That Night in Texas

“I’ve got to get to Clem. Let me go, dammit!” Her breath hitched and panic made her words run together. “What’s the time? How late is it? Where’s my phone?”

Cam looked at his watch. “It’s shortly past eleven.”

“It’s still Friday morning?”

At his nod, her shoulders dropped three inches and the cords in her neck loosened. She slumped back against her pillow and closed her eyes. “Thank God.” She gripped the sheet and twisted the fabric between her fingers. When she spoke again, her voice was thin with pain and exhaustion. “I need to make a call. Can I borrow your phone?”

“Not until I get some answers,” Cam told her, stepping back and folding his arms against his chest.

Vivianne released a frustrated sigh. In her eyes he saw a solid streak of stubborn under the obvious exhaustion. “I understand that. But you’re not going to get another word out of me until I make a call.”

It wasn’t worth arguing about. Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, he pulled out his phone, tapped in the code and handed it to her.

She shook her head. “Sorry, the world is still a bit fuzzy. Can you dial for me?”

Cam punched in the number she gave him, and when it started to ring, he handed the phone over. Vivianne placed her fingers on her forehead before speaking. “Charlie? Is Clem okay?”

Evidently the response reassured her. Those sexy shoulders dropped and the hand gripping the sheet relaxed. Cam tipped his head to the side, thinking that watching her was like witnessing a balloon losing its air. Suddenly she looked paler, more fragile, ten times smaller. And a hundred times more vulnerable.

He stepped forward, realized he was about to pull her into his arms, to offer what comfort he could, and immediately stepped back. What the hell? He didn’t do comfort; he wasn’t the type.

Vivianne gnawed at her bottom lip, wincing when she encountered the cut she’d made earlier. “Thanks, Charlie. I’ll see you later this afternoon, maybe a little earlier if I can.”

As if. According to the nurse, she had a concussion and that normally meant an overnight stay. He’d be happy to watch her all night. But only because he wanted to know what she was up to. Not because she was freakin’ gorgeous. And not because he found her fascinating, or because he couldn’t imagine walking out of this room without knowing when he was going to see her again.

He was just tired. And hungry. That was why he was acting so out of character. Had to be.

“Thanks, Charlie.”

Cam jammed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and glowered at her. “Ready to start talking?”

Vivianne sighed. “I don’t suppose I have much of a choice.”

“Not really, no.”

“I’m Vivi Donner, by the way.”

Vivi suited her better than Vivianne. He rolled the name around his mind and could easily imagine himself whispering it as he kissed her, painting it on her skin as he tongued her. Sighing it as he slid into her hot, wet warmth. Cam gave himself a mental punch to the temple.

Yeah, he was still attracted to her but so what? He was frequently attracted to women. He was a guy and that was what guys did. It was simple biology. It didn’t mean anything.

“Let’s start off with you telling me how you ended up in a hospital with stitches and scrapes and more bruises than an MMA fighter.”

Vivi pushed back that heavy hair and he caught a whiff of citrus and dank water. “According to the nurse, who spoke to the responding EMT, I was driving and it was really foggy. I slid off the road into a gully filled with fast-moving water. I remember going into the water and nothing much after that. The next time I came around, I was in this bed.”

Every cell in his body iced over. Few people knew how to escape a car filled with water, yet she had. Thank God.

“A policeman saw me go off the road. The working theory is that I pushed myself out the window and swam to the surface. The cop saw me come up, but then I was hit by a branch and swept away. Luckily a rescue boat was downstream from me and they hauled me out. I don’t remember anything after my car hit the water.”

God, she’d been fantastically, ridiculously lucky. She obviously had a dozen angels sitting on her shoulder.