Dazed for a few seconds, it took her a moment to grasp what had just happened. She shook her head and immediately regretted it because it made her head throb. She was so dazed she didn’t even realize the loud clanking was someone running down the stairs toward her.
Looking up, she was face to face with Sergeant Billings, who immediately crouched down, the usual hardened expression now very concerned.
“Don’t move,” he said as she tried to sit up. “Lie down instead,” he instructed her, and she did as he told her. “You might have a neck or spinal injury. You’ll make it worse if you move.”
Very slowly and gently, Regina moved her neck from side to side to assess whether her neck was really injured or not. She tried in vain to ignore the screaming voice in her head.
Of course, instead of avoiding him, you rolled down the stairs, bringing the most mortifying kind of attention to yourself. You didn’t just trip or fall—you rolled!
“My neck feels fine,” she said, wanting nothing more than to gather her things and get as far away from there as possible.
Over the initial shock and ignoring the pain now, Regina felt so incredibly embarrassed she couldn’t even look at him as she tried sitting again.
“Look in my eyes,” he said, and unwillingly she did. Was it possible they’d gotten even bluer?
As he held her from moving by her arm, she stopped. For the first time since he’d arrived, she got an up close less dazed look at him. Unlike all the other times when she’d seen him in his utility uniform, he now wore a service uniform with lots of medals, which only gave him an even more commanding appearance. Whatever cologne he wore smelled so good she had to fight the urge to close her eyes and just inhale deeply. She gazed into those very serious blue eyes.
“Can you tell me what your name is?” he asked.
Instantly, she was yanked out of the wistful state she hadn’t even noticed she’d gone into. Her insides warmed with mortification or anger; she couldn’t decide. But she was consumed by both emotions. Was he really going to act as if he didn’t remember her?
She jerked her arm away from him. “You know who I am!”
Surprised by the tiny gleam in his eyes, she was caught in them once again, but she still glared.
“Yes,” he nodded, and to her utter shock, he smiled softly. “I know who you are, Ms. Brady. I was just trying to assess how hard you hit your head.”
“Oh,” she said, and as if she couldn’t feel anymore embarrassed than she already did, she now felt like a complete jackass. “Yes, I know my name. It’s Regina.” Even through her embarrassment, she was surprised by what a smile from him did to her. “I really don’t think I broke anything,” she explained as she once again tried to sit up, and he allowed it this time. “Nothing hurts that bad.”
He stood up and offered both hands to her. “Stand up really slowly. You might be dizzy.”
She reached up and took both his hands. The second she put weight on her right foot, the pain shot through her ankle, and she nearly went down again, but he caught her.
“Careful,” he said as she fell into his hard chest.
The feel of his arms around her and that amazing scent of him as she leaned into him might’ve been more enjoyable if the sharp pain in her ankle hadn’t spoiled the moment. She groaned instead. Suddenly the realization that she’d have to walk up or down a set of stairs in that excruciating pain came to her.
“Don’t stand on it,” he warned, pulling her arm around his neck and looking down. “It might be broken.”
Holding on to him, she wobbled on her good foot. “I can hold on to the rail and hop down on one foot.”
More surprising than seeing him smile earlier, she jerked her head up when she heard him chuckle softly. “That’s not happening.”
He already had one hand around her. He leaned down, and she felt his arm under her knees. In the next instant, she was cradled in his arms.
“Put your arms around my neck,” he instructed her.
Before she could even begin to argue, he started down the stairs, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding on tightly.
~*~
Brandon
So her hair smelled better than he remembered, and she felt even better than he hated to admit he’d been imagining she would in his arms. She was injured, and even if the thought of holding her had crossed his mind before, that was the only reason he was doing this now. Just thinking about these things was reckless. He was beginning to think he saw something in the way she looked at him too—something curious—something he had no business even noticing and definitely no intention of looking into any further.
Brandon set her down on the sofa in the lobby at the entrance of the building. “I’ll go get your things,” he said as soon as she un-wrapped her arms from around his neck.
Gulping hard, he walked away before he could get caught up in the eyes he needed to stop thinking about, even when they weren’t in front of him.
As he reached the stairs where she’d fallen, he picked up her purse and began putting the spilled contents into it. After picking up several makeup items, he noticed her open wallet at the bottom of the staircase. He didn’t mean to be nosey, but it was open to a photo of her and two other women standing around an older guy. The other women looked about her age. Going by the resemblances they all shared, he presumed these were her sisters, and the way they all touched the man’s shoulders so endearingly, he assumed this was Daddy. If it was, this blew his theory about her dad possibly being Irish—a Brady. The man in the photo looked every bit as Hispanic as she did.
Why was he even going there?
Holding the photo still in front of him, he couldn’t stop looking at it. He focused on something else now. They all looked so happy. He stared at that smile and her sparkling eyes. It was almost maddening. All these years, he’d managed to remain immune to and kept that part of him—the part that might actually feel emotions—completely sedated. He couldn’t allow a sweet smile and a pair of dark captivating eyes to wake that part of him. He’d so effortlessly managed to snuff it to its death, or so he thought, for so long he didn’t think he’d ever have to worry about it.
Clenching his jaw, he lifted the photo only to see another one of Ms. Brady behind it. Once again, Brandon felt drawn to her eyes. In the second photo, she was alone, her face very fresh as if she’d just gotten out of the shower. Even with no makeup, she was stunning. It was such a simple photo of her, sitting cross-legged in the middle of a bed, wearing an oversized white T-shirt, but unlike the other smiling photo, in this one she wasn’t smiling at all. She was staring at the camera with her head tilted, looking almost angry.
Brandon smiled, remembering the fuming yet adorable glare he’d been indulged with when he’d asked her for her name earlier. He still didn’t understand why seeing that glint of fire in her eyes, especially when directed at him, amused him so. Even this less-enchanting portrait did just that: enchant him in a way that scared him. He shouldn’t be feeling anything for her. He didn’t know her, and he didn’t want to get to know her—he shouldn’t.
A buzzing sound pulled him out of his thoughts, and he turned around to search for the source of the noise. The screen on a cell phone at the bottom of the staircase lit up. He walked over to pick it up and read the screen: Incoming call—Antonio.