She glanced around the living room and hated the musty smell. Beggars can’t be choosers, she remembered. Finding the rental on such short notice in the local paper had been pure luck. The farmhouse was twenty years out of date, the included furniture needed to be hauled to the city dump, but someone had tried to clean it. No cobwebs adorned the corners and dust didn’t cover every surface. The man she’d called from a disposable phone she’d bought had said the electricity and gas were on. He used the place a few times a year to bring his friends out to go deer hunting.

“We’re in a farmhouse. It’s not the nicest place I’ve ever stayed but I paid cash. The owner never saw my face so he can’t identify me and I told him I needed a love nest.” She grinned. “I’ve had to make up some wild stories lately. The guy at the adult store thinks I’m doing some crazy bodybuilder who likes being chained to a bed and the owner of this house thinks I’m having an affair with a married guy while his wife is on a month-long cruise to Europe. I told him I needed somewhere no one would see us together.”

She turned to face the sleeping man. Her gaze lingered on the scar marring his cheek, then the one along his jawline. They were older ones, the fresher wounds he’d come in with had healed, but those two were the worst.

“I have a disposable cell phone, a different one, charging in the kitchen. If you get into trouble we’re just twenty minutes away from Homeland. They can reach us quickly if I place a call to them. I brought emergency equipment in case you need it. I just wish I could have stolen a heart monitor. I’d feel better if you were hooked to one.”

He didn’t move, just breathed, and depression settled inside Allison. She had a feeling it was going to be lonely while she waited to see what would happen with her constantly at his side.

“I’m going to sleep on the couch in here. We’re going to be fine.” Another shiver ran down her spine from the cold. “The weather called for rain but the temperatures should warm within a few days.” She stroked his cheek with her fingers. “I hope you’re warm enough. There’s no dryer here so I can’t heat your blankets.”

She turned away and walked to the suitcase she’d stashed inside the house when she’d brought supplies to care for 880. She nearly froze when she stripped out of her clothes to put on a pair of sweats and a loose sleep shirt. She sat on the couch to stare into the fireplace flames and sighed. There wasn’t a television and she doubted it would have gotten reception anyway.

The folded blanket wasn’t as thick as the ones she’d given 880 but she curled up on the couch with it, trying to get warm. It didn’t work. She was still really cold. It just got worse as time passed. Her gaze drifted to the hospital bed, worry ate at her over his comfort and she rose to her feet.

She lifted his blanket a little to feel his bare chest. He was really warm, his skin responded to her cold touch with gooseflesh and she bit her lip. Her feet were chilled even though she stood on carpet while she debated.

“Oh hell. I want you to get used to my scent. At least I won’t worry about one of us freezing to death.” She rounded his bed to the side where she hadn’t inserted the IV, gently lowered the railing and climbed onto the bed after lifting the covers. “These hospital beds aren’t roomy, are they?”

She twisted enough to pull up the rail. With the limited space she had it wasn’t easy to tuck the blanket over both of them. He was really large and warm as she snuggled tightly against his side, careful not to disturb him.

Warmth invaded her where they touched. Her hand lifted to press against the middle of his chest and each breath he took made it rise and fall. He was fine for the time being. Their body heat combined would keep them both warm through the night. Exhaustion settled in.

This is crazy. She admitted that. Regret lingered over her hasty decision but it was done. Tomorrow she’d worry about what to do next. She just needed some sleep. Each breath he drew rubbed her hand on his chest and she inhaled his scent. Soap and the hair products they used, plus something faintly masculine that wasn’t cologne, teased her nose.

She was attracted to 880. Guilt ate at her for the way her body hugged his a little tighter than necessary. The idea of him healthy and awake, lying in bed with her, made her stomach flutter. That reaction shamed her. Noticing that a patient was good-looking was unavoidable since she had good vision but the way she enjoyed being so close to him was flat-out wrong. She knew that yet couldn’t stop feeling that way.

Chapter Three

Confusion gripped 880 as he became aware of things slowly. Something pressed closer to his right side, a light weight rested on his chest and he tried to sniff to identify the source. His body didn’t obey his command. He couldn’t see since his eyes wouldn’t open or it was pitch dark. Alarm struck next when he tried to lift his hand to his face. It remained unresponsive, as though it wasn’t attached to his body any longer.

He concentrated on the weight resting over his chest that seemed familiar for some reason but he couldn’t figure out why. He took several deep breaths, each one helped him learn the shape against him as he judged it by feel. He figured out it was a hand lying on his chest and part of an arm. Joy filled him suddenly, a sense of relief that 46 touched him.

She was well but that elation faded as something sinister tugged at his memory. He tried to remember what caused that bad emotion but his mind fogged. He must be drugged. They’d paralyzed his body again, which meant he must have fought the technicians. He hated them. He tried to growl to demonstrate his protest but failed.