Promise Her (11 page)

“You have no choice,” Douglas explained. “Mom laid down the law. And you know as well as the rest of us when she does that, we listen. She wanted to take you to the ranch and pamper you.” He held out a spoonful of soup. She allowed him to slip the spoon into her mouth, and despite everything else, felt an erotic thrill at the intimacy.

“We couldn’t let her. If someone
is
out to hurt you it would put Donovan’s children in danger. The same with TJ and Max.” He chuckled. “You should have seen TJ when we told her you couldn’t go home with her. She turned so red in the face Max had to get her a glass of water. You’re better off here.” He stuck another spoonful of soup at her. “Besides. I’ll take good care of you.”

Lisa shut her eyes in defeat. No matter what she said, the family was going to take care of her, and Douglas had been elected to do the job. Bet he loved that.

Opening her eyes to slits, she watched him as he spooned soup, brought it to her mouth.

He seemed different in a way she couldn’t define.

Another spoonful.

“Enough.”

“Not enough.”

She held up her hand. “For now.”

He put it down. He looked so handsome. For a moment she forgot her aches and pains and just looked at him. His chin jutted in determination, and she knew that until she felt better, she was stuck here.

“I’m going to be fine, you know.” Despite her aches and pains, she was lucky. No broken bones, no cracked skull.

“You were almost killed,” he argued.

“I took a tumble.”

How was she going to endure this? She’d see him every morning, every night. Just like she'd dreamed. But not like this. Not as a burden, certainly not someone he had to take care of. This was a nightmare she had to figure a way out of.

She’d get well as quickly as possible. After a good night’s rest, she could go to her own apartment. She swung her legs over the bed and stood.

A moan escaped before she could stop it. The room spun in circles. Grabbing the headboard, she steadied herself, then slowly sat back down.

“Take it easy,” Douglas said as he reached out to grab her. “You took a bad tumble. You won’t be on your feet quite this fast.”

“Watch me,” she mumbled. “Where are my clothes?”

“They were a mess, so the nurse gave you scrubs to wear home. TJ brought some of your stuff by earlier. They’re in the drawer.”

He went to get them, looked back at her. “What do you want?”

“Did she bring my sweats? T-shirt?”

He scrounged for a minute. “These?”

“Yeah.”

He brought them over. “Can I help?”

“I can do it,” she insisted. He wasn’t about to dress her.

But once she had the sweats and T-shirt in hand, she realized her shoulder and arm were hurting so badly, it wouldn’t be easy.

Lisa took stock of the aches and pains that radiated up and down the left side of her body.

She remembered when she felt her saddle slip and knew she was going to fall, how her boot caught in the stirrup, how she fought to get loose, then blacked out. By some miracle Sugarplum hadn’t stepped on her.

She shut her eyes in misery.

“Are you all right?”

“Just great, Douglas. This never happened. When I open my eyes, we’ll be at Papasita’s eating fajitas and drinking margaritas because I won the barrel racing competition.”

He ran a finger down her cheek, brushed hair behind an ear. She turned away. She was being snarky and Douglas didn’t deserve it.

She opened her eyes and stared into his very green ones. “I’m sorry, Douglas. I didn’t mean to be nasty. You’re just trying to help.”

Turning, she looked out the window. It was a lot better than looking at him.

And a heck of a lot better than wondering why this had happened.

Chapter Nine

Douglas didn’t know what to do.

He was totally out of his element.

He didn’t think Lisa could change clothes without help, but could he undress and dress her? He didn’t think so. Perhaps she
should
have gone home with TJ. At least his sister could help her in the bathroom, help her into her nightclothes.

She was looking out the window as if she wanted to escape. Maybe she did.

“Let’s get you changed.”

“I can do it.”

“Okay. I’ll stand here in case you need me.”

She glared at him with those big, beautiful, blue eyes and his heart turned over. She was so independent. This had to be killing her.

“This is only temporary, Lisa. You’ll be back to yourself in no time. Right now you’re down, so let your family help you.”

“Then help me out of these scrubs. They itch.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Why don’t you cut them off? I won’t use them again.”

“Good idea.”

He all but ran from the room, was back in seconds with a pair of scissors.

Starting at the back, he cut from hem to neck. The top separated. No bra, just smooth, creamy skin. He swallowed hard. “Okay. That’s done. Slip it off.”

She grabbed the T-shirt in her right hand, held it to her breast and let the top fall to the floor.

Now what? He’d undressed women before, but never dressed one. “Let me help with that.”

“I can do it,” she insisted, as she put her good arm through a sleeve.

Even looking at that perfect back, he could tell she was in pain. She leaned toward her left side as if that would help. What could he do? She needed more help than he could give. Maybe she needed to go back to the doctor.

Her naked back was within kissing distance. He groaned to himself. Felt his body stir. He shut his eyes.
This can’t be happening.
He reminded himself that Lisa was his sister.

Then why was perspiration running down his back? Why was he so nervous? If this were TJ, he would be teasing her unmercifully. With Lisa, he couldn’t even talk.

“I think I need help.”

So did he.

He came around to stand in front of her. Her eyes were glazed with pain. What an idiot he was.

In all the years she’d known Douglas, they had never been in such close proximity, and certainly, if you didn’t count bikinis, she’d never been half-naked.
And she had to stay here until she was better?
How could she when just looking at him made her weak? As if she weren’t weak enough. He stood in front of her now with a look of panic on his face. How much worse could this get?

“We’re going to have to start over,” he said, gently taking the shirt and sliding it down her arm.

She went hot all over. An erotic tingle followed the movement.
Please don’t let my goose bumps show.
She risked a quick glance. His mouth was set in a determined line that meant he wanted this over with, too. He was being all brotherly while her thoughts were anything but sisterly.

“Put your injured arm in first.”

She did as he asked.

“Now the other.”

Even though it hurt, she quickly pulled the shirt down and over her breasts.

His breath hissed out.

Oh, God. Now she’d embarrassed him.

The only thing she could do at this point was pretend it meant nothing, even though her skin burned at every touch, every look. At least for now, why couldn’t her reaction to him be of the sisterly kind?

“I can manage the sweats, thanks.”

“It’s time to take another pain med.” He handed her a pill. “If you don’t take it, you won’t sleep.”

“You’re probably right.” She took the pill.

“Anything else?”

She shook her head. She wanted him out of the room so she could think.

“Douglas?”

He turned at the door, the tray balanced in one hand. “Yeah?”

“Why did my saddle slip? Someone tampered with it, didn’t they?”

She waited for an answer, clearly seeing he didn’t want to tell her.

“I want the truth, Douglas.”

“Yeah, someone cut the cinch.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Someone wanted to hurt her? Why? She hadn’t done anything wrong that she knew of.

He came back into the room, laid the tray back on the table. “Don’t worry about it now. Max is working on it. So is Darin. Starting Monday morning I will too. Right now, let’s concentrate on getting you well.”

For a swift moment, she felt the room swim around her. When it slowed, she looked at him. “Why would anyone do such a thing?”

“That’s what we have to find out.”

She grabbed his arm. “Check around. Someone had to have seen something.” She tried to remember who was there at the time, but was too tired to think. “It must have happened while I went with Mike and Owen for a ginger ale before my competition. It’s the only time I left Sugarplum.”

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Get some rest. Let us worry about this.”

He picked up the tray again and left.

This was too surreal. How did he think she could rest when someone out there wanted to hurt her?

For a moment she sat there, reliving that staggering reality. Reliving that awful moment when she'd realized she was going to fall and couldn’t stop it from happening.

Putting a hand over her eyes, she tried to block it all out. Maybe then she wouldn’t remember the way it felt when Sugarplum dragged her. She groaned. She was an experienced horsewoman, yet she’d been thrown and dragged in front of thousands of people. Embarrassing, but not nearly as bad as Douglas helping her into her clothes. He’d seen her half-naked for goodness sakes. The thought sent heat boiling up again.

She struggled out of the pants part of the scrubs and wiggled into her sweats. Better.

But she was way too weak. She lowered herself onto the bed, as the pain that was real and the pain inside her battled for dominance.

She wanted to curl into a ball and let it all out. She could have been killed last night. Instead she was here in Douglas’ house, and he was waiting on her hand and foot.

Both a nightmare. And right now, she didn’t know which was the worst.

This was certainly not the dream she’d had for years of the two of them falling in love, marrying, having children. It was a one-sided love affair she worried would never change.

She swiped away her tears. She’d be better tomorrow, then she’d leave.

If the family let her.

They were so protective. If they thought she was in danger, they’d keep her under lock and key.

She had to figure out who was behind this. And why.

Harold Wheatley. Did Harold think if she died in an accident the cops would close their investigation? After all, the cops already suspected her. It would be an easy out for him.

Lisa was too tired to think. The drugs made her sluggish. She needed to sleep, forget the pain, forget she was in Douglas’ house, forget someone had tried to hurt her.

As the meds took effect, sweet oblivion took her beyond her problems.

****

Douglas sat the tray down on the counter, leaned over and took a deep breath. He’d seen naked women before. So why did Lisa’s creamy bare skin, those perfect breasts evoke such a response?

He’d wanted to stroke and kiss every inch. To soothe and comfort, he told himself as he wiped sweat from his forehead. He was lying. For a swift moment there, he’d wanted her like a man wants a woman. He had to get better control of himself. This wasn’t like him at all.

Helping her dress had been both pleasure and pain.

Though Lisa was like another sister, it had taken every ounce of control to act halfway normal. If that had been TJ in the other room, he could guarantee he might be embarrassed, but he’d also be tormenting the heck out of her.

He splashed water on his face. He couldn’t torment Lisa if his life depended on it. Hell, he couldn’t utter a word for the lump in his throat.

He kept telling himself he could do this. But seeing Lisa suffer, and being unable to do anything other than hand her a pill, made him fighting mad. Who the hell did this to her?

His hands shook as he ran water over the dirty dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. Who was responsible? Who sawed through the cinch just far enough so the saddle would slip and Lisa would fall? Did that person want to kill her? Or did they just want to hurt her? Get her out of the way for a while?

Whoever it was obviously knew better than to cause a clean cut. They wanted the cut to look as if the cinch was worn. Smart, but not smart enough. Lisa was known for her careful attention to detail.

His job was to find the connection between Tempest’s death and Lisa’s accident. Then he’d find the perp.

Going into the living room, he flipped on the TV and watched the news. They had a clip on the rodeo. His heart beat faster when they showed a short segment of Lisa’s accident. He leaned closer. There she was, making the turn, falling. It was as if it were happening again. He felt the same fear, the same burst of helplessness.

When the newscaster went to the political front, he turned off the TV and sat there willing the fear to subside.

Lisa was safe in the next room, he told himself. He got out of the chair to check on her again, saw that she was asleep. Good. The meds were working.

He scrounged around the kitchen for something to eat. He’d have to go shopping tomorrow. Peanut butter and crackers would make as good a meal as any. But Douglas couldn’t make them go down. He didn’t know if he was more worried about Lisa or about the feelings that were emerging.

For the next couple of hours, he attacked the Internet. First, he looked up Tempest, gleaned all he could from Google, which wasn’t much. Mostly, she was mentioned as the wife of Harold Wheatley, Committee Coordinator of Houston’s Livestock Show and Rodeo. There were several pictures of the two of them at parties and fundraisers. Then he did the same for Harold where he found nothing but his bio.

He checked on Lisa one more time before he went to his room and took a shower, then slid between the sheets. He wanted to think about this. It didn’t make sense for anyone to hurt Lisa if she were the prime suspect in Tempest’s death unless something else was going on.

If both incidents were connected as he suspected, what was that something else?

Ever since Tempest’s death, Lisa had been asking questions daily at the rodeo. Did that anger the killer?