Hot and Bothered (Some Like It Hot 3)

He laughed, relieved, and ran the tip of his finger down the slope of her cute nose. “Just so you know, you have permission to kiss me anytime you’d like.”

Smiling, she settled back against her pillows, suddenly looking ti

red. While she might appear okay physically, he knew it would take a couple of days for her to fully regain her strength again. And right now, she needed more sleep.

He straightened, making a quick decision that would benefit them both. “I’m going to leave, but I’ll be back in a little while.”

Dread flared to life in her eyes. “Where are you going?”

Her panic-stricken expression clutched at him, and he instantly tried to soothe her anxiety. “I need a shower, shave, and a change of clothes. And you need to rest. Are you afraid to stay alone?” he asked gently.

“Just a little nervous,” she admitted, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. “I feel so out of place and disoriented, and you’re like an anchor in this storm I seem to be caught up in.”

“I’m sure that’s very normal.” Reaching for the call button, he set it within her reach. “Tell you what, here’s the buzzer for the nurse, and if you need me for anything at all, here’s my cell phone number.” He jotted his number on a napkin and set it by the hospital phone beside the bed. “Don’t hesitate to call me, even if it’s just to hear my voice.”

She inhaled deeply, as if inflating her courage. “You must think I’m a complete basket case.”

No, he didn’t think that at all. Her nerves and fears were legitimately based, but he wasn’t about to enlighten her of that fact, or the reasons why. She didn’t need any more stress to deal with at the moment.

“I’m not always this clingy, am I?” she asked, even as her lashes grew heavy and drooped.

She sounded so embarrassed at the thought that he couldn’t help but grin. “You’re only clingy when it counts, sweetheart,” he teased.

“Good.” Her eyes closed completely, and she mumbled drowsily, “Will you bring me back fresh clothes, too?”

She thought he could because she believed they lived together. “You bet.” Luckily for him he’d claimed her car keys and ID from her purse before handing over her personal effects to the nurses, so he had everything he needed to get into her apartment and confiscate enough items to make it appear as though she’d moved into his house. But first, he had to call a cab to take him back to his car, which was still parked at Murphy’s.

He remained by her bedside until her breathing grew deep and he knew she’d fallen asleep before leaving her room. He stopped at the nurses’ station, flashed his PI badge and gave them adamant orders that other than personnel, no one was to go into her room without someone calling and asking him first.

He wasn’t taking any chances with her safety.

* * *

Hands on his hips, Noah glanced around what had once been his masculine bathroom, but now shared space with Natalie’s feminine toiletries, and knew his cherished bachelorhood as he’d once known it was over—at least temporarily. The thought of trading in meaningless flings for a day-to-day intimacy with a woman didn’t bother him as much as it should have, though—because it was Natalie, a woman he’d been chasing for so long. A woman who intrigued him and evoked the kind of emotions that, with other women, had sent him running in the other direction, but with her seemed so perfectly, inexplicably right.

At the moment, he refused to analyze his changing emotions, because he had a job to do and his feelings for Natalie couldn’t get in the way of higher priorities, like keeping her safe and protected. Once she regained her memory and was no longer in danger, then they’d focus on them.

He headed back into his bedroom, made room in his closet for her stuff, and finished putting away the clothes he’d taken from her apartment. While going through her belongings, he’d learned that she favored jeans and sweats, loose shirts, and bulky sweaters. There wasn’t a sexy outfit to be had in all of her attire, or the kind of clingy, flattering clothes most women with her kind of figure would have worn. It was as if she’d sought to hide her assets, rather than accentuate them.

That had been an interesting eye-opener, and he’d found the rest of her small studio apartment equally revealing. Instead of the warmth and intimacy he’d expected to find upon entering, the accommodations she called home had felt cold, sparse, and lonely. Her apartment was a compact place where she slept, ate meals, and studied, as indicated by the pile of books stacked on a corner table near the only window in the room. There was nothing to indicate she led anything more than a quiet, solitary life.

The apartment had been filled with only the bare living necessities—a box spring and mattress in the combo bedroom-living room, along with a nightstand and dresser drawers that were old and scarred and didn’t even match. An older model TV sat on a plastic crate, and her small dining table was flanked by two wooden chairs. Even her cupboards and refrigerator only held a few staple items.

He’d gotten the distinct impression that she could get up and go at a moment’s notice and not miss anything she left behind. There was nothing permanent to indicate she’d settled down for good in Oakland. Her belongings were meager, and he hadn’t found anything to disclose who she was beyond what he already knew.

He’d even gone so far as to search drawers, hoping to find some kernel of information to help him better understand what had frightened her, but the only intriguing tidbit he’d discovered was an outdated woman’s magazine she’d subscribed to with her name and a Reno, Nevada, address on the mailing label. He’d confiscated the item to help him find out about the life she’d led before moving to Northern California.

He emptied the final bag of clothes onto his bed to sort, and her intimate apparel tumbled out. He grinned as he picked up her underwear and rubbed the smooth fabric between his fingers, then inhaled the clean, powdery scent of fabric softener. He’d been surprised to find that she favored simple cotton panties when she had a body made for “barely there” lingerie, but she’d allowed a hint of femininity in the strip of lace around the waistband. Her bras were plain, unadorned covering for her beautiful breasts.

There was nothing overtly sexy about any of her undergarments, and he’d no doubt seen racier, more provocative stuff in his years, but there was something about her no-frill approach that did it for him in a major way, if the raging hard-on straining against his jeans was any indication. Natalie was all woman, and she didn’t need silk and lace to emphasize her attributes.

She was also a woman with deeply buried secrets, and he planned to discover what she’d been hiding.

Stuffing her panties and bras into a drawer he’d cleared for her, he also mixed a few articles of her clothing into his hamper just for good measure. Her college textbooks were now on his kitchen table, and he’d set a couple of the novels he’d found at her place on his bookshelf.

Satisfied that his two-story house looked as though a woman lived there as well, Noah took a quick shower, shaved, and made a quick call to Bobby and Cole to update them on Natalie’s status and to remind them to play along with his cover of being her fiancé for the time being. He returned to the hospital with a fresh pair of her sweats, socks, underwear, and her well-worn Converse to change into.

When he entered her room, Natalie was up and talking to the doctor, and when she saw him, she graced him with a smile that quickened his pulse and made him feel like a teenager with a bad case of infatuation.