“Oh, damn.” He backed away from her in three quick steps. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize… I’m an idiot. Let me get him outta here. I’ll take him down to the beach where there’s plenty of tourists to feed him so he won’t be tempted to come back.” As he spoke, he circled around the other side of the pool and headed for the path to the back gate. “Go inside and lock the doors. I’ll be right back.”
As her wobbly knees finally gave out, Libby sank onto one of the loungers and stared after him in complete shock. Why hadn’t he teased her? She’d given him plenty of ammunition between mistaking the iguana for an alligator and squealing like a terrified child when he tried to get her to pet it. The Jude she knew wouldn’t have let it go. The heartless bastard would have been relentless about it, too, teasing her until she was sobbing…
But he hadn’t.
In fact, he’d looked horrified that he’d unintentionally frightened her. He’d even walked the long way around the pool so that the damn lizard wouldn’t be anywhere near her. That was…thoughtful. And kind of…well, surprisingly sweet.
“Who are you?” she whispered into the gathering dusk. Because whoever this man was, he definitely was not the Jude Wilde she once knew.
…
Jude dropped the iguana on a rock wall by the beach, much to the delight of the tourists watching the sun’s fiery decent over the ocean. It was only then, as dozens of cameras turned his way, that he realized he was still dressed for a nap—in nothing but his underwear. His only concern had been getting Mr. Iguana as far away from Libby as possible to erase that terrified expression from her face, and he hadn’t given his state of dress—or, rather, undress—a second thought.
But, hell with it. It was Key West. He’d seen stranger things than a man running around in boxer-briefs, carrying a lizard.
Wary of leaving Libby for too long, he gave the crowd a wave, then beat feet the block and a half back to the house. He found her exactly where he’d left her, sitting on the end of the lounger.
“Libby, I told you to go inside.”
Her eyes looked huge in the gathering darkness, and even a dolt like him could see the glaze of shock in them. He cursed himself yet again and knelt beside her. “I’m sorry I frightened you.”
“No, it wasn’t—” She lifted a shaking hand to her temple and let go a humorless laugh. “I thought it was an alligator.”
“Crocodile,” he corrected. “Alligators like fresh water. American Crocodiles live in salt water, but they’re endangered, and you don’t see them much this far south…” At her furrowed brow, he trailed off. “And that doesn’t matter. I’m rambling. Sorry.”
She tilted her head to one side and studied him with a curious expression. “You’ve been apologizing a lot lately.”
“Yeah, well. I got a lot to apologize for, don’t I?” Heat crawled across the back of his neck, and he hoped like hell he wasn’t turning red. To cover, he gripped her by the wrists and lifted her to her feet. “How about we go inside now? Get some coffee and I’ll put in a movie.”
Some of the color returned to her complexion as he led her toward the house. “If you put in Lake Placid, I swear I’ll make you into a soprano.”
“Aw, give me some credit, Libs. I have a more refined pallet than that when it comes to movies.” He settled her on the couch and then backed up a couple steps before adding with a grin, “I was thinking Godzilla.”
“I will slaughter you,” she said and wrapped herself up in the thin quilt from the back of the couch, but the threat lacked heat, and a smile played around her lips. It pleased him that she’d bounced back enough from the scare to start issuing threats.
“All right, no giant reptiles.” He opened the cabinets in the entertainment center and found a dismal selection of highbrow dramas and lowbrow comedies. Apparently, Seth’s tastes in movies hadn’t changed. “We’ll order something On Demand.”
“That bad?” Libby asked.
He winced. “Painful.”
As he straightened, Libby cleared her throat. “Um, Jude, you do know you’re still in your underwear, right?”
“I’m aware.”
“And that you ran out in public like that?”
“Eh.” He waved a hand, but decided that maybe it was time to pull on some shorts. “Key West is like Vegas. What happens here, stays here. I’ll get dressed, maybe pop us some corn.” He handed her the remote, and the quilt fell away as she reached for it. Angry red lines marred the soft flesh of her arm.
“What the hell?” Forgetting about everything else, he caught her wrist and turned her arm over when she tried to hide the marks. “That fucking cat.”
“Don’t be mad at him.” She tugged, trying to loosen his grip. “It wasn’t his fault.”
“Bullshit. He scratched the hell out of you.” Jude ran his fingers gently over the scratches, then dropped her wrist and changed course for the small bathroom off the living room. He tore open cupboards, looking for the first-aid kit that Seth kept there. It had seen a lot of use during their partying days, always kept well stocked with everything from antiseptic cream to sutures to IV bags and tubing. He found it and started back across the living room. “I need to clean you up.”