Hot and Bothered (Some Like It Hot 3)

He stepped inside the small hospital room, his eyes instantly drawn to the sleeping form on the bed. A lightweight blanket covered her up to her chest, and she was still hooked to an IV. The soft blip of a unit monitoring her heart and breathing told him that she was, indeed, stabilized. The color was back in her face, and a butterfly bandage covered the cut on her cheek, which hadn’t required stitches, thank goodness.

The awful tightness he’d been experiencing in his chest since the accident finally eased. Pulling a chair close to her bedside, he sat down, leaned forward and placed his hand over Natalie’s, just to have some kind of connection to her.

His fingers felt the pulse in her wrist, and he watched the steady rise and fall of her chest and the fluttering of her eyelids as she dreamed. Her lips were parted slightly, and remembering their kiss, he was determined that their next one would be much softer, much sweeter, with nothing but desire and mutual hunger between them.

His cot was delivered, along with some water for him to drink. Nurses periodically came into the room to check on her, and he made it clear that he wasn’t going to leave Natalie’s side until she awakened.

And as the minutes ticked by, one concern preyed heavily on his mind. Would she even remember him when she woke up?

CHAPTER FOUR

Her throat felt parched and she was so thirsty.

Natalie pulled herself from her deep, dreamless sleep and pried her eyes open. She blinked, focusing on her surroundings, recalling with a startling jolt that she’d been in an accident and was in the hospital. She shivered as she caught sight of the equipment and wires hooked up to her sore, aching body, and inhaled an antiseptic scent that tickled her nose. The back of her skull hurt, too, and she had a headache to match. She glanced at the clock on the wall in front of her and saw it was six thirty—in the morning, she assumed.

She closed her eyes again, this time trying to recall any small detail of being hit by a car, but all she remembered was gaining consciousness in the hospital after the fact and wondering what the heck was going on. Last night she’d felt so bewildered and confused, and her head had felt as though something had stampeded through her brain. Exhaustion had finally claimed her, which had been a blessed relief since she hadn’t been able to make sense of anything.

It seemed a good night’s rest hadn’t made any difference, and she couldn’t stop the niggling sense of unease that trickled through her. Before her anxiety could spring into full-blown panic, she calmed herself with the knowledge that she’d been through a traumatic accident and the certainty that things would become clearer as the day progressed.

A soft, snoring sound pulled her from her disturbing thoughts. With a frown, she turned her head, glanced down and found a man slumped forward in a chair at the side of her bed, his dark head and muscular, tattooed arms resting on the mattress near her hip.

Another snuffling sound escaped him, and she smiled, recognizing that tousled sable hair and the strong, gorgeous profile as Noah’s. It appeared he’d fallen asleep while watching over her, and the caring gesture warmed her deep inside.

A brief recollection flashed inside her head, of Noah’s lips on hers and a wild, deep kiss unlike anything she’d ever indulged in. She knew Noah, and along with that certainty came the knowledge that he made her feel safe, secure, and desired. But she had no idea where he fit into her life. Was he her boyfriend? Lover? Friend? Judging by the awareness and intimate longing swirling within her, she was guessing that he was much more than a casual acquaintance.

Stretching her arm out, she gently threaded her fingers through his hair, the thick strands cool and silky to the touch. She caressed her hand along the dark, bristly whiskers on his cheek and jaw, trying to recall if she’d ever been abraded by that sexy morning stubble. His lips were parted and looked so warm and soft. So inviting. She couldn’t resist testing the feel of them for herself, and she wasn’t disappointed in the silky, seductive texture her fingertips encountered.

His lashes drifted open as he gradually awakened, his dark blue eyes at first unfocused. God, he was so sinfully sensual, so deliciously good-looking, he literally took her breath away.

The charming grin she expected to see never appeared. Instead, he slowly lifted his head and stared at her cautiously, warily searching her gaze as if he wasn’t sure what to expect from her. Odd, she thought.

Regardless, his presence soothed her, grounded her, and she was grateful that she hadn’t woken up alone. “Hi, there,” she said, her voice husky from slumber and thirst.

He swallowed hard, then finally graced her with that sexy smile that never failed to jump-start her pulse. That exciting tingling through her veins was an incredibly nice way to greet the morning, though she couldn’t ever recall waking up with this man next to her.

Not that it had or hadn’t happened. She just couldn’t…remember. Her mind felt muddled, foggy, and disoriented, and the inability to grasp any kind of clear recollection of them frustrated her.

“Hi, yourself, sweetheart,” he murmured, his tone low and rough.

Sweetheart. Yeah, she definitely liked the sound of that. And she instinctively knew that he’d used that sentiment with her before.

He straightened in his seat, then stretched his arms over his head to loosen the kinks that had no doubt cramped parts of his body due to his awkward sleeping position. Muscles flexed beneath his T-shirt and along his arms as he arched his back and reached high. He groaned in relief, and she en

joyed every bit of the male display.

“You snore,” she said in amusement.

“I’m sorry.” He cringed at that bit of information, instantly contrite. “Did I wake you?”

“No, actually it was a cute snore and not at all obnoxious.”

He laughed, the rumbling sound sending a pleasant vibration along her nerve endings. “Well, it’s certainly good to know that you think my snores are cute, but don’t tell anyone else because, for one thing, I’ll never hear the end of it and, for another, it’ll be a huge blow to my masculinity.”

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” She smiled, curious to know if they shared any other private intimacies. “I need something to drink. Is there any water?”

“Sure is.” He raised the top of her mattress so she was sitting up, then filled a plastic glass on the tray next to her bed. Bringing the straw to her lips, he watched her take a drink, his concerned gaze roaming over her face. “You sound better than I’d expected this morning, but how are you really feeling?”

She swallowed one last gulp of cool water, relieving her dry, scratchy throat. “My head is throbbing and I feel bruised, battered, and achy. Like I got hit by a car.”