Licensed To Marry. Charlotte DouglasЧитать онлайн книгу.
and was inundated with a melange of scents: sunshine, meadow grasses, saddle soap, leather and a pleasingly masculine musk. As she slid her arms into the sleeves, it was as if Kyle Foster had wrapped his arms around her, a comfortable illusion. The thought and the jacket warmed her. She hadn’t realized how hard she’d been shivering until she stopped. Caring for the children, she hadn’t had time to think about herself. Now, the solitude and vulnerability of her situation hit her full force.
Her distress must have shown in her eyes, because Kyle reached out through the opening, his eyes fierce with emotion, his jaw set with determination, his lips curved in an encouraging smile, and ran his fingers down her cheek in a tender salute. “You’re a hell of a brave lady.”
She didn’t want to move, to break the warm, heartening contact of his touch. She wanted to lean into the cup of his hand, the only place in this hellhole of a building she felt safe.
He patted her cheek and gently shoved her away. “Move. Now,” he ordered.
Jamming the hard hat on, she scurried back against the wall of the access corridor.
“Don’t be alarmed,” Kyle spoke through the opening. “You’ll hear a lot of noise out here, chain saws and jackhammers. We have to clear a path for you. There’ll be some debris shaken loose. Hunch down against the wall and keep that hard hat on.”
“I understand.”
“Hey.” He took off his own hard hat and thrust his head through the opening. His forehead was tanned above the line of plaster dust and his hair a golden brown, a perfect complement to his eyes, the deep green of summer leaves. “You’re going to be fine. I’ll get you out.”
This time he didn’t smile, but there was intensity and solemn promise in his expression.
His confidence was infectious. She nodded and huddled closer to the wall.
He broke into a grin then, an appealing expression that made her wish she’d met this man before in another time and place.
“Better stick your fingers in your ears—Sorry, I don’t know your name.”
“Laura, Laura Quinlan.”
“Stop up your ears, Laura. The noise will be brutal.”
He pulled back and was gone. True to his word, the scream of chain saws and thunder of jackhammers assaulted her senses and sent a rain of dust and debris around her. She crouched low and raised her arms above her head, praying her rescuers would reach her before the building collapsed on top of her. The bone-jolting racket seemed to go on forever.
Then, suddenly, it was quiet.
Before she could lift her head, she felt someone grip her elbows and lift her to her feet. She glanced up into Kyle Foster’s grimy but handsome face.
“C’mon, Laura.” His face lit with the same killer smile. “We’re busting out of this joint.”
Before she could protest, he swept her off her feet and into his arms.
“I can walk,” she protested.
He gripped her tighter. “You don’t know the way through the wreckage.”
In spite of carrying her, he moved with a swiftness that amazed her, surefooted on the treacherous debris. She twined her arms around his neck and held on tight, her face buried against the broad expanse of his chest.
Dust clouds choked them.
Debris tumbled around them.
Although her rescuer seemed calm, she could feel his urgency in the fierce pounding of his heart beneath her cheek. Her own heartbeat thundered in her ears. What if the building collapsed on top of them?
Suddenly she was blinded by daylight.
Laura heard cheers go up from a group of people in the distance. She lifted her head and saw a band of firefighters, police officers and paramedics gathered in the parking lot, applauding and smiling.
“You can set me down now,” she told Kyle. She preferred to face the crowd of strangers on her own two feet.
“Nope. Not until the paramedics check you out.”
A thundering roar and a blast of dust hit them from behind, and Kyle staggered slightly, still heading for the group in the parking lot. The waiting crowd went silent.
“My God!” Laura said. “What was that?”
“The building.” Kyle’s rich voice was tight with emotion. “The ruins caved in. We got you out just in time.”
“The children?”
“Everybody’s out. We were the last ones.”
She sagged against him in relief.
Ahead of them, the crowd parted, forming a corridor to the triage center the paramedics had set up. Kyle slid her onto a chair beneath the awning strung from the back of the truck. A young woman in paramedic blues took Laura’s blood pressure, checked her pulse, listened to her heart and lungs, and did a quick body scan for injuries.
Kyle remained by her side. “She okay?” he asked the medic.
The woman nodded. “But I want her to stay here for now so we can keep an eye on her, just in case.”
“The little boy,” Laura said, “Jeremy. How is he?”
“Broken arm,” the medic replied. “And a concussion. We’ve already transported him to the hospital. But he should be fine in a few days.”
“His parents?”
“They were waiting for him,” the medic said. “As soon as the explosion hit the news, we’ve had the parents of children in that class pouring in here to learn if their kids were safe. Jeremy’s parents rode in the ambulance with him.”
“And the little girls?” Laura looked around for Jennifer and Tiffany, but didn’t see them. Only then did she notice that Kyle had disappeared.
“They both checked out okay,” the paramedic said. “Their parents took them home. Wanted them away from all this as soon as possible.”
Laura glanced behind her at the awful wreckage and shuddered. “Can’t say that I blame them.”
Kyle Foster reappeared and handed her a bottle of water. “This will clear the dust from your throat.”
She accepted it with thanks and drank. Water had never tasted so good. When she’d finished, she remembered she was wearing his jacket. “If the paramedics will loan me a blanket,” she said, “I can return your coat.”
“Keep it,” he said. “You can return it later.”
“But it’s getting late. And colder.”
His slow grin made her pulse race. “I’ll be too busy for a while to be cold.”
She remembered her father then, dressed only in his best suit. At his age, he chilled easily. She needed to find him quickly and take him away from the destruction that surrounded them, back to the warmth and security of home.
She stood, silently cursing the weakness in her legs. “I have to find my father.”
Kyle apparently noticed her unsteadiness. He grasped her elbow and braced her against him.
“You really should stay quiet,” the medic warned.
Laura cast a pleading glance at Kyle. “Please, I need to know he’s all right.”
Kyle nodded. “There’s a check-in area for evacuees across the lot. I’ll go with you.”
“But you have work—”
“This is part of it.”
He helped her pick her way through snarls of fire hoses, clusters of emergency vehicles and crowds of panicked people, also searching for their relatives. When