Damaged Beauties (Romanced by the Damaged Millionaire (Erotic Romance)) Read Online Free

good insurance.
    Should I go to a hospital?
    “Just rest, Ms. Tremont,” Jeffrey instructs me.
    I frown. “How do you know my name?”
    I’m certain I didn’t tell him. The reporter instinct in me rears its suspicious head.
    “I took the liberty of looking in your purse for identification. I understand that you are out of state.” Jeffrey’s lined face is a mask.
    “You looked in my purse?” I am aghast. OK, well, I shouldn’t be. Most good Samaritans do look in the purses of accident victims for some sort of identification. Except that I’m not sure Jeffrey is a completely good Samaritan.
    “What were you doing driving up Pine’s Lookout, Ms. Tremont?” Jeffrey cocks his head slightly, even though his serene expression has not changed. “Are you aware that it’s private property?”
    Rats.
    “I got lost,” I say sheepishly.
    “What were you looking for?”
    “I had some directions drawn for me on a map. I must have taken a wrong turn. I tried to turn back when I realized my mistake, but there was nowhere for me to make a U-turn.”
    That was semi-truthful, at least.
    I’m bursting with questions, of course, but I realize I have to be very careful. I’m glad I don’t have anything linking me to the newspaper in my purse. I never do.
    “Would you like me to call whoever it was you were looking for?”
    “Uh no. They weren’t expecting me anyway. I was just looking at some property belonging to my aunt out here, but it’s not important.”
    What I meant to say is ‘I can stay here awhile longer to snoop around, if it’s OK with you’. I sink back into the pillows and attempt to look woozy – which is not completely an act.
    Jeffrey pours some hot water into the thermos flask and hands it to me. “Here, drink this.”
    I take it, grateful for some fluids. Any fluids.
    “I’ll bring you some food,” he says. “What would you like?”
    I would like to meet Ethan Greene, if I may, thank you very much.
    “Um, whatever you have would be nice.”
    “Some bacon, eggs, sausages and toast?”
    Ah, a man who understands my healthy appetites. My stomach suddenly lets out a rumble.
    “Yes, please.”
    I make sure that he exits the bedroom before I attempt to get out of bed. So much to do. Where do I begin? I swing my legs over the side, and realize that I’m in some sort of old-fashioned cotton nightgown.
    But another giant tsunami of dizziness hits me and I fall back into the bed like a limp doll.
    So much for exploring today.

5
     
    It’s two whole days more before I can get up and walk about. I do not insist on seeing a doctor, even though I know it isn’t one of my better decisions. My sleuthing is paramount, my health comes . . . um, not even second, I guess. I might have more than a concussion. I might have intracranial bleeding that is causing intra-tentorial herniation, whatever that means.
    But somehow, the possibility of me dying a crushing brain death is not as exciting as being in the same house as . . . possibly . . . David Kinney.
    Drat. I have got to get my priorities straight.
    Jeffrey feeds me and clothes me with my own clothes from my own suitcase. Apparently, he has climbed into the ravine and retrieved my battered suitcase from my trunk. Eyeing him from top to toe, I fully believe he can slay dragons.
    “Um, were you a basketball player in a previous life, Jeffrey?” I ask him.
    He smiles, and I can see gap teeth.
    I like Jeffrey. He’s soundless and efficient and learned and crisp. But I have been stuck two days here in this room and I have yet to meet his boss.
    “Where’s Mr. Greene?” I venture.
    “Out of town on business.”
    “What does he do?”
    “Business.”
    Like, duh.
    “What kind of business?”
    “Mr. Greene has many investments in his portfolio.” Jeffrey clams up, as if they are too numerous and complicated to count. Then, “Now that you are up and about, I should see to getting you safely home, Ms. Tremont.”
    Erm, that’s not exactly what I had