In The Arms of a Stranger by Kristen Robinette Page B

shirt was a really good idea. For her sanity as well as Luke’s body temperature.
    Dana shook the shirt open and eyed it with doubt. It looked suspiciously small, even though the fibers would give. Dana tugged on the binding of the neck, stretching the fabric so that it would slide over Luke’s head without grating against the wound.
    â€œWe need to get this on,” she said as she returned, her voice shaky. “Are you ready?”
    â€œI’m ready when you are.” The words slid over her like heavy cream, and Dana felt her face flush with heat.
    One look into Luke’s eyes told her he’d hit the intended mark. Her. She tossed the shirt in his direction and turned her back as he worked it on. Dana took her frustrations out on the pillowcase, tearing half of it into strips. She folded the remaining half of the fabric into a thick square and turned to face Luke.
    The shirt didn’t do much to conceal the wide contours of his chest. On the contrary, it hugged his muscles and curledover his shoulders like a second skin. Dana swallowed and met his eyes. “Let’s get the wound bandaged.”
    Before I forget what I’m trying to do.
    She pressed the folded square of fabric over the sensitive wound, careful not to touch Luke unnecessarily, and tied the ends around his head. A nervous laugh escaped her when she looked at him.
    â€œWhat?” he asked.
    â€œYou look—” she grinned “—less imposing.”
    â€œI feel less imposing,” he added with a grimace.
    Dana noticed that his arms trembled slightly as he adjusted himself to lean against the headboard. Frankly, she felt a little shaky, too. But she wasn’t vain enough to think that she’d affected Luke as deeply as his kiss had affected her.
    Would Luke even remember the incident in the morning? She took in the drawn expression on his face, noticed dark shadows beneath his eyes. Even in the waning daylight he looked pale. He wasn’t the delirious comedian she’d found wandering in the snow but he wasn’t entirely lucid, either.
    It struck her then that he was probably starved. Was it okay to give someone in his condition food? That portion of the first-aid lesson was totally lost on her, but she decided that he needed to keep his strength up. Dana made her way to the kitchen and opened a second dusty can of pears, placing a beat-up old fork in it. Making the best use of her time, she prepared the baby a bottle and carried both back to the bedroom.
    Luke wasted no time drinking the liquid from the pears, then used the fork to polish off the rest of the food. As if on cue the baby began to fret, glancing frantically from side to side. Dana went to him immediately, kneeling beside the bureau drawer that was serving as his bassinet. He punched at the air with one chubby fist then presented her with agummy smile. Dana felt her heart twist, felt the imaginary barriers she’d constructed between this child and her heart tumble down around her.
    â€œHe recognizes you,” Luke commented.
    Dana glanced over her shoulder at Luke, surprised by the lucid observation. “He just recognizes me as the food lady,” she replied. But the smile never left her face.
    Dana felt Luke’s gaze follow her as she changed the baby’s diaper and sat cross-legged on the foot of the bed, preparing to give him the bottle.
    â€œYou need to feed the…” Luke’s sentence trailed off as if he couldn’t remember what he was about to say.
    Dana smiled. “I have the bottle.”
    â€œNo,” he argued, shaking his head. “Not the baby. I need you to feed the…Sam.”
    â€œOh, the dog.” Dana substituted the word he’d been searching for.
    Guilt washed over her. With all she’d faced, Sam hadn’t entered her thoughts. She wasn’t sure what she’d find in the cabinet to feed him but she’d definitely find something. If not for the