One Summer’s Knight

“So, why don’t you just pretend I’m an animal?”

“Good idea-hold still, Rex…” And when he turned, his breath caressed her sweat- damp breasts like a cooling breeze…

“Rex? Ouch!”

“I told you to hold still. There now,” she said in a thickened purr as she restored the folded shirt to its original position and gave it a pat, “that’s a good boy…” She sat back on her heels, trembling inside. “That’s going to need stitches.”

Riley swore. “The hell it is-” He tried to rise, then sank back with a hiss of pain and swore some more. “Don’t know about my foot, though,” he said in a constricted, self-pitying voice. “Hurts like bloody hell.”

“Let me see.” Summer crawled along his side on her hands and knees, then scooted around to face him and lifted his injured foot into her lap. Carefully, she drew off the shoe and set it aside. Funny, she thought dazedly, how vulnerable feet are. Bare feet especially. Men’s feet…

She looked up at Riley, who had leaned forward to stare at the bluish-white, pigeon-egg-size lump on his instep. His eyes lifted to hers and held on. She couldn’t seem to look away from them, even while her fingers delicately manipulated the bones in his foot. His eyes were so close to hers she could see her tiny reflection in the black depths of the pupils.

“Well?” he asked in a cracking voice.

She licked her lips, then murmured, “The skin’s not broken-that’s good. Can you wiggle your toes?” He did so. She moved her hands over his arch-God, how hard it was not to make it a caress-and pressed. “Does this hurt?” He shook his head, and she could feel the faint stirring of air on her hot cheeks. She eased his foot carefully away from her lap and cleared her throat, not once but twice. “Okay, I don’t think anything’s broken. But you should probably have it X-rayed to make sure.”

“The hell with that,” Riley growled. “Help me up. A little ice…some Advil…I’ll be fine.”

She got quickly to her feet. “Can you stand on it?” He gave her a look, and a moment later, with her help, he did. “Do you want your shoe?” He nodded, and then held his breath against the pain while she knelt down and eased it onto his foot. And when she rose up again, making it seem like such a natural thing Riley couldn’t think of a way to avoid it, she’d somehow eased herself in under his arm and had taken some of his weight on her own shoulders.

She’s comfortable like this, he thought unhappily as they made slow progress up the wooded slope, through the shrubbery and across the lawn. This was her natural place-helping… doing for… taking care of… others. Always others

He found himself thinking about the other night in the FBI garage, how he’d enjoyed watching her work on his injured finger, and the way she’d seemed to forget herself and her womes for that brief time. And how intensely attracted to her he’d been. Now here he was, under very similar circumstances, and while he was finding her no less attractive-if anything, more so-he couldn’t seem to derive the same enjoyment from the situation.

To distract himself from the pain he was in, he let his analytical mind have a go at solving the puzzle, but couldn’t come up with any answers. Except to conclude that, while he had no problem with Summer Robey in the role of ministering angel, sometime between last Monday night and this Saturday morning he’d decided he did not like being the one she was ministering to. And what in the hell was that all about? God help him, he didn’t know. But something had changed.

It was obvious to Summer, when David intercepted them on the flagstone patio just outside Riley’s study, that he’d been looking for them. He looked upset, and uncharacteristically angry. And she thought, Uh-oh, now what?

Whatever he’d been angry about, he forgot it instantly when he saw Riley. His mouth dropped open in dismay and his brows drew inward, and he didn’t even seem to hear when Summer asked him about Helen. His eyes were huge and violet with anxiety as they clung to Riley, and his voice was hoarse as he asked, “Is he hurt bad, Mom? Is he gonna be okay?”

“I’m fine,” Riley growled, drawing himself staunchly erect. Shunning Summer’s help, he hobbled to the French doors. “Just a bruised foot and a little cut on my head-don’t know what your mother’s making such a fuss about.”

The worry didn’t leave David’s eyes, but he eagerly nodded. “Yeah, I know, sometimes she does that.” He lurched in front of Riley, clumsy as a puppy in his efforts to get to the French door first. “But…are you sure you’re okay?” he asked as he held it open for them. “Honestly? You look terrible. You got blood all over-”

“Looks worse than it is,” Riley cut in. “Trust me-I’ll live.”

Men, Summer thought. “Hey-” she said in a low voice as she clamped a hand on her son’s shoulder just in time to prevent him from dogging Riley’s heels right on into his study, “I want to know where your sister is-right now.”

“I don’t know!” David wiggled his shoulder impatiently out of her grasp. He threw an anxious look after Riley’s retreating back, then turned on Summer, the anger once again hot in his eyes as he hissed, “Mom, what if she really did hurt him, bad-huh? What if he gets mad at us? Then what?”

“David-”

“What if he tells us we can’t stay here anymore, Mom?” His voice was quivering, tears unbearably close. “It’s all Helen’s fault-it is. She just goes and does stuff, you know? What if-”

“That’s not going to happen.” Summer kept her tone brisk because she understood her son’s worry too well, and knew how dangerous gentleness would be just then-for both of them. She put her arm around her son’s thin shoulders and pulled him in for a quick encouraging hug as they walked together into the house. “Okay? Now-you know what you can do for Mr. Riley? Go and get a tray of ice out of the freezer-use the oven mitt so it doesn’t stick to your finger!” The last was a shout, as David was already halfway to the kitchen.

Summer went into the hallway and found it empty.

“Up here,” said Riley quietly.

She lifted her gaze to the stair landing. He looked back at her, his hands braced on the railing. After a long, silent moment, she took a deep breath and exhaled it in a sigh. “I suppose you heard that.”

He nodded and said gruffly, “That boy worries too much,” then he turned to continue his slow progress up the stairs.

Summer caught up with him near the top. “He’s trying to grow up too fast,” she said, slightly out of breath. But the ache in her chest had nothing to do with exertion. “Since his father left…”

Riley didn’t say anything, but she sensed a flinching withdrawal in him, as if he were an animal she’d touched in a sensitive spot, and too well-trained to bite.

Knowing that in those circumstances it was best to move as quickly as possible past the sore place, she said cheerfully, “David’s getting some ice. Cold compresses should help that foot. But I still think you ought to have that cut looked at. How long has it been since you had a tetanus shot?”

He threw her an irritable look. “I don’t need a damn tetanus shot Look-” as if regretting his retort, he held up a hand and took a calming breath “-if you think I’m going to spend my Saturday afternoon sitting in a hospital emergency room, you’re crazy.” And then, almost as a double-take, he added, “You’re a vet-why can’t you sew me up?”

Summer’s response was a close imitation of his, without the irritation. “I could, if I had the proper supplies. Look, if you think I’m going to put stitches in your head with a sewing needle and thread-and you a lawyer?- you’re crazy.”

He gave a short bark of laughter, then his face darkened again. “Well, I’m not going to the hospital.”

Summer almost smiled; he sounded so much like a balky little boy. Like David in a snit. Instead, she gave a put-upon sigh. “Lord above, you’re a stubborn man. All right, I guess I’ll have to see what I can do. Please tell me you at least have a first aid kit?”

He did, in the mudroom. David came clumping up the stairs just then, out of breath, eyes sparkling with his eagerness to help, so Summer took the ice tray and oven mitt from him and sent him back down for the first aid kit. Then she turned to Riley. “Okay, where do you want me to do this?”

“I don’t know-I guess the bathroom’s the best place.” He turned and marched down the hallway and through a