she suspected that he was single-minded enough to take care of any obstacles in his way, including but not limited to playing doctor for his injured lawyer.

      She flexed her ankle experimentally, sucking in a sharp breath when pain shot up her leg. Already her foot was swelling. And throbbing. Dang it to heck and back. This was a complication she didn’t need.

      Moodily, she watched her Galahad pace as he lined up replacements to finish her move. He looked far more relaxed today than he had when they’d first met in her office. An old, gray UVA football T-shirt clung to his broad, flat torso and exposed rippling arm muscles. His navy board shorts were well-worn, and when he bent over to pick up a pencil that had rolled out from under the desk, she glimpsed the waistband of his boxers.

      More flustered than she cared to admit, she dragged her attention away from Pierce and decided to try standing up. She eased her good foot to the floor, swung her other leg around and gingerly stood, putting weight on her left leg. Not too bad. It was uncomfortable, sure, but with a couple of ibuprofen she’d be fine by morning.

      Pierce ended his phone call and glared at her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

      “It’s not a sprained ankle. I’m entirely capable of walking.” Although the prospect of having him carry her again was temptingly sweet.

      “The sidewalk outside is hot enough to melt steel. How do you plan on getting to the car?” He crossed his arms over his chest as if daring her to argue with him further.

      “Well, I...” She trailed off, ruefully aware that she hadn’t taken into account the actual logistics of getting to the car. As a kid, she’d had tough soles and could play outside with impunity. But that had been long ago, and Pierce had a point. Burning the bottom of her foot on top of her recent injury was not a pleasant prospect.

      “Fine,” she said, lifting her chin. “You may carry me.”

      * * *

      Pierce smothered a grin. They were both sweating buckets, and though Nikki was trying hard not to snap at him, he could tell she was irritated, particularly since the job was not finished. She struck him as the kind of woman who liked her i’s dotted and her t’s crossed.

      He managed a neutral expression. “In that case, let’s go.”

      As he crossed the room in her direction, Nikki held up a hand. “Not so fast. We can’t leave until your friends get here.”

      “They’re going to swing by my place to get the keys. We’ll lock the office and my truck and leave the truck on the street. I’ll drive your car and take you home in it later. I can always get a cab.”

      She shifted from one foot to the other, obviously uncomfortable. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

      “How can that be a bad thing?”

      “I suppose I should be grateful.”

      “And yet you’re not,” he said wryly.

      “Of course I am.”

      “But you’d much rather have finished the day on your own terms.”

      “Is there anything wrong with that?”

      “No. But there’s something to be said for going with the flow.”

      “I’d rather be digging a trench to redirect the flow the way I want it.”

      “At least you’re honest.”

      “I need to go by my place first to get some clean clothes. Is that a problem?”

      “Not at all, Your Highness,” he said, swinging her up into his arms before she could protest. “Your wish is my command.”

      * * *

      Pierce felt her slender arm curl around his neck and sighed inwardly. This was a heck of a time to feel unmistakable sexual attraction. He had a mystery to solve, and this woman was his only ally. He couldn’t afford to let her know that she seriously did it for him. Everything from her silky hair to her classic cheekbones to her pinup-girl legs turned him on. With her in his arms, it was a short jump to imagining her in his bed...naked...calling out his name when he made her come.

      Damn it. Lust was a messy complication. If he was smart, he’d ignore her evocative scent and treat her like an asexual friend. Trouble was, there was nothing asexual about Nikki Parrish. She didn’t flaunt her looks or really accentuate them in any way that he could tell, other than with a hint of mascara and some lip gloss. But her sexuality shone through, even when she was playing the uptight lawyer.

      Pierce had to move the seat all the way back to get his legs into Nikki’s small Sentra. She hadn’t complained once when he locked her office door and deposited her in the passenger seat of her car. He started the engine and shot a sideways glance at his unusually silent passenger. “What’s the