Rescuing Rudi Read online

  “Have you been here all that time?” She frowned.

  “Pretty much. I can’t deny I was very shaken. It’s not a nice feeling, running someone over. I had to make sure you were all right, and then I wanted to be here when you woke up. I dozed a bit on and off, but I will have to think about getting home and cleaning up some time soon. Where do you live?”

  The question caught her off guard.

  “Live?”

  “Yes,” he grinned. “Live. Your house, address, where your stuff is and where you sleep.”

  She blushed and looked away, as much as her aching head would allow her. She didn’t want to have to tell him she had nowhere to go.

  His brow furrowed. “Do you have family? A husband?”

  “No.” It hurt too much to shake her head.

  “Partner?”

  “No.”

  “Parents?”

  “Uh uh.”

  “Is that why you were on the street last night? Are you homeless?”

  The question was blunt and direct. She winced.

  “Your head?” he asked quickly, his brow furrowing in concern.

  “No.” She managed a small, wry smile. “I remembered not to move it.”

  He reached out, but not wanting to jolt her injured shoulder, touched her face just below the short-cropped, brown hair that was stuck to her head.

  “Do you have anywhere to go?” he asked with such sincere concern, she felt a lump in her throat. She swallowed it and set her mouth in a hard line.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Will you?” He sounded completely unconvinced. “Well, to make sure, when you are discharged, I will drop you off at your place. Unless someone else comes to pick you up. But you have no family? Friends? Anyone?”

  She blushed. Was he ridiculing her? He made her sound so… What? Pathetic. Well, maybe she was, but she didn’t need some pitying stranger telling her that!

  “I will be just fine, thank you,” she said through tight lips. “I’m sorry I caused an accident. I hope your car was not too badly damaged. I’ll pay for the repairs. Thank you for staying with me, but I can manage on my own now.”

  He grinned, annoyingly. “Well, if you are going to pay for the repairs to my car, I’ll need to be able to contact you. Do you want to give me your full name? Address? Phone number?”

  He had her there. She glared, briefly wishing her eyes had the power to shoot fireballs at him, but then her brain kicked into gear.

  “No. Uh uh,” she managed a very small shake of her head without too much pain. “You give me your contact details, and I’ll contact you.”

  He laughed, stood up and stretched his arms above his head, pulling his shirt tight against his lean, hard chest and muscular abdomen.

  “Nope. I’ve got a better plan. Unless you can direct me to your house or flat or whatever, and I can see you safely inside, you are coming home with me until you are fully recovered, and I know you have a safe place to go. And that doesn’t include back on the streets.”

  “What? No!”

  “I think you mean ‘What? Yes!’” he replied calmly and sat down again, relaxing back into the chair. “I’ve already spoken to the staff and you should be okay to go home this evening.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you,” she began hotly, but he interrupted.

  “Don’t forget, I have to give the police a statement about the accident. I can tell them I think you were waiting to cross the road and stumbled, or I can tell them that you deliberately stepped in front of my car so I would hit you—which is what I think the truth really is. There’s no CCTV near there, so it’s your word against mine, but the hospital has a record of you being intoxicated when brought in, so my word will probably beat your word.” He turned his hands palm up and shrugged.

  As much as her aching body would let her, she drew herself into as small a huddle as she could manage and looked up at him with her eyes wide and staring. Her brain was racing: what would that mean? If the police determined she was trying to commit suicide? Was that a crime? Would they insist she have a mental health assessment? Would they run identity checks? She’d have to give her real name. It was too dangerous. She needed as low a profile as possible.

  “Well?” he prompted. “While you’re thinking, let me introduce myself. My name is Denver Bane. I am forty-two years old.” His mouth tightened. “Widower. No children.” He looked away briefly, and she could see the tension in his throat. He relaxed and turned back to her. “I have a nice five-bedroom house in Emerald, and it even has a separate studio with its own bathroom and a locking door. You are welcome to use that if you don’t feel safe in the house with me. It’s actually my office, but I can work elsewhere for a little while if need be. Oh, and I drive a BMW with a dent in it,” he finished with a grin.

  She frowned. “But why?”

  “Why am I offering you a place to stay?” He smiled gently. “Because I figure anyone so despairing that they’d throw themselves under the wheels of a passing car needs a helping hand. And as I was the car you chose to throw yourself under, it feels like my responsibility to offer that hand. And I have the means to do so.” He shrugged. “Simple, really.”

  Her frown deepened. “But you don’t know anything about me. I could be a murderer or thief or drug addict or…” A loud guffaw interrupted her. “What’s so funny?” she snapped.

  He stopped laughing and tried to suppress a smile.

  “I’m sorry, little girl. I didn’t mean to make fun of you, but honestly if you could see yourself: thin, scruffy, battered, and those big brown eyes staring up at me – you look more like a little doll that’s fallen into the gutter than a murderer. But, if I’m misjudging you, and you really are a serial killer on the loose, I’m prepared to take my chances. Are you, by the way? A serial killer?”

  “No, of course…”

  “A thief?”

  “I am not! I hate fucking thieves!”

  She saw his mouth set and for a moment thought he was going to scold her for swearing, but then he gave a small shrug, relaxed and went on with his questions.

  “A drug addict? That’s not a deal breaker by the way.”

  “No!” She was on safe ground again.

  “An alcoholic?”

  He caught her by surprise. That damn bourbon. She blushed again.

  “No.” He didn’t reply, just kept watching her. She sighed. “Okay, you know I’d been drinking last night, but I’m not an alcoholic. Maybe I drink a bit too much sometimes, but I’m not an alcoholic.”

  “Right, then. It’s settled.” He rubbed his hands together. “There don’t seem to be any problems there, and I’m not a murderer, rapist or slave trader, so you’ll be quite safe with me.”

  Her bottom lip trembled. He sat back down and put his hand on the bed, not quite touching her.

  “Look, Rudi. You don’t have anywhere else to go, do you? Tell me the truth. Do you?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “I promise not to pry. You can tell me whatever you want whenever you want. I don’t know what’s happened in your life for you to be living on the streets and jumping out in front of cars, but that’s your business. But it was my car that ran you over, and I feel responsible for you until you are fully recovered. I just want to make sure you have somewhere safe and comfortable to recuperate and then you can decide for yourself what you are going to do and where you are going to go. There are no strings, I give you my word. I am not going to try and take advantage of you or anything like that. How does that sound?”

  How did it sound? Like she had either died and gone to heaven, was still asleep, or in a coma and dreaming. This gorgeous man, with a voice like a gentle waterfall, was offering to let her stay in his house in Emerald. She had no idea where Emerald was and had certainly never been there, but it sounded like something out of a magical story.

  “Where’s Emerald?” she asked. “Is it as lovely as it sounds?”

  “It is indeed. Every bit as lovely. It�
�s in the Dandenongs, about an hour pretty much east of Melbourne.”

  So, allow this incredibly handsome stranger to whisk her off to his fabulous house in the magical Emerald or… Well, what was her alternative? Back onto the street with no money. Perhaps the sling would garner sympathy if she tried begging again, but she really didn’t want to have to do that anymore. She hated it. Hated the looks of sympathy perhaps even more than those of disgust.

  Besides, he’d said he’d tell the police that it wasn’t really an accident, that she’d done it on purpose. She needed to stay away from the police at all costs. She couldn’t let them find out who she was and where she was, and a house in the hills sounded like a good place to hide.

  “Well?” he prompted her gently. “Are you going to come quietly and allow me to assuage my guilty conscience by taking care of you for a while before you go off on your own back into the big wide world?”

  She ran through her options again: refuse and wind up having to undergo a psychiatric assessment, try and sneak off and wind up back on the streets in the cold and wet with no money and her arm in a sling, or accept the offer and have a week, or maybe even longer, in comfort to think about how she was going to get out of the mess she was in. But could she trust this good-looking stranger? More to the point, she thought wryly, could he be more of a danger than being alone on the street every night or being found? Probably not. She’d risk it.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Excellent,” Denver sprang to life, jumping up and clapping his hands together as he strode to the end of her bed. “Well, let’s get on with it, shall we? I’ll just go and speak to the nursing staff and find out how quickly we can get you out of here. I know I need a shower, and I suspect you’d quite like to get cleaned up too. How does a nice hot bubble bath sound?”

  He said it kindly, but Rudi’s heart skipped with shame; did she look that bad? Smell? No doubt she did. The hospital staff hadn’t bathed her or washed her hair, so she must still be grimy and dirty. How did a ‘nice hot bubble bath sound’? Like heaven.

  * * *

  It was going to be a while, though, before she slipped into that nice hot bubble bath. The wheels of hospital administration grind more slowly than the proverbial mill, and permission for Rudi’s discharge had to be given by her doctor, who was busy elsewhere and couldn’t get there for some time.

  It had been nine that evening before she’d finally been discharged. In the meantime, Denver had left her alone to run some errands, saying he’d be back in an hour or so. As soon as he was gone, Rudi had called for a nurse and asked for a shower. It was a slow and painful process, and barely effectual, but by the time he’d returned she was at least somewhat cleaner and her hair was washed.

  Coming back into her room and handing her a bag, Denver’s eyes had told her he’d noticed the change. Rudi had looked at him in surprise when she’d opened the bag to reveal a pair of grey tights, a long-sleeved white T-shirt, a warm, dark-blue jumper, and underwear.

  “I wasn’t sure you had any clean clothes,” he’d shrugged. “The ones you were wearing when I hit you were pretty wrecked. I think they went in the bin. I couldn’t be sure of your size, so I tried to err on the side of being too big rather than too small. No, don’t worry,” he’d waved away her protest, “it’s the least I can do, and you have to have something to wear home. We can sort out the rest later.”

  When she’d finally had the all-clear, Denver had pushed her to the front entrance in a wheelchair, picked her up and carefully put her into the passenger seat of his waiting BMW. As he’d lifted her into his arms, she’d felt his bulging muscles holding her so securely and yet so gently, that for a few seconds, she’d laid her head on his chest as he lowered her into her seat.

  As the car pulled out of the hospital grounds, she’d been suddenly acutely aware of being alone with this attractive older stranger who was so unlike any other man she’d ever met. Not that she hadn’t known older men who drove expensive cars; she’d known all too many, and just the thought of them made her feel ill. Ugly, vain, chauvinistic bullies, most of them, and they’d all got their money from dealings that were either shady or downright illegal.

  But the silence between them was as warm and comfortable as the car, as they made their way out of the city and into the hills. It didn’t take long before Rudi was lulled to sleep, not waking until they arrived at Denver’s house a little over an hour later, and he’d again picked her up, and then carried her inside and into a spare bedroom.

  Sitting her on the bed, he told her to wait a moment while he ran a bath and brought the rest of the things out of the car. He returned with more bags, which he put on the floor, then went back into the bathroom before helping her up off the bed.

  She winced from the pain in her hip.

  “Will you be okay in the bath? Do you need a hand with anything?” he asked, concern furrowing his brow.

  “No. I’m fine, thanks,” she assured him quickly, blushing at the thought of his helping her undress, not that she was usually shy about being naked in front of men. She wasn’t sure why this time felt different.

  She let him help her off the bed and to the bathroom, then hobbled in by herself and closed the door behind her. Next to the bath, he’d laid out a soft, fluffy bath sheet, and a lovely new pink nightdress and a big, warm dressing gown. Rudi stripped off, turned off the taps and slid in.

  As she stretched out in the luxurious bubbles as best she could without getting her sling wet, she felt her tired, battered body finally really begin to relax. She couldn’t believe it was only twenty-four hours ago that she was standing in the cold and rain about to be mugged before throwing herself under a car. She smiled. She’d done one thing right by the look of it; she’d picked the perfect car to throw herself under.

  Now here she was in what appeared to be a beautiful home, with an incredibly handsome, apparently wealthy, single man who was also an absolute gentleman. She grinned again, running her hand over her now clean and soapy body. If this gorgeous bathroom, with its raised oval bath, blue glass splash-back and Romanesque tiles was any indication, she was currently ensconced in a mansion.

  Her hair was a mess since she’d hacked off all the blonde, leaving only the very short natural brown, but she knew she was still pretty; she’d been told often enough. Maybe she was even beautiful. But more importantly, she was a very skilled flirt.

  She was quietly confident she could make him forget her terrible haircut by using her other assets: big eyes she knew how to cast down and then bring slowly up, long lashes she knew how to bat, small but full, high breasts she knew how to draw attention to, and a firm, very plump bottom she knew how to wiggle.

  Maybe, if she played her cards right, she could stay here permanently. If Mr. BMW liked playing the role of saviour and protector so much, she could happily play the part of princess in need of rescuing.

  Chapter 2

  The next morning, when she woke, she found a note from Denver on her bedside table saying he was working but would be back to check on her at ten o’clock. Meanwhile, he’d left her a breakfast tray with muesli, strawberries and slices of melon, coffee in a Thermos flask to keep it hot, a jug of milk and bowl of sugar, and two paracetamol in case she was in pain.

  Apart from the plate of unidentifiable food she’d had at the hospital, she’d not eaten much for days and was ravenous, but her stomach had shrunk so much she was only able to eat a portion of what he’d left for her. Still she had no doubt there were plenty more where that came from. She could easily get used to this life: idling about and being waited on with the very best of everything. She settled back against the pillows with her coffee and wondered how long she could get away with playing the invalid.

  Needing to go to the bathroom, she eased herself out of bed and found she could still walk on her own, albeit with a limp due to her badly bruised hip. In the bathroom, she raised her nightdress and stood in front of a long mirror, scanning her naked body. She saw there was a very nast
y blue and red patch where the car had hit her, and a few other bruises colouring her body, including one on her abdomen where the mugger kicked her. Apart from those, though, some grazes painted with antiseptic lotion, and her mildly sprained shoulder, she was fine. She was not about to tell her host that, though!

  She fought the temptation to get up and explore the house in the daylight; all she’d seen last night as he carried her in from the car was the hall, and her bedroom and en suite bathroom, but she wouldn’t be able to pretend she couldn’t do anything if she was caught snooping around.

  She had never heard of Emerald before now and had never been to the Dandenongs. She could tell they were on a hill because the view from her window looked out on a stepped garden leading up to tall trees and bush overlooking the house. She’d peeked out on her way back from the bathroom, but dared not stay out of bed too long in case he came back and discovered her, so after a quick look she’d scurried back to bed.

  At ten, according to the clock on her bedside table, she heard a door open and shut and footsteps down the hall. She quickly snuggled down and closed her eyes as he knocked on her door, but then not wanting him to leave thinking her still asleep, she fluttered them open and moaned softly as he entered.

  “Ah, good morning. You’re awake,” he greeted her with a smile and a voice so delicious it sent tingles all through her. “How are you feeling this morning? How did you sleep?”

  Fluttering her eyelids as though it was hard to open them, she made movements to sit up but then flopped back, sighing, defeated, closing her eyes, but peeking through her lashes to see his reaction. Showered, shaved and dressed in dark blue chinos, a white button-up shirt with thin blue and red lines on it and casual jacket, he was heart-stoppingly stunning.

  He looked at the tray.

  “I see you’ve eaten something, but not much. You’ll have to eat more than that if you are going to get your strength back. Let’s see if we can find something to whet your appetite for lunch, shall we? Meanwhile, I’ve organised a place for you to spend the day where I can keep a better eye on you. Come on.”