Always a Thief Read Online Free PDF

voice.
    She leaned her forehead against the door and sighed. “You're not supposed to be out of bed. The doctor said—”
    “I know what the doctor said, but I'll be damned if I ever let myself get
that
helpless. There are some things a man prefers to do for himself. Do you have a razor?”
    “You aren't going to shave.”
    “Oh, yes, I am.”
    Morgan took a step back and glared at the door. “All right. I'll just wait out here until you get dizzy and fall on your ass. When I hear the thud, I'll call Max and ask him to come over here and drag your carcass back to bed.”
    There was a moment of silence, and then the water stopped running in the sink and the door opened. He stood there a bit unsteadily, a towel wrapped around his lean waist, his green eyes very bright, and that crooked, beguiling smile curving his lips. He had slid his left arm from the sling meant to ease the weight on that shoulder and braced his good shoulder against the doorjamb.
    Judging by the dampness of his tousled hair, he had washed up a bit, doing the best he could when he could hardly stand and couldn't get his bandaged shoulder wet. As for the towel—he probably hadn't felt steady enough to get into any of the clothing Max had sent over, even though the stuff was neatly folded in plain view on the storage chest at the foot of Morgan's bed.
    When Max had stripped him, he had removed everything; Morgan knew that because she had washed the pants and shorts and thrown the ruined sweater in the trash.
    “You're a hard woman, Morgana,” he murmured.
    She wished she was. She had been trying rather fiercely to see him only as a wounded body needing her help, and as long as he'd remained in the bed she had more or less succeeded. But he was on his feet now—however unsteadily—and it was impossible for her to look at him wearing only a towel and a bandage and not see him as utterly male and heart-catchingly sexy.
    He's a thief
.
    She remembered too well how that hard body felt against hers and how his beguiling mouth had seduced hers until she hadn't cared who or what he was. She remembered his murmured words, when he'd told her that he thought she was going to break his heart.
    He's just a damned thief
.
    She also remembered the mocking gift of a concubine ring.
    It was that last memory that steadied her. Calmly, she said, “Look, if you really have to shave, there's an electric razor around here somewhere. I'll get it for you. But you have to go back to bed.”
    After an instant, he nodded slightly and took a step toward her. He would have fallen if she hadn't quickly slid an arm around his waist and put her shoulder under his good one.
    “Dammit, you tried to do too much,” she muttered as he leaned on her heavily.
    “I think you're right.” He sounded definitely weakened. “If you could help me to the bed . . .”
    Halfway across the room, Morgan got the distinct feeling that he wasn't quite as frail as he seemed, but she didn't try to call his bluff. What else could she expect, after all? she asked herself somewhat wryly as she helped him those last few steps. His humorous, mischievous, and careless nature had been obvious from the first time she'd met him, and she doubted very much if he had a sincere bone in his body; he was perfectly capable of pretending weakness simply because he enjoyed leaning on her.
    She batted his amazingly limp but wonderfully accurate hand away from her right breast and more or less dumped him on the bed.
    Quinn grimaced as his shoulder was jolted, but he was also laughing softly. “All right, but you can't blame me for trying,” he said guilelessly.
    Hands on her hips, Morgan glared down at him. Damn the man, it was so
hard
to stay mad at him. “Next time you get out of that bed, you'd better make sure you can get back under your own steam. I meant what I said about calling Max.”
    Quinn eased himself farther up on the bed, then glanced down at the towel still wrapped around him. “I suppose you