More Than a Man Read online

  “This is Detective Waterford,” Clairmont said. “He’d like to ask you some questions.”

  Noah nodded. He wasn’t about to say nice to meet you. Instead, he demanded, “What’s happening?”

  “I thought you could tell us,” Waterford answered.

  Noah’s nerves had been stretched tight as he’d waited for someone to interview him. Or tell him he was free to go. Now a new surge of tension zinged through him as he and Waterford stared at each other. Two men, sizing up each other.

  Only Waterford had been watching him on the monitor, and Noah was seeing the detective for the first time.

  Still, he had an advantage the cop couldn’t know about. In his long life, Noah had been in this situation many times. And he understood that at the beginning, you rarely knew which way to jump. You just had to feel your way carefully through the shark-infested waters and hope you didn’t get bitten.

  “I know the brother has a record,” Noah said.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Noah looked into the detective’s narrowed, dark eyes. “Do you want to know something specific?”

  “The brother says he cut you. Let’s see your hand.”

  OLIVIA huddled on a padded table in the emergency room. The cubicle was chilly and she was shivering in the thin hospital gown they’d given her hours ago.

  Apparently Mrs. Litton from upstairs had confirmed that Pearson had arrived first and threatened Olivia. She’d added that he’d been to the apartment before and made trouble. While Olivia had been in pain, a detective had asked if she wanted to press charges against Pearson. She hadn’t—for a lot of reasons.

  Finally the medical staff had gotten to her. Somebody was going to have to pay the bill, she knew, and she wondered where she was going to scrape up the money.

  Or did they consider her a charity case? Did they have charity cases in Las Vegas? Probably, because it was a town where people could lose all their money on the turn of a card, then get into a fight over the loss and end up badly hurt.

  She pressed her face into her hands. The painkillers they’d given her were making it hard to think. What should she do when she finally got out of here?

  She still hadn’t pawned the jewelry. Maybe she’d have to use the money to pay the hospital bill.

  And what about Pearson? He’d been so mad at her because she wouldn’t run the scam with him again.

  A sick feeling welled up inside her when she thought about what she’d already done. They’d tried his scheme once, to her everlasting shame. Or half done it, because she hadn’t been willing to actually go through with everything she was supposed to do.

  She’d gone to a man’s room. Not at the Calvanio. Another hotel on the Strip. But when the guy had reached for her, she’d ducked out of his embrace. Pearson hadn’t known she’d gotten cold feet and had barged in anyway.

  The guy had laughed at their stupid plan, and they’d gotten the hell out of his room. But what if he’d gone to the cops? What if she was already in more trouble than she could imagine? The police claimed they knew she and Pearson were up to something.

  Again she thought about Noah Fielding. He’d showed up at her apartment to rescue her, and she couldn’t help wishing that he’d walk through the door now.

  Then she brought herself up short. He’d already gotten hurt trying to help her. She couldn’t pull him any further into her problems.

  NOAH shrugged, then held up his hands, palms outward. “He made a swipe at me. I guess my reflexes are better than his.”

  Waterford stared at Noah’s palms and said, “Where did the blood on your shirt come from?”

  “From Olivia. I was trying to stop the bleeding from the wound in her side when the brother attacked me. It was a pretty wild few minutes. I can believe Stapler doesn’t have all the details right.”

  The comment was followed by stone silence.

  Noah understood the technique. If the other guy stopped talking, you were likely to jump in with a comment to fill the empty space. So Noah ordered himself to relax while he waited out the detective.

  Before either one of them could break the stalemate, another man appeared behind Waterford.

  Noah couldn’t hide his relief when he saw Sidney Hemmings.

  “The police contacted the hotel to see if you were registered at the conference,” the researcher explained. “I told them you were. When I found out that you’d gotten into some trouble, I figured you might like to see a friendly face.”

  “Yes. Thanks.”

  Waterford jumped into the conversation. “You’re free to go.”

  Finally!

  “Where is Olivia Stapler?” Noah asked the question that had been stewing inside him since he’d first arrived at the station.

  “She’s still at the emergency room, as far as I know,” the detective answered.

  “And the brother?”

  Waterford shrugged. “When I talked to her, she wouldn’t press charges against him.”

  Noah stared at the detective. “Why not?”

  “Maybe she’s afraid of the consequences or maybe she wants to give the jerk another chance.”

  Noah bit back a curse, thinking that Pearson Stapler could be waiting in the parking lot to jump her as soon as she walked out of the emergency room door. And Noah had better get there before it happened.

  “Where can I get a cab?” he asked.

  “I can give you a ride,” Hemmings offered.

  “Thanks.” Noah looked at Waterford again. “Which hospital?”

  “Las Vegas General.”

  “I appreciate this,” Noah said as they climbed into Hemmings’s rental car.

  “No problem.”

  When they pulled away from the police station, Noah breathed out a sigh. He was finally out of the clutches of the cops, yet he had a gut feeling that this wasn’t over.

  Hemmings spared him a look as he drove. “Were you hurt in the scuffle?” the researcher asked.

  “I’m fine,” Noah snapped, then apologized. “I’m sorry. I’m kind of on edge.”

  “What happened? I don’t know anything other than that they were asking questions about you and that you were at the police station.”

  Noah apologized for dragging Dr. Hemmings into his mess. Then he explained, “I met Olivia Stapler at the hotel. I’ve been worried about her, so I went over to her apartment. I came in just as her brother was assaulting her.”

  Hemmings sucked in a sharp breath. “Good timing. What did he do to her?”

  “He cut her with a knife. When the cops showed up, the brother started spewing a bunch of lies about who did what to whom. Which is how I ended up at the station. Now I want to find out how Olivia is.”

  The researcher looked like he wanted to ask more questions, but he pressed his lips together.

  When they arrived at the hospital, Hemmings pulled up at the emergency room door.

  Noah jumped out and looked around, trying to spot Stapler. When he didn’t see the bastard, he turned back to Hemmings. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

  “I can handle this,” Noah said in a firm voice. Without waiting for an answer, he ran to the door.

  Inside, he hurried to the reception desk. “I’m looking for Olivia Stapler,” he said.

  The receptionist consulted a clipboard in front of her. “She’s in the back.”

  “What’s her status?”

  “I can’t give out that information, sir.”

  “I’d like to see her.”

  “Family only, I’m afraid.”

  “I’m her fiancé,” he clipped out, then wondered where that outrageous idea had come from.

  The woman eyed him. Maybe he looked desperate and worried enough for her to take pity on him, because she picked up the phone on her desk and made a call. A few minutes later, a nurse led him into the treatment area.

  He found Olivia sitting on a table inside a small room. She was wearing a hospital gown, and he could see from
the bulge under the left side that they had bandaged her wound. He could also see her breasts through the thin fabric of the gown. Her nipples were puckered from the cold, clearly standing up against the fabric.

  He dragged his gaze away from her chest as she looked up at him. Her eyes seemed clouded, but they cleared when they focused on him.

  “Noah?”

  “How are you?” he asked.

  She waited a moment before answering. “Not too bad.” She raised one shoulder. “They gave me something for the pain.”

  “Can you leave?”

  “I think so.” Her expression turned confused. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wasn’t going to just abandon you.”

  A FEW minutes ago, Jarred Bainbridge had been stopped dead. Now he was back on track. Noah Fielding had apparently gotten into some trouble in Las Vegas, and there was a police write-up on the case, which Jarred had accessed.

  But the police report was less interesting to him than the private information he’d just acquired. Apparently Fielding’s hand had been cut in a fight with a guy named Pearson Stapler. Then miraculously, the wound had disappeared.

  So what did that mean? Did Fielding have some secret formula that healed him? Or was the story about the hand bunk?

  Jarred wanted to see for himself. In fact, he was eager to repeat the experiment—perhaps with some kind of deeper cut that would be harder to miss.

  Until a little while ago, Fielding had been cooling his heels at the downtown Las Vegas police station. According to a contact in the police department, when they’d let him leave, he’d gone straight to the hospital to see about Stapler’s sister.

  That sounded like a good place to scoop him up.

  So how should he do it? He could use his contacts in the police department or he could use a private contractor.

  After considering his options, Jarred reached for the phone and gave the orders.

  NOAH watched a wealth of emotions chase themselves across Olivia’s face.

  “I’m sorry I got you into trouble.”

  “Not your fault.”

  “Of course it was!”

  “Let’s not argue about it,” he said gently.

  She swallowed hard. “I thought when they took you away, I wouldn’t see you again.”

  “They held me for a while. Then they let me go. I got here as quickly as I could.”

  He stepped toward her, wanted to pull her into his arms. She looked fragile, but he needed the reassurance of touching her.

  Slowly he took another step and another. When she didn’t draw back, he reached for her.

  She moved easily into his embrace, her head coming to rest on his shoulder, a sigh escaping from her.

  He felt her trembling. Maybe he was trembling, too. When she lifted her head, he lowered his, and their lips met.

  A small sound escaped her. He hoped it was an invitation, because the need for more intimate contact suddenly filled him. The first touch of his mouth to hers sent sensation surging through him like a volcano of emotions.

  He angled his head to taste her lips, sipping from her, drinking in the wonderful taste of her. He remembered the last kiss, remembered the out-of-control passion. He wasn’t going to let that happen now, not when she was in the emergency room after being treated for a knife wound. He swore that to himself.

  Yet he couldn’t make himself lift his mouth, couldn’t stop his hand from stroking her shoulders and arms.

  As he touched her, erotic images assaulted him. He pictured her opening her legs for him where she sat on the side of the table. He pictured himself unzipping his pants and entering her as he stood in front of her.

  The image almost undid him.

  And what was she thinking?

  He reached to cup one breast, and she swayed against him, her hardened nipple abrading his palm through the gown. He was already hard, more than ready to make love with her, and he thought he would go mad with wanting her—even when he knew he couldn’t have her. Not now.

  The way she quivered in his arms told him that she wanted this as much as he did.

  Did she have on panties under that gown? He was reaching for the hem to find out when a stab of good sense stopped him. Maybe they both wanted to make love, but she was on pain medication, and he was the one who was thinking clearly.

  Or almost clearly.

  “We can’t,” he murmured against her lips.

  “I know.”

  Still, she kept kissing him, her arms tightening around him until he heard her wince.

  He eased back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

  “You didn’t do anything I didn’t want.”

  “I hurt you.”

  “Of course not.” She ducked her head and when she didn’t raise her gaze again, he was pretty sure she was staring at his white T-shirt.

  “You used your shirt to stop my bleeding,” she murmured.

  “The cops gave me a clean one.”

  “What about your hand?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “But you were hurt.”

  When he held up his palm to show her, she shook her head. “I thought…” Her voice trailed off in confusion.

  “It was your blood on the shirt,” he said in a thick voice. He’d told that lie twice already and he hated repeating it now, especially when he’d been so intimate with her moments before, but for the time being it was his only option.

  The time being? He struggled to clear his head. What was he thinking, that he was going to tell her the story of his life? The story he hadn’t told anyone but Thomas in over a hundred years.

  Before she could say anything else, he asked, “Your brother cut you. Why didn’t you press charges against him?”

  She gave him a pleading look. “I was in shock when they brought me here. I couldn’t think straight, and that policeman was pressing me to have Pearson arrested.” She looked at him helplessly. “I needed time to decide whether it was the right thing to do.”

  He stared at her. How many people would have given that bastard the benefit of the doubt? But Olivia’s goodness had made her stop and think before she charged her brother with assault.

  “He could be waiting outside for you,” Noah pointed out, keeping his gaze steady on her.

  She caught her breath. “I didn’t think of that.”

  “Because you’re too moral. You’re going to let me protect you.”

  “Moral? I did something…” Her voice trailed off.

  “We’ll talk about it later.”

  “I don’t feel good about it.”

  “Later,” he repeated. “The quicker I get you out of here, the better.” He gave her a long look. “You need some clothes to wear. Wait right here. Don’t let them send you back out front.”

  “I might not be able to—”

  “Stay here. Tell them I’m coming to pick you up. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He turned and hurried back toward the waiting room. When he looked through the door, he saw Hemmings sitting on one of the chairs. And Detective Waterford was just walking in the door like he owned the place.

  Chapter Six

  Noah ducked back around the corner, hopefully before Waterford saw him. Was the cop looking for him or for Olivia? And why?

  He’d like to know exactly what kind of mess he’d stepped into, and now he wondered if he should have let Olivia confess whatever was bothering her.

  Still, in the absence of that information, he knew something for sure. His plans hadn’t really changed. With Olivia in no shape to be interrogated, he was getting her out of the line of fire before the detective started in on her again. And before her brother could take another crack at her.

  He hurried down the hall, opening doors, seeing nothing she could wear. He was out of the emergency room and into the hospital proper when he came to the gift shop. At this time of night, it was locked, but when he looked through the glass, he saw what he needed.

  After glancing around to make sure nobody was watc
hing him, he stepped to the door, gave the knob a hard twist, and rammed his shoulder against the door. He was stronger than he looked, and over the years he’d learned techniques for getting into places where he had no business being. The lock wasn’t very effective. After twisting the knob open, he stepped inside and headed for a rack of Las Vegas General Hospital T-shirts. To change his appearance a little, he took a navy one of those for himself.

  He found a plain yellow blouse for Olivia that opened down the front so she could get into it easily. He also took a running suit that had the hospital logo.

  He scribbled a note saying what he’d appropriated and left it with more than enough money under a ceramic crock on the counter. Mission accomplished, he sprinted back to the room where he’d left Olivia.

  When he shot back through the door, she looked up in alarm.

  “Sorry I scared you.” He crossed to her. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m still spacey.”

  “Can you walk?”

  “I think so.”

  She eased off the table and stood on shaky legs. Noah looked toward the door, thinking Waterford might come in at any minute. To make sure they didn’t collide with the detective, he took Olivia’s arm and helped her walk several doors down the hall, to an empty cubicle.

  She looked exhausted from the short trip, so he told her to sit on the table while he changed his shirt and stuffed the white one in a trash can.

  Then he turned back to her. “You’ve got to take off that gown.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “I don’t have a bra on.”

  “I know.”

  “Oh right,” she murmured, apparently remembering that he’d found that out for himself.

  This time when he touched her, he tried to stay all business as he untied the fastenings and eased the gown off her shoulders. But his fingers burned when he touched her bare back. And when he carefully pulled the garment off her body, the sight of her high, firm breasts made him draw in a quick breath.

  Glancing up at her face, he saw her staring at him intensely.

  He managed to give her a crooked grin, then helped her put the arm on her bad side through one sleeve. She winced.