AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Does Chantelle know about your operation?’
‘Max phoned her first thing this morning, just as she was going into a lecture.’
‘Where’s Aaron?’
‘In the university crèche since it was only for an hour. Strange she didn’t try to drop him off at my place. He won’t be staying here for a few days now. I couldn’t keep up with him.’
‘So what will Chantelle do about that?’
Steph searched the cupboards for mugs and coffee.
‘Learn to take care of things herself.’
‘Come on. From what you told me she’s already doing that.’
Leaning back against the bench, she crossed her ankles and waited for him to answer. If he answered.
‘Your brothers don’t give you any grief about the things you choose to do?’
Where had that come from?
‘None at all. Growing up, we were one big happy family and nothing’s really changed. Except my best friend is now my sister-in-law, which is cool.’
‘As long as nothing goes wrong.’
Steph stared at Michael. ‘Wow, that’s negative.’
‘What would happen to your friendship if your brother’s marriage failed? Would you and your friend remain on good terms?’
‘I don’t see why not. Now that time’s passed I get on with my ex whenever I bump into him.’
Michael’s eyebrows rose. ‘Really? That’s unusual.’
‘So I’m told. Sugar?’
‘One. How often do you see Freddy?’
He sounded...jealous? Nah—that would be ridiculous.
‘Not for a while since I’ve been away.’
Coffee splashed over her fingers as she vigorously stirred sugar into both mugs.
‘Here.’
After sliding one onto the table, she headed into the lounge to check if the fire needed more wood. It didn’t.
‘Jock can’t have left here much before we got home.’
Michael was watching her as she returned to her coffee. ‘I was married once.’
What was this? One confidence for another?
‘I’m sorry it didn’t work out.’
I am not asking why, but I’d like to know.
‘So was I, at the time.’ He sipped his coffee. ‘But in retrospect the chances of it working out were probably fifty-fifty at best. We weren’t ideally suited in many respects.’
‘How old were you?’
What had happened to not asking anything?
His smile was self-deprecating. ‘Twenty-two. We married while I was still playing rugby. Divorced when I began packing in the hours studying at med school.’
‘That’s young. I met Freddy while I was training. He’s nearly ten years older and was getting established in private practice as a plastic surgeon.’
‘Where is he working now?’
‘On the North Shore.’
The coffee was too strong.
‘What do you want me to get organised before I leave for work at five?’
‘This is why I argued with Chris. I don’t need any help. I can turn the oven on...put that casserole in to heat.’
‘Changing your dressings might be difficult.’ Steph fidgeted with her mug.
‘Can’t you do that before you leave? I’ll take a shower first. It’s been a while and I feel grubby. They sure know how to ramp up the heat on the ward.’
‘Newsflash: a shower is out of the question. Wrapping plastic around your thigh to prevent water seeping through won’t work.’
‘Yes, Nurse,’ he said grumpily. ‘I hate it when you’re right. I’ll run a bath, then, keep this leg hanging over the edge.’
Oh, boy. This just got worse and worse. ‘How are you going to lower yourself into the water with only one hand? And—’ she waved her finger in front of him ‘—how are you going to get out again when you can’t put any weight on that leg?’
‘You’re enjoying this.’
‘Absolutely not.’ And she was not seeing him naked on anyone’s watch. Then again, neither was Michael falling and doing more damage on her watch.
Oh, boy, now what?
‘Between us, I’ll get in and out of the bath without too much hassle.’
His jaw clenched. He obviously knew it was going to hurt, but what was the alternative?
‘I can give you a sponge-down. A warm cloth and soapy water is just as effective as a shower or bath.’ And less revealing. No need to remove his boxers. He could sit on a stool with towels on the floor while she washed that skin, felt those muscles under her fingertips, tried to ignore his body.
But Michael was shaking his head. Of course he was. Stubborn man. Infuriating man.
* * *
He would wash himself. He did not need Stephanie wiping his fevered skin, leaning close, her breath whispering across his body, that honey scent teasing his senses.
‘I’m having a bath,’ Michael reiterated.
He would banish her to the kitchen until he was ready to get out. If she hadn’t already run out the front door.
Stephanie wouldn’t run. She might feel uncomfortable, even angry with him, but she’d never shirk her duty. Duty. That was what he was to her today. A duty. She’d been coerced into helping him, and he had to take some of the flak for that. And if that was disappointment clouding his thinking he only had himself to blame. But he’d throw his mates into the mix for good measure. No point in suffering alone.
Michael reached for his crutch and placed it straight up beside his injured leg. He pushed upward. The crutch slipped and he dropped back on the chair.
Deep breath...wait for the pain to ease off. Try again. Slip. Again.
The throbbing in his thigh increased exponentially.
‘Stephanie.’ Where had she gone? ‘Steph!’
‘Problem?’ She appeared in the doorway. ‘I’ve started running the bath.’ Her gaze scanned him, hesitated on the hand clutching the useless crutch. ‘Can’t get up?’
‘I’m being careful, okay?’
Down, man, down. This is not Steph’s fault. And stop calling her Steph. It’s too friendly.
‘Can you give me a hand?’
Literally. Without saying a word. Without feeling soft and gentle and blood-thickeningly sensual.
If only she was as good at mind-reading as she was at nursing. That last memo clearly hadn’t made it across to her head.
Her fingers brushed the back of his hand on their way to his elbow. Honey filled the air between them and her hair gleamed under the overhead light. How had he walked away from this woman before he’d had his fill of that wondrous body?
Getting to his en suite bathroom was painful. His wrist throbbed like the devil, his thigh worse. The axe had gone as deep as his femur, and bone pain was ghastly.
He nearly stopped at his bed to spread out and let his body recoup. But he was determined to scrub up. His skin felt gross. He’d got a sweat up chopping wood before those cats had done their number on him. Throw in all those hours spent in one bed or another and he was in need of hot water and soap. Not gentle hands and caring eyes.
Dropping the crutch on the bathroom floor, he tugged his jersey and shirt over his head, swore when his sprained wrist got caught up in the sleeve.
‘Let me.’
Stephanie was right there, untangling the fabric, carefully removing the sleeve. Not touching his skin. Then she started on the tape holding his wrist.
‘Might as well take this off. It’ll get soaked no matter how careful we are.’
‘We? I’m having a bath. Not you.’
A blush rose in her cheeks. ‘I have no intention of getting in with you. Just washing your back and your good arm since you won’t be able to manage that.’
I don’t think so.
Michael pushed his tr
ack pants down and stepped out of them.
That pink hue turned red as Stephanie stared at him.
Then he dropped his boxers and hopped over to the bath.
Forget red. Her cheeks were alight.
‘You—’ She swallowed hard. ‘You could’ve kept them on.’
‘Do you bathe in your underwear? When you want to clean yourself?’ he taunted, in need of keeping her on her toes in case he lost it and grabbed her to him. Because he wanted to. Very much.
‘No. But—’ Another swallow.
‘It’s not as though you haven’t seen it all before. You’re a nurse.’
