Barbara Freethy - Some Kind Of Wonderful by Some Kind Of Wonderful Page A

he said with
a dry smile.

"I'm fine, you know. And I don't believe in God, so if you think you're
going to save me or have me be born again, you can forget about it."

"It's already forgotten. Look, Sarah, I'd like to help you. I think
you've been hurt and maybe you could use a friend."

"What do you get out of it?"

"Maybe I could use a friend, too."

His kind words stole the toughness away and reminded her of how tired
she was and how much she
really did need a friend. But could she trust
him? He was a stranger. He might still call the cops. Then what would
she do? They'd find out she was a terrible mother and take her baby
away the way they'd taken her away from Mattie.

"I can't." She turned blindly away, the tears already filling her eyes.

He caught her by the arm and held on, a strong, masculine grip that
hurt her already bruised skin. He must have seen the pain in her eyes,
because he immediately let go. "There's a shelter three blocks from
here. The Samaritan House, on Fourteenth and Stringer. They won't ask
you any questions, and you'll have a safe place to sleep."

She nodded, trying not to break down in front of him.

"I want to help you, Sarah."

"Why? I'm nobody to you."

"But you're somebody to someone. Aren't you?"

Sarah thought of Emily and the tears streamed down her cheeks as she
shook her head. "Not anymore."

"'I don't want you to go," Jonathan said, surprising her with the
intensity in his voice

She looked into his eyes and saw more than a minister; she saw a man.
Is this what he wanted, then?
Her body in exchange for his help? She
couldn't even imagine why he would want her body. She hadn't washed in
a couple of days. She looked like a poster girl for abused women. Not
that a man necessarily needed a pretty face; a female body would often
do.

"It's not like that," he said. "I won't hurt you."

"I've heard that before."

"Come back tomorrow. Just to talk. Maybe I can help. Maybe you'll be
able to trust me more in the daylight."

She wanted to say yes, for as she looked at the church, at the familiar
steeple, she felt a tiny glimmer of hope. Maybe it was a sign after all.
    *  *  *
It was almost eleven, long past the time to go home, but Caitlyn
couldn't make herself get up and go. The couch was comfortable, the
baby was asleep, and the man .. . well, Matt was something else,
stirring her senses in a way that made her want more—more of
everything: his husky voice, his male scent, his wry smile. She'd never
been so aware of a man, but here in his apartment with so little
furniture, so little of anything but him and her, she felt an intimacy
that was completely at odds with their relationship.

Their friendship was barely twenty-four hours old, if you could even
call it a friendship, more of a chance relationship based on
circumstances beyond their control. If Emily hadn't arrived, Caitlyn
had no doubt that Matt would have stayed forever on his side of the
hallway, and she would have done the same. But Emily had come. And so
had Matt, a man she couldn't quite figure out.

The little he'd told her of his background had colored him as dark,
rough, edgy, intense. Yet with Emily he was tender, kind, patient. She
wondered which was the real Matt Winters. And she couldn't help
speculating how he would be with a woman he was interested in. Would he
be passionate and impulsive or slow and deliberate?

Caitlyn felt an uncomfortable uneasiness run through her as she watched
Matt clear up the remains of their pizza. His blue jeans fit him like a
glove, outlining his strong, fit body. He had a great ass, she thought,
suppressing a small giggle at the trail her thoughts were taking, a
trail
she wouldn't mind taking with her hands. Okay, enough, she told herself
firmly, setting her wineglass down on the coffee table in front of her.
She had to get a grip. She had no business ogling Matt's buns or any
other part of his anatomy.

"More wine?" Matt walked over with the bottle of red he'd opened up for
her earlier