Healing Kiss, page 5
Strange how her whole body seemed to come alive with his slightest touch. Strange how her heart thumped at his nearness. Well, not so strange…he was a burner, after all. It would be stranger if she didn’t sense and absorb his energy.
Power pricked her nerve endings, stirring her healing talent. She reached for the door and jumped when it popped open on its own.
Tristan laughed at her surprise. “I’d suggest you buckle up.”
She did as he requested, getting into the car and staring at what looked like a giant computer tablet on the dash and the biggest backup display she’d ever seen. “What kind of car is this?”
“It’s a solar-powered prototype I’m testing for a business acquaintance. I should warn you—it’s fast.”
He flashed her a wide grin from the driver’s side, which did nothing to settle Lillian’s nerves.
She bit her lip. Good. She shouldn’t let herself get too comfortable. She was in this fancy car for one purpose—to save Hannah’s life. Every moment she spent with Tristan was dangerous for them both.
The car hardly made a sound but moved fast and smooth, like an expensive car should, as he pulled out of the drive and onto the street.
“I know you’re worried about Hannah, but you did the right thing coming to me. I’ll do what I can to help your friend.”
Lillian realized she gripped the seat and put her hands in her lap. “Thank you, Tristan. I’m grateful for your help.”
He nodded but didn’t say anything. Silence reigned unbroken only by the sounds of the road and her own breathing. She placed her hands under her legs to keep them from moving. Her gaze, however, would not stay still, drifting to Tristan’s confident hands on the wheel. She searched for something to say. “What was the emergency you had earlier?”
His gaze flicked to hers and then back to the road. “My mother fell and hit her head. She has a concussion, but she’ll be fine.” His words were clipped, like he was trying to convince himself.
“She’s in the hospital?”
He turned onto the street that ran by the clinic. “No, she’s at her home with her caretaker. Nancy will watch her overnight, but she’ll go back in the hospital tomorrow for some tests.”
“What about your family?”
He cast her an odd look. “What about them?”
“Can’t they help?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
She bit her lip. Why was she asking so many questions? Nerves. She felt like she had to fill the silence, and asking questions was better than answering them herself. “I’m sorry. I’m just making conversation. You’re entitled to your privacy.”
She turned to look out the window, oddly chastened. Silence was better than conversation, anyway.
Tristan cleared his throat. “There is no one else. My father left my mom when I was a toddler—I haven’t seen him since.”
She looked at him, but he was staring at the road. “No siblings?”
“No. I…I had a stepdad once upon a time, an alcoholic. It’s been years since I’ve seen him.
“I’m sorry. It’s good you have a caretaker, then. What was her name…Nancy, you said?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sure Nancy will take good care of your mom.” So, he was an only child who didn’t have a father or any other family in his life—no wonder he was so attached to his mom. At least Lillian had a sister and a dad and plenty of aunts and uncles and cousins she used to see around the holidays.
She searched for something else to say to break the awkward silence. “No girlfriends to ruin your most-eligible-bachelor status?” She managed a smile, even though inside she cringed at the question. Was that the only thing she could come up with? If he had a girlfriend, wouldn’t he be taking her to the fundraiser instead of railroading Lillian to be his date?
“Not really.”
Not really? Their gazes collided for a millisecond, tripling her heartbeat, before he looked back at the road. Lillian’s stomach squirmed, but she refused to analyze the sensation, putting it down to the fear and panic occupying her brain for the past twenty-four hours.
She busied herself digging in her purse for a canister of mints and popping one in her mouth. She offered him a mint, which he took. It shouldn’t be any surprise Tristan had a someone…maybe a few someones. He was a virile male. And he was successful and rich. It was naïve to think he wouldn’t have one or more women in his life. Probably that Angelina chick, although Tristan seemed to want to avoid her.
She stilled her hands in her lap. What would those someones think of her and Tristan’s current arrangement? For the second time tonight, she found herself reaching to touch him.
“Tristan, when I asked for your help, I didn’t think how this might complicate your life. I didn’t mean to put you in an awkward position with…anyone.”
He had pulled into the hospital parking lot, hitting what looked like a turn signal to put the car in park. He shifted toward her, his intense blue eyes reflecting sincerity and something more. Something that sent a strange tingle through her. Power flooded her senses, shooting a chill up her arms.
“You didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do. I’m glad you asked for my help. Those important to me will understand.”
He piqued her curiosity. Who were these important girlfriends? Were they models, actresses, neighbors…fellow billionaires?
”Are you certain? I wouldn’t think any girlfriends would be happy at the thought of you shacking up with a strange woman.”
One side of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. “Ah, but we’re not strangers anymore, are we, Zoey? I hope we can be friends.”
Her heart stuttered, stopping and then resuming its frantic beating in her chest. A few words from Tristan and a simple touch had her longing for something she could never have. Get a grip, Lillian. She wasn’t here to make friends. Not if she hoped to save Hannah and keep all of them safe.
She pulled her hand from his. “We’re…we’re acquaintances.” She unlatched her seatbelt and grabbed for the door handle.
His fingers grazed her arm, and she turned to look at him. It was happening again—the mesmerizing feeling of being trapped in a fairy tale. The temperature rose a notch, and her skin prickled. The rich scent of his breezy cologne filled the space between them.
“You’re shivering. Are you cold?”
“Yes,” she lied.
He removed his leather jacket and handed it to her. “Here, wear this.”
She didn’t need the jacket, but she took it anyway. She busied herself putting it on under his watchful gaze, wrapping herself in the warm leather and breathing in his scent like he’d wrapped her in his arms. She swallowed and clutched her purse. “Are you ready?”
He smiled, and the heat in his gaze could have softened diamonds. “Yes.” He leaned toward her and unhooked her seatbelt, his warm breath carrying a hint of wintergreen mint.
She fumbled for the button on the door and managed to push it open and stumble out of the car. Then she strode toward the hospital entrance, not waiting to see if he followed.
What the hell had just happened in there? Why was she trembling? And dammit, why had she asked him if he had a girlfriend or not? It was none of her business. The date they would have tomorrow was a pretend date—meant to repay a debt, nothing more.
She could hear Tristan’s footsteps close behind. A shiver coursed through her, starting at her scalp and ending in her toes.
Oh, for the love of God, she was attracted to him. She could admit it to herself even though it pained her. She was worried for Hannah, and she was lonely. It had been two long years since she’d had an extended conversation with any person, let alone a man as dynamic and handsome as Tristan. That could be the only explanation for her loose lips and sudden heart palpitations.
She stopped at the sliding glass doors, waiting for him to catch up. Loneliness was no excuse for stupidity. She would not allow the momentary lapse in judgment to repeat itself. A single mistake could harm everyone she’d worked so hard to protect over the last two years. And it could get Tristan killed.
She just had to keep reminding herself.
Chapter Six
Oh, Lordy.
Lillian avoided looking at Tristan as they entered Hannah’s room. What madness had she unleashed when she’d asked for his help to save her sister?
“How is she? Any change?” Lillian asked the night nurse on duty.
“Pretty much the same,” the nurse said, eyes widening when she spied Tristan. “She seems to have adjusted as well as can be expected. Her body can focus on healing. We’ll evaluate her for the next forty-eight hours to watch for improvement. If so, the doctor will make a decision about whether we can remove the ventilator. My shift is ending, but the next nurse is taking over. Maryanne. She’s great.”
“Okay, thanks…this is Tristan,” Lillian added when she noticed the nurse’s gaze pointed his way. “Tristan, this is Dani, one of Hannah’s nurses.”
Tristan held out a hand to Dani, who shook it as if she were in a trance.
“Are you Tristan King? My son loves your video games. Gladstone is his favorite.”
Tristan nodded. “That’s a great game. Listen, is there a doctor on duty? I’d like to speak with them.”
Lillian appreciated how he didn’t make a fuss but stayed focused on Hannah.
“Oh, yes. Dr. Beyton should be here soon. I’ll be sure to tell him.”
He nodded, seeming to take the nurse’s admiration in stride, and followed Lillian to the single bed where Hannah lay propped against a pillow, eyes closed, her dark hair spread around her oval face. Tubes and cords ran from her mouth to the large machine at her bedside, which breathed for her. A small bandage covered her nose.
Blood thrummed through Lillian’s veins, pounding at the gates of her heart.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
She avoided looking at Tristan, who stood next to her, and curled her fingers into her palms to keep herself from nervous chatter. She’d already talked to him more than she’d talked to anyone in a long while. Less than twenty-four hours in his company, and she’d run a gamut of emotions, from fear to sorrow to embarrassment to…to attraction.
Mercy. Was it hot in here or what?
She forced her fingers open one by one. She’d never be able to cure Hannah while wound tight like this. She drew in air and let it out—another desperate bid to relax. It wasn’t working.
She should have kept quiet on the way to the hospital. Talking with Tristan had only increased her curiosity and reminded her of all she was missing in her life. And his close proximity had her so on edge, she was unable to think clearly or even breathe. He was all warm musky male and mint and power.
She trembled, barely managing to conceal it by grabbing her purse and pretending to search for something. Her hand tightened around the tin of mints at the same time Tristan spoke, breaking the silence.
“What now?”
She pulled the tin from her purse, popped it open, and ate a mint before tilting the box toward Tristan, who refused. She put the box back in her purse. Tristan tossed her a puzzled look. “Do you want to try and wake her so she knows I’m here?”
She dug in her purse for a tissue. “Yes, in a moment.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I’m thinking.”
“You’re stalling. What do you need me to do? I thought you would let her know I’m here at least. How will this work otherwise?”
She avoided his penetrating gaze. If she had any hope of curing Hannah, then she needed to distance herself from him for a moment. Because she certainly couldn’t absorb his energy all keyed up like she was.
“Stand over there.” She pointed across the room.
“By the door?”
He made a sound of disbelief, but when she nodded, he sighed and strode to the opposite side of the room as she’d asked. Thank God.
He crossed his arms and waited, a look of tired impatience on his face. “Well?”
She wiped her hands on her dress, but it didn’t wipe her anxiety away. “Sorry, I can’t concentrate with you right next to me.”
His lips tilted up in a smirk. “You’re kidding, right?
The amusement in his tone stung. He had no idea the difficulty of the task in front of her. How she’d need to focus so that she didn’t hurt him. How she risked her own health.
She dropped her gaze to Hannah. What Tristan thought of her didn’t matter. All that mattered was saving her sister. She reached for Hannah’s hand, smoothing her fingers across her wrist, feeling for a pulse. “I need a minute.”
“Go right ahead. Don’t mind me. I’ll just be right here…waiting.”
She closed her eyes on the sight of Tristan propped against the wall like he posed for a painting.
One, two, three…breathe.
It took her a full ten minutes to get her brain into the proper mental state needed for healing.
From across the room, Tristan studied Zoey where she leaned against the bed, head bowed over her friend. An ache of sympathy filled his heart. Was she praying?
He shifted his weight against the wall. With her face smooth of the tension it held earlier, she was quite beautiful. He reminded himself of the gravity of the situation. What did it matter what she looked like? He was only here to help her friend.
He ran a hand across the back of his neck, but it didn’t release the hard knot that had formed there. How was he to accomplish anything when she’d relegated him to a corner like a child who’d misbehaved?
After what seemed like an eternity, Zoey grasped Hannah’s hand and called to her, but her friend remained unconscious. Long seconds passed with the rhythmic rasp of the ventilator, the beep of the heart monitor, and his own breathing the only sounds breaking the silence.
He pressed his lips together and shifted his feet. “Zoey…”
She motioned for him to come closer. When he neared the bed, she closed her eyes and swayed back and forth, trance-like. Was it his imagination, or did Hannah’s face look brighter, more animated? Tristan stilled.
As if she heard his thoughts, Hannah turned in the hospital bed, the first movement Tristan had seen her make since he entered the room. Zoey still held Hannah’s hands, her eyes closed, reminding him of how she’d held little Annie Logan’s hands.
Zoey opened her eyes and shot Tristan a look of what? Desperation? Panic? He caught the anxiety reflected there before her gaze flew back to Hannah’s.
To hell with standing by while she prayed for her friend or whatever she was doing. He was supposed to be helping. He moved to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let me talk to the doctor. I’ll see what we can do to improve Hannah’s care.”
Lillian made a small noise and pressed her hand over his. Her fingers were cool and curled around his, causing a strange warmth to unfurl in his belly.
“I can’t lose her.”
“Shh. You won’t. Hannah’s tough. She’ll make it.” He entwined their fingers to offer her comfort.
Lillian’s grip tightened.
He kept up a steady stream of words, calming words, he hoped. “I have a friend who’s one of the top respiratory doctors in the nation. Doctor Melanie Harris. You may have heard of her. She’s a regular correspondent on CNN. I called her before we left my house. Mel has agreed to look into Hannah’s case.”
Tristan waited for some response—a word of thanks, perhaps—but none came. Motion from the bed caught and held his attention. Hannah’s eyes fluttered, then opened.
Chapter Seven
Lillian let out her remaining breath in a whoosh. She tugged her hands from Tristan’s and hovered over Hannah. A familiar focus descended, even though her heart lurched in her chest and a dull headache pounded behind her left temple.
She’d overused her talent. She’d been so intent on saving Hannah without harming Tristan, she’d ignored her personal boundaries. Used too much of her own energy. If Tristan hadn’t placed his hands on hers when he did, she’d have passed out. Who knows if she would have regained consciousness.
She tossed her hair over her shoulder. Though she’d have to suffer her body’s painful reaction, this was an insignificant price to pay if her efforts cured Hannah. She bit her lip. Pain radiated down her spine and settled in her hips. She would not be able to stay on her feet for much longer.
Absorbing Tristan’s enormous energy had been difficult. Not that it was hard to access. He oozed power like a leaky hose. But he also caused her pulse to race and sent her system into overdrive, which made it challenging to channel. It took tremendous control to ignore his charismatic presence and focus on the task of healing her sister.
“Hannah, I’m here,” she managed. “Can you hear me?”
Hannah nodded, her eyes wide with fear, but with the tubes in her mouth she couldn’t speak.
Lillian fought the urge to touch her sister. If she did, the energy she’d transferred would return to Lillian. “You’re gonna be okay. Thank God you’re awake. I was beginning to worry. I’ll get the nurse.”
“No,” Tristan said. “Stay with Hannah.” He pulled out a chair, frowning, and motioned Lillian to sit. “You look like you should be the one in the hospital bed.”
She wanted to say something smart, but her legs were about to collapse from under her, so she murmured her thanks and sat.
Tristan left to fetch the nurse, while Lillian’s gaze returned to Hannah’s. She rubbed her temples. Think, Lillian, think. Thank goodness Hannah couldn’t speak yet. If she could, there’s no telling what would come out of her mouth. And Lillian wasn’t in any shape to deal with one of Tristan’s interrogations.
