Her left foot started tapping. “I want to go.”
Damn, he really had lost his charm. He almost handed them to her, then remembered how close that eighteen wheeler had come to ending his life. If something happened… “And I want you to have a cup of coffee.”
Her eyes tightened and brightened with unexpected anger. He waited for the explosion, for her to toss out a few four-letter words. So far he’d only heard the words “darn” and “blast” leave those pretty lips.
God knew he’d drawn swear words out of every one of his high school teachers. Not that an outburst was what he wanted; he just wanted to make sure she was safe. He knew it wasn’t his problem. It wasn’t even his job to take it this far. He didn’t want to care. But he did.
Her lips moved as if she counted to ten. Then she looked at the people sitting at the desks spaced around the room. “Would someone please make this jerk give me my keys?”
Lucy, one of the female desk clerks, jumped from her chair and stepped between him and Cali. She shot Brit a look of disgust, then glanced back at Cali.
“Look,” the clerk spoke to Cali. “He is being a jerk, which is unusual for him, but unfortunately, he’s right. You’re not in any condition to drive. So take him up on the coffee, and then, if he doesn’t hand over your keys,” she cut her eyes back to Brit, “I’ll personally hold him down and let you kick him in the balls.”
Brit frowned at the clerk, but when he saw Cali’s expression soften, he accepted the clerk had accomplished what he hadn’t. He couldn’t help but wonder if Cali had just finally listened to reason, or if she was hoping to kick him in the balls. Not that he didn’t deserve it.
“One cup,” he said.
She met his gaze. “Just one.”
“This way.” He waved a hand. At first she didn’t budge, then she started walking, her limp barely noticeable now. He guided her down the hall, two left turns, to his tiny office.
Standing back from the door, he motioned for her to enter. He pointed to the chair across from his desk and kept pointing until she lowered herself into the flimsy piece of furniture. She folded her arms around herself as if to ward off the cold.
“Thank you.” He made a dismal attempt to be polite, because for some reason he got the feeling it mattered to her. “How do you take your coffee?”
“I really don’t want coffee.”
“Cream? Sugar?” He stared at her stubborn expression.
“Cream.” She trembled again as she glanced away.
He darted down the hall to collect caffeine. When he came back, she had her arms locked around her middle. Her hair, and the clip, hung in a wet mess around her shoulders. “Here. Hot is all I promise.”
She took the steaming coffee, curled her hands around it, and brought it closer as if to absorb the heat.
He touched her shoulder and, as he suspected, the sweater felt saturated. “This thing is soaking wet. Take it off.”
“I just want to go home.” Steam whispered up from the cup.
“You can’t go home.” He took the coffee from her hands and set it on his desk beside the cat food. “Take the sweater off before you turn into ice.”
“I meant I want to leave here.” She glared at him again, but Brit decided that even her glares didn’t overshadow her sweet face. The woman didn’t use four-letter words. Maybe that explained the face of an angel. A sexy angel.
He continued to stare. A man could get lost in those blue eyes. “Please, take the sweater off,” he added, sensing that “please” was her favorite word.
The please worked. Shifting, she began removing the waterlogged material. He decided right then to give politeness a shot from now on when dealing with her.
She pulled her arms from the sleeves. A hard task because of the clingy soaked wool. Underneath she wore the beige blouse she’d worn this morning. The rain hadn’t spared it either. Brit envisioned goose bumps rising on her skin beneath the material. Then he saw her breasts, lacy bra, and nipples pebbled against the sheer fabric. Shutting the door on his wayward thoughts, he snatched his leather jacket from his chair and draped it over her shoulders.
His fingers brushing against her neck caused her to jump. “Sorry.” He paused. “He really scared you, didn’t he?” Brit moved back, giving her space.
She didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. Fear flashed in her eyes, and it wasn’t because of him. He gritted his teeth and wanted to catch the bastard. Pushing back his protective fury, he picked up her coffee and placed it in her hands again. Her appearance—small, vulnerable, and wearing his coat—had his chest tightening.