House Calls Page 6
It made him cranky.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a lousy bedside manner?” Pete asked.
“Okay, is this better? Oh, you poor baby,” she cooed and patted his leg. “Does that hurt?”
He fixed her with a look that could burn through concrete.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Now stop whining and give me one more stretch. One more and I promise we’ll stop.”
“That’s what you said five minutes ago.”
“Yeah, well, this time I’m not lying.” She grasped his calf firmly. “Come on, doc, one more.”
“Like I have a choice,” he grumbled, gripping the edge of the couch. Teeth gritted, he braced himself as she eased his leg up. She watched his eyes, noting the exact instant it started to hurt, holding his gaze. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face and dropped to his T-shirt. “Breathe through it, doc. Stay focused. Stay with me.”
When she finally eased it back down, he collapsed against the cushions, breathing hard. “That’s it, I’m done. My leg is toast.”
“You did good.” She rubbed her thumbs along his calf, massaging the muscle. She didn’t want him cramping up. Now, that would hurt. “Now we get to do something fun.”
“How about a nap? That sounds like fun.”
“How about berry picking? There’s a patch of wild raspberries about a mile up the road.”
“Berry picking?”
“It’ll be fun.” She propped Pete’s foot on her folded leg to lift it so she could reach the underside of his thigh. His skin was clammy from the intense workout, his leg hair crisp under her thumbs as she kneaded them into the muscle. The skin they had grafted onto his knee had healed well, but there would always be scars. She wondered how he felt about that—not that she didn’t already have a good idea.
“You can stop now,” Pete said from above her.
“We have to cool the muscle down,” she said. “You don’t want to cramp up.”
“Maggie.”
Something in the way he said her name gave her shivers. She looked up at him, at the intense, steel-blue eyes staring down at her, and her stomach did a flip-flop. He looked as though he might eat her alive.
“You really need to stop.” Pete’s eyes darkened a shade and Maggie’s blood began to simmer.
“Massage is an important part of the therapy,” she said, not removing her hands from his leg.
If he was uncomfortable with any part of the treatment, she should stop immediately. The problem was, he didn’t look uncomfortable. He looked as if he was about two seconds from tearing her clothes off. Which was beyond inappropriate and completely unprofessional—so why was her heart beating a million miles an hour? Why did her head feel soft and fuzzy, her breasts tingly?
“I’m telling you this for your own good. It’s been over four months since I’ve been with a woman, and I’m about fifteen seconds from doing something I shouldn’t.”
This was his fault really, forcing her into these casual circumstances. If they had been in a professional setting, in the therapy center at the hospital, she wouldn’t be having all these inappropriate urges to touch him.
She wondered what he would do if she slid her hands farther up his thigh. Sitting nearly eye-level with his crotch, she could clearly see the effect this was having on him. She should have been embarrassed by her behavior, but all she felt was excited.
And naughty.
“Five seconds,” Pete warned, sitting up, as if preparing to pounce. She could feel the muscles in his thigh tense under her fingers. She could see the fire in his eyes.
“Four…”
She really needed to pull her hands away, but felt frozen in place.
“Three…”
He was leaning forward, as if he were getting ready to kiss her.
“Two…”
Her lips tingled in anticipation, her head tipped to the right.
“One.”
What was she doing?
She yanked her hands away from his leg and sat back on her heels. “Sorry. That was unprofessional of me. If you were…uncomfortable, I should have stopped right away. It won’t happen again.”
Uncomfortable. That was a mild way to describe what he was feeling right now. If she hadn’t pulled away that exact second, he’d have her on the floor right now, bad knee or not, professionalism be damned. She would never know just how close he’d been to tearing that skimpy top off her with his teeth.
“This is your fault,” she said, but her voice sounded whispery and soft and he could see the flutter of her heartbeat at the base of her throat. She was just as excited by this as he was.
Interesting.
He sat back and folded his arms across his chest, not even trying to hide the fact that he was turned on, amused to see her eyes stray to his crotch, widen slightly, then dart away. “And how is it my fault?”
“This wouldn’t happen back at the rehab center. The atmosphere here is too…casual.”
He shrugged. “Hey, it was your idea to come here.”
“Only because you wouldn’t come to the hospital, or use the room in your parents’ house. You didn’t give me a choice.”
It took an awful lot to ruffle her, but once she got her panties in a bunch, Maggie was a lot of fun to tease. “So you got fresh with a patient, it’s not the end of the world.”
She bristled at the accusation. “I did not get fresh with you. Massage is a part of the therapy. It’s not my fault you have sensitive thighs.”
“That’s not the only thing I’ve got that’s sensitive right now,” he said, his gaze straying downward.
Maggie let out a snort. “What is this, junior high?”
“You have the hots for me. Admit it.”
“In your dreams, pal.” She stood up, grabbed the pillow she’d been kneeling on, and threw it at him. “You are so not my type.”
He caught the pillow and laughed. As the sound filled his ears, he realized it was the first time since the shooting that he’d really laughed.
And damn, did it feel good.
But not nearly as good as Maggie’s lush lips would feel against his own. Not nearly as good as her body had felt pressed against him as they’d stood in the icy water yesterday.
He wanted to feel that again.
He really shouldn’t. He’d promised himself he would keep their relationship professional, but that was before he knew she was attracted to him. Before he realized how attracted he was to her. There was something about her, something that appealed to him, and it wasn’t just her body. He liked her. And he had to know what it would feel like. What she would feel like.
No, he shouldn’t, but he was going to anyway.
“Help me up?” he asked, holding his hand out. She grasped it and helped pull him to his feet. As soon as he was upright and steady, he cupped one hand behind her head, slipped his fingers through her dark, silky hair, lowered his head, and kissed her.
For a second she seemed too stunned to move. He waited for her to push him away, or possibly slap him. Instead, she sighed against his mouth. Her head tilted and her lips softened and she leaned into the kiss. Her lips were as soft and sweet as he’d imagined.
Just to see her reaction, he nipped her lip with his teeth. She whimpered and pressed herself against him.
He knew he should end it right there, but now that he’d come this far, he had to taste her. He touched his tongue to her lower lip.
She planted her hands on his chest, and he knew he’d gone too far. He waited for that inevitable shove, for her to push him away. Instead she curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. Her lips parted, inviting him in, and he would never turn down an invitation like that. Not from her.
Though he would have guessed her to be the take-charge type, she was almost shy as his tongue slid over hers. She tasted sweet and tangy and his insides instantly caught fire. He lost himself in the heat of her mouth, the softness of her body pressed against him. It was just so…sweet. So not like t
he aggressive, outspoken Maggie he was used to.
But to hold this sort of power over her, to alter the dynamics of their relationship, felt wrong somehow. Frankly, it scared the hell out of him. But man, he wanted her. He had to do something to break the mood, before this got out of hand.
He shifted her head so he could kiss his way along the line of her jaw up to her ear. She shivered in his arms.
“I told you,” he whispered.
Her eyes were closed and she had a dreamy look on her face. “Told me what?”
“That you have the hots for me.”
Her eyes slowly opened and she looked up at him, confused for a second, then her eyes narrowed and she shoved him back. “You kissed me just to prove you’re right?”
Oh, if she only knew. Instead of gathering her back up in his arms and showing her what he was really feeling, he flashed her a slow, cocky grin.
“Oh, you are low.” She whirled around and stomped off, mumbling to herself, and Pete felt like slime. Despite his bad leg, it would seem he hadn’t lost his ability to seduce a woman.
And if her reaction was any indication, he’d done a pretty fair job of hurting her, too.
“This is dumb.”
Maggie looked back at Pete, filled with smug satisfaction. They’d been out there thirty minutes and he’d been complaining for twenty-nine. She watched him try to hold his cane and the metal pail while plucking wild raspberries off the bushes. He’d dropped the bucket four times, spilling his berries all over the ground, before he’d figured to hang the bucket on the wrist of the hand clutching the cane so he could pick with the other. She might have helped him if she didn’t still feel like punching him in the nose.
That’s what he got for messing with her.
She still couldn’t believe she’d let him kiss her. That she’d been so susceptible to his charms. And as humiliated as she’d felt afterward, she recognized his behavior as a natural step in his recovery. He was reestablishing his sexuality, asserting himself as a man. She just happened to be the only female around to take up the slack.
That didn’t mean she couldn’t get a little good old-fashioned revenge.
“Dumb or not, we aren’t leaving until your bucket is at least half full,” she said. “Unless you want to walk back.”
“There aren’t that many berries here to pick.”
“It’s still early in the season. You have to look under the leaves. They like to hide.”
Which would necessitate him bending and crouching, which was nearly impossible for him to do at this point. At the rate he was going, they might be out there all night.
“I’m getting eaten alive by mosquitoes,” he complained. “If I get West Nile it’s going to be all your fault.”
“We put bug spray on.”
“I must need more. Why don’t you give me the keys to the truck and I’ll go get it.”
She gave him a how-stupid-do-you-think-I-am? look and he mumbled something about her being evil.
“This is your revenge for that kiss, isn’t it?”
She just smiled at him.
“If I kissed you again, I’ll bet I could talk you into driving me back.”
She didn’t doubt that he could. When he’d kissed her earlier, her brain had completely shorted out. He could have asked her to parade around naked on the beach and she probably would have done it.
“Keep those lips to yourself, buddy. There will be no more hanky-panky.”
“You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”
She plucked a few berries and dropped them in her pail. “That’s completely beside the point. I’m a therapist and you’re my patient. There are certain rules I have to follow. You’re the last person on the planet I should be kissing.”
“So you admit that you enjoyed it.”
Did he really need an ego-stroking? Did he not have the slightest clue how gorgeous he was? How crazy he made her? “Yeah, doc, it was freaking wonderful—better than chocolate-covered cherries. But suppose an attractive woman came into the ER for treatment. Would you kiss her?”
“Of course not!”
“Then I rest my case.” She set her pail on the ground behind her and crouched down to reach a cluster of low-hanging branches covered with juicy berries. She interpreted his following silence as a concession.
“I’m ready to go,” he said a minute later.
“You wish.” She dropped a handful of berries in her pail, and they landed in the bottom with a gentle thunk. “What the—”
Her pail was empty! Pete stood next to her, a look of complete innocence on his face, his own pail nearly filled to the top.
“You stole my berries! You cheater.”
Pete shrugged. “You only said my pail had to be half full. You never said anything about me picking them myself.”
She shook her head. “You’ll stoop to any level, won’t you?”
“There’s something you should know about me, Maggie.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that?”
“When I set my mind on something I usually get it.” He flashed her the sexy smile that made her heart beat faster, and pinned her with his steel-blue eyes. “And I always play dirty.”
Pete raised his hand to press the elevator button when he heard a loud pop from the direction of the ER, as if someone had set off a firecracker.
“What the—” He spun toward the noise. Who would be dumb enough to blow off fireworks in a hospital? Light one a little too close to an oxygen tank and they would all be blown to kingdom come. Three more quick pops split the silence, followed by the shatter of breaking glass and a bloodcurdling scream. Then all hell broke loose. People were rushing down the hall toward him, away from the ER. It took his mind several seconds to register that a few people were sprayed with blood, though no one appeared to be injured.
Instinct kicked in and his legs were moving on their own. He fought his way back toward triage as another round of popping reverberated through the halls. When he rounded the corner, he saw Rachel lying face-down in the hallway, a bright-red stain seeping across the back of her shirt.
“No!”
Pete woke with a start, sitting up on the couch. He was soaked with sweat and nausea churned his stomach.
It was the dream. It always made him feel nauseous.
He tried to swallow but his mouth was dry.
“You okay, doc?”
He turned his head, saw Maggie standing in the kitchen looking concerned. He caught the scent of seared beef drifting in from the back porch. He must have dozed off while she was making dinner.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice raspy. “Bad dream. Could I have a glass of water?”
“Of course.” She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and brought it over to him, sitting on the arm of the couch beside him.
He twisted the cap off and took a swallow, felt the nausea begin to ease, the swimmy feeling in his head clearing.
Maggie reached up, touched his forehead. “You’re all sweaty. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Fine,” he lied. “I’m fine. I probably just got too much sun this afternoon.”
Though she didn’t look altogether convinced, she didn’t press the issue. “I was just about to wake you. Your steak is ready. I hope you’re hungry.”
“Starving,” he said, even though the thought of eating anything right now was enough to gag him.
He grabbed his cane and pushed himself up from the couch, his legs—even his good one—feeling wobbly from all the exercise, and joined Maggie at the kitchen table. She’d fixed him an ear of corn that was slightly scorched on one end, a side salad, and an enormous, juicy steak. Looking at it, he felt the slightest twinge of hunger. “I thought you said you can’t cook.”
“Ask me to follow a recipe and I always forget some essential ingredient and ruin the entire thing. Tossing a steak on the grill, I can do.”
“Where is yours?” he asked, gesturing to her lone salad.
“I don’t eat beef.”
“I’m not very hungry.”
“You had cottage cheese and fruit for breakfast, a diet shake for lunch. When do you eat real food?”
“For me, this is real food. I’m still on a diet.”
He looked her up and down. “What for?”
She folded her arms under her breasts and glared down at him. “If you think that’s going to get you back on my good side, it won’t work. I have no illusions about the way I look.”
“I’m serious, Maggie. You look fine the way you are. Why would you want to lose more?”
“Only a former fat person can understand. I have a goal weight and I won’t be happy until I reach it.”
“Even if that means being too thin?”
She slid into the seat across from him. “There’s no such thing as too thin.”
Boy, was she wrong about that. “Apparently you’ve never seen any pictures of me when I was a kid.”
“You were skinny?”
“In tenth grade I was six feet tall and weighed about a hundred and thirty pounds fully dressed.”
She raised a skeptical brow. “You were that skinny?”
“I was a bean pole.”
She stabbed a forkful of salad and shoveled it in her mouth. “So, what happened?”
“I got tired of the other kids teasing me, and the pretty girls ignoring me, so I started drinking protein shakes and going to the weight room every morning for half an hour before class. After about a month, when I really started to see results, I upped it to an hour.
“I joined the lacrosse team, started playing soccer. Girls started to notice me. By my senior year I was in the weight room every day by 4:00 a.m and again after classes for another hour or two. When I started college, I was six-three and weighed two-twenty.”