Baby, It's Cold Outside Read Online Free PDF Page B

she said seriously. “It’s clean. Not infected.”
    “What? Did you think I was an idiot?”
    “Rick.”
    “What?”
    “Shut up. I’m looking right at it. I know it hurts like hell. And it’s in a spot that has to be almost impossible for you to reach. So quit being a jerk. You’re right, it’s fine, likely to heal with no sweat as long as you keep taking care of it. But I can put something on it, to both protect it and make it hurt less. And it’s easier for me to reach it than it is for you, so it’s pretty darn ridiculous for you to keep arguing.”
    He shut up, just like that.
    She finished the job, in less than five minutes. Switched off the lantern, carted the first aid kit back to the kitchen, washed her hands again. By the time she ambled back into the living area, he’d pulled on both his tech layer and flannel shirt.
    It struck her as funny…how right then, out of the complete blue, she felt a sexual pull with the power of a bullet. It didn’t make sense. Moments before, she’d had her hands on his bare skin. Seen the golden orbs of his shoulders by firelight. Felt the warmth of his flesh, felt the sinew and muscle in his back and arms, felt him tense under her gentlest touch.
    But she’d been a doctor, looking at the wound. And now she wasn’t a doctor.
    She was just walking into a firelit room with a stranger whose eyes met hers. This time, though, their connection packed a wallop. His gaze distinctly conveyed a man’s experience, a man’s sexual awareness, a man’s blunt way of communicating that touching between them could have repercussions. Interesting repercussions. Frightening repercussions. Explosive repercussions.
    “So,” she said, and then completely forgot what she’d been about to say. There seemed to be nothing in her mind but froth.
    “I forgot to say thanks,” he said. “You really did something. I can’t even feel the burn on my back now.”
    “Good.”
    “You still want to play poker?”
    “Maybe after a while. For right now…to be honest, I just feel beat. I’m inclined to read, just crash early.”
    Her voice was casual, she was sure, the way friendly strangers would naturally talk together. That was the thing. All she had to do was ignore this unexpected awareness of him, treat him just as she would an acquaintance or neighbor.
    That was the plan—and it worked that way. Eventually they tested her oven stew, which wasn’t going to win any culinary contests, but at least it didn’t poison them. He didn’t know about her lack of skills in a kitchen. She did. They shared the cleanup, paid attention to the generator, the fire, discussed how they were going to set up sleeping, took turns in the bathroom.
    She didn’t know how much time passed after that. Minutes. Hours.
    He’d taken the cushions off one couch, plopped them on the carpet on one side of the hearth, apparently felt more comfortable sleeping on ground level. She’d layered blankets on the far couch. Although he couldn’t be farther than seven feet away, she could barely see him. The firelight was bright enough, but both of them were so completely heaped in covers that their best friends likely couldn’t identify them, she thought humorously.
    But her humor was fake.
    He was sleeping, she believed, but somehow she just couldn’t seem to drop off. The hiss and spit of fire created warm, friendly sounds…but without him talking, without their moving around, all she really heard was the blizzard.
    The wind was relentless. It howled and howled and kept on howling. An animal in pain couldn’t sound that mournful. That menacing. That lonely.
    Troubles magnified in the darkness. The little boy’s face kept flashing in her mind…and then the faces of her family, her dad and brothers and uncles. Her putty and white apartment, that had seemed so contemporary and clean to her when she’d signed the lease, now struck her as sterile. There was no personality in the place. She wasn’t sure she even had