Rachael let out her breath, her stomach muscles clenching. He had scars on his back. Lots of them. And he had another leech. "You have another one on your back. Come over here and I'll take it off for you." The thought of touching the leech was disgusting, but it sickened her to see the thing sucking on him like the parasite it was.

His shoulders stiffened. Not a big movement, but one that told her she'd surprised him and he didn't like surprises. He turned his head, a slow, animal- like movement. Rachael's breath caught in her throat. His eyes glowed, much like that of a cat in the dark. The flames from the fireplace leapt in the yellow- green depths. There was a long moment of silence. A log hissed and shifted.

Sparks flew.

"Thanks, but I'll pa.s.s. I'm used to them." Rio sounded gruff and abrupt and surly even to his own ears. h.e.l.l, all she'd done was ask to help him. He didn't need to bite her head off. "I think your wrist is broken. I haven't had time to splint it." He couldn't remember anyone offering to help

.33.him before. He rarely spent more than a few minutes in the company of others, and her close proximity was unsettling. She made him feel vulnerable in a way he couldn't understand.

Rachael looked with some surprise at her swollen wrist. The pain radiating up from her leg consumed her to the point she hadn't noticed her wrist. "I guess it is. Who are you?"

She watched him take his time before answering, pulling the leech from his stomach with the ease of practice and disposing of it. His strange eyes immediately focused fully on her. "Rio Santana." He obviously was expecting a reaction to his name.

Rachael blinked at him. The intensity of his gaze made her heart pound. She'd never heard his name before, she was certain of it, yet something about him seemed familiar to her. She shifted position and pain knifed through her.

Impatience flickered across his face. "Stop moving around. You'll start bleeding again, and I haven't even cleaned up the first mess."

"You spend a lot of time working on your manners, don't you?" she observed.

"You tried to bash in my head, lady. I don't think I need you to lecture me on manners." He stalked across the room to draw the knife from the sheath.

Her heart jumped, then settled into a steady pounding. Everything about the way he moved reminded her of an animal. The flames from the fireplace made the blade of the knife glow an eerie red-orange as he held it up.

"Stop looking at me like I have two heads," he snapped, sounding more impatient than ever.

"I'm looking at you like you're waving a big knife around," she said. Her leg was throbbing with pain, forcing her to grit her teeth and try to relax. How was she supposed to keep from moving around when it felt as if someone was using a dull saw on her flesh? "And I didn't exactly try to bash your head in. It wasn't personal."34.

"The knife is to remove the leech from my back. I can't reach it any other way,"

he explained, although why he felt compelled to explain what should have been perfectly obvious, he didn't know. "And I always take it personally when someone tries to remove my head from my shoulders."

She made a face. A silly, feminine expression of exasperation. And she did it with little white lines of pain etched around her mouth. It fascinated him, that wholly feminine expression. His stomach did a weird flip.

"You don't hear me complaining that your little pet chewed off my leg. Men are such babies. It isn't even that big of a gash."

He had the urge to laugh. It came out of nowhere, blind-siding him, bursting over him unexpectedly. He didn't laugh, of course; he frowned at her instead.

"You put a hole in my head."

"You're going to put a hole in your back with that knife. Stop being macho he- man and let me take that horrible thing off of you."

His eyebrow shot up. "You want me to put a knife in your hands, lady?"

"Stop calling me lady, it's becoming annoying." Pain was beating at her so strongly now that she wanted to throw up again. It was definitely making it hard to think. She kept fear at bay with her usual chatter, but she wouldn't be able to keep it up for much longer. And she dared not think what might happen then.

"I don't exactly know your name. Where I come from, lady is a compliment."

"Not in that tone of voice," she objected. "Rachael Los..." she trailed off, casting around for a name, any name. She couldn't think clearly; she'd already forgotten her new name, but it was imperative she hide her ident.i.ty. Pain throbbed in her head, beat at her body. "Smith."

If it were possible, his eyebrow went higher. "Rachael Los Smith?" His mouth softened for the briefest of moments,

.35.a rusty attempt at a smile. Or a smirk. She couldn't tell. Her vision was beginning to blur.

Rio moved closer to her, his mouth once more twisting into a frown. "You're sweating." His palm settled on her forehead. "Do not get an infection. We're stuck here without help for the duration of the storm."

"I'll make sure I follow your orders, Rio, because I have the power to determine that, you know." Rachael's gaze followed the path of the knife as it moved close to her. "If you don't let me help you now, I don't think I'm going to be able to at all." Her voice was funny, tinny and far away. "That awful leech is going to just stay there, getting high on your blood. Maybe it's a girl leech and she's going to have babies and they'll all live on your back, sucking your blood. A little leech community. How perfectly lovely."

He muttered something under his breath.

"And don't swear at me or I'm going to cry. I'm doing my best here and you aren't giving me anything to work with."

His fingers were gentle in her hair even though he didn't mean to touch her.

"Don't you dare cry." The thought was more alarming than someone coming at him with a gun. Her tears might turn him inside out. "The morphine is wearing off, isn't it? I didn't give you very much because I was afraid you'd go into shock."

A small humorless laugh escaped. She sounded on the verge of hysteria. "I am in shock. I think I lost my mind. I thought you turned into a leopard and tried to rip my throat out."

He slipped the tip of the knife between his back and the leech, flicked it to the floor and hastily disposed of it. "Leopards don't rip throats out. They bite the throat and suffocate their prey." He dipped a cloth into a cool bowl of water and sponged her face. "They're tidy killers."

"Thanks for the information. I wouldn't want to think my death would be a messy one."

Rio was uncomfortably aware of her gaze studying his36.

face. Her eyes were large, too old for the rest of her. There was something sad in the dark depths that tugged at his heart. Her lashes were incredibly long, spiky from her tears. He actually felt as if he were falling forward into the depths of them, a corny and totally ridiculous notion he was impatient with. His heart began to pound in his chest. Antic.i.p.ating-what, he didn't know. He deliberately wiped the cloth over her eyes, a gentle stroke to save himself from falling under her spell.

"Are you always this sarcastic, or should I put it down to you being in considerable pain?"

Rachael tried to laugh but it came out a gasping sob. "I swear it feels like my leg is on fire."

"It's swelling. I'm going to give you a little more painkiller and splint that wrist for you." Rio's fingers trailed in her hair, a thick ma.s.s of silk. There was a strange color surrounding her body, like a shadow that wouldn't go away.

No matter how many times he blinked, or swept his hand over his eyes to clear his vision, the strange surrounding color remained.

"I think you need to take care of yourself," Rachael said, her gaze drifting over his face. He had the physical sensation of fingers touching him lightly in a caress. She didn't seem to notice the effect she had on him, and he was grateful.

"You look tired. I honestly can't even feel my wrist at the moment, although I think a painkiller is a good idea. Maybe a huge dose of painkiller." Rachael tried to smile at him, tried to make it a joke. If he didn't find something to stop the pain she was going to ask him to knock her out. He had a big enough fist.

She was shaking beneath the blanket, a sure sign of fever. He had packed the wound with antibiotics earlier, but it obviously wasn't going to be enough. Rio shook pills into his hand and helped her lift her head to swallow them. She pressed her teeth together, but a small sound, much like that of a wounded animal, escaped. "I'm sorry, I know

.37.it hurts, but you have to get these down." If she had come there to kill him, he was making a h.e.l.l of a fool of himself, but it didn't matter to him. He had to remove the desperation from her eyes. She looked so helpless it twisted his gut into hard little knots. He gave her another small dose of morphine along with the antibiotics and waited until her eyes clouded over before splinting her wrist. Her skin was hot, but he didn't dare leave his own wounds much longer or they both would be in trouble.

Rachael felt herself drifting away. The pain was there; she didn't want to squirm around and provoke it, but she could handle the intensity floating above it. Rio moved away from her with his curious animal grace. He intrigued her Everything about him intrigued her. She couldn't keep from staring at him, although she tried to think of other things The wind. The rain. Leopards leaping at her throat. Her lashes drifted down. She listened to the ram and shivered.

Before she had been burning up; now she felt inexplicably cold. The sound of the rain driving down on the rooftop added to her discomfort. She couldn't hear him moving around the house. It wasn't that the storm drowned out the sounds, he was simply that quiet. Like a great jungle cat.3.RACHAEL forced her eyes open to keep him in sight. She felt dreamy, disconnected with reality. Rio stood several feet from her, close to the stove. Casually hooking his thumbs in his wet jeans, he eased them from his hips, slowly exposing his firm b.u.t.tocks and his long, muscular back to her. She tried not to gawk as he washed up, using hot water from the stove. He was thorough about it, his muscles flexing as he worked. He reminded her of the statues she'd seen in Greece, the defined muscles and well-proportioned ultra-masculine body. It occurred to her that he was completely at home without clothes. He seemed to have forgotten she was in the room, displaying no modesty whatsoever.

He lit a match and held it to the needle he'd used to sew her leg before performing the same task on his arm. Rachael heard him swear when he doused his hip with the same evil liquid he had used on her. Evidently he kept large supplies of it to refill his little vial. He turned slightly as he sewed his hip and she got a frontal view. Twin columns for thighs and looking every bit as good or better than the anatomically correct statues.

.39."You have a beautiful body." Rachael would never have called attention to the fact that he was naked. The words slipped out before she could censor them, or maybe someone else said them. She looked around to see if they were really alone. She had said it after all, and she meant it. The honesty in her voice didn't even make her blush or turn away when he looked over at her with his penetrating, focused gaze.

Rachael stared at him openly, inspecting him the way she might a beautiful sculpture. She smiled dreamily. "Don't mind me. I think it's the drugs talking.

I've just never seen a man with a body as beautiful as yours is."

There was no come-on in her voice, no deliberate seduction, just simple honest admiration. And that was what made it so d.a.m.ned s.e.xy. He hadn't even been thinking about s.e.x. Or soft skin. Or full b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Or silky hair. She smelled like a d.a.m.ned bed of flowers. He hurt like a son of a gun. He was tired and edgy and he didn't understand what was happening to him. And now his body was reacting to her voice. Or her words. Or her smell. Who knew? Need punched him in the gut and hardened his body like a rock. He was furious with her. With himself. With his lack of control. Now he had a h.e.l.l of a hard-on and a sick woman in his bed. And d.a.m.n it all, if he had to endure it, she could just look at it.

He finished st.i.tching his hip, all too aware of her unwavering gaze. It didn't seem to bother her that he was primed and ready and they were completely alone.

Her eyes were overbright, her skin flushed with heat in spite of the continual shaking. Fortunately, the pain from the ugly gash on his hip drove the heat from his body so bis l.u.s.t wasn't so brutally exposed to her.

Rio didn't look at her but he felt her eyes on him. Hot. Staring. Devouring him.

The thought made him ache all over. He swore again. Even with the pain of st.i.tching his own wounds, her gaze, staring at his hardened body, set jackhammers tripping in his head and his temples pounding.40.

"Are you going to stare at me all night?" He growled the words at her. A threat.

A promise. Retribution in the lines of his body. He turned his head then faced her down, allowing naked desire to flare just to scare the h.e.l.l out of her.

She smiled serenely. "I'm sorry. Was I staring? It's just that you're the most beautiful man I've ever seen. I thought if I did die, you might not be such a bad thing to take with me as a last image."

She disarmed him just like that. The power she wielded was frightening. Nothing touched him the way she managed to. With a look, a single word. Just the tone of her voice. He was drowning and it made no sense. And it made him angry. He just wasn't sure whom he was angry with.

She was still staring, her eyes huge. Rio stalked over to her and pressed his palm against her forehead. "You're burning up."

"I know." He was standing right up against the bed, his groin level with her eyes. Rachael thought him extraordinary. She floated in a dreamy haze, where nothing seemed very real. Except Rio and his incredible body. She reached out to touch him, not believing he could be anything but a dream.

Her fingertips brushed the head of his p.e.n.i.s and nearly sent him through the roof. Her touch was feather-light, barely there, but he felt it vibrating through his entire body.

"You are real." She sounded awed and her breath was warm along his shaft, tightening every muscle in his body. Her fingers trailed over his heavy erection, slid across his b.a.l.l.s and down his thigh and the feeling was unlike anything he'd ever experienced.

"It's a d.a.m.n good thing you're hurt," he snapped, turning away from her, afraid she might go further. Afraid he might let her. And he'd never forgive himself if he stooped that low. He had never wanted a woman so much. It was the way she looked at him. The sound of her voice. The honesty. Intellectually he knew it was the fever talking,

.41.taking away her natural inhibition, but he couldn't help reacting. Fever or no, she liked what she saw. Walking was torture, his body so hard he was afraid each step would shatter him, but he moved away.