Free Here to Stay (Silhouette Special Edition) by Kate Freiman Page A

stepped back a few inches. “Come on. Let me take you back to my place,” he said in that seductively low voice. He grinned, a wickedly slow grin, that hinted at tempting possibilities. Now that he didn’t look quite as battered, he was one very sexy, rather cocky male. Heaven help her if he got his memory back before he left. Miles Kent at full wattage would be one dangerously attractive man.
    Her cheeks stung with heat at the thought of being alone with him. Would he put his arms around her, offering comfort?
    Whenever she or any of her foster siblings had been hurt, either physically or emotionally, her parents and grandparents had always had a lap available, or a hug and a special treat once they got too big for lap sitting. She’d been a care-giver herself for so long that she’d forgotten how sweet it could be to receive comfort.
    But she wasn’t so naive as to think a hug from Miles would be particularly comforting. It would be like pouring kerosene on a fire. Miles Kent was disturbing, and embracing him would be a highly...arousing experience.
    “You must have been a hell-raiser as a kid,” she muttered.
    For a brief second his expression darkened. Had she awakened some unhappy memory? Like Desperado, Miles’s life was not exactly an open book. She would always have to guess about the abuse the horse had suffered, and somehow, prove to him that she would never mistreat him. Miles, too, would have to guess about his past, until he regained his memory. Unlike Desperado, however, Miles didn’t have to be a slave to his past, whether he remembered it or not. She hoped he realized that.
    “I imagine there were some who considered me the devil’s own,” he drawled. “But, as they say, success is the best revenge. And apparently, I’m some kind of success.”
    His resolute tone when he mentioned revenge sent a little chill up her spine. Had he remembered something? Or was he simply making a statement? Dave McLeod’s warnings came back to her. She couldn’t deny her impulse to heal whatever wounds Miles had suffered. But would he be as dangerous as Desperado? She might never find out, she realized with some regret. He was hardly the stereotype of a homeless, confused amnesiac who needed shelter. He’d be going home to his private island as soon as the doctors were satisfied with the progress of his injuries.
    Sasha eased herself off the examining table until her feet touched the floor. Then she waited for her head to clear, aware that Miles was watching her. Although he was the one leaning on a cane, she had the distinct impression that if she started to keel over, he’d have plenty of strength to catch her. The thought made her smile.
    “What?” he asked.
    “I was just thinking that this is a new spin on the blind leading the blind,” she told him. Gingerly, she stepped toward the door. A wave of dizziness made her catch her breath. Or maybe it was the sudden feel of Miles’s hand on her waist, supporting her. “Thanks. I...I’m not sure this is going to work. I think I was a little optimistic about my condition,” she admitted.
    “Let me get you a wheelchair.”
    She shook her head, which wasn’t the best thing to do to her scrambled brains. Smothering a gasp, she said, “No. I have to get myself moving eventually.”
    Miles muttered something about damn stubborn women, but within a couple of minutes he had scared up—almost literally—a volunteer to help them both to his room. The woman who answered his call was the same volunteer who had delivered him to Sasha.
    “My goodness!” the woman gasped when she walked into the examining room. “No wonder your young man was so worried. It was very impressive the way he demanded to be taken to you, like a knight rushing to defend his lady.”
    Amused despite her embarrassment, Sasha glanced at Miles. He gave a shrug with his good shoulder, but the color that stained his cheeks belied his nonchalance. The volunteer took Sasha by the elbow. As they