Heartbreaker (The Warriors) Read Free Page A

crawled.
    Despite the currents of tension she felt streaming through his muscular body, Bliss spoke with a nonchalance that belied the truth of her own chaotic emotions. "We’re entering the east wing of the main house. You’ve probably noticed how cool it is indoors. The floors and walls are marble. The hallway is quite long and six feet wide. There are three suites located in this particular wing. You’ll be using the one next door to mine, and we’ll share a patio that overlooks the back lawn and the beach. The third suite will remain vacant during your stay."
    As they moved down the hallway at a sedate pace, Bliss savored the encompassing warmth of Micah’s hand. She remembered the way in which he’d watched over her all those years ago, reassuring her with his presence in the London hospital, holding her hand while the doctor swabbed cuts with anesthetic and then stitched a gash in her right thigh. She still bore the scar on her upper leg, although it had faded to a narrow white line. During those post–bombing hours, Micah Holbrook had become the center of her world. She’d never forgotten him, although she felt certain that he hadn’t ever guessed the impact he’d had on the vulnerable heart of a lonely seventeen year old girl.
    "There aren’t any chairs or other furnishings in the hallway, so you won’t have to negotiate an obstacle course when you leave your suite."
    Bliss slowed her steps to pause before a closed door. She guided Micah’s hand to the doorknob and smoothed his fingers over it. "We’re standing at the end of the hallway now."
    He turned the knob and pushed open the door. Bliss inhaled the mingling scents of island flowers and salt–tinged Caribbean air that flowed through the open patio doors on the opposite side of the room. Taking his hand again, she stepped into the spacious room. Relief flooded her when Micah allowed her to draw him forward with her.
    "This suite is a combination sitting room and bedroom with a private bath. The furniture is contemporary, and the color scheme is a mix of creams and burgundies." She glanced at Micah, noting the muscle that ticked furiously in his already tight jaw. "I’ll always describe your surroundings."
    "What the hell’s the point?"
    "By having mental images to work with, you’ll get a better sense of how to move through each room."
    He jerked his hand free. "Are you blind?"
    "No. You are," she said. "At least, for the moment. No one knows if your condition is permanent, so we’re going to deal with that reality, rather than pretend you might not be sight impaired for the remainder of your life."
    "How in hell can you possibly know what I need?"
    "Experience. My method may not be officially sanctioned by the medical community, but it works. And Cyrus trusts me," she reminded him.
    He bit out an ugly word.
    Bliss ignored his anger and reclaimed his hand. She led him around the room. She showed him the location of each piece of furniture, the walk–in closet, and the bathroom. By forcing Micah to skim his fingertips across each surface they encountered, including the walls, she knew she was helping him to imprint permanent images in his sensory memory. Finally, she escorted him to the open French doors that led out to the patio, pausing on the threshold.
    "You can smell and feel the breeze on your face. It’s almost as good as a massage after a long day at work. It’s beautiful outside today. There isn’t a cloud for miles, and the temperature is in the high eighties."
    "I’m tired." Micah turned his back on the view he couldn’t see. He stopped abruptly.
    Bliss understood his dilemma. Resisting the impulse to guide him, she instead provided him with the means to deal with his disorientation. "There are two chairs and a coffee table approximately six feet in front of you. The low table is positioned between the chairs."
    His spine as straight as an oak plank, Micah moved forward. Bliss watched him fight the urge to extend his hands in