“Looking for something?”
Liam was gazing at her through hooded eyes. She shoved the pendant into her pocket, on top of the watch. “I… was just checking up on you.”
“Sure you were.” His voice was leisurely and deep, the words drawled and deliberate. Effects of the medication, no doubt. She remembered how she’d felt the first time she’d taken the stuff: Good. Relaxed. Almost intoxicated.
“Should I be gra’ful for such so… licitous care?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t dream of expecting anything like gratitude from you, Mr. O’Shea.”
“Because I’m not a… gentleman?”
Considering the state he was in, Mac was surprised that he managed to inject so much challenge into a single sentence.
“I didn’t come here to argue. You need to rest.”
“Ha.” He grinned crookedly. “You’re right. I’m not a gentleman. Prob’ly never will be.”
Not derisive, not the way she would have expected. There was an almost caressing note that made her stomach quiver.
“If I was, I’d never’ve kissed you, Mac. Not right. Don’ know why I did it. Sorry.”
Apologizing? Now that was something she’d never have expected. But instead of satisfaction she felt a sting of humiliation—that he was telling her what she’d already suspected. He hadn’t kissed her because he… because he…
Found me desirable. Oh, hell, Mac. Get a grip. What does that matter now? Why would you want it, anyway?
“And I didn’t—protect you,” he went on. His gaze darkened to a smoky half-light. “You… could’ve taken a bullet yourself.”
There was a strange intensity in him, a kind of little-boy earnestness that caught her attention and held her rapt.
“Believe me, Mac,” he said. “I would die first.”
“Listen,” she said awkwardly. “It was my choice—”
“A… damnfool act of idiocy.”
“Funny you should say that, O’Shea, given your reputation.”
The corner of his mouth tilted lazily, dispelling the strange mood. “And what do you know about my reputation? Is it… written in your history books?”
“Not as much as you’d like, I’m sure.” This was ground she was sure of—bantering with an edge of challenge. “Let’s just say I know you’ve taken plenty of damnfool chances yourself.”
He chuckled, husky and low. “They don’ call me ‘Lucky Liam’ for nothing. I take chances. And I get what I want.”
She didn’t expect his next move, the way his hand reached out for hers in slow motion and captured it before she could think to pull away. “I’m beginnin’ to wonder, darlin’, if you aren’t… part of my luck.”
Darlin’? Mac swallowed. He was looking at her that way again, the way he had down by the lake—as if he could actually find her attractive.
Her fingers felt claustrophobic in his hold. Her lips felt very full and tender and none too capable of forming the right response. “I wouldn’t bet on it. I… uh, I wouldn’t say that I’m a particularly lucky person to be around.”
An easy tug pulled her closer to the cot. “Humility, Mac? That does surprise me.”
“I don’t imagine it would be a trait you’re familiar with.”
“Touché.” His thumb moved in an arc over the palm of her hand, and she flinched in surprise. The caress reversed itself, repeated. Sharp tingles shot from her hand straight to suddenly sensitive parts of her body. “But I owe you. I always pay my debts.”
“Forget it.”
“I don’t forget.” His thumb made another circuit of her palm. “But I wonder… why you did it.”
Like a snake with its prey, Liam held her captive. Her mind couldn’t come up with anything even remotely intelligent in response. “I would have done the same thing for anyone.”
“Brave Mac.” No ridicule, only a solemn gravity. Then he chuckled, a deep vibration she felt through her hand. “And so soon after you gave me that gentle little tap.”
“I should have knocked you out.”
“Ah, yes. I… had it coming.”
Mac jerked. Those had been her words, spoken when he’d supposedly been asleep. If he’d heard that, if he’d heard the things she’d said… She worked her fingers in his grip. “Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”
“And what other… lessons do I need to learn, darlin’?”