Tiger's Lily Read Online Free Page B

dangerous profession.
    Cale slept on his other side in the large bed, his back to his brother. Not near the youth and innocence, but his face lost the continuous scowl in rest, making him all the more handsome and approachable. If only he smiled. She had offered him the sleeper sofa last night, which he immediately declined, refusing to leave Dillon. Not that she blamed him. She also pointed out that the king sized bed had more than enough room for them both. There was no sense in sleeping on a cold hardwood floor when you didn't have to. He must have agreed considering his position at the moment.
    With a shrug, Lily quietly moved to the IV pump that Carson provided. The only one owned by the small clinic and a necessary tool for her. It would alarm if the fluids ran out or if there was a problem with his IV line. So much better than just running everything on gravity like the old days. Half the time the IV would slow down and clot off, or, just the opposite, it would run really well and the bag would be empty in no time. Trying to keep a continuous set amount going on a gravity IV drip was never easy or exact.
    "It's just me, Dillon. Time for your next antibiotic. I'll just get it going and let you sleep." She whispered down to the man, afraid of startling him awake with her close presence. Military types and men of war probably had built in reflexes to take someone down if not completely out if they got too close when a man snapped awake.
    The man in question mumbled but didn't bother to open his eyes. She smiled, but quickly went about putting the syringe full of medication on the machine and programming it to infuse. That task complete, her attention fell to the two men once more.
    "Nice pajamas." Cale muttered from his side of the bed.
    Lily blinked, a bit surprised that he was not only awake, but that he addressed her. The man probably slept like a wolf, waking up with each and every sound and motion. Predator. The billing fit him.
    She glanced down at her light blue pajamas covered with animated kittens in all shapes, sizes, colors, poses, and activities, and shrugged. They were comfortable, and who didn't like kittens? The hoarse words could have been either amusement or sarcasm. She opted for the former. "Thanks."
    When no further comments followed, she tiptoed out of the bedroom, heading for the kitchen to get an early start on her baking.

    A couple hours later, she finally heard rustling coming from the bedroom. Pulling the freshly made cinnamon rolls from the oven, she called over her shoulder. "Your clothes are clean and hanging in the laundry room. Breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes."
    No one answered her, but she caught a glimpse of a tall man in scrubs striding through the house, presumably looking for suitable day clothing to wear. She did the very same thing not too long ago, pulling on old worn jeans and a sweatshirt. Warm and comfortable.
    She set about preparing breakfast, fixing a large batch of scrambled eggs, toast, and sausage, having absolutely no idea what they liked or wanted to eat. Since the whole world minus her seemed to require coffee in the mornings, she set the unused java maker in the corner to working with the flavored variety she picked up the day before on impulse. Some people remained cross and as sociable as a crocodile with a sore tail until they had a few cups of the strong liquid.
    A loud grunt sent her dashing around the corner. The scene had her skidding to a halt and hollering, her lungs clenching in panic. "The babies!"
    Dillon wobbled on crutches still wearing the scrubs he went to sleep in last night, trying to negotiate a path to the kitchen while avoiding the six week old kittens under foot. "Watch it!" He called down to them, listing heavily to his injured leg side, but they simply swatted at his foot.
    Deftly, Cale reached around Dillon's leg, scooping the girls out of danger's way while wrapping an arm around his waist, stabilizing and steadying him until Dillon