Free Truth & Lies: A Queen City Justice Novel by Elizabeth Bemis

off his bad leg.
    He’d pulled off the loose trim, realigned it using the level as a guide, and had his hammer poised over a nail when Dana stepped into the room.
    “Deck?” Unfortunately, she spoke right as his hammer came in for a landing.
    Directly on top of his thumbnail.
    He spun around to face her, realizing microseconds into the turn that it had been a really, really bad idea.
    He went down like the Hindenburg, catching a glimpse of the concern on her face as he landed—not directly, but close enough—on his bad knee.
    He groaned. Pain, humiliation, and anger churned through him as he tried to right himself, only to find Dana kneeling beside him.
    “You hurt?” she asked, methodically checking him over, running her hands down his arms and legs. She seemed to know what she was doing. Is it possible she has medical training?
    He knew absolutely nothing about this woman.
    He brushed her hands away. “I’m fine,” he said more gruffly than he’d intended.
    Deck struggled to sit up, wincing as a sharp pain stabbed down his leg. Having made it to his elbows, he took a deep breath, held it for a second, then let it go in an exhausted whoosh, hoping to find enough determination to pry himself the rest of the way off the floor. “Just let me catch my breath for a second.”
    He didn’t know if she understood him or not, but it was probably too much to hope for that she would sit beside him and wait quietly.
    She moved closer, sliding one leg behind him, the other parallel to his side, and helped him ease back, his head pillowed on her thigh.
    She touched the side of his face.
    Sweet, merciful God.
    No one had touched him in a thousand years. The coolness of her fingers against the side of his head felt impossibly good. He barely stifled a whimper.
    Deck closed his eyes. He knew he should pull back before she realized how much her touch affected him. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.
    She stroked his forehead as if brushing his hair out of his eyes, not that he had a hair on his head longer than a quarter of an inch. But it still felt like heaven. And to a man who’d been living in hell for the past year, a taste of heaven was terrifying.
    Yet still, he didn’t pull away. He nuzzled into her palm as it swept down his cheek, calling himself every sort of fool. Opening his eyes, he made contact with the warm gingerbread depths of hers.
    “ Jeste li u redu? ” she said, then shook her head, trying it again in English. “You okay?”
    Deck nodded, one short jerk of his chin. He’d never felt better, really. Sure, his leg still throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his chest. He was taking advantage of her concern to abate his own need for physical contact.
    And that realization gave him enough strength to pull away. To concentrate on the embarrassment of having fallen on his ass in front of her. To push away from the unbearably tender touch of her fingers in his hair, her soft thigh under his cheek, the light, tempting cloud of flowery scent given off by her hair, and the hopelessly sweet expression on her face, which turned to disappointment as he finally sat up and moved back.
    Deck picked up the crutch next to him and wished he’d done his stunning swan dive closer to some piece of furniture that he could use to wrestle his body to an upright position. To have her watch him make the pathetic struggle to his feet was even worse than her having seen him go down.
    Before he could do more than brace himself, Dana scrambled to a standing position and held out a hand to him. Having no other choice, he took it and let her pull him up.
    Even if it did make him feel like a pitiful weakling.
    
    Dana’s fingers still tingled from the gentle abrasion of Deck’s short hair against them. When she’d rushed to his side, she’d only meant to confirm that he hadn’t seriously hurt himself. Instead, she’d just had what might have been the most intimate encounter of her life.
    She had a strong