top shelf.
“Aha!” Just as her hand closed around the small round container, the can beneath her feet shifted. In the next instant, she lost her balance and fell in a painful heap on the floor of the pantry.
“What the hell are you doing in there?”
She’d managed to bang both elbows, one ankle-bone, and her fanny smarted like the dickens. “I’m fine, thanks,” she called back, not bothering to hide the sarcasm. Wonderful, she thought, make him think you’re a klutz as well as an idiot.
Discovering she still cared what he thought of her did little to improve her mood. “Don’t bother getting up,” she muttered as she gingerly rolled out of her awkward position.
“Too late.”
She froze at the sound of his raspy voice, which was far too close to still be coming from the table. She stifled a groan and pieced together her control. She’d already made a complete fool of herself, but she’d be damned if she’d give him an encore.
“You shouldn’t have gotten up.” She tucked her feet under her and knelt, wincing despite her effortsnot to when her knee pressed against the hard tile floor.
“So I heard.”
Before she could comment, strong fingers clamped around her upper arm and helped her to a stand. As soon as she was steady on her feet, he let her go.
His hand had been hot against her skin. She ignored the lingering traces of warmth. Not wanting to risk looking him in the eye just yet, she gathered the bread and chips, then ducked back down to grab the can of dip she’d dropped when she’d fallen.
“I hope you’re not into health food,” she said as she straightened back up. Anything else she’d been about to say went unspoken as her gaze connected with his.
“If I can stomach Vegemite, I can handle anything.”
His tone wasn’t light or amused, yet he’d put her at ease. Or at least as much at ease as she could be staring into those eyes of his. Clear blue crystals, they captured her complete attention, despite her inner voice urging her not to be a fool twice.
“You okay?” The small pantry muted the storm noise, allowing the soft rasp of his voice to carry easily over the short distance between them.
“No. I mean, I’m fine. A few bruises.” She wished he’d back out of the doorway. This was exactly what she’d wanted to avoid. She made a desperatestab at humor. “What is it you guys down under say? No worries.”
He lifted his hand and reached forward, causing her to instinctively shift away, banging her sore elbow against the shelf beside her. “Ouch.”
He reached past her and grabbed the flashlight. “Jillian?”
Not for all the money in the world would she look at him now. She rubbed her elbow, keeping her gaze on the floor.
A callused fingertip prodded her chin upward until she was looking at him again. She swore to herself that she’d rather run out into the heart of the storm than let him see embarrassment on her face, and used every scrap of control to paste a blank expression on it instead.
“Would you mind moving out of the way?” She was proud of the calm sound of her voice. So what if it wobbled a bit? “You should rest that leg, and I’ve got a meal to prepare. Such as it is.”
Her attempt at lightening the sudden tension had failed miserably if his expression was anything to judge by. But then she hadn’t had much luck reading him up till now, so who knew?
“Don’t try so hard, mite.”
With his accent she couldn’t tell if he’d said “mate” or “mite.” It didn’t matter, either way it wasn’t exactly flattering. No surprise there. The tension ebbed from her all at once as she realized how ridiculous this whole thing was. Her reaction to him, worrying about what he thought, when allshe should be concerned with was surviving the storm so she could help Cleo.
“Yeah well, trying too hard is what I do best.” She bent her knees, intending to duck under his arm.
He stopped that by bracing his arm lower on the doorframe.
“Aha!” Just as her hand closed around the small round container, the can beneath her feet shifted. In the next instant, she lost her balance and fell in a painful heap on the floor of the pantry.
“What the hell are you doing in there?”
She’d managed to bang both elbows, one ankle-bone, and her fanny smarted like the dickens. “I’m fine, thanks,” she called back, not bothering to hide the sarcasm. Wonderful, she thought, make him think you’re a klutz as well as an idiot.
Discovering she still cared what he thought of her did little to improve her mood. “Don’t bother getting up,” she muttered as she gingerly rolled out of her awkward position.
“Too late.”
She froze at the sound of his raspy voice, which was far too close to still be coming from the table. She stifled a groan and pieced together her control. She’d already made a complete fool of herself, but she’d be damned if she’d give him an encore.
“You shouldn’t have gotten up.” She tucked her feet under her and knelt, wincing despite her effortsnot to when her knee pressed against the hard tile floor.
“So I heard.”
Before she could comment, strong fingers clamped around her upper arm and helped her to a stand. As soon as she was steady on her feet, he let her go.
His hand had been hot against her skin. She ignored the lingering traces of warmth. Not wanting to risk looking him in the eye just yet, she gathered the bread and chips, then ducked back down to grab the can of dip she’d dropped when she’d fallen.
“I hope you’re not into health food,” she said as she straightened back up. Anything else she’d been about to say went unspoken as her gaze connected with his.
“If I can stomach Vegemite, I can handle anything.”
His tone wasn’t light or amused, yet he’d put her at ease. Or at least as much at ease as she could be staring into those eyes of his. Clear blue crystals, they captured her complete attention, despite her inner voice urging her not to be a fool twice.
“You okay?” The small pantry muted the storm noise, allowing the soft rasp of his voice to carry easily over the short distance between them.
“No. I mean, I’m fine. A few bruises.” She wished he’d back out of the doorway. This was exactly what she’d wanted to avoid. She made a desperatestab at humor. “What is it you guys down under say? No worries.”
He lifted his hand and reached forward, causing her to instinctively shift away, banging her sore elbow against the shelf beside her. “Ouch.”
He reached past her and grabbed the flashlight. “Jillian?”
Not for all the money in the world would she look at him now. She rubbed her elbow, keeping her gaze on the floor.
A callused fingertip prodded her chin upward until she was looking at him again. She swore to herself that she’d rather run out into the heart of the storm than let him see embarrassment on her face, and used every scrap of control to paste a blank expression on it instead.
“Would you mind moving out of the way?” She was proud of the calm sound of her voice. So what if it wobbled a bit? “You should rest that leg, and I’ve got a meal to prepare. Such as it is.”
Her attempt at lightening the sudden tension had failed miserably if his expression was anything to judge by. But then she hadn’t had much luck reading him up till now, so who knew?
“Don’t try so hard, mite.”
With his accent she couldn’t tell if he’d said “mate” or “mite.” It didn’t matter, either way it wasn’t exactly flattering. No surprise there. The tension ebbed from her all at once as she realized how ridiculous this whole thing was. Her reaction to him, worrying about what he thought, when allshe should be concerned with was surviving the storm so she could help Cleo.
“Yeah well, trying too hard is what I do best.” She bent her knees, intending to duck under his arm.
He stopped that by bracing his arm lower on the doorframe.
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