THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

six-of-one, half-a-dozen-of-another attitude he currently projected, she’d lay strong odds he wasn’t nearly that blasé about it. She couldn’t have misread him that badly. She angled her chin in a challenge.
    “Great. It makes infinitely more sense than waking Eli.”
    He nodded agreeably. “Then by all means, I’ll do it. I thought only to keep the employer/employee relationship as straightforward as possible. You may be my patient for now, but I hope you’ll be in my employ much longer than you will be in my care.”
    That rat! With his reasonable tone and his plausible explanation, he’d turned the tables on her.
    Well, she refused to feel like she was being unreasonable. It did make more sense for him to do it than to rouse poor Eli, who seemed to be on call 24–7.
    Plus, she knew his rationalizations were just that — rationalizations. She’d felt his reluctance like a palpable force between them.
    She lifted her eyebrows. “Oh, but we’re both professionals. I hardly think either one of us is going to get confused if you draw my blood this one time.”
    “You’re the boss,” he said, his voice loose, a little mocking. Casual, casual. “Just sit tight and I’ll get the kit.”
    He left the room to retrieve the phlebotomy supplies.
    Ainsley wilted immediately. God, she was a fool to antagonize him. And he was antagonized. As smooth as he was trying to play it, he was pissed. No question about it.
    She didn’t have long to flay herself about it; he was back in under a minute. Plunking the kit down, he readied the materials and donned fresh sterile latex gloves.
    He looked up, his eyes cool, thoughts purposely shrouded. “Left arm?”
    “Seems to work best.” She extended her arm, having already rolled up her sleeve.
    He tied the rubber tourniquet off, then reached for an alcohol prep pad, which he tore open. Grasping her arm, he swabbed the inside of her elbow efficiently. Then, with every bit as much practiced ease as Eli displayed, he probed for the best vein, introduced the needle and quickly filled the requisite number of tubes, each with a different colored cap. Though she watched his face carefully, he didn’t betray by so much as a twitch any untoward emotion.
    Stranger and stranger. Had she been that far off base? Had she completely imagined his ambivalence?
    “There. All done.”
    He applied a gauze pad to the site and withdrew the needle. Automatically, she took over, applying steady pressure to the site while he released the tourniquet.
    Okay, Ainsley, you’re an idiot. A vain, self-centered jerk. You pose no more of a threat to this man’s composure than a gnat circling his head.
    Then he stood so abruptly that his chair shot backward, careening into the wall where it left a small but definite dent in the drywall.
    “You can run off to bed now. We’re done here.” With that, he left the room, samples in hand.
    Ainsley watched him thoughtfully, wondering when it would strike him that the samples had to come back to this lab.
     
     

 
    Chapter 6
     
    AINSLEY WOKE to a violent thunderstorm.
    She lay there a moment, wondering if she’d imagined the ear-splitting crack of thunder that still echoed in her head. Then another boom sounded, shaking the house and rattling the windows. She jack-knifed up in bed, heart pounding. Holy Mother of God, that had to have been close!
    She reached for the lamp at her bedside, turning the switch. Nothing. That’s when she noticed the clock radio that usually glowed at her bedside had been extinguished. Great. No power. The electrical storm must have knocked the electricity out.
    Or, oh shit, had lightning struck the house itself? It sure sounded close enough. Was the house already on fire?
    She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, grabbed her clothes and began to struggle into them. She was poking her bare feet into her athletic shoes when her door burst open.
    “Ainsley? Thank God you’re all right.”
    The voice was Delano’s, but she couldn’t see him.
    “Del? What’s happening? Has the house been hit?”
    “We have to leave. Now.”
    Another boom and a flash rocked the house and briefly revealed Delano, closer now than his voice had suggested just second ago.
    “Are you sure we should go out there in that? I mean, unless the house is on fire, wouldn’t we be safer in here?”
    “That’s mortar fire,” he clipped. “The house is under attack.”
    Under attack? “But who … why—?”
    “Just come.” He grabbed