Just A Hint - Clint. Lori Foster
around her, hands reaching out. “What’s wrong with her?” and “Damn, she looks like she’s going to faint,” got said at about the same time that her vision narrowed, closing in.
The bruising male voices were tainted with alarm, and the idea that these big, rough men could be distressed over something so silly struck her.
Julie tried to shake her head and wasn’t sure if she succeeded or not. She’d never fainted in her life, and she didn’t want to faint on them now. She wasn’t a person who had fits of nerves. She was willful and headstrong and stubborn. Her father had always said so.
The world tilted, and she realized someone had scooped her up. Strange, how she felt so boneless, so empty.
“I’ve got you.” Clint’s voice seemed to come from far away, a hollow echo that swirled around her. “We’ll have you home safe and sound in no time.”
Home sounded wonderful—as long as he didn’t leave her yet. That thought brought a measure of panic that shocked her, but couldn’t be suppressed. She tried to grip him, knowing she had to tell him, that she had to explain.
“Easy. Just relax, Julie Rose.”
Clint’s mouth brushed her temple in what might have been a kiss, but was probably just an accident.
She sighed. “Okay.” Everything dimmed, darker and darker. She had to tell him now, before it was too late. “Clint?”
He bent to her. “Yes?”
It wasn’t easy, but she got the words out. “I…”
He started moving, carrying her along in his arms. “What is it, Julie Rose?”
His hold was lax, as if she weighed nothing at all. Her world tilted. “I’m not…engaged.”
Julie felt Clint pause, his arms tighten, and she faded into oblivion.
Clint sat on the floor of the minivan, her slim body partially held in his arms, her head resting on the crook of his knee. The unpaved back road was rough and rutted. She got jostled as Red drove, but she slept on.
He was starting to worry, and damn it, he didn’t want to worry. Worry was for old women and spineless men.
But she was such a small woman. Not short, but fine boned and delicate and, as he’d suspected, skinny. She had a long, elegant throat—though he’d never noticed a woman’s throat before. Now that he had noticed, he could only think of it as elegant.
Her arms were smooth, her thighs long, her rib cage narrow. His shirt hung on her, the neckline falling over her shoulder until it nearly exposed her breast again.
Sweat dampened Clint’s back. Using just his fingertips, he eased the shirt back up to her chin. He could take a lot, but he couldn’t take Julie Rose’s partial nudity. Seeing her breast once was enough. Not that he’d stared, because he wasn’t an animal. She’d been through enough without that.
But he hadn’t needed to stare. The impression of that soft, pale flesh, the small pink nipple, was burned into his brain, annoying him, stirring him on some dark, carnal level when all he should have felt was sympathy and the urge to protect.
And he did feel those things, damn it.
But he was also aware of her as a woman.
Earlier, when she’d hugged him, trusting him, he’d absorbed her femininity, the feel of her slender body in his arms, her breast, her stiffened nipple against his flesh, the way a dying man would absorb life.
She wouldn’t act so secure with him if she knew the path his mind had taken. Not that she ever would know, because no way in hell would he tell her, and he sure as certain wouldn’t act on it.
Clint cupped her cheeks, determined to keep his thoughts on the straight and narrow. His thumb brushed her jaw, hoping to revive her.
Mumbling a swear word and swatting at him, Julie Rose stirred.
Mojo turned in his seat and frowned in inquiry.
“She’s coming around.” Relieved, Clint poured a little more water on the towel and stroked her face. She’d been out too long, and he sensed it was her reluctance to face what had happened as much as any possible injury that kept her asleep. “C’mon, Julie Rose. Enough is enough, woman. Quit hiding.”
Her long, golden brown lashes fluttered, and her eyes blinked open. She stared up at him in blank confusion. Her eyes nearly crossed for a long moment before a flash of alarm made her gasp.
“It’s all right.” Clint held her still. “You’re safe, remember? I’m not about to let anyone hurt you.”
Her lips parted; her shoulders relaxed.
In the next heartbeat, she was holding him again, her arms raised so that she clasped his neck. For a woman coming out of a dead faint, she had surprising strength. Her hands slid up and locked around him, forcing him to lean closer to her.
It was the position of lovers, and Clint tried to ease away from her tenacious grip.
She didn’t allow it.
“What did you do to me?”
Giving up, Clint cuddled her closer, making her comfortable. “I saved you.” She needed to remember that.
“Yes, but afterward…What happened?” She looked at him, realized how they were embracing, and apparently decided to sit up.
“Easy.” Clint helped her, propping her against his leg. “I didn’t do anything to you, you just keeled over. Are you hurt?”
She scooted real close, so close he could smell her subtle scent. Her nails stung as she gripped his arm like a lifeline, and served a stark counterpoint to the forced calm in her expression.
“Hurt as in sore? Yes. Hurt as in damaged, no.” She looked around, jittery, uncertain, and trying real hard to hide it. “Where are we?”
Red spoke up. “In my van, heading home.”
“Where are…” She swallowed hard, squeezed closer. Her voice dropped. “Where are those men?”
Deliberately, the light inside the van was dim. Clint had wanted to give her the security of shadows to conceal her fear. He already knew that she didn’t like showing fear or upset. But earlier it had been bright, and he had seen the bruises on her pale flesh, the raw scrapes on her knees and elbows.
He pried her fingers loose and put his arm around her, hauling her into his side. She seemed to need his touch, so no one needed to know that he liked holding her.
“We had to leave them behind.”
Her eyes flared wide. “You just let them go?”
Clint didn’t want to bring up her fiancé again, or the possibility of a scandal, so he shrugged.
“Sort of. I left them to crawl into their car, which they’ve probably already done.”
Her face fell. “So they’re just getting away with…with taking me?”
“I punished them.” He stared at her steadily, making sure she understood. “I don’t normally maim people when I make a rescue. Not if I can help it.”
She bit her lips, then nodded. “And I appreciate it, I really do.”
She appreciated it? Clint didn’t know what the hell to make of that.
“But once they heal, they might…”
Cupping her cheek, Clint said, “No way would I let that happen. Mojo dicked with their engine just enough to make sure it’d only make it a few miles before it breaks down.”
“What good will that do?”
“It’ll make it easier for the cops to find them.”
“The cops are looking for them?”
Red