Tied With a Bow

waste any more time on him.

Chapter Two
     
    Despite her intention to stop thinking about him, Kate’s mind ran circles around the mystery of the bronze man. While showering, she considered where he might have come from. Many of her theories, though, were pretty unlikely unless her life had become a comic book.
    Dressed in a turtleneck, jeans, and warm socks, she returned to the ground floor, expecting him to be gone. He should have wandered to one of her neighbors’ houses to knock on the door for help. Instead, he was huddled in a deck chair.
    You were supposed to leave, so I wouldn’t be tempted to talk to you again.
    Staring out the window, she couldn’t prevent the surge of compassion that rose up, nor the small spike of pleasure that came from finding him still within reach.
    Don’t even think about it! Just because that mouth was made for kissing doesn’t mean you want the rest of the package that goes with it.
    She went to the guest room, grabbed a towel and blanket, and strode to the door. Pulling it open, she said, “What are you doing?”
    “I expect that’s fairly obvious.”
    She scowled, thrusting the bundle toward him. “Here.”
    He rose and took it. “This is all the hospitality you offer after I saved your life?” he asked. “When I said you were of good character, Kate, I believe I judged you prematurely.”
    “I doubt you saved my life. They were coming for you, not me,” she said, feigning confidence. Actually, those ventala might have been after her, too. They were a vengeful breed, and if they were nostalgic for their vampire sires, they might feel they had reason to want her dead, considering that the biggest story of her career had uncovered a nest of vampires who were later executed.
    He rubbed the towel over his head and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders.
    “I’ll call an ambulance. The hospital can treat you for your amnesia, and they can call the police who will check the missing persons database and help you figure out who you are. Until then, they’ll make sure you’re taken to a public shelter. One with central heating and other important features.”
    “No,” he said, sitting back down in the chair.
    “What do you mean no ? You can’t stay outside. You’ll freeze to death.”
    He wrapped the blanket tighter, tipping his chin down so all of his neck was covered.
    “Did you hear me?”
    “I will remain here,” he said stubbornly.
    “Why?”
    “Because I’m not ready to leave yet.” He clenched his jaws and then glanced at her. “And before you ask, I don’t know why.”
    She threw her arms up in exasperation, stepped back into the house, and closed the door, but she didn’t walk away. She rested her palms on the doorframe, leaning against it.
    “What are you going to do?” she murmured. “Leave him out there until he turns into a Popsicle?”
    She sighed and swung the door open. “Come inside,” she said.
    As he passed the threshold, he blinked and said, “Your home is palatial.”
    “Not really,” she said, but tried to see it with fresh eyes. The open floor plan stretched from back door to front, encompassing the living room, dining room, and kitchen. The ceilings soared two and a half stories. It was a lot of space for a solitary resident, but plenty of career women lived alone and invested in real estate.
    He rolled his shoulders and twisted his back.
    “I’ve noticed you keep stretching. Are you stiff?”
    “My back aches. I may have injured it.”
    “I can drive you to the hospital.”
    “I don’t think the damage is serious. Could I wash and hang my clothes to dry?”
    Her eyes widened. “I’d love to know what cave you’ve been living in,” she said, grabbing his forearm and leading him to the guest bathroom.
    Just inside the door, he stared at the shower. “I thought of a basin of warm water, but this is familiar, too. I stand inside and hot water rains down,” he said, shrugging his brows at her, clearly pleased with himself for remembering something.
    “Right,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “Congratulations. You remember how to take a shower.”
    He hauled his shirt over his head, and she should have turned but didn’t. He was incredibly well built. His smooth lines conjured a feeling that he should’ve been on a pedestal, like a statue or a sports car at an auto show. Though sleek and perfectly designed, he had one imperfection. A round quarter-sized scar on the left side of his chest. The