To search her face in the light of day and find the intangible woman he'd discovered in the moonlight. Instead, she'd stomped into the room and glared at him, her fathomless, golden eyes shadowed with fatigue instead of mystery, her face strained with worry, instead of the joy he'd witnessed during the night. Her creamy skin flushed with anger. The no-nonsense, tough as nails Ken Adams had returned.
Harry was startled from his reverie by the unmistakable sound of the water shutting off and a moment later, by the loud thumping of his cane, crashing end over end down the long flight of stairs. This was followed by a series of ear-splitting barks from a now spastic Lurch.
"Shit. I'm in trouble."
Harry didn't have time to turn before the bathroom door jerked open upstairs and Ken flew through it. She careened around the corner, skidding to make the sharp turn for the stairs. Before he could warn her, she'd plunged down toward the landing. Amber eyes widened with shock, acknowledging his presence in the split-second before she crashed into him and sent him sailing into the wall.
Chapter 5
Harry went down in a heap, tripped by Lurch, who howled in protest when he inadvertently stepped on one of the dog's good legs. When Kendall tumbled down on top of him, he didn't have time to brace himself. Instead, he received a faceful of wet hair. The fleeting thought that she smelled amazing was lost a moment later when the rest of her body smashed into him with the power of a defensive tackle.
The force propelled him to the corner of the landing. In a last ditch effort to contain the damage, he tried to protect Ken from hurting herself. Catching her in his good arm, Harry took her with him when he slammed into the elaborate Victorian chair-rail and slumped to the floor.
They groaned in unison on impact– her with him– him with the wall. Waiting for the stars to clear from his vision, Harry realized the expression actually had merit. When he finally came to his senses, he jerked forward, wincing as pain shot through his back. His good arm was trapped between the wall and the woman on top of him.
"Ken? Kenny– are you alright?" He tried to touch her with his casted arm, but the angle was too awkward for his fingers to reach her. When she didn't respond, panic flared through him, his pain forgotten. Dammit, had he hurt her?
Lurch reappeared at his side, creating a commotion of bouncing and licking that Harry could have done without. His heart ricocheting in his chest, his headache returned with the ferocity of a sledge hammer.
"Sit, Lurch. Sit, damn it." He shifted on the landing, twisting Kendall's prone body until she was sprawled across his lap. Confirming the gentle rise and fall of her chest through the soft cotton bathrobe, he sighed with relief when she groaned.
"Kendall, honey– wake up." Sweat dampened his forehead at the possibility he'd injured her. How could he have been so stupid? Dammit, he could have hobbled downstairs after she left. But he'd wanted to prove her wrong. "Ken– please?"
Harry's hands shook when they traveled over her soft legs, still damp from the shower. From what he could tell, there were no broken bones. She hadn't bothered to dry off before bolting from the bathroom. Hell, she'd probably guessed he would try something stupid.
Another wave of guilt crashed over him. She was tiny– nearly a foot shorter than him, and so damned fragile. She'd never appeared small when she was on her feet and snapping at him. He glanced up the stairs to the second floor. There were only five stairs up and about twenty going down. How would he haul her back upstairs on one leg? His cane had landed clear across the foyer downstairs. If he could manage to get to his feet, he'd carry her up to the bed and call for an ambulance.
Scooping her up, Harry slid his casted arm under her legs and hoisted her against him with his good arm around her back. The flimsy cotton robe stretched taut across her breasts.
The Best of Murray Leinster (1976)