Chayton Read Free Page B

means, the police might haul her in for questioning. At least she would be out of the reach of Anton—or would she? Would he pull strings and get the police to release her to his custody? She didn't want to go to jail. Period. She also didn't want to remain under Chayton's scrutiny longer than she had to.
    “I said, my name is Penelope Smith.” It would take Chayton a while to find out the truth. Even if he did look up Anton Bertini, all he would find was a tale of mystery and heartbreak. The real heartbreak, the real terror, would never be found in print.
    Chayton's mouth thinned into a hard line. “And who is it you don't want to marry?”
    “That's none of your business.”
    “I'm making it my business. You're in my suite, remember?”
    “Someone. Just someone. I—you're bleeding.” Kate attempted to distract him with his injuries. The cut high on his forehead, half into his hairline was bleeding, a red streak trailing all the way down his cheek to his jaw. She could use his wounds to her advantage, throw him off her scent.
    “But I'm not dying. Answer the question.”
    “You should let me stitch it up. I know how.”
    He arched a brow, which made the wound weep even more. “I just bet you'd love to get near me with a needle.”
    “What do you think I'm going to do, poke your eye out with it?”
    “You've already tried that once.”
    She had the wherewithal to look sheepish. “I wasn't aiming for your eye.”
    Wearing an openly skeptical expression, he seemed to consider her offer. He took a step back. “All right. But we need a first aid kit and we don't have one. If you think I'm leaving you here to go find one, you're wrong.”
    Kate breathed a little easier. He'd been so close, so immediately in her personal space, that the foot he put between them seemed a much larger chasm than it really was. “I know where we can get it. There are stacks of them in the maid's utility closet just down the hall. Actually—they're for restocking. I bet each suite has its own kit.”
    Chayton stared at her, then said, “Don't try to dart out the door when my back's turned.”
    She couldn't make that promise. So she said nothing.
    Chayton crouched to start going through the bottom cabinets and drawers in the bathroom. He moved with sleek efficiency, as if whatever wounds he'd sustained had no bearing on his ability to function.
    She glanced past to the main room of the suite and the door. He would be on her before she got halfway. Frustrated, she decided to help him search. The sooner she stitched him, the sooner, perhaps, he might let her go.
    The first-aid kit, sitting in the last drawer she searched, had everything they needed and many things they didn't. Gauze pads, antiseptic, cotton balls, sunburn spray, band-aids, a sewing kit, numbing gel and numerous other safety items. Kate closed the drawer after a quick scan of the first-aid contents.
    “Found it. I'll need better light.”
    Chayton closed the cabinet he'd been pawing through and exited into the main room, returning with an armless chair. He positioned it directly under the lights, which he switched on next.
    The bathroom lit up, allowing Kate to get her first good look at Chayton Black. His dark skin looked enhanced by hours in the sun, the sharp features of his face handsome to say the least. High cheekbones, a broad brow and narrow chin framed a straight nose and surprisingly blue eyes. The contrast between his eyes and his skin was striking. As was the long length of his black hair. Caught back at his nape with a band, it fell halfway to his waist. She vaguely recalled that his family was of Native American blood. His father's side, if she remembered correctly.
    He arched a brow. Realizing she was standing there staring like a silly girl, Kate approached the chair and set the kit on the counter. Opening the lid, she rooted around for everything she needed.
    Chayton sat, knees parted, hands resting on his thighs.
    The easiest place to stand was directly