“This is crazy, she thought as they landed in a jumbled heap on the cool grass. This guy belongs in the hospital.But he had asked her, begged her with those expressive steel-gray eyes of his, not to take him there.In the seconds it took Maggie to make up her mind what to do, Jack’s eyelids flickered and he moaned. Thank God. Lord knew she despised hospitals as much as he seemed to, but she would have taken him there. And might still, if he didn’t show more signs of life.“Jack,” she said urgently... from her perch atop his body. “Jack Kittrick.”“What happened?” he mumbled, his eyes still closed.“You fainted.”“No hospital,” he rasped. He grabbed at her arm, missed, grazed her breast, and ended up with a fisted handful of her bra and T-shirt.Maggie froze. It was ludicrous to think she could have a physical, sexual reaction to Kittrick’s touch under the circumstances. He obviously had no idea what he was doing. But Maggie couldn’t help taking notice of the first male hand to touch—all right, clutch—at her breasts in nearly ten years.The problem was, she couldn’t even reach up and free herself from Kittrick’s grasp, because one arm was caught beneath his body at the waist, and she had used the other to keep his head from hitting the ground.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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