Wounded Wings (Cupid Chronicles) (12 page)

He didn’t say anything for several seconds as her pulse throbbed in her temples. She finally spun and faced him.

“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable. Just confused.”

“Confused?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Well, because when you kissed me the first time?” His eyes darkened, hooking her. “I was in no pain. And yet, I feel the same.”

She swallowed. “What do you feel?”

“I feel . . .” He shifted his weight and huffed a breath as if frustrated with himself. “All I can seem to think about anymore is you, Naomi. I want to be with you. I want to see you smile. I want to go out with you again, on a
real
date.” He gazed into her eyes with a dark, unsmiling gaze. “I want to kiss you. And I feel like the biggest sinner for wanting you like I do.”

Chapter 15

Naomi found herself still reeling when she let herself into the house later that evening.

All I can seem to think about anymore is you, Naomi. I want to be with you. I want to see you smile. I want to kiss you. And I feel like the biggest sinner for wanting you like I do.

Eli wanted her?

Yes. He did. There was no denying what his eyes were communicating. But how could desiring her be a “sin?” What was it about her that offended his sensibilities? Wow. Sure did a lot for a girl’s self-esteem.

Maybe she’d be better off taking Delaney’s advice and checking into that online dating site. What was it . . .? Losers-r-us? I-need-a-man.com? What she
didn’t
need was a cook who knew more about French pastry than dating etiquette. And kissing.

Naomi nearly had herself convinced as she threw her purse and keys down. “Vi?” she called, wondering why the TV wasn’t on its usual crime drama.

She moved to the living room and found Vi asleep on the couch. It had been a long day at the bakery with several extra orders for the Rotary club and some function at the Ladies’ Auxiliary besides their normal business. She grabbed a blanket to tuck around Vi’s legs, but paused when she noticed the strange gray pallor to her face.

Naomi burst toward Vi, her heart immediately knocking against her ribs painfully as she examined Vi’s chest for the rise and fall of breathing. It was shallow, but present. “Vi?” she called again, hearing the panic in her voice.

No response.

Her stomach did a nosedive as she fought the bile rising in her throat. She used one hand to feel for a pulse—it was weak and thready—and the other to shake Vi’s shoulder. “Vi! Can you wake up?”

That got a groan, the flutter of eyelids.

“Vi? What’s wrong? Can you tell me?” Naomi asked as she reached for the phone on the side table.

She got the nine dialed and had her finger hovering over the one when Vi pulled her hand away. “Naomi?” she asked in a weak whisper.

“Yes. Are you okay?”

Vi’s hand automatically clutched at her chest. “Oh.” She squeezed her eyes shut briefly. “I thought if I took some antacid and lay down for a bit it would be all right. But it feels like a water buffalo is sitting on me, baby.”

Naomi wasted no more time thinking or studying Vi’s ashen face. She finished dialing the emergency number on the phone and waited with the impatience of one whose life was on the line for the operator to answer.

She could only pray it wasn’t too late.

The ride to the hospital in the back of the ambulance, then the flurry of activity in the emergency room was all a blur that seemed to pass in a matter of moments.

A thousand thoughts whirled through Naomi’s mind:
How do these people know what to do? Could I learn that? Oh, I want to! Am I a magnet for health crises lately?

God, oh God, I can’t lose her now . . .

Finally, after several blood tests, a battery of scans and exams, the doctor sat next to the bed. “Well, Ms. Stevens, it appears you’ve had a myocardial infarction, or a heart attack. We’re giving you medication now to try and prevent further damage, and we’d like to send you up as soon as possible for a cardiac catheterization to check the blood vessels around your heart for blockages and correct anything further we find, most likely with tiny tubes called stents. Is that okay? What questions do you have?”

Surprisingly, Vi had very few, and Naomi was thankful she understood everything going on. As she watched the nurses hustling around prepping and consenting Vi for the procedure, a deep, aching sadness tugged at her.

And it was purely selfish.

She realized she was grieving the things she had lost in her life by caring for Vi, and yet, all she would lose if Vi were gone. It was the most horrible, self-centered quandary.

And then Sam rushed in.

“Baby. . . ” He gathered Vi into his arms and held her close, careful not to disturb the several lines of IV tubing. “What’s going on? The neighbors frightened me when they told me you’d been carted away in an ambulance.”

Vi patted his hand. “Now, now. Don’t worry. It’s just a silly little heart attack. Doctor says I’ll be good as new soon.”

Naomi wrinkled her brow. He’d said no such thing.

Sam smiled and caressed her cheek with his thumb. “Well, darlin’ . . .”

Vi’s eyes sparkled with love that Naomi hadn’t seen since Paul was alive. And, suddenly, she felt like an intruder. Quietly, she stood and slipped out of the room as the tears began to fall.

What if she’d already lost her?

Chapter 16

Elijah found Naomi crying in the hospital hallway.

He’d seldom dealt with a woman’s tears and hers stopped him cold. While everything in him yearned to console her, he wasn’t sure how to go about it. He was also fairly sure she wouldn’t be receptive, given how he’d gushed and told her his feelings last time they’d been together.

But as he recalled how she’d gently tended his burn, he resolved that he must do something. He took a tentative step in her direction just as a fresh wave of tears washed down her face.

Suddenly, she peered up at him, her green eyes alive and sparkling with moisture. “Eli?”

He offered her a small, reassuring smile. “How’s Vi?” With all of her tears, he feared the worst.

“She seems to be doing okay right now.” She sagged back against the wall, her cries slowing. “How did you know?”

He fisted his hands to stop from reaching out to hold her. “I heard at the diner that she’d been taken to the hospital. I came as soon as I could.”

She glanced down at her scuffed tennis shoes. “Boy, news travels fast around this one-horse town,” she mumbled to herself. She peered back up at him, her heartbreakingly sad eyes piercing him. “Why did you come?”

“I . . .” He sensed there was more to her question than the literal words and he couldn’t figure out what she wanted. What she needed. Yet again, he hated his new humanity. He decided to go with his commandment and rely on the truth. “I was worried about her. About you. I can’t really explain it, but I needed to make sure you were all right.”

She didn’t say a word. Just blinked up at him. Once. Twice.

“So,” he prompted. “Are you? All right?”

She nodded, but fresh tears filled her eyes calling her a liar. A nurse strode by and smiled at Elijah with what he’d come to understand was female appreciation for his human body. He nodded and returned his attention to Naomi. She was eyeing the nurse’s back with a strange expression as she swiped angrily at the tracks running down her cheeks.

“Naomi . . .”

“Eli?”

They spoke at the same time.

“Yes?” he answered.

She shot a glare at the nurse, who was at the nurses’ station trying to appear busy, but not doing a good job of being subtle. He glanced over, confused.

“Did you mean all that stuff you said? About . . . you know . . . thinking about me? Wanting me?”

He swallowed, his gaze immediately glued back to her. Of course he’d meant it. “Every word.”

She flicked another glance to the nurse, though he didn’t understand why . . . and why did she seem irritated? She took a step in his direction and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “Me, too.”

He didn’t have a chance to respond before she tugged him to her and sealed her lips over his.

And this was nothing like their movie theater kiss. She offered no sweetness or delicate caresses. No. She delved in like he was a final meal, opening her mouth and suckling him, tangling her tongue with his in a way that had his blood buzzing in an automatic high. He wrapped his arms around her and reciprocated, Michael’s words thundering through his brain:

For goodness sake, man, if you get the chance to kiss her again—kiss her back! And kiss her like you mean it. Like she’s the only woman in the world.

When he’d questioned Michael exactly how he was supposed to kiss her like he “meant” it, much less like she was the only woman in the world, Michael had simply scoffed, saying he’d figure it out.

Well, as he delved his fingers through Naomi’s satiny golden hair, he realized Michael had been right. Her lips were a natural fit, and it was perfect.

Gasping, she took a step back, her hands now gripping his biceps, and stared up at him breathless. “Oh, shit.”

His brows thundered down. Not the reaction he’d expected. “Oh, shit?”

She pressed her forehead into his chest. After a moment, she rolled her head to the side, eyeing the nurse at the station, who’d moved on to typing on the computer, her face scrunched in a scowl. Naomi huffed out a laugh, which was muffled by his shirt. “Well, at least we gave your admirer an eyeful. But I’m afraid I was better off throwing chocolate batter at your head.”

He was left puzzling that one out when a doctor approached them. Naomi’s head popped up when he cleared his throat. “Miss Evans? I have the results of the latest tests. You might want to come inside.”

Oh, shit
was right.

And not the test results. The doctor had come to tell Vi and Naomi, and Sam, that the stent placement had been successful and the damage from her heart attack had been fairly minimal, thank God. With a better diet, more exercise, and some new meds, Vi should be fit to leave the hospital and move to a rehab facility in a couple of days.

Naomi glanced to the chair across from hers. No, the ‘oh, shit’ was about six foot plus of I-don’t-know-I’m-sexy-in-my-faded-jeans-and-puppy-eyes. Why wouldn’t Eli just go? She’d known instantly that kissing him again was a mistake, but he’d caught her in a weak moment and little nursey had pushed her buttons ogling him like he was a hot fudge sundae.
Her
hot fudge sundae. With whipped cream and sprinkles.

But it was over and done with. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the hint and he’d followed her into the room without asking permission. And, adding insult to injury, Vi had lit up like a lightning bug’s butt on steroids as soon as she saw him.

Once the doctor had finished his spiel and walked out, Vi grinned at Eli. “What a nice surprise. What brings you by?”

Eli glanced at Naomi before answering. “I’d heard that you were brought to the hospital and I was worried about you. I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help.”

Vi tilted her head and got that maternal look she gave Naomi whenever she did something particularly special. “Well, aren’t you just an angel?”

He flushed and gazed down at the toe of his boots. “No, ma’am. I’m not.”

“Oh, now—” Vi started to argue, but Naomi jumped up and started pacing, her nervous energy interrupting her. The room just felt so darned small.

Eli glanced up, actually appearing relieved. “Is there anything you’ll need before you go home, Miss Vi? Anything Sharla or I can do for you?”

Naomi felt about ready to jump out of her skin with him this close. She couldn’t pinpoint it exactly—they’d been around each other several times before. They’d been out to dinner. Heck, she’d locked lips with him twice now. But . . .

“. . . since she’s doing better and now you have the added stress with Vi in the hospital?”

Naomi focused her attention back on Eli. “What? I’m sorry.”

His brows furrowed, making his dark eyes thunder. “I was suggesting we postpone the benefit since Emma is well now and you have Vi to take care of.”

But even as he said the words, Vi was shaking her head emphatically. “No, sir. I’ll not hear of it. The benefit must go on. Little Emma and Maura need that money. Besides, it’ll be fun for the whole community. You have to do it.”

They both glanced to her and Sam sitting silently by her side. He shrugged. “I’d listen to the lady.”

“Anyway,” Vi continued, “I’ll be outta rehab by then. I may not be one hundred percent, but I can definitely go to the benefit and toss a pie or something. I’m not dead yet.”

Naomi’s heart lurched and she felt the blood drain from her face.

Eli reached for her arm, his warm fingers a stark reminder of what he was doing to her heart. How had that happened?

She peered into his eyes, silently begging him to let go. Of her arm, of her heart.

Instead, he leaned in so his devastating words whispered across her cheek. “Don’t push me away.” She tried to pull away, but couldn’t move fast enough. “Have dinner with me, Naomi. Please.”

Naomi had no idea when she’d become a masochist, but she couldn’t say no to Eli. Not when he looked at her like that. Not even when her heart threatened to spill itself at his feet in a thousand tiny, throbbing pieces.

It was ridiculous. She hardly knew him. He was strange, acted like he was from a different time and planet, and had given her no indication that he was anything but a drifter.

A very hot drifter.

“It’s just dinner,” she reassured herself as she eyed his garage apartment behind Sharla’s house. Just one more meal with him—no big deal. She’d done it before, she could do it again. He had the manners of a caveman, so it should be easy to keep it short and sweet and emotionally detached.

She sucked in a quick breath and got out of the car. Yanking her sleeves down her arms, she made her way to the door and knocked.

He answered promptly and . . .
whoa
. . .
um
,
whoa
.

For the span of a nearly painful heartbeat, he seemed to glow, then she realized it was the caress of the candlelight he had in the apartment behind him gilding his features. His hair was wet from the shower and slicked back with a few stray curls clinging lovingly to his nape just above a tight white T-shirt.

Breathe
, she admonished herself as her gaze traveled down to low-slung faded jeans and bare feet.

“Hi.”

She glanced back up and caught him smiling as if he realized she was checking him out. “Hi.”

He stepped back and opened the door wider. “Please come in. I’m so glad you came.”

She brushed by him, inhaling the scent of freshly showered male. Her female parts quivered in response. “Thanks for inviting me.” She peeked around as she set down her purse on an oak entry table. “Cute little place. I never knew Sharla had this.”

She spun to face him. His dark eyes studied her as if he were memorizing her. He simply nodded.

She swallowed. “So . . .”

He seemed to snap out of it, stepping toward the mini-kitchen with a half-smile. “Would you like something to drink? I have wine, sodas, water.”

“Wine would be nice.”

He grinned. “Okay.” He picked up a bottle of red wine and showed it to her. “Michael helped me pick it out.” He glanced up sheepishly. “I’m no good at that kind of thing.”

A chef that couldn’t select wine? Hmmm . . . she smiled, confused. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

He fumbled a bit with opening the bottle and pouring before finally handing her a glass and she sipped. Nice. “Michael did good.”

Her words made him grin. “I’m glad.” He dashed back to the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “Please have a seat. Make yourself comfortable.”

She settled herself onto a barstool overlooking the kitchen/dining area, puzzling over this new Eli. Had he read Miss Manners’ book since their last dinner or something?

He appeared a moment later with a platter of sliced veggies, cheese cubes, and crackers. “Would you care for a little snack before dinner?”

She glanced up from the tiny, perfect cherry tomatoes and cucumber slices to his face. “Where is Eli, and what have you done with him?”

He furrowed his brows, obviously confused, and glanced at his hors d’oeuvres as if to make sure they weren’t contaminated. “What do you mean? Aren’t you hungry?”

Naomi sighed. “Nothing. Thank you.” She accepted a plate and filled it with goodies, still eyeing him with suspicion.

He sat there watching her as if waiting to see if she’d choke or keel over from poisoning. Finally, the old Eli was back.

She washed down a bite of cheese and cracker with wine. “Aren’t you having any?”

He studied the tray as if seeing it for the first time, then picked up a carrot stick and began nibbling the end.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, an unseen clock ticking restlessly in the background. Naomi began to regret this little dinner date.

“Eli?”

“Hmmm?”

“Why did you invite me over here?”

He set his half-eaten carrot down and gazed at her intently. “I want to be with you, and today at the hospital I felt like you shouldn’t be alone.” He glanced away. “But sometimes I don’t know what to do with my feelings for you, Naomi.” The admission seemed painful for him.

She swallowed. “What feelings?”

His dark gaze shot back to her. “It’s confusing. Too much.”

Her stomach plummeted. “Are we back to the ‘I’m a sin’ thing again? Because, honestly, that’s about the worst ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ line I’ve ever heard.”

He tilted his head as if he didn’t understand. “It’s not a line.”

“Then I don’t get it.”

He moved away from her. “I don’t either, so perhaps it’s best if we don’t discuss it any more tonight.”

She studied his face and stormy eyes. “Okay.” She hadn’t come over here for that anyway. Trouble was, she wasn’t sure what she’d come over for.

“How about dinner?” he asked.

Right. She’d come for dinner. “Great. What’s for dinner?”

That immediately lightened him up. His whole body relaxed as he grinned like the cat that got the whole dang cage of canaries. “Chicken Kiev. And I thought we’d have your first cooking lesson.”

Her mouth sagged open. Huh? “Cooking lesson?”

“Yes. Don’t you remember?” His face fell. “Have you changed your mind?”

A distant memory niggled her brain. Somehow, she’d hoped that her little confession of not being able to cook had all been a dream. Not to mention their little bargain of cooking lessons in exchange for—
gulp
—swimming lessons. Oh. Crap.