Allison Leigh – Tycoon's Temptation: The Truth About the Tycoon / The Tycoon's Lady / HerTexan Tycoon (страница 2)

She frowned a little. “No. And I know how to drive just fine.” Defense came belatedly, but at least it came. “You were the one playing Speed Racer.”

His lips twisted a little. “Not anymore,” she thought she heard him mutter. But it was hard to tell since the ambulance’s siren was earsplitting in the moments before it wheezed to a halt. She finished backing out of the car and looked over to see Palmer Frame, and his latest sidekick, Noah Hanlan, slip-sliding down into the ditch. The ambulance waited on the shoulder up above them.

Palmer’s gaze traveled over her. “You hurt, Hadley?”

She shook her head and waved her hand toward the driver where Noah was making his way. “He is. He’s—”

“Fine.”

“—bleeding. A lot.” She ignored the clipped comment from inside the wreck and moved out of Palmer’s way. The tan SUV her brother drove screamed up the highway, and she sighed a little as she climbed up the embankment once more. It took some doing, since she kept looking back over her shoulder to see how Palmer and Noah were progressing with the injured man.

The EMTs had produced a crowbar and had worked the door open wide enough for the driver to get out. Standing, he was just as tall or taller than Palmer, and that was saying something. But he was standing, which meant he couldn’t be too bad off, right?

She hoped.

A part of her heard the crunch of tires, a fast stop. Shane’s tight voice muttering her name more like a curse than a prayer.

The driver had shaken off Palmer’s assistance, she noted. He’d planted his feet in the snow, hands on hips as he surveyed his car.

Very fine hips. Verrry fine rear—

“Hadley!”

She closed her eyes, whispered another quick prayer for patience—her tenth that day, at least—and stuck out her hand toward her brother. The ditch was getting more slippery by the minute and the late-afternoon temperature seemed to be dropping by chunks. “Help me up.”

Shane’s voice might have been annoyed, but his eyes were sharp with concern as he pulled her up the rest of the way to the road. His hands clamped on her shoulders as he examined her face.

Relief filled his eyes though his stern expression didn’t relax much. Evidently satisfied that Hadley was unharmed, he let go of her and headed into the ditch, pulling out the small notepad he carried in one of the pockets of his shearling coat. The sheriff, back at work.

Hadley shivered, wishing her own wool jacket were as warm as her brother’s. But she’d bought her jacket because of its pretty pink color, not because of its ability to keep the cold at bay. It was one of her ridiculously few frivolous purchases.

The three men were now staring at the car, looking as if they were in mourning or something. Well, the car did look pretty sad. It was old to start with, though the paint job—on the rear of the car at least—looked in perfect shape. She, however, was more concerned about the driver and his injuries than the front bumper that was now kissing cousins to the windshield wipers. For heaven’s sake, it was just a car. And the man was still bleeding. She could tell, because he’d swiped a hand over his forehead, and more blood oozed out to replace what he wiped away.

She stomped her way back into the ditch, tugging at Palmer and Noah. The men were EMTs, not car mechanics. “Don’t you think you ought to be seeing to him?” She looked up at the injured driver.

Snowflakes were catching in his thick hair. And he had ridiculously long black lashes, she noticed again, when he turned his gaze toward her. Steely blue. Until then, she’d never really known what that term defined, even though she’d used it herself when she was writing.

Now she knew firsthand. And… well. Hello.

She swallowed and took a step back, only to have her boot sink about a foot into the snow. Off balance, she felt herself falling, but the man shot out a hand and grabbed her upper arm to catch her. “You don’t know much about being careful, do you?” he observed.

Instead of falling ignominiously back on her tush, she’d ended up leaning against him. And what a him he was. Her vivid imagination immediately tripped along the path of whether or not his body was as solid as it seemed beneath the leather bomber jacket he wore.

She planted her feet more securely, pushing herself upright. Men like him did not look at women like her, particularly when said woman had helped send his car crashing into a tree.

“I wasn’t speeding,” she pointed out, yet again. But her conscience bit at that. She didn’t know if the man had been speeding or not. She’d been too preoccupied with her darned fool brothers and their unwelcome interest in her nonexistent love life.

Shane, Palmer and Noah were still dolefully shaking their heads over the crumpled car. “Um… maybe it’s escaped everyone’s notice, but you are still bleeding there.” She waved her hand generally in his direction. Then happened to notice the fingerprints he’d left on her coat. Bloody fingerprints.

He noticed, as well, and grimaced a little. “Sorry about that.”

She exhaled, impatient with the lot of them, and turned away. Climbed up the side of the ditch again and strode to the back of the ambulance where she yanked open the rear door. She grabbed a container of wipes and cleaned the blood from her hands, then grabbed a handful of gauze pads and headed back down the ditch.

Lordy, but her legs were starting to ache with all this up and downing. She tore open the paper wrapping on one of the pads and reached up, gingerly dabbing the injured man’s forehead.

He jerked a little, grabbed her hand. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to help you,” she reminded. But if the man didn’t want assistance, fine. She didn’t stick her nose in where it wasn’t wanted. Unlike some specific siblings she could name. She pushed the pads into his hands and gave Palmer a stern poke in the ribs. “I’ve got things to do.”

“Hold on there.” Shane closed his hand over her collar, stopping her cold. “There’s a small matter of the accident report.”

Of course. Stupid of her. She could feel her face flushing and hoped that the man hadn’t noticed. A lightning-quick glance his way quickly killed that little hope. “Fine. Could we do it out of the snow, though? Maybe you haven’t noticed, but it is a little cold out here.” Her words were visible puffs, ringing around her head. Since New Year’s the week before, the weather had plummeted, bringing with it an uncommon amount of snow.

She was relieved when Shane looked again at the wreckage, then nodded. The driver apparently didn’t find the EMTs’ assistance objectionable the way he had hers. But then, they hadn’t helped his car fly into a ditch, either.

Shane told her to go wait in his SUV, and she was shaken enough that she obediently turned away and started up the incline again. She heard her brother ask the driver if the registration for the vehicle was in the car as she went. Shane’s SUV was idling, and she climbed up into the passenger seat where it was toasty warm. She flexed her numb fingers in front of the air vents and watched the men.

Of course there would have to be an accident report. No need to worry over it. The worst that would happen is that her insurance rates would go up.

Again.

She rubbed her hands together. Cupped her fingers over her mouth and nose and blew on them. She loved living in Lucius, Montana, but honestly, there were times she’d be happy to spend the winter lolling on a warm, sandy beach somewhere. If she closed her eyes, she could practically feel the heated kiss of sunlight on her face.

“Hand me that clipboard.”

The only warmth came from Shane’s heater vents. She opened her eyes to see her brother standing inside the opened door, his gloved finger pointing at the items on his console.

She handed the clipboard to him. Looked around his broad shoulder to see that the driver was now sitting on the back of the ambulance, submitting to Palmer’s belated but thorough examination. She could see Noah behind the wheel talking on the mic. “Hate that paperwork,” she murmured lightly, eyeing her brother.

He grunted. “Be glad neither one of you was hurt. Otherwise there’d be a helluva lot more.”

“I am.” She couldn’t have lived with herself if she’d harmed someone else. Still, she’d never been fond of putting her name on a bunch of legal documents. A trait passed down from her mother.

“Shane—”

“Don’t sweat it, turnip,” he advised after a moment.

She rolled her eyes at the old nickname, but subsided against the seat. The interior was getting cold. She had on a wool jacket and Shane’s heater was blasting. The driver wore only a leather bomber jacket. He’d surely be freezing by now. “Couldn’t Palmer give him a blanket or something?”

Shane glanced over his shoulder. “S’pose so,” he agreed, then turned his attention back to the report he was writing, his gaze sliding over her. “Stu was yakking my ear off on the phone about the way you ran out on him and Wendell when you called.”

“What’d he think you were going to do? Arrest me because I didn’t stick around until he could force me into having dinner with Wendell Pierce as well as lunch? Give me a break.” Stu had manipulated her into going out to his ranch, playing on her sympathies to cook a meal for him since his left hand was currently in a cast, knowing full well that she’d be too polite to walk back out again when she found Wendell there, too.