Free Taken With You by Shannon Stacey Page A

doing his duty?
    When he pushed himself up off the back of the couch, a gust of Matt’s breath blew across her exposed skin and she closed her eyes.
    “Who keeps hydrocortisone cream in the kitchen junk drawer?”
    “People who tend to cut themselves making salads keep antibiotic cream there, so it all goes in. And it qualifies. Batteries and first aid creams and junk. In the junk drawer.”
    “Or aspirin and first aid creams and medicine. In the medicine cabinet.”
    Hailey could tell he was walking away from her, so she opened her eyes to watch him go. Even if she tried to put aside being under the influence of his touch on her neck, she had to admit he had a nice ass. Exceptional, even. It was probably all that walking he did in the woods, rescuing lost women.
    She was in so much trouble.
    * * *
    I F M ATT NEEDED a reminder that making a move on Hailey would be like turning down a pothole-riddled dead-end dirt road, the inside of her house was more than enough. Light colors, white wood and no clutter implied this was a woman who wouldn’t like her man coming home with mud—or worse—on his boots.
    He found her meager first aid supplies in the junk drawer with a flashlight that—knowing her—would need batteries, a screwdriver, half a dozen bottles of nail polish and enough other debris so it took him two tries to close it. No wonder there was no clutter in her house. It was all shoved into one drawer.
    When he walked back into the living room, she had the bag of frozen vegetables in her hand and was flexing her knee. It seemed to bend with no trouble, though she winced a little. When she saw him, she dropped the improvised ice pack back on her knee and smiled.
    “I don’t think the damage is too bad.”
    “Good. Now let’s take care of that bite. Do I need to give you the lecture on the dangers of mosquito bites and how to properly protect against them?”
    “No, Warden Barnett,” she responded in a snippy voice. “I’ve learned my lesson. And I can do that myself. Honest.”
    “I’ve got it.” If him touching her neck made her squirm, he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. She wasn’t the only one who could be contrary. “Tip your head forward.”
    With an exasperated sigh, she lowered her head to give him access to her neck.
    “This might sting a little,” he warned.
    He took an antiseptic wipe out of its package and cleaned the inflamed bug bite thoroughly. Between her tag rubbing on it and her scratching it, she’d made it pretty raw and there were some dried blood flakes at the center of the bite. When he’d cleaned it to his satisfaction, the wipe leaving the area wet with antiseptic, he leaned close and blew gently on her skin.
    Her body jerked and he watched as her fingers tightened around a throw pillow so tightly he was surprised her nails didn’t pop through the fabric. She sucked in a breath, but didn’t say anything.
    “Did that sting?” he asked, knowing damn well that wasn’t the problem.
    “No. Are you almost done?”
    “Almost.”
    He squeezed a dab of hydrocortisone cream on the tip of his finger and took his time applying it to the bite. Even though it only took one fingertip to apply the medicine, he let the others trail over her skin, enjoying her battle not to react to his touch.
    Until his own body started reacting, too. Skimming his fingertips over her neck, feeling her respond to him, affected him more than he’d thought it would. If he didn’t put some distance between them, he might be tempted to do something really stupid.
    “That should do it.” He put the cap on the tube and gathered the wipe and package to throw away. “Stop scratching it.”
    After tossing the garbage and wrestling with her junk drawer again, Matt washed his hands. Then he went back for a final check on his patient. “Do you want anything before I go? A drink? The TV remote?”
    “No, thank you.”
    He tilted his head and grinned. “A neck rub?”
    She growled and chucked a