“Are you in a lot of pain?” she asked, misreading the sound.
“I’ll live,” he said of the burning in his chest.
“Good,” she said softly.
But knowing his mother would be here hovering over him was enough to make a grown man cry. He loved his big, loud family, but he’d left his upstate New York hometown so he could love them from a distance.
“What about our waiter friend? What happened to him?” Rafe asked, changing the subject.
“The bastard’s in custody and not about to make bail anytime soon,” she said with a satisfied nod.
“At least there’s some good news.”
“More than some. You made it,” she said, reaching for his hand.
Her touch was warm, her grip soft and sure. Comfort filled him as she held on tight.
“You scared me to death. First there was all that blood, and then you passed out….” Her voice trembled, and she sucked in a deep breath. “The paramedics said your pressure dropped dangerously low, and you were bleeding internally.” She paused again for a few heavy beats. “You saved my life.”
Her gratitude made him uncomfortable. “We’re a team. I yelled drop, you reacted. It was no big deal.”
“Tell that to the newspapers.”
“They exaggerate,” he muttered.
“I won’t tell Coop you said that.” Sara grinned.
Rafe almost laughed but stopped before he could cause himself pain. He stared up at the white ceiling. “Do I want to know what day it is?”
She let out a sigh. “Monday morning.”
He’d been out of it for two days. And if he wasn’t mistaken, she’d been with him the whole time. The rush of emotion in his chest replaced the pain.
“What about you? How bad is it?” he asked her, staring pointedly at the crutches.
She waved away his concern. “I just wrenched my knee running up the stairs. I’ll be back at work in no time.”
“Then how come you can’t look me in the eye when you say that?” he asked her.
She frowned but didn’t reply.
A glance at her clothing told him she wore navy NYPD-issued sweatpants. Large and bulky enough to cover a brace. “Is it your bad knee?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re like a dog with a bone, Mancuso. I said I’ll be fine. Let it go.”
His worry increased, but she wouldn’t talk about it until she was ready. “I never even felt the knife go in,” he said, changing the subject. He still couldn’t believe he’d been stabbed.
“Adrenaline will do that to you.” She met his gaze, innate understanding in her expression.
Comfortable silence descended around them. He’d missed that, Rafe realized. His current partner, Jake Riordan, liked to talk to pass the time. Rafe often wished for the peace and quiet that filled the car when he and Sara had been a team.
A knock sounded on the door, and a nurse walked in. “Good morning, Mr. Hero,” she said in a cheery voice. “I’m glad to see you really awake! It’s time for me to check your temperature and blood pressure. I also want to take a look at the bandage,” she said.
“Only if you cut the hero crap,” he muttered.
Sara grinned. “Behave and be polite to the nurses or I’ll sic your mother on you.”
“I like your sister,” the nurse said, pointing to Sara. “But she still has to wait outside.”
“My sister?”
Sara leaned closer. “I told them I was your sister so they’d let me stay as long as I wanted,” she whispered. Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Your mother seemed okay with it, since she didn’t blow my cover,” she added, reading his mind. “Now, be good and do what the nurse says.” She brushed a kiss over his cheek, and her hair tickled his skin.
He felt the tingle of both clear down to his toes. “You should go home and get some sleep,” he said, his voice gruff.
“Now that I know you’re okay, maybe I will.”
As she maneuvered toward the door on her crutches, Rafe was unable to tear his gaze from her behind. Even when they’d worked together, he’d never stared at her ass. Yet she looked as good to him now as she had at the auction in the sexy, cle**age-showing dress.
The nurse waited until the door shut behind Sara to continue. “That’s a nice sister you’ve got there.” The older woman winked, letting him know she was onto them.
“Yeah. I lucked out,” he said with a chuckle he immediately regretted. He shut his eyes against the pain.
“Sometimes it helps if you hold a pillow to your chest, but let’s wait till we get you up and moving a bit.”
He swallowed a groan, knowing he had a rough few days ahead of him.
“That young lady hasn’t left your side for more than a few minutes since you were brought down from Recovery,” the nurse said as she adjusted the blood-pressure cuff around his arm.
A warm feeling that surpassed gratitude flooded through Rafe. One he wanted to keep with him for the rest of the day.
Sara stepped out of Rafe’s hospital room and exhaled a sigh of relief. Her body ached from the long hours in the chair by his side, but now that she’d seen him awake, had spoken to him and knew he was going to be okay, her heart finally beat normally again.
She shifted the crutches, getting comfortable for her trek down the hall to the elevator and then outside where she’d hail a cab to take her home.
As she passed the nurses’ station, the women were huddled together over the newspaper, all talking at once and gesturing toward Rafe’s room. When Sara paused at the desk, the women fell silent and pretended to look busy.
An uneasy feeling took hold, and Sara always trusted her instincts. “What’s going on?”
“I have to go,” one of the women said.
“Me, too.” Another one bolted for a patient’s room.
“Fine,” said the third and only woman who remained. “I’ll tell her.” The young nurse handed Sara a copy of the Daily Post. “The Bachelor Blog,” the woman said.
“Oh, no.” Sara drew a steadying breath and glanced at the paper, which had already been folded open to the correct page.
Rafe’s official department photograph stared back at her. It had taken less than forty-eight hours for his heroics to land him the spot. Rafe was a man who valued his personal space and privacy. He wouldn’t appreciate the attention, and Sara knew firsthand just what kind of attention he could expect. Ironically, she’d already had experience with the fallout when her neighbor, Coop, had been picked as the blog’s featured bachelor. Pathetic women had sent perfumed letters, candy and underwear. All of which merely reinforced Sara’s belief that only a desperate woman would find the Bachelor Blog the answer to matchmaking in the new millennium.