Out of the Dark by Geri Foster Page A

pressed against his side. No need for Em to worry. 
    With only two towels in the room, Mac spread the towel out on the bar to dry so he could use it again tomorrow.
    Turning around, his gaze fell to the bed, and he stilled. Em lay relaxed, her cheek pillowed on her bent arm. She appeared more settled now. Not strung out like in the car. Every word she’d said sliced through his heart like a butcher’s knife. But Mac didn’t know how to fix that.
    Hysterical women freaked him out more than a heat seeking missile. When Em went off on him, he wished she would’ve shot him instead. That he could deal with. He had no experience with women PMSing. His military training or intelligence knowledge didn’t extend to a woman like Em.
    Careful not to reignite her, Mac said, “You’re next.”
    Wordlessly, she eased off the bed and stalked past him without a word. A few seconds later the door slammed, shaking the cheap pictures on the wall.
    As he stepped toward the bed, another sharp pain made him grab his side. Easing his way across the room with the aid of a chair, a small desk and an ottoman, Mac finally sat on the edge of the bed and released a pensive breath. Sweat peppered his forehead, and his stomach rolled.
    Em stepped from the bathroom chased by the scent of mint toothpaste. Her face shiny and her hair free from the constraints of the rubber band. She glanced at him, her brow wrinkled. “Are you hurt?”
    Not wanting to do anything that mi ght upset her, Mac relaxed. “No, not really. I might have bruised a rib. But I’m okay.”
    Hands on her hips, she said, “Spoken like a true man.” Like being a man was a bad thing, she turned and moved to the sink. “Get in bed and I’ll fix an ice pack.”
    Stiff and sore he crawled between the clean sheets. The air conditioner pumped out some serious cold air. Maybe he should raise the thermostat.
    Before he could make a move, Emily pulled back the covers. With the ice bag wrapped in a small white towel, she put it on the table and handed him her Coke. He shook his head, but when she opened her fist and held out two round pills his eyes locked with hers. “Advil,” she said. “Found them in the bottom of my purse. Best I can do.” 
    Grunting, Mac pushed to his elbow. He popped the pills in his mouth and chased them with a swallow of the lukewarm, bitter soda.  When he collapsed, she put the ice pack on his side then pulled the blanket to his chin.
    “I’m going to take my shower,” she said. “A word of warning. You stay on your side of the bed.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” He waited for the sound of running water. When it came, Mac closed his eyes and listened to Jay Leno on the TV. Facing the door, he couldn’t see the screen, but that was okay. All he wanted was a painless night’s sleep.
    He must have dozed, because when he op ened his eyes again he saw Em from the light reflecting off the screen of the TV. Quietly, she walked toward the door. Her wet auburn hair hung in shinny ringlets. She’d pulled on his T-shirt. She might be short, but Mac swore he’d never imagined legs that long or shapely before. And by God, he’d seen some legs.
    Did she plan on leaving?  He tensed, prepared to stop her.  She pulled the curtain away from the window and looked out then she checked the lock on the door. Just as she turned, Mac closed his eyes. His side felt much better.
    The room grew silent when she turned off the television and the hard mattress sagged slightly beneath her weight as she sat on the edge of the bed next to him. She lifted the covers to remove the ice pack, and cool air kissed his skin. Gently, she pulled the blanket over his shoulders. 
    Finally, Em stood and went around to the other side of the bed, but not before giving Mac a perfect glance of a pair of red bikini panties, she must have bought at the airport in London, shadowed beneath his black T-shirt.
    It also caught him by surprise that he liked the idea of her sleeping in his shirt. Her body