Dangerous Attraction Romantic Suspense Boxed Set (255 page)

“Why should I?”

She made a scoffing sound. “You always do what you want to, don’t you?”

“That’s the way you see it?”

“Yes.”

“You’re wrong.”

Stephanie stared from one of them to the other, a look of shock on her face.

“How did you get here?”

He shrugged.

“Go back where you belong,” his older sister whispered.

Wishing he knew exactly where that was, he backed out the door and closed it.

Good lord, what was going on here? He’d seen a glimpse of his own past. Well, not really, because he certainly didn’t remember his adult self coming in to interrupt Christmas nineteen ninety-three.

But then he hadn’t looked up from the game. The present-day Jordan Campbell had been talking to June and Stephanie, not himself.

If he opened other doors, would he see other long-ago scenes?

Like, could he find his parents? What if he could tell his mother to make sure she got a mammogram? Would that keep her from getting breast cancer? The idea was tempting, but he didn’t think he would find reality behind the doors. This was more like the scene with Hannah. Not real but not exactly fake, either.

With a sigh, he turned around and walked rapidly back to the room where he’d started, the one that looked like his bedroom back at Campbell’s Reach.

He went inside, kicked off his shoes and lay down on the bed. He didn’t want to think about why he was here or what it meant. And he didn’t want to think about the three kids on the sofa. Instead he let his thoughts turn to Hannah, the woman who said she was his nurse. But she could get into the mind of an unconscious patient.

That seemed crazy on the face of it. But the only other alternative was that he’d conjured her up. From where? He was sure he’d never seen her before. And he was also sure he couldn’t have come up with that precise combination of beauty and brains on his own.

They’d kissed, and he’d cupped her breast. That had turned him on, and now he wanted to make love with her. Which he was pretty sure was a novelty in this place.

He thought back over the time he’d been here. As far as he could remember, he’d been numb and unresponsive since … his accident, if that’s what it really was. Hannah had brought him alive in a way he couldn’t explain, and now as he thought about kissing her and touching her, his cock hardened.

As he lay there, he kept thinking about Hannah. He didn’t want to think about what she’d told him. Instead he focused on the other part. The physical part. And really, wasn’t that the right thing to do? If he could build up enough sensations, maybe he could wake up.

He might be fooling himself with that assumption, but he went with it anyway because it was a lot more appealing than her urgent message. He’d loved kissing her. Loved the taste of her mouth. The feel of her tongue.

He thought about covering her mouth with his and ravishing her with a greed that he could hardly control.

When he’d wrung all the juice he could out of kissing her, he moved on. She’d been wearing a very buttoned-up gown. He switched it to another one—the color of café au lait … with only ribbons for straps and lace covering her breasts and the whole thing so sheer he could see the thatch of surprisingly soft blond hair covering her mound. A lot of women shaved down there these days. He was glad she didn’t.

Grinning, he imagined undressing her… pushing those skinny straps off her shoulders and down her arms until those spectacular breasts spilled out—into his waiting hands.

And meanwhile, she’d be unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders, her small hands sending a shock wave over his skin everywhere her fingers brushed and caressed him. Like his nipples. That would be good. And then unzipping his pants and reaching lower to clasp his aching cock. Or maybe he would yank his own shirt off.

He was driving himself crazy, and he had to stop. Or did he? This was a dream, or like a dream. He could do anything he wanted, and what would be the harm?

Yet he knew what was wrong. He didn’t want to lie here by himself, imagining making love to Hannah. He wanted to do it for real. And not just in a coma dream.

He smiled to himself. Waking up so he could take her in his arms gave him a goal, something he was sure he hadn’t had since he’d found himself in this shadow of his bedroom.

* * *

By the end of breakfast, Hannah was exhausted. After being shown the kitchen and given permission to get herself snacks or hot drinks, she wanted to go upstairs and fall into bed. Instead, she went into the den, where she found Richard working on his laptop.

“Is there some way I could get e-mail here?” she asked.

“Did you bring a computer?”

“A tablet.”

He looked surprised. “Why does a nurse need a tablet?”

“Well, to read books. But also my Uncle Frank is in his 80’s. I worry about him, and I told him I’d keep in touch.”

“What’s your uncle’s name?”

“Frank Donaldson.”

“And where does he live?”

“San Francisco. Can I bring my tablet?”

Richard sighed. “I might have a problem hooking you up to the house network. You can borrow my laptop for a short time,” he said grudgingly.

“Okay.”

Richard passed her the laptop, then got up and stood behind her while she got into her Web mail. She skimmed most of the messages headlines and went right to one from “Frank Donaldson.”

“I arrived here okay. I’m fine,” she told him. “I’m on that special assignment I told you about. My patient is still unconscious. I’ll be here until he’s better.” She didn’t mention any alternative to that, and she couldn’t think of a way to tell Frank that the gun had gone missing.

Richard was behind her, reading the message, and she gave him plenty of time to do it so he could see how innocuous it was. Finally, she hit “reply,” clicked out of her mail, and handed him back his computer.

“Thank you,” she said as warmly as she could. “I probably should go up and get some sleep so I’ll be ready for my next shift.”

“Good idea.”

She left the room, feeling his gaze on her back, and knowing that as soon as she was out of sight, he would check up on Frank Donaldson, which wouldn’t be a problem. He had an address near Union Square, his bio said he was a retired engineer, and further investigation would show he had a niece named Hannah Andrews, a nurse.

She’d expected to sleep only a few hours, but she didn’t wake until around five. After a real shower, she did her hair back into a bun and changed into her uniform, then had a quick dinner in the kitchen before returning to the sickroom, where she told Nurse Fahrenhold she would take over.

The other woman was glad to be relieved early.

After reading her notes, which said the patient was stable but still unresponsive, Hannah changed Jordan’s IV and checked his vital signs. They were still stable, and she wrote down the information.

Having finished the routine tasks, she stood by his bed and looked at him. “How are you?” she asked quietly.

He didn’t answer, and she reached out to smooth back a lock of his dark hair.

“I think you’re good for him,” a woman said behind her.

She whirled and saw that it was Stephanie. Lord, the woman moved like a cat.

“I wish you people would stop sneaking up on me,” she blurted, then regretted it. Pressing a hand to her forehead, she said, “I’m sorry. I’m still finding my way around here, and that’s at least the third time since I arrived that I’ve been startled by someone I didn’t know was behind me.”

“I like to sit with Jordan in the late afternoon,” Stephanie said. “You could take a walk through the gardens if you like.”

Hannah hesitated. She would like the chance to get out of the house, if only to clear her mind so she could think better. But when she cast a glance at Jordan, she was certain she saw a frown flicker across his brow.

“Thanks,” she said, “but I think I’ll just stay here. Maybe I can get out in the morning.”

Stephanie looked surprised—and frustrated. But she masked the negative expression quickly, adding to Hannah’s growing conviction that Jordan wasn’t safe here.

“You’re very dedicated,” Stephanie said.

“Well…” Hannah flapped a hand in a dismissive gesture. “That’s why I’m a nurse. I wanted to help sick people.”

The other woman cocked one eyebrow. “Is that it? Or are you forming a bond with your patient?”

“A bond?” She gave what she hoped passed as a bewildered look. “I just met him.”

Stephanie’s expression remained suspicious, but she said, “All right, then. I’ll see you in the morning.” Turning, she left the room.

Hannah exhaled the breath she’d been holding. She wished she could build a fortress around Jordan’s room, a place to keep him safe.

But safe from what? Or from whom? Was Stephanie only pretending concern?

She made a mental list of everyone she’d met and tried to figure out who was the biggest threat.

Richard had seemed hostile. Paula, his wife had come across as neutral. Stephanie seemed friendly one moment and hostile the next—but maybe the hostility was directed at the new nurse, and not Jordan. And Stephanie was the one who had saved his life.

What about June, the other sister? She was mostly staying in the background.

The housekeeper, Mrs. Estes, had warned her about the family. And the handyman, Carl Padilla, had seemed odd. Maybe she should have asked him who had told him to rearrange the furniture—and why.

Oh wait. There was also Nurse Fahrenhold. She seemed okay if somewhat abrupt with Hannah. And she appeared to be taking adequate care of Jordan.

That was the cast of characters, but they might not be what they seemed. When she tried to figure them out, she felt as if she were trying to walk through a fog, and she had to be very careful, lest she stumble and fall—off the edge of a cliff.

Methodically, she went about her duties, checking her patient’s IV drip and rechecking his vital signs. “I’ll be here until the day nurse comes back,” she told him. “Has your family been this hostile since they brought you home?”

Again, he was silent, and she felt her anxiety level jump.

Reaching for his hand, she clasped her fingers around his and squeezed. Was it her imagination, or did he squeeze back?

“Jordan?” she murmured.

His lips moved, but no words came out. Elation leaped inside her. She was sure now that he was trying to get through to her, but he couldn’t batter his way into the real world.

Yet they had communicated on a very intimate level in the hotel that was part of his dream world.

Could she get back there—with him?

And could he help her figure out which of the people here wanted him out of the way permanently?

She glanced toward the door. Once again she wanted to lock it, and once again she decided that would look strange.

As before, she placed the stethoscope and the blood pressure cuff where she could grab them if she needed to look like she was doing her normal nursing job. Then she leaned over Jordan, laying her head on his shoulder, taking his hand and opening her mind to him. This time it was easier. From one instant to the next, she was back in the hotel hallway. This time she was dressed differently. Her uniform had been replaced by a negligee unlike anything she’d ever owned. The sheer confection was the color of heavy cream. It had ribbon straps, lacy cups that barely covered her breasts, and a wide band that emphasized her narrow waist. The gauzy skirt swirled around her legs. Below the hem, her feet were bare, and her toenails were painted with delicate pink polish. The only thing about her appearance that was the same as the previous dream was her hair. As before, it was lying in soft waves around her head and shoulders.

Had she dreamed up the new details? Or had Jordan done it? That was an interesting question.

Quickly she started for the room she knew was his. Before she reached it, the door opened, and he stepped into the hallway.

He was wearing the dark slacks, but he’d changed into a long-sleeved burgundy shirt that draped softly in a way that told her it must be silk. The top two or three buttons were open, revealing a good deal of the crisp, dark hair on his broad chest. After seeing him in his sickbed, it took her breath away to encounter him as he stood before her, strong and powerful and so very sexy.

“You came back,” he said.

“I had to.”

“How long have I been … in a coma?” he asked, obviously more interested in his condition than he had been before.

“A little over three weeks,” she told him.

He winced. “That’s not good.”

“We’ll wake you up.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. But you’re already more responsive.”

“How?” he demanded.

“Your expression changed in response to something Stephanie said. You squeezed my hand.”

He made a scoffing sound. “That’s not much.”

“It is, compared to what you’ve been like. Or at least as far as I’ve been told.”

He walked toward her, stopping about an inch away to pull her close, wrapping her in a warm embrace.

She had come here determined to ask him questions about his relatives, but he made that impossible when he brought his mouth down on her for a long, hungry kiss.

“I was lying in bed, thinking about making love with you,” he said.

“You were?”

“Yes.”

He pulled her closer.

“We shouldn’t,” she whispered.

“Why not?”

“Because … you’re my patient.”

“And you want to give me what I need.”

Chapter Nine

Before Hannah could object, Jordan maneuvered her into the bedroom and wrapped her in his arms. She should pull away, but she didn’t have the will to do it, and he must know that.

Stepping away from her, he drew the drapes across the window so that the room was in shadow. Then he switched on a lamp beside the bed.

“I want to see you in that gown,” he murmured.

“Did you … have me wear it?”

He grinned. “I thought it would be perfect for you.” He came toward her, stopping a few feet away, his eyes scanning her body, stopping at her breasts, the triangle of blond hair at the top of her legs, his gaze making her tingle.