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them.
    “I will explain everything. Just don’t upset yourself.”
    “Upset myself? You’re in my house. You’re sitting there…what, watching me sleep? Please…please leave. I promise I won’t tell anyone.” Oh, God, and she was naked under these covers. Her gaze dropped to her lap. “I didn’t get a good look at you. It’s still too dark in here and I was too loopy at the hospital. Please, please just go.”
    “I promise I have no intention of hurting you. In fact, just the opposite.”
    Ella shook her head. Craziness. This was utter craziness. “Look, mister, I don’t know who you are, but you have to go. My”—she forced normalcy into her voice—“husband will be home from a trip early this morning. Get out now while you can still put this behind you.”
    The man slowly stepped around the foot of the bed and settled onto the corner of the mattress. Ella’s heart took up root in her throat, making it hard to breathe, to swallow. He clasped his big hands on a muscled thigh. Damn, why was she noticing these things? Who cared if he was handsome. Gorgeous, even. He was totally crazytrain, and he was in her house.
    “Ella, I know you have no husband. And I promise you, it’s okay. If you’ll just let me explain.”
    His expression of false concern threatened to lure her in. Not taking care to avoid her arm, Ella scrabbled back on the bed until her spine met the headboard. She clutched the sheet’s edge to her neck. Adrenaline flooded her system, provided a cushion against the pain, but she was going to pay for her reckless movements later. If she had a later. Please, God, let there be a later .
    He reached out a hand. “Don’t! You’ll hurt yourself. Damn it, Ella, listen to me!” His voice echoed around the room, deep and resonant.
    She couldn’t restrain the whimper his shout unleashed, so unexpected after the calm tones he’d used earlier to create a false sense of safety. Pulse pounding in her ears, her gaze skittered around the room, looking for something that could serve as a weapon. Something on her side of the room she could get to first. Something she could lift and swing with one hand. In her mind’s eye, she saw Marcus’s lacrosse stick in the utility room and nearly groaned in desire of it.
    His extended hand dropped to the bed. The man sighed, a loud, troubled sound, and shook his head. “I’m messing this up. I’m sorry. This wasn’t how I should’ve gone about this. I see that now. But if you’ll just give me five minutes to explain. I wanted only to help you. And then I’ll leave.”
    Trapped against the headboard, trembling from adrenaline and barely suppressed pain, Ella stared at him. Man, she must be a complete sucker, because something about the defeated set of his broad shoulders had her almost agreeing. His eyes pleaded with her. She found him hard to look at. Everything about him was physically beautiful in a totally powerful, masculine way, but that didn’t keep him from exuding a hurt that resonated somewhere deep in her chest. She recognized the aura of pain and loneliness that surrounded him.
    She shook her head. This was such a monumentally bad idea. But, really, what choice did she have? Meeting his observing eyes, she said, “Five minutes.”
    He sat up straighter and nodded. His shoulders eased beneath a dark gray T-shirt pulled taut across his chest and around his biceps. “I’m sorry for what happened to you.”
    “Uh, okay. Thank you?” There went her hope he’d get right to the point.
    “Gods, I don’t know what I’m doing.” He shifted away, leaned his elbows on his knees, and dropped his head into his hands. Ella watched him for a long moment. The scared side of her almost snarked that time was a-ticking, but something held her back. The thought to wrap an arm around his bent shoulders, to offer comfort, was just the same urge anyone would have when witnessing someone hurt or upset. Right? But what did he have to be upset about? She was the