Desired (Two Marks 2)

She hissed, then sucked her finger into her mouth. Shit, she’d cut herself. Before I could reach out and see how badly she was hurt, she popped up and ran for the kitchen, the swinging door moving back and forth from her haste.

I stared after her, stunned.

Her scent lingered, and my wolf howled. I’d found her, and now she was gone. I stood and followed. I’d dwelled on all the reasons why I shouldn’t keep a mate, but now that I knew who she was, all I could think about was being with her. I couldn’t let even a room separate us.

Not now. Not ever again.

2

RACHEL

I bolted for the kitchen and went to the utility closet for a broom and dustpan. No, to escape, and pray the earth would split open and swallow me.

Dear Lord, I was the world’s worst waitress. Hands down. There had to be an award for it. One would think a lifetime of eating out would have prepared me to wait on other people, but no. God, no. I was horrible.

Why hadn’t Bessie fired me yet?

I didn’t forget people’s orders—that was the one thing I could do right. I could tally up meal totals without a calculator. But I was clumsy. I couldn’t seem to balance all the dishes on the tray. I hadn’t worked a shift yet where I didn’t break a dish. Or spill something on someone.

But this was the worst. Had I seriously just rubbed that guy’s water-soaked crotch with a towel?

It could probably be construed as sexual assault considering the… reaction I’d caused. I wasn’t going to forget the thick bulge in the hot guy’s jeans.

I leaned a shoulder against the wall beside the utility closet, stared down at the small cut on my finger, and tried to catch my breath. My heart was beating so frantically, I thought I might have a heart attack.

“Hey, are you okay?” A deep voice rumbled from behind me. It was him.

Oh God—he followed me! The kitchen seemed to swoop around me. Something about this guy made me feel breathless and hot and dizzy all at once.

“You cut yourself, and I wanted to check on it.”

I spun around, my face still hot from our last encounter a few moments ago. “I am so sorry,” I sputtered, not meeting his eyes. “And really embarrassed.”

He came closer. My pulse raced. My skin tingled everywhere. I’d never had this reaction to a man before. I’d only dated Chester, although it wasn’t like we ever went to dinner and a movie. Or bowling. A little laugh escaped me when I thought of Chester wearing loaner shoes.

It had been a given that he was my boyfriend ever since our mothers had said so when I turned sixteen, and he had graduated from college. But I’d known I was supposed to marry him for longer than that. It had been Chester and Rachel pretty much since birth.

The guy stepped right into my space, and took my wrist to examine my cut finger. It was only a little scratch, but it did sting, right along with my pride. A jolt of electricity ran up my arm at his touch. My nipples chafed against my bra.

Now that he wasn’t sitting, his true size was obvious. If we were outside, he’d block the sun. I came up to his chin, and those shoulders… wow. Broad and sturdy. All of him was sturdy. Powerful and strong. Yet his touch was gentle.

“Cord’s a doctor, honey,” Bessie said from the doorway. “Let him have a look at that cut.”

“Oh, um, it’s nothing,” I said, although blood dripped from the nick in my middle finger.

Of course he was a doctor. There wasn’t any other reason for him to chase after me. Just because I had tingles—in all kinds of places—from his touch didn’t mean he felt them in return.

“I’m sorr—” I broke off as our gazes locked and the breath left my chest.

I stared. He stared. My cut was forgotten. Even the fact that I had a finger.

I’d recognized how handsome he was the minute he walked into the diner, but now, up close, I found him devastating. Delicious. A square jaw, and smile lines around his green eyes, which had an amber glow to them.

His nostrils flared like he was drinking in my scent, and I had the strangest urge to do the same with him.

“As Bessie said, my name’s Cord and I am a doctor. Don’t be sorry or embarrassed.” His voice was an earthy rumble that seemed to belong only to me. “Let’s stop this bleeding.” He guided me toward the waitress station where the napkins were neatly stacked, and grabbed one from the top of the pile.

He wrapped it around my finger and held it, but instead of looking at my wound, he continued staring into my eyes.