I stared at him, unable to catch my breath.

He stared back. His mouth was too close to mine and my heart raced in my chest. To say I was embarrassed didn’t begin to describe it. Mortified worked better.

I panted for more breath, thinking this might be a great time for me to find that portal into another dimension. Yes, I was grateful for Derek’s speed and strength, but really, this wasn’t exactly the most professional position I’d ever found myself in.

On the other hand, he seemed to have absolutely no problem hoisting a grown woman into his arms-not that I weighed a ton or anything. He appeared perfectly at ease, as if he were holding a cup of tea and carrying on a lovely conversation with the Queen.

“Must I always be saving you from near disaster?” he murmured.

“No,” I whispered. “That won’t be necessary.” But all things considered-and despite the fact that he continued to stare to the point where I was certain my face was as hot and red as a radish-I’d rather have ended up in his arms than in a coma or a back brace from colliding with the concrete floor.

“Thank you,” I said in as dignified a tone as I could muster, what with my throat gone dry and all. “You can put me down.”

“Are you sure?” He grinned, showing off his straight white teeth and some adorable little crinkles around his cobalt blue eyes, not that I really noticed or anything.

“I’m sure.”

“You fall with alarming regularity.”

“I don’t,” I insisted. “But I’ve had a bad week.”

He scanned the length of me. “You look quite fine now.”

I frowned. “You need to put me down.”

“Of course.” He got me back on my feet and stepped away. “Good as new.”

Ian stepped around my British knight in shining Armani and grasped my shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, thanks.” I eased away and self-consciously straightened my sweater.

“Are you sure?” Ian persisted. “What happened?”