Free Driving Force by Jo Andrews Page A

of that. You need to lie still. That fever’s got to run its course. You start fussing over things, it’s just going to take longer.” Doc looked toward Sierra. “When was the last time he shifted?”
    “About three in the morning. He’s been human ever since.”
    “That’s a good sign. Maybe we don’t need these chains anymore.”
    “No!” said Ian sharply. “They stay on until I’m recovered.”
    “The cat won’t hurt me,” Sierra said. “It didn’t last night and I don’t see it ever doing that. I’m not afraid of it.”
    He smiled at her. “No, you’re not, are you?”
    He caught her hand and drew it to his mouth. Startled, she felt his lips move sensual and soft against her palm.
    “My Mouse with fangs. Always so brave,” he said and she realized with a shock that what she had always thought was an insult was not an insult at all, maybe never had been. It was a compliment. Even an endearment. “Well, I’m afraid of the cat. Of what it might do when I’m out of my head. Not gonna take any chances with you.”
    Okay, when had the world turned upside down? Sierra retreated hastily to the kitchen and occupied herself with making coffee. It gave her something to do to steady herself.
    She’d been too long without a man. It was as simple as that. She wasn’t the type for one-night stands and she hadn’t slept with anyone since Peter, who had made her wary of relationships anyway. It wasn’t really surprising that Ian Raeder should turn her on. All the years of attraction and temptation, of wondering what he would be like in bed.
    Sexual curiosity, that’s all it was. That’s all it had to be.
    Doc had helped Ian into pajama bottoms before getting him back into bed. Sierra wished he had put on the pajama top too, just so that disturbing torso of his would be covered as well. But apparently Ian disliked wearing even the bottoms and only had them on because she was around. It seemed he preferred to sleep naked.
    Sierra sighed deeply. He would.
    The claw marks had knitted into rusty-brown lines, the inflammation that had reddened the flesh around them now gone. Doc removed the stitches at Ian’s request.
    “Skin might heal over them and then they’re a bitch to get out,” Ian explained drowsily to Sierra. “Really hurts. Know that from experience when Simon caught me a good one when we were cubs and then we left the stitches in too long.”
    “Where?” asked Sierra, puzzled. There didn’t seem to be any marks on that flawless gold-tanned skin aside from the faint shadows remaining of the cuts and bruises he had picked up in the rapids.
    “Right across my chest from one side to the other.”
    “Just shows you how well they heal,” said Doc a little resentfully and Ian laughed at him. “Not even the slightest scar. Those claw marks will fade to white in a couple of days and be completely gone in a week.” He was probing Ian delicately. “His ribs are almost knitted and those internal injuries are healing fast.” He checked Ian’s pupils. “Concussion’s gone. Still some fever. That’ll last until he’s completely healed. He’ll be weak until then.”
    “Wanna get up,” Ian complained. “Sick of lying around.”
    “Want a relapse?” Doc scowled at him. “You stay in bed for the rest of today. Tomorrow you can shuffle into a chair. But you don’t do anything more strenuous than reading a book or watching TV until I tell you.”
    “The ranch…”
    “No,” said Doc flatly. “Taylor’s taking care of the ranch. I know you, boy. You go home, you’ll be out digging post holes or doing something equally stupid in no time. Take this, Sierra.” He handed her what looked like a miniature ping-pong paddle with prongs. “He does anything out of line, you whack him in the shoulder with that. It’s a tranq. He’ll go down like a stone.”
    “Ooh! That should be fun!” Sierra grinned nastily at Ian. He groaned.
    “You gonna give her power over me like that? No fair,