out of the question, Kaitlyn turned her best glare on him. He returned the look mildly and she realized with a start that his eyes were amber-colored-golden. Just a few shades darker than his hair.
"You are hurt," he said, apparently mistaking the glare for suffering. "Where?" Then he did something that dumbfounded Kaitlyn. He dropped to his knees.
He's going to apologize, she thought wildly. Oh, God, everyone in California is nuts.
But the boy didn't apologize-he didn't even look up at her. He was reaching for her leg.
"This one here, right?" he said in that southern-gentleman voice.
Kaitlyn's mouth opened, but all she could do was stare at him. She was backed against the wall-there was nowhere to escape.
"Back here-this spot?" And then, deftly and unceremoniously, he turned up the skirt of her red dress.
Kaitlyn's mind went into shock. She simply had no experience that had prepared her to deal with this situation-a perfect stranger reaching under her dress in a public place. And it was the way he did it; not like a grabby boy at all, but like . . . like ... a doctor examining a patient.
"It's not a cut. Just a knot," the boy said. He wasn't looking at her or the leg, but down the hallway. His fingers were running lightly over the painful area, as if assessing it. They felt dry but warm-unnaturally warm.
"You'll have a bad bruise if you leave it, though. Why don't you hold still and let me see if I can help?"
This, at last, catapulted Kait out of silence.
"Hold still? Hold still for what. . . ?"
He waved a hand. "Be quiet, now-please."
Kaitlyn was stupefied.
"Yes," the boy said, as if to himself. "I think I can help this some. I'll try."
Kaitlyn held still because she was paralyzed. She could feel his fingers on the back of her knee-a terribly intimate place, extremely tender and vulnerable. Kait couldn't remember anyone touching her there, not even her doctor.
Then the touch changed. It became a burning, tingling feeling. Like slow fire. It was almost like pain, but-Kait gasped. "What are you doing to me? Stop that-what are you doing?"
He spoke in a soft, measured voice, without glancing up. "Channeling energy. Trying."
"I said stop-oh."
"Work with me, now, please. Don't fight me."
Kaitlyn just stared down at the top of his head. His gold-blond hair was unruly, springing in curls and waves.
A strange sensation swept through Kait, flowing up from her knee and through her body, branching out to every blood vessel and capillary. A feeling of refreshment-of renewal. It was like getting a drink of clean, cold water when you were desperately thirsty, or being drenched with delicious icy mist when you were hot. Kaitlyn suddenly felt that until this moment, she had only been half-awake.
The boy was making odd motions now, as if he were brushing lint off the back of her knee. Touch, shake off. Touch, shake off. As if gathering something and then shaking drops of water off his fingers.
Kaitlyn suddenly realized that her pain was completely gone.
"That's it," the boy said cheerfully. "Now if I can just close this off..." He cupped a warm hand around the back of her knee. "There. It shouldn't bruise now."
The boy stood up briskly and brushed off his hands. He was breathing as if he'd just run a race.
Kaitlyn stared at him. She herself felt ready to run a race. She had never felt so refreshed-so alive. At the same time, as she got another glimpse of his face, she thought maybe she ought to sit down.
When he looked back at her, she expected . .. well, she didn't know what. But what she didn't expect was a quick, almost absentminded smile from a boy who was already turning around to leave.
"Sorry about that. Guess I'd better go down and help Joyce with the luggage-before I knock anyone else over." He started down the stairs.
"Wait a minute-who are you? And-"
"Rob." He smiled over his shoulder. "Rob Kessler." He reached the landing, turned, and was gone.
"-and how did you do that?" Kait demanded of empty