Crossed Hearts (Matchmaker Trilogy) Read Online Free PDF Page B

knees, and she was rocking back and forth, waiting for the stinging in her leg to subside. Her gaze flew to his. “I didn’t think it would hurt so much,” she whispered.
    His grip tightened on the doorknob, and for a split second he considered retreating. It had been more than four years since he’d seen legs like those—long and slender, living silk the color of cream. His eyes were riveted to them, while his heart yawed. He told himself to turn and run—until he caught sight of the red gouge marring that silk and knew he wasn’t going anywhere.
    Squatting before her, he took the towel from where it lay across her lap and dabbed at the area around the cut. The color of the antiseptic was distinct on the corner of the towel she’d used. He reversed the terry cloth and flicked her a glance.
    “Hold on.”
    With a gentle dabbing motion, he applied whatever disinfectant was left on the towel to her cut. She sucked in her breath and splayed one hand tightly over the top of her thigh to hold it still. Even then her leg was shaking badly by the time Garrick reached for the bandages.
    “I can do it,” she breathed. Beads of sweat had broken out on her nose, causing her glasses to slip. Her fingers trembled when she shoved them up, but she was feeling foolish about the broken bottle and needed desperately to show her grit.
    She might as well not have spoken. Garrick proceeded to cover the wound with a large piece of gauze and strap it in place with adhesive tape. When that was done, he carefully collected the largest pieces of broken glass and set them on the counter.
    He looked at her then, eyes skimming her pale features before coming to rest on her temple. Taking a fresh piece of gauze, he dipped it into the small amount of liquid left in the bottom quarter of the bottle and, with the same gentle dabbing, disinfected the cluster of scratches he’d found.
    Leah hadn’t been aware of their existence. She vaguely recalled reeling off a tree, but surface scratches had been the least of her worries when the rest of her had been so cold and sore. Even now the scratches were quickly forgotten, because Garrick had turned his attention to her hand that had remained in a fist throughout the procedure. She held her breath when he reached for it.
    Without asking himself why or to what end, he slowly and carefully unclenched her fingers, then stared at the purple crescents her short nails had left on her palm. They were a testament to the kind of self-control he admired; even when he brushed his thumb across them, willing them away, they remained. Cradling her hand in his far larger one, he raised his eyes to hers.
    She wasn’t prepared for their luminous force. They penetrated her, warmed her, frightened her in ways she didn’t understand. Hazel depths spoke of loneliness; silver flecks spoke of need. They reached out and enveloped her, demanding nothing, demanding everything.
    It was an incredible moment.
    Of all the new experiences she’d had that day, this was the most stunning. For Garrick Rodenhiser wasn’t the grizzled old trapper she’d assumed she’d find in a rustic cabin in the woods. He was a man in his prime, and the only scents emanating from him had to do with wood smoke and maleness.
    At that most improbable and unexpected time, she was drawn to him.
    Unable to cope with the idea of being drawn to anyone, least of all a total stranger, she looked away. But she wasn’t the only one stunned by the brief visual interlude. Garrick, too, was pricked by new and unbidden emotions.
    Abruptly releasing her hand, he stood. “Don’t touch the glass,” he ordered gruffly. “I’ll take care of it when you’re done.” Turning on his heel, he left the bathroom and strode back to the hearth. He was still there, bent over the mantel with his forearms on the rough wood and his forehead on his arms, when he heard the sound of the bathroom door opening sometime later.
    With measured movements he straightened and turned,