Designing Paradise

Collision Chemistry: Unexpected Sparks

The woman who side-swiped my car glares menacingly through her windshield.

"Are you serious? You're the one who hit me, lady! Don't you dare give me that death stare!" I shout back. Groaning, I attempt to open the driver's door, but wince at the pain that's already settling in. What a fantastic start to my supposed 'vacation.'

"Are you ladies alright?" A male voice startles me from behind. As I painstakingly push open the door, I turn to identify the speaker. It's the man who blared his horn at me.

"I'm fine," I retort sharply.

Taken aback by my tone, he responds a bit more frostily, "Can I help?"

"You've helped enough by honking your horn and rushing me through the light!" I counter.

"How was I supposed to know you'd panic and speed forward without ensuring the way was clear?" he retorts.

I step out of my vehicle with shaky legs and an aching back and neck. I stumble over to the man, who watches me with an unmistakably smug but still concerned expression. He's significantly taller than me, even with my heels, but that doesn't stop me. I jab a finger at his chest. "Your incessant honking scared me and nearly cost me my life!" As I argue, his scent fills my nostrils. He smells undeniably masculine and clean, as if his soap and aftershave were brewed from the hot springs and merged with the scent of fresh snow.

Suddenly, I realize I'm standing uncomfortably close to this stranger. His scent is intoxicating, and my head starts to spin. I step back, attributing the light-headedness to the collision and his nearness. His hand immediately catches my elbow, steadying me. I'm irrationally aware of the strength in his grip, which steadies my entire body.

Pull it together, Jillian, don't faint.

"Hey, you need to take it easy, ma'am. Let's get you back to your car," he murmurs, his voice gentle now. His dark eyes soften with concern under thick lashes, and he runs a hand through his wavy hair. Pulling a cell phone from his dress pants, he frowns. "Damn, I'm gonna be late now," he mutters, seemingly just registering the time.

Well, sorry for the inconvenience, 'Mr. Sexy Face.'

As I return to my car, I look over my shoulder. He holds the phone to his ear, pacing away, giving me a tantalizing view of his form. The man is well-built and looks impressive in those dress pants.

Not bad, not bad at all.

Regret gnaws at me. It is unfair to lambast a stranger, especially one trying to assist. He's not to blame for my lack of attention; I bolted into the intersection without caring for the red light or the oncoming traffic with the right-of-way. My misplaced blame settled conveniently on Mr. Firm-Ass-With-Hint-Of-Aftershave, but I'm certain he can handle it.

I'm having some inappropriate thoughts about what else he can handle...not exactly where my mind should be wandering now. A smirk plays on my lips as I sneak another glance at him, just as I feel a trail of wetness dribbling down my forehead.

"Yeah, I'm going to be late for that 10:00 meeting. There's been an accident..." He spins toward me, his sentence dying on his lips. "Ma'am, you're bleeding."

"Am I?" I ask, right before everything fades into darkness.