Sleeping Beauty Suspect. Dani Sinclair

and most of the ugly bruise. He grinned as he decided to skip socks as well. The shirt was enough for decency.

      Obviously, she knew he was the one who’d pulled her from the fire, but how had she known who he was or where he lived? She must have come here to thank him.

      Flynn snapped his jeans and left the room. He found her still standing, and much closer to the front door. She was staring at the line of picture frames on top of the bookcase that displayed his family.

      Her head jerked up at his approach.

      “Why don’t we start over?” he suggested. “I’m Flynn O’Shay. And you are…?”

      “I’d rather not say.”

      That stopped him for a full second. “Why? Is it a secret?”

      She began to cough again. He flipped on the recessed lights overhead and turned back toward the kitchen to pull a glass from the cupboard next to the sink. “Is that why you skipped out of the hospital this morning? So you wouldn’t have to leave your name?”

      Filling the glass with cold water from the jug in the refrigerator, he carried it over to her. She leaned weakly against the wall as the painful coughing wracked her.

      “You do realize you shouldn’t be running around after all that smoke you swallowed. You need to give your lungs a chance to heal.”

      She accepted the glass and managed a few sips before trying to speak again. “Thank you.”

      “You’re welcome. Why don’t you sit down? You didn’t come all this way just to cough at me.”

      She handed him the glass and their fingers touched. Soft skin, beautifully manicured nails without polish and still no ring. He was strangely pleased by the latter. She drew her hand back quickly. There was a tint of color in her cheeks.

      While her outfit was casual, he had a feeling it had cost more than most of the contents in his house. There was something classy about her that said, I’m not from your part of town. Too bad she was out of his league because she intrigued him.

      “What happened to me?”

      Her abrupt question rocked him back. He ran a hand over his jaw in a bid for time to think, and rediscovered the bristles. No wonder she looked wary enough to bolt. He was not making a great first impression here. Flynn tried for a light approach.

      “Okay, you got me. What happened to you?”

      Her glare should have been registered as a weapon. He held out pacifying hands. “I gather that wasn’t a trick question? Okay, look, before you get a crick in your neck staring up at me, have a seat. The furniture may not look like much, but it’s comfy.”

      To prove it, he went over, set her water on the coffee table and plopped down on the recliner, praying she wouldn’t scoot out the door. After a moment’s indecision, she came and perched on the edge of the chair across from him.

      Now that he had enough light to study her features, he saw that circles darkened those striking eyes. A furrow was etching itself between her eyebrows. He put her age in her early twenties and revised it up a notch after considering her for a moment.

      “Were you doing drugs?”

      “What?!”

      Outrage started her coughing again. He got up and handed her the glass.

      “Sorry. That was the speculation I heard at the hospital. I take it you weren’t doing drugs?”

      “I don’t…use drugs,” she got out between coughs. Her outrage was too genuine to be faked.

      “Got it. Didn’t seem real likely. I mean, why get all dressed up to go to an abandoned house and mess with something like that?”

      Flynn averted his stare from the rise and fall of her chest as she struggled for breath. He waited while she got the coughing under control.

      “How did you come to be inside that house?”

      In answer, she shook her head. The hint of fear he’d glimpsed at the hospital again lurked in the silvery blue of her eyes. She was definitely scared and trying not to let it show.

      “Okay, let’s come at this from a different direction. What’s the last thing you remember?”

      “Getting ready to go to bed.”

      “In an evening gown?”

      She managed a scowl before concentration pleated her forehead. “I came home after the party. I was having a glass of wine. The doorbell rang.” She stopped. “I don’t remember anything after that.”

      “Nothing?”

      “Why would I make that up?”

      “Okay, relax. If you get all worked up you’ll start coughing again. So you came home after some party.”

      “My father’s sixtieth birthday party.”

      He nodded. “Alone?”

      She offered him a troubled look. “A…friend dropped me off.”

      Flynn wanted to ask about her “friend,” but decided not to press his luck. For some reason she aroused his protective instincts and he suspected she wasn’t the type to appreciate that. He got the distinct impression that she was used to taking care of herself.

      “So you were having a glass of wine and someone rang the doorbell. You went to answer it and that’s the last thing you remember?”

      She nodded. It didn’t take a genius to see she was straining to remember more.

      “Are you prone to seizures?”

      The glare was hot enough to sizzle. Flynn spread his hands. “Hey, I had to ask. What about dizzy spells?”

      “No!”

      “How much wine did you drink?”

      “I wasn’t drunk.”

      “That wasn’t my question.”

      Her eyes darkened along with her scowl. “I didn’t come here to answer questions.”

      “Why did you come here?”

      “I wanted to know what you saw.”

      “Smoke, mostly.”

      She stood. “You can’t help me.”

      “I did save your life today,” he challenged mildly without rising.

      She hesitated and inclined her head. “Yes, you did. I wanted to thank you.”

      “No problem. That’s why the county pays us the big bucks.”

      “They do?”

      He grinned. “Nope, but we live in hope.”

      She didn’t seem to know how to handle his teasing.

      “Your bruises, are they from when you fell through the roof?”

      “How did you know about that?”

      “The entire rescue was on the news.” She sounded disgusted. “That’s where I got your name.”

      Scellioli!

      Sally had told Flynn there was video footage. “Well don’t you think a rescue justifies telling me your first name? Last I heard they were calling you Sleeping Beauty. While it’s catchier than Jane Doe, it’s not a moniker I’d want.”

      Her skin darkened with color. She started to cough again. “Come on, Beauty, we can work on the name thing in the kitchen. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t eaten all day.”

      “Don’t call me that!” she managed to gasp out between coughs.

      “I didn’t coin it,” he protested, “and believe me, it’s better than what the guys at the station house are going