Falling for Mr. Unexpected Page 2

  “Let me know when it hurts.” He picked out some bandages, a bottle of tablets, a small plastic container, and a pair of scissors.

  “It hurts.”

  He glanced up at her, the frown still on his face, but the mocking expression she now associated with him was gone, though he remained on guard. “I haven’t even touched you yet.” “And you’re not going to. I need to see a doctor.”

  He snorted. “It was books. Not bricks.”

  “Tell it to my swelling feet.” She shoved them in his face.

  He backed up a little with a small smile on his lips. “It’s what you get for breaking into someone’s home.”

  “How’s having a key breaking in? And may I add, Mark is my brother-in-law. If you had been at the wedding, you would have known who I was.”

  He didn’t hurt her until he took off one of her shoes and lightly prodded her foot.

  “It’s slightly bruised. Nothing broken.” Sure hands manipulated her foot, put on a salve for the swelling, and then bandaged it lightly.

  “I said—”

  “I heard you the first time. But like I said before, it was books. You’ll survive the ordeal.”

  He carefully took the other shoe off, but she couldn’t help wincing. “See, something is broken!” She failed to hide a note of hysteria. This foot was bruised and swollen like the other. But there was a distinct difference. Her small toe hung limp, clearly broken. Her vision blurred; this was the icing on the cake.

  Placing her hands in front of her eyes, she spoke through them. “Just take me to a doctor or an emergency room.” Her voice hitched, even though she tried to hide it.

  Taking a shaky, deep breath, she pushed the heel of her hands into her eyes and gained control of herself.

  The battle won, she glanced down at the man still kneeling before her. He was holding a syringe. “Where did you get that? What do you thinking you’re doing?”

  She hadn’t even finished the first question when his intent became obvious.

  The last thing she saw was the needle near her foot, and then everything went black.

  Chapter Two

  Emma sniffed and almost choked at the foul smell in the air.

  What is it? Her addled brain struggled to make sense of it. Fighting the overwhelming stench, she tried to open her heavy eyes. Finally she did, only to close them again. Two pairs of dark, glaring orbs had bored into hers.

  She groaned as memory came back of a half-naked Damien and the hardcovers landing on her feet. She realized she hadn’t been out for very long. If only.

  “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty!” He shook a suspicious-looking cloth in front of her face. “Who knew women still faint dead away. I learn something new each day.”

  Raising her arms, she stretched out on the sofa and then tried to sit up, and he gave her a hand, though he could’ve not bothered at all, for all his grumbling.

  “I told you to take me to a doctor.” She stared at her bandaged feet and frowned. There was no way she would be able to drive home in her state.

  “Now I’ll have to get a taxi.”

  Damian stood gazing down at her.

  “Obviously, I can’t let you leave like this. Next thing I know, every gossip magazine will write about how I kicked a helpless woman out of my house.”

  “I’m not helpless.”

  He gave her feet a mocking look.

  “Hence the taxi. Public transport has, since Neanderthal times, made life much easier for women.” Her turn to be sarcastic.

  “See here, I’m willing to forget the fact you’re invading my privacy and let you stay here until your feet are better. After, I would like my much-valued solitude back. I’ve given you an injection of a painkiller, which will wear off in a couple of hours. So it will be painful to drive. Plus, you’ll probably cause more damage anyway by putting too much pressure on the break.” He paused and ran a hand through his hair. “This is so the last thing I need.”

  She frowned at him but before she could say anything, he spoke again, “On the table are some painkillers and water for later. You should take it when you start experiencing pain again. And keep your feet elevated.”

  “Yes, Dr. Davidson.”

  She almost flinched at the glare he shot her way. But she refused to crumple, in spite of her over-the-top emotional reactions since she’d met him.

  “That would be my father or my brother. Take your pick.”

  He didn’t even mask his contempt for them.

  “I believe my sister already has.”

  She felt a sense of triumph until she noticed his eyes boring into hers. Emma looked away first, and then spoke over her awkwardness, “Okay, fine. I’ll stay, but only until tomorrow. The swelling should be down by then. I could function with the one foot.”

  He snorted. “You couldn’t even manage on two.”

  She glared. They locked eyes again, and this time she didn’t retreat, making sure to let him know how much she disliked him.

  He broke the tense silence. “You don’t answer the phone. You don’t let anyone know I’m here. As a matter of fact, give me your phone.”

  He pocketed her phone before she could snatch her handbag away. “What if my mom calls? She would want to know I arrived safely.” Anger laced her voice.

  He took out her phone and started to text.

  “Oh my word! You can’t be serious?” But she knew she wasn’t going to get an answer.

  “Anyone else? A boyfriend? Fiancé? Husband? Your neighbor?”

  He stood ready to text again, his glinting eyes and pursed lips not lost on Emma.

  If there were anyone else to contact, she would have mentioned them with her mother. Annoying man. “No.”

  “Not even my brother, your sister?” His brow lifted.

  “No. Not today, anyway.”

  “Why not?” He seemed genuinely curious.

  “Wow! How self-absorbed can a person be? Don’t you even know it’s your brother’s birthday?”

  “Our family isn’t big on birthdays.” His tone matter-of-fact.

  Emma didn’t answer. She didn’t know his family or him well. Either way, she didn’t care. She had posted a gift to Mark and phoned him before she left to say happy birthday. She’d done her sisterly duty. Clearly, the only one who considered it a duty, not that she didn’t like Mark. He was a nice person and perfect for her sister.

  But that’s the thing about Mark; he’s a little too perfect.

  “Anyway. I’ll keep your phone.” He talked over her inner monologue.

  “You don’t go outside unless I say so. Needless to say,” he went on, gesturing to her feet, “you won’t be walking anywhere.”

  He gave her a half smile, and she could see why women would want to stalk him.

  “I’ll call Mark and inform him what happened. The…mix-up,” he said.

  To hear he hadn’t done it already surprised Emma. He seemed like a real diva to her. She stared at her bandaged feet. This is so not what I had in mind for the start of my holiday.

  She let out a breath. “Why don’t I get a taxi? I mean, it would spare you all this trouble. It would make both our lives easier.”

  “Your feet are swollen,” he stated, like she didn’t know already. “Or did one of those books fall on your head, too?” He held up a hand. “No. Don’t answer. You can’t leave. Not because I’m forcing you not to, but because your own feet are keeping you from moving. Believe me, if I could have it my way, you wouldn’t be here.”

  She drew blood as she bit the inside of her mouth. No one has ever been this rude to me! As much as she tried, she couldn’t hold her tongue. “If I had my way, you wouldn’t be here! Do you really think I wanted this to happen?”

  She made a gesture to her feet, and her words steamrolled out of her mouth. “I only get two weeks holiday. Two. I didn’t plan on spending most of my time on a sofa while trying to keep my feet elevated. I planned on peace and quiet. On finishing every book in that stupid cardboard box. And having a
great time all by myself. But instead, I get kicked out of the beach house I’m supposed to stay in, am assaulted by my own books, and have to suffer the likes of you. Thank you very much.”

  She paused for a heartbeat. “You know what? Movie stars like you, get to be in locations like this all the time. While primary-school teachers only experience it the day they retire and cash in their pension checks. So excuse me for unknowingly infringing on your sacred solitude!”

  He stared at her quietly.

  No one has probably ever spoken to him in such a tone. She turned away and folded her arms. “If you don’t mind, I’ll like to be on my own now.” His quiet tread left her seething on the sofa. After a while, tiredness won over anger and she lay back. Then with heavy eyes, she sank into a dreamless sleep.

  ***

  Damian narrowed his eyes on the woman on his sofa. He hadn’t called his brother yet, and she’d been sleeping for almost an hour.

  This is the last thing I need. His agent wasn’t going to like this one bit and would force Damian to tell him about this. He couldn’t afford another scandal.

  He walked through the cool house into the kitchen, which reflected the same decor. Whites and blues infused together to give the impression of refreshing calm like the ocean in Strand on sunny days. But it didn’t have a calming effect on him since hurricane Emma walked in on him.

  He opened the fridge, glad to find it fully stocked, and reached for a water bottle, uncapped it, and took a deep swig.

  After all the stealth he’d put in to get into the country without the media hounding him or his family finding out about it, they would find out now.

  At least one of the two will. There goes keeping a low profile. He lifted an eyebrow. At all costs, he had to keep the media off his back. His mind wanted to take him in the direction of the reason, but he blocked it out. He had enough time in the future to brood on that particular dilemma.

  What he needed to do was sort out the crisis of the woman on his sofa. Thinking of her made him scowl. He needed to go make that call. He might not have been blatant about who he permitted in his beach house, but he would have thought it would be implied. I’m in the public eye. I need my privacy.

  Without further deliberation, he took out his phone. When he started to dial, the frown on his face deepened. It wasn’t his phone.

  He rolled his eyes and walked to his bedroom where his phone lay on the bedside table. He threw Emma’s in one of the many drawers and dialed his brother.

  “Hallo,” came his brother’s brisk tone.

  Damian knew his brother didn’t know who called. He’d used one of many private numbers he had when he was in the country. A safe number.

  “It’s me Damian.” His muscles tensed.

  “Damian! What are you doing back? Where are you? Should I come get you at the airport?”

  The surprise in Mark’s voice echoed through the phone, and if he wasn’t mistaken, pleasure. But he didn’t want to dwell on it.

  “No. I’m fine. I’m already in Strand. Actually it ties in with the reason I’m calling….” He could almost see his brother frowning into the phone.

  “Is there some kind of problem?” Mark asked.

  “Yes, there is. Your sister-in-law.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know you’d be coming. If I had, I wouldn’t have….”

  “I value my privacy, Mark.”

  Silence reigned on the other end. Then Mark spoke again. “You rarely, if ever, come home. How was I supposed to know…?”

  “Okay, it’s done. She’s here. She had a small accident involving her feet. She’ll probably be out in a day or two.” Her image crossed his mind. I really need her to leave.

  “She had an accident. What happened? Stephanie will be frantic if she hears about this.”

  “No need for alarm. A couple of books fell on her feet. Minor swelling. One broken pinkie toe.” Damian rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair.

  “Stephanie told me she’s never gone on a holiday on her own before. She’ll probably want to rush down there….”

  “No. No. No rushing. The fewer people who know I’m here, the better. I can’t have media swarming this place. No, she’ll be fine. In fact, she’s sleeping.”

  Mark sighed. “Thank you for taking care of her. Stephanie and her sister are very close.”

  Damian tried not to focus on how untrue the statement was for him and his brother.

  “Anyway. I called to let you know about her.”

  “So you didn’t call to say you are in the country, you’d like to see us. Visit. Maybe meet my wife.”

  He hadn’t even considered it. “Maybe some other time. Right now, I honestly can’t. There are so many things going on.”

  “No need to explain, Damian. I know. The life of a celebrity is always so highly complicated.”

  “No need to be condescending.”

  “Really now? How condescending could it be to pick up a phone now and then? Or to send an e-mail? Say how you are doing. Mom worries about you. Dad….”

  “Don’t. I call Mom regularly. And I didn’t call to receive a lecture. My life is complicated right now. Or haven’t you picked up a gossip magazine lately?”

  His brother rarely, if ever, read tabloids and cared even less about watching TV. Mark wouldn’t know about the scandal he left behind in LA. “If you are so interested in my life or what I do, you would know.” Damian wanted to hit his head against a wall. He didn’t want to have the same old argument again. “You closed the door on us talking about your career a long time ago.”

  “I don’t want to argue with you. I needed a place to…get away from everything. Since the Oscar nomination, things have been hectic.” He used it as an excuse.

  “I can understand.” He heard the defeat in his brother’s voice. “Let me know when you are ready to trust your family again. Good-bye, little brother.”

  Damian stared at the phone in his hand long after the call disconnected. He didn’t feel like reexamining their conversation, so he dialed his agent’s number. This conversation was surprisingly brief and without drama. Apparently, his recent notoriety only served to boost his status in the public eye, rather than diminishing it.

  He shook his head. He wouldn’t understand Hollywood or public perception, no matter how long he stayed in the industry.

  As Damian rounded up the call, he realized he hadn’t had anything to eat yet. He had to keep a low profile; it wouldn’t do to order takeout. He had to make something. As he strolled back to the kitchen, he glanced at the sofa, where she continued to sleep.

  How nice to be able to be so careless and sleep wherever you find yourself. In her defense, the injection had been pretty strong.

  ***

  Emma inhaled deeply, as she woke up.

  Wow, something smells good. She opened her eyes and turned her head. Where’s it coming from? She stretched out a little and moved to get up, only to pause, when she became aware of the throb in her feet. Ugh! She’d forgotten about them. She inhaled again, and her stomach rumbled.

  When did I last see or smell food? Breakfast—she hadn’t bought anything on the road.

  Emma propped up on her elbows and scanned the room. Her books were neatly piled on the small coffee table and the cardboard box not in sight. He must have thrown it out. The aroma of cooking meat wafted in from the kitchen. If she asked him nicely, would he share his food with her? She straightened up some more on the sofa.

  Then another troubling thought occurred; how would she be able to feed herself when she couldn’t even walk properly?

  She stared down at her feet, frowning at how much they restricted her. Food would be a problem, but what about everything else? How am I going to handle bathroom breaks?

  Before she could torture herself further with how depressing her situation was, she noticed Damian coming out of the kitchen with a heavy tray in his hands.

  “Good, you’re awake. I didn’t feel like using the same old rag to bring you around again
. Had to wash my hands five times to get the smell out.”

  She gasped. “An old rag? You could have infected me with something!”

  He shrugged. “You’re not worse for wear. I hope you like steak and potatoes. It’s all I had time for.”

  Distrust coursed through her veins as he carefully placed the tray over her knees, adding two sofa cushions to keep the tray balanced.

  “Uh…thank you. It’s fine.”

  “No need to be so worried. I won’t poison you.”

  When her eyes went big at his words, he burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, but I’m not used to this Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde act of yours, so excuse me if I don’t follow the script.”

  He stared down at her with his hands on his hips, his scowl back on his face.

  “Okay. I thought we could at least be civil with each other. But I can see it will be too complicated for you, so I’ll leave you to your meal. Enjoy.”

  What did he expect? He does a 180 and I’m supposed to keep up? She didn’t know much about his world, but in hers, when people did that, they were diagnosed with a personality disorder.

  She stared down at the heaped plate, glass of juice, plain white serviette, and cutlery on the side. It did look good and definitely smelled good. Her stomach growled in response.

  Emma picked up her knife and fork. He wouldn’t really poison me, would he? She chewed. The steak was incredibly tender and juicy, with a lovely smokiness. She moaned briefly, closing her eyes. Then she forked some of the baked potato. It melted in her mouth. Either way, it would be such a good way to go. Smiling, she enjoyed the simple meal.

  ***

  Wow. Damian sat at the island in the kitchen.

  He had gone out of his way to be nice to her. He hadn’t had to share his meal, but he’d done what any decent human being would have. Yet she viewed him like he came from another planet. He wasn’t an ogre.

  Hadn’t he offered for her to stay until her feet healed? What well-brought-up people did, right? He raised an eyebrow as he chewed.

  Realization dawned. He didn’t know her name.