[The Sons of Lily Moreau 03] - Capturing the Millionaire Page 2

  Kayla pushed against the bag, but it didn’t give. She tried hitting it with the side of her hand, hoping to make the huge tan, marshmallow-like pillow deflate.

  It didn’t. Desperate, Kayla put the lantern down on the wet ground and felt around in her pockets. In the morning, when she got dressed, she automatically put her cell phone in her pocket, along with the old Swiss army knife that had once been her father’s prized possession.

  A smile of relief crossed her lips as her fingers came in contact with a small, familiar shape. Quickly taking it out, she unfolded the largest blade and jabbed the air bag with it. Air whooshed out as the bag deflated.

  The moment it was flat, the stranger’s head fell forward, hitting the steering wheel. He was obviously still unconscious, or at least she hoped so. The alternative was gruesome.

  Kayla felt the side of his neck with her fingertips and found a pulse. “Lucky,” she muttered under her breath.

  The next step was to free him from the car. She’d seen accidents where the vehicle was so badly mangled, the fire department had to be summoned, with its jaws of life. Fortunately, this wasn’t one of those cases. Considering the conditions, the driver had been incredibly lucky. She wondered if he’d been drinking. But a quick sniff of the air near his face told her he hadn’t been.

  Just another Southern Californian who didn’t know how to drive in the rain, she thought. Leaning over him, she struggled to find the release button for the seat belt.

  Was it her imagination, or was he stirring? God knew she hadn’t been this close to a man in a very long time.

  “Have…we…met?”

  Sucking in her breath, Kayla jerked back, hitting her head against the car roof as she heard the hoarsely whispered question.

  She swallowed. “You’re awake,” she declared in stunned relief. “Or…you’re…a dream,” Alain mumbled weakly. Was that his voice? It sounded so high, so distant. And his eyelids, oh God, his eyelids felt heavier than a ton of coal. They kept trying to close.

  Was he hallucinating? He heard barking. The hounds of hell? Was he in hell? Alain tried to focus on the woman in front of him. He was delirious, he concluded. There was no other explanation for his seeing a redheaded angel in a rain slicker. Kayla looked at the stranger closely. There was blood oozing from a wide gash on his forehead just above his right eyebrow and his eyes kept rolling upward. He looked as if he was going to pass out again at any moment. She slipped her arm around his waist, still trying to find the seat belt’s release button.

  “Definitely…a dream,” Alain breathed as he felt her fingers feathering along his thigh. Damn, if he’d known hell was populated by creatures like this, he would have volunteered to go a long time ago.

  Finding the button, she pressed it and tugged away his seat belt. Kayla looked up at his face. His eyes were shut. “No, no, don’t fade on me now,” she begged. Getting the stranger to her house was going to be next to impossible if he was unconscious. She was strong, but not that strong. “Stay with me. Please,” she urged.

  To her relief, the stranger opened his eyes again. “Best…offer…I’ve had…all day,” he said, wincing with every word that left his lips.

  “Terrific,” she murmured. “Of all the men to crash into my tree, I have to get a playboy.”

  Moving her fingers along his ribs gingerly, she was rewarded with another series of winces. He must have cracked or bruised them, she thought in dismay. “Okay, hang in there,” she told him as she slowly moved his torso and legs, so that he was facing out of the vehicle. With effort, she placed her arm beneath his shoulder and grasped his wrist with her hand.

  The man’s eyes remained closed, but he mumbled against her ear, “You shouldn’t…put your trees…where…people can…hit them.”

  Kayla did her best to block the shiver that his breath created. Gritting her teeth against the effort she was about to make, she promised, “I’ll keep that in mind.” Spreading her feet, she braced herself, then attempted to rise while holding him. She felt him sagging. “Work with me here, mister.”

  She thought she heard a chuckle. “What…did you have…in…mind?”

  “Definitely not what you have in mind,” she assured him. Taking a deep breath, she straightened. The man she was trying to rescue was all but a dead weight.

  Curling her arm around his waist as best she could, she focused on making the long journey across her lawn to her front door.

  “Sorry…” His single word was carried away in the howling wind. The next moment, its meaning became clear: the man had passed out.

  “No, no, wait,” Kayla pleaded frantically, but it was too late. He went down like a ton of bricks. She almost pitched forward with him, but let go at the last moment. Frustrated, she looked at the blond, striking stranger. Unconscious, he was just too much for her to carry.

  She glanced back toward the house. So near and yet so far. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, Kayla thought for a moment as all three of the dogs closed ranks around the fallen stranger. And then a rather desperate idea occurred to her. “There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

  Taylor barked enthusiastically, as if to add a coda to her words. Kayla couldn’t help grinning at the large animal.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Okay, gang.” She addressed the others as if they were her assistants. “Watch over him. I’ll be right back.”

  The dogs appeared to take in every word. Kayla was a firm believer that animals understood what you said, as long as you were patient enough to train them from the time you brought them into your house. Just like babies.

  “Oilcloth, oilcloth,” she chanted under her breath as she hurried into her house, “what did I do with that oilcloth?” She remembered buying more then ten yards of the fabric—bright red—last year. There’d been a healthy-size chunk left over. She could swear she’d seen the remainder recently.

  Crossing the kitchen, she went into the garage, still searching. The oilcloth was neatly folded and tucked away in a corner. Kayla grabbed it and quickly retraced her steps.

  She was back at the wrecked vehicle and her still unconscious guest almost immediately. Spying her approach, Winchester hobbled to meet her halfway, then pivoted on his hind legs to lead her back.

  “Think I forgot the way?” she asked him.

  Winchester took the Fifth. As the rain continued to lash at her, Kayla spread the oilcloth, shiny side down, on the muddy ground beside the stranger. Working as quickly as she could, rain still lashing unrelentingly at her face, she rolled the man onto the cloth. His clothes had been muddied in the process, but it couldn’t be helped. Leaving him out here, bleeding and in God only knew what kind of condition, was definitely not a viable option.

  “Okay,” she said to her dogs, “now comes the hard part. Times like this, a sled would really come in handy.” Winchester yipped, looking up at her with adoring eyes. She was, after all, his savior. “Easy for you to say,” she told him.

  Gripping the ends of the oilcloth, one corner in each hand, she faced the house. “Here goes nothing,” she muttered under her breath, and began the long, painfully slow journey of pulling him, hoping that the stranger, with his upturned face, didn’t drown on the way.

  The first thing Alain became aware of as he slowly pried his eyes opened, was the weight of the anvil currently residing on his forehead. It felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds, and a gaggle of devils danced along its surface, each taking a swing with his hammer as he passed.

  The second thing he became aware of was the feel of the sheets against his skin. Against almost all of his skin. He was naked beneath the blue-and-white down comforter. Or close to it. He definitely felt linen beneath his shoulders.

  Blinking, he tried very hard to focus his eyes.

  Where the hell was he?

  He had absolutely no idea how he had gotten here—or what he was doing here to begin with.

  Or, for that matter, who that woman with the shapely hips was. Alain blinked again. He wa
sn’t imagining it. There was a woman with her back to him, a woman with sumptuous hips, bending over a fireplace. The glow from the hearth, and a handful of candles scattered throughout the large, rustic-looking room provided the only light to be had.

  Why? Where was the electricity? Had he crossed some time warp?

  Nothing was making any sense. Alain tried to raise his head, and instantly regretted it. The pounding intensified twofold.

  His hand automatically flew to his forehead and came in contact with a sea of gauze. He slowly moved his fingertips along it.

  What had happened? Curious, he raised the comforter and sheet and saw he still had on his briefs. There were more bandages, these wrapped tightly around his chest. He was beginning to feel like some sort of cartoon character.

  Alain opened his mouth to get the woman’s attention, but nothing came out. He cleared his throat before making another attempt, and she heard him.

  She turned around—as did the pack of dogs that were gathered around her. Alain realized that she’d been putting food into their bowls.

  Good, at least they weren’t going to eat him.

  Yet, he amended warily. “You’re awake,” she said, looking pleased as she crossed over to him. The light from the fireplace caught in the swirls of red hair that framed her face. She moved fluidly, with grace. Like someone who was comfortable within her own skin. And why not? The woman was beautiful.

  Again, he wondered if he was dreaming. “And naked,” he added. A rueful smile slipped across her lips. He couldn’t tell if it was light from the fire or if a pink hue had just crept up her cheeks. In any event, it was alluring.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Why, did you have your way with me?” he asked, a hint of amusement winning out over his confusion. “You’re not naked,” she pointed out. “And I prefer my men to be conscious.” Then she became serious. “Your clothes were all muddy and wet. I managed to wash them before the power went out completely.” She gestured about the room, toward the many candles set on half the flat surfaces. “They’re hanging in my garage right now, but they’re not going to be dry until morning,” she said apologetically. “If then.”

  He was familiar with power outages; they usually lasted only a few minutes. “Unless the power comes back on.” The redhead shook her head, her hair moving about her face like an airy cloud. “Highly doubtful. When we lose power around here, it’s hardly ever a short-term thing. If we’re lucky, we’ll get power back by midafternoon tomorrow.”

  Alain glanced down at the coverlet spread over his body. Even that slight movement hurt his neck. “Well, as intriguing as the whole idea might be, I really can’t stay naked all that time. Can I borrow some clothes from your husband until mine are ready?”

  Was that amusement in her eyes, or something else? “That might not be so easy,” she told him.

  “Why?” “Because I don’t have one.”

  He’d thought he’d seen someone in a hooded rain slicker earlier. “Significant other?” he suggested. When she made no response, he continued, “Brother? Father?”

  She shook her head at each suggestion. “None of the above.”

  “You’re alone?” he questioned incredulously.

  “I currently have seven dogs,” she told him, amusement playing along her lips. “Never, at any time of the night or day, am I alone.”

  He didn’t understand. If there was no other person in the house—

  “Then how did you get me in here? You sure as hell don’t look strong enough to have carried me all the way by yourself.”

  She pointed toward the oilcloth she’d left spread out and drying before the fireplace. “I put you in that and dragged you in.” He had to admit he was impressed. None of the women he’d ever met would have even attempted to do anything like that. They would likely have left him out in the rain until he was capable of moving on his own power. Or drowned.

  “Resourceful.” “I like to think so.” And, being resourceful, her mind was never still. It now attacked the problem of the all-but-naked man in her living room. “You know, I think there might be a pair of my dad’s old coveralls in the attic.” As she talked, Kayla started to make her way toward the stairs, and then stopped. A skeptical expression entered her bright-green eyes as they swept over the man on the sofa. Alain saw the look and couldn’t help wondering what she was thinking. Why was there a doubtful frown on her face? “What?”

  “Well…” Kayla hesitated, searching for a delicate way to phrase this, even though her father had been gone for some five years now. “My dad was a pretty big man.”

  Alain still didn’t see what the problem was. “I’m six-two.”

  She smiled, and despite the situation, he found himself being drawn in as surely as if someone had thrown a rope over him and begun to pull him closer. “No, not big—” Kayla held her hand up to indicate height “—big.” This time, she moved her hand in front of her, about chest level, to denote a man whose build had been once compared to that of an overgrown grizzly bear.

  “I’ll take my chances,” Alain assured her. “It’s either that or wear something of yours, and I don’t think either one of us wants to go that route.” It suddenly occurred to him that he was having a conversation with a woman whose name he didn’t know and who didn’t know his. While that was not an entirely unusual situation for him, an introduction was definitely due.

  “By the way, I’m Alain Dulac.”

  Her smile, he thought, seemed to light up the room far better than the candles did. “Kayla,” she told him. “Kayla McKenna.” She saw him wince as he tried to sit up to shake her hand. Rather than a handshake, she gently pressed her palms against his shoulders and pushed him back down on the sofa. “I think you should stay there for a while. You gashed your head and cracked a couple of ribs. I sewed your forehead and taped you up,” she added. “Nothing else appears to be damaged. I ran my portable scanner over you.”

  Other than running into someone from Star Trek, there was only one conclusion to be drawn. “I take it you’re a doctor?”

  Kayla shook her head. “Vet,” she corrected. “Oh.” Gingerly, Alain touched the bandage around his head again, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to expect. “Does that mean I’m suddenly going to start barking, or have an overwhelming urge to drink out of the toilet anytime soon?”

  She laughed, and he caught himself thinking that it was a very sexy sound. “Only if you want to. The basics of medicine, whether for an animal or a human being, are surprisingly similar,” she assured him. “They don’t even automatically shoot horses anymore when they break their legs these days.” He began to stir, then stopped when she looked at him a tad sternly. “Why don’t you rest while I go see if I can find my dad’s clothes in the attic?”

  Without his realizing it, the pack of dogs in the room had closed in on him. They appeared to be eyeing him suspiciously. At least, that was the way it seemed to him. There were seven in all, seven German shepherds of varying heights and coloration: two white, one black and the rest black-and-tan. And none of them, except for the little guy with the cast, looked to be overly friendly.

  Alain raised his eyes toward Kayla. “Are you sure it’s safe to leave me with these dogs?” She smiled and nodded. “You won’t hurt them. I trust you.” “No offense, but I wasn’t thinking of me hurting them. I was worried about them deciding they haven’t had enough to eat tonight.” He was only half kidding. “Survival of the fittest and all that.”

  “Don’t worry.” She patted his shoulder, and realized it was the same gesture she used with the dogs to reassure them. “They haven’t mistaken you for an invading alpha male.” She looked around at them and realized, to an outsider, they might seem a bit intimidating. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll take some of them with me.”

  That was a start, he allowed. “How about all of them?”

  “You don’t like dogs.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. She felt a bit disappointed in the man, although she was
n’t entirely certain why.

  “I like dogs fine,” he countered. “But I prefer to be standing in their company, not lying down like the last item on their menu.” She supposed, given his present condition, she could understand his frame of mind. “Okay, they’ll come with me. I’ll just leave you Winchester.” She nodded toward the smallest dog.

  The shepherd looked friendly enough. But Alain was curious as to her reasoning. “Why? Because he broke his leg?” “He didn’t break his leg,” she corrected. “Someone shot him. But I thought the two of you might form some sort of bond, because Winchester was the one who found you.” She left the room with the menagerie following her, closer than a shadow.

  It came to him about a minute after Kayla walked out of the room with her fourlegged entourage that she was wrong. Winchester hadn’t found him; the dog had been responsible for his sudden and unexpected merging with the oak tree. But it was too late to point that out.

  Chapter 3

  The door to the attic creaked as she opened it. For a moment, Kayla just stood in the doorway, looking at the shadows her lantern created within the room.

  Ariel bumped her head against her thigh, as if to nudge her in.

  Taking a deep breath, Kayla raised the lantern higher to illuminate the space, and walked in. She hadn’t been up here in a very long time. Not because the gathering place for spiders, crickets and all manner of other bugs held any special terror for her. She had no problem with any of God’s creatures, no matter how creepy-crawly the rest of the world might find them. No, what kept her from coming up here was the bittersweet pain of memories.

  The attic was filled with furniture, boxes of clothing, knickknacks and assorted personal treasures belonging to people long gone. Yet she couldn’t make herself throw them out or even donate them to charity. To do so, to sweep the place clean and get rid of all the clutter, felt to her like nothing short of a violation of trust. But as much as she couldn’t bring herself to part with her parents’ and grandparents’ possessions, coming up here, remembering people who were no longer part of her everyday life, was still extremely difficult.