THE BACHELOR'S BED Read online

  He hadn't had a friend since, not a real one.

  There had been no emotional attachments for him. He'd wanted nothing to worry about. Nothing to hurt over.

  And now Lani was looking at him with those sweet, caring eyes, the ones that told him she was quickly becoming much more than a temporary situation in his life.

  It scared him. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

  "I would never hurt you, Colin," she whispered. "I'd be careful with your heart."

  "Don't," he said hoarsely, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "I can't do this."

  Something flickered in her expression. Hurt, and even more devastating, disappointment. But she nodded and turned from him.

  She reached for the lock, then hesitated, staring at the closed door for a long moment. "You'll have to try sometime, you know," she said softly to the wood. "You can't hide forever."

  Watch me, he thought, hardening both his mind and his heart before he followed her out.

  * * *

  Lani came to Colin's house that night, her car loaded with ammunition.

  Ammunition to make the house a home.

  She had four more plants, two lovely watercolors painted by a local artist who was a casual friend of hers, and a framed picture of Colin she'd got from one of the recent newspaper articles written on him.

  Her heart was armed, too, with compassion and patience. She hoped it would be enough.

  Colin wasn't home. No surprise. Most likely he was still at his office, attempting to hide from what was happening between them.

  She knew she was doing it again, pretending that this wasn't pretend. She could get seriously hurt that way and she knew it, but somehow she couldn't seem to help herself.

  She couldn't explain it, this strange elation she felt, but for the first time in twenty-odd years, she was prepared to give her heart away. Hell, she was prepared to toss it away, hard and long, straight at Colin.

  She couldn't wait until he was willing to catch it, but she didn't fool herself, she had lots of work ahead of her. Colin was no more ready to accept what was happening between them than she'd been only days before.

  She had come to a rather startling realization. She wanted a real relationship. Not the superficial ones of her past, where she could, and did, walk away before any attachments occurred. She'd been doing that nearly all her life.

  It was far too late to walk away from Colin.

  How he would panic at her thoughts. He'd hate that she was thinking of a future beyond the pretense. What had happened in his marriage to make him so leery?

  How could Lani convince him that it was okay to have loved and lost, but that he had to try again? Convince him that without love his heart would wither and die? That she knew this firsthand, and that together they could help one another?

  While the house was quiet, she spread out the plants and the pictures, attacking the living room first. The other rooms would follow, gradually, and she could hardly imagine how wonderful the house would be when it was homey and warm.

  But for now, she'd start with this room. It was crying out for attention. The floors were bare wood, beautiful but … well, bare. The walls were a sophisticated, cool cream, and also far too stark. The brick fireplace was empty, too, and she had just the picture to hang over it.

  Standing on a stepladder, she climbed high, hammer in hand. A dreamy smile crossed her face. It would be so lovely in the winter, she thought, with a fire blazing. Pretty pictures on the walls, some thick rugs tossed here and there. She and Colin, together, enjoying it.

  Her dreamy smile grew into a full-fledged grin. She couldn't wait.

  Since the stepladder wasn't quite tall enough, she got up on the very tippy top of it, where a bright orange sticker warned her against doing that very thing.

  She stretched with all her might, the hammer precariously balanced in one hand, a nail in the other. She was still grinning, ridiculously happy, anticipating the long, hot night ahead in Colin's arms.

  "What the hell are you doing?"

  At the unexpected, angry voice—Colin's voice—Lani jerked.

  And fell.

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  « ^ »

  It all happened too fast. One moment Colin was staring at Lani and her hammer, the next she was far too still, in a terrifyingly crumpled heap on the floor.

  Colin hit his knees on the stone hearth beside her, his hands cupping her face. "Lani!" Oh, God, she didn't move. "Lani!"

  His heart was in his throat. She was lying too quietly. Quickly, he ran his hands over her body, but he didn't find anything broken.

  Then he discovered the already huge bump on the back of her head, and let out one concise oath. "Lani? Come on, baby. Open your eyes."

  She did, slowly, blinking in confusion and Colin took his first breath since he'd watched her tumble off the ladder.

  "Don't get up," he demanded when she tried to sit. He held her down. "Don't move yet."

  But she shifted, and at the movement her skin went green and pasty. "Nope, you're absolutely right," she said weakly, wincing. "No moving." And she closed her eyes.

  Panic scampered up his spine. "Lani!"

  "Shh." She groaned. "Please, don't … don't talk. My head is going to explode."

  "Okay, that's it. Come on." As gently as he could, he scooped her into his arms.

  Her head lolled against his chest and she moaned softly, lifting her hands to hold it still. "Put me down." Her voice was a thready murmur and Colin clenched his teeth at her obvious pain.

  "We're going to the hospital. I think you have a concussion."

  She blinked at him, clearly disoriented, and his alarm escalated.

  "No hospital."

  "You hit your head too damn hard on the stone hearth. We're going to get it checked out."

  "No." But the protest was feeble, and her color was even worse now, her skin so light it was nearly transparent. "I'm … okay," she whispered. "Really."

  Like hell. "Better safe than sorry. I want to make sure." He strode to the door, the warm, hurting bundle in his arms breaking his heart.

  His fault, dammit.

  "No doctor," she protested. "I told you … I'm fine."

  "Let's prove it."

  "Your mom and aunts … they think I'm cooking dinner while they're getting … manicures."

  He could tell talking was difficult, and her words were slurred, making him walk even faster while trying to keep her cradled against him. "They can fend for themselves." He had her in the foyer now but the summer evening had chilled.

  "They can't cook, Colin."

  She was worried about his family when she should be concentrating on herself. It wasn't a stretch to express his fear for her in anger. "Look, if they can learn to clean toilets, they can cook." Hoisting her closer, he grabbed his denim jacket from the closet with one hand and tried to toss it over her, but she jerked in his arms.

  "Down!"

  "You're going to the hosp—"

  "Colin—" She looked horrified and had gone pea-green. "I'm not fine anymore."

  He'd never felt like this—so full of fear over another human being. "I know, sweetheart, I'm just going to—"

  "Down," she cried, shoving at him until he practically dropped her.

  The hand she held frantically across her mouth finally clued him in and as she stumbled past him into the kitchen, he went after her, wrapping a securing arm around her waist as she leaned into the kitchen sink and threw up.

  "Go away," she told him halfway through, when he was trying to hold back her hair and wipe her forehead and support her all at the same time.

  He didn't, but stayed right with her, fretting, panicking, wondering if an ambulance would be faster. When she was done, she sank to the floor and glared at him.

  He braced himself for recriminations. He deserved it, whatever she said to him. He hunkered down beside her, the better to see into her hurting eyes.

  "How could you call me sweetheart when I'm too sick