Free Cool Shade by Theresa Weir Page A

she was.
    "You cut yourself making your getaway. Or attempted getaway, I should say."
    The sheet slipped down to her waist. She saw that she was wearing an unfamiliar green T-shirt. "My clothes."
    One side of his mouth curved up. "Bloody."
    She felt under the sheet at the rest of her. Her shorts. They were gone, too.
    How had he managed that? Without her even knowing? Thank God, she still had on her panties. Or did she?
    She checked.
    Yes.
    With a weak wrist, she tossed back the sheet and swung her legs over the side of the bed. As soon as her feet touched the floor, the room slanted. She stood up, rolling ship be damned. That's when everything turned black and her ears began to hum.
    One second Eddie was perched on the end of the bed like some gargoyle, the next he was standing in front of her, hands on her shoulder urging her firmly back on the bed. She didn't argue, and her bottom made solid contact with the mattress.
    "Head down."
    A hand to the back of her head left no room for argument.
    Hello knees.
    Hello floor.
    Paying him homage, the last position she wanted to be in. But gradually, she began to feel better. "I'm okay." She waved a hand, knocking him away, letting her heavy head fall back against the pillow, her body twisted at the waist, her feet still dangling off the side of the bed.
    He lifted her legs, straightening her out. The T-shirt slid up, revealing white panties. She didn't even care. She felt too awful to care.
    Without covering her, he sat down, mattress dipping, his hip against her thigh.
    He was getting very familiar.
    He braced a hand on either side of her, leaning forward. "You're going to have to stay here a while." With that announcement, he got to his feet. The mattress bobbed, the sudden movement almost catapulting her through the ceiling.
    "The hell I am."
    She meant for the words to sound strong, outraged. Intimidating. Instead, they were hardly more than a whisper.
    He smiled in that sexy, knowing way of his. Then he leaned close, his fingers brushing her temple as he smoothed the soaked hair from her forehead. "I'll take care of you."
    "That's what I'm afraid of," she said weakly.
    He laughed.
    Was she his entertainment?
    "You can't force me to stay here against my will." She was sweating again. In her weakened condition, that might be exactly what he could do. "What are you, some kind of hillbilly? Some Clyde Bundy?"
    He rolled that around in his head. "Clyde Bundy?" He nodded, as if suddenly deciding she'd come up with a good idea. "Now there's a thought."
    Anybody else would have freaked out by now. A good thing she was used to weird situations.
    She suddenly remembered her poor cat. "Hemingway!"
    "Hemingway?" That perked him right up. "Who's that? Your boyfriend?"
    She was staring at his mouth, at the way it kind of turned up just a little at the corners. "My cat."
    "Hemingway is your cat?"
    Sweet, sweet mouth. "Yes. He has to be kissed— fed! He has to be fed!"
    "Cats are pretty self-sufficient. I'll bet he can get along without you for a while."
    She thought about the cat food they'd torn open. One of those shared moments of quality time. The food would last a week. "He needs me."
    "Hemingway… does this cat have six toes?"
    "How did you know?"
    "Ernest Hemingway collected cats with six toes."
    Wow. In all the years she'd had Hemingway, no one had figured that out. She was impressed. And sleepy.
    "You're tired."
    Her eyes flew open. She hadn't even realized she'd closed them. "No I'm not."
    "Get some rest while I fix you something to eat."
    "Not tired…" But her eyelids were so heavy she couldn't keep them open.

Chapter 14
    Tainted Love
    "Tell me what you were doing in my house."
    Once again, Eddie was perched on the end of her bed—or his bed—like some raven. Dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a gray T-shirt, he looked as if he'd cleaned up, even shaved. It was evening, twenty-four hours after Maddie's unsuccessful heist or bungle or whatever it had been. Earlier in the day,