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Five to nine. How was he going to fill in the hours till Stephanie got up? How long would she sleep? She’d told Zac she’d take him for another walk later in the day. She hadn’t told him anything more than that she’d change the dressings again when she got up. Oh, yeah, there’d been mention of a shopping trip before dinner.
Dinner. Now, there was a challenge. What if he put a meal together? It wasn’t as though he didn’t know his way around the kitchen. He just never bothered for himself. But Steph should eat a proper meal before leaving for work. He only had one working hand at the moment, but surely it couldn’t be too difficult to create something.
Shoving himself up off the couch, he felt pain shooting through his leg, and that had him questioning the ridiculous idea and reminding him why he was here and not at work in the ED. Tough. He’d give it his best. He had all day.
Zac lumbered to his feet and followed, getting in the way in the kitchen, bumping into Michael’s injured leg. Gasping, Michael tripped, put weight on that leg, felt pain in the wound. The air turned blue.
Zac sat on his haunches, his tongue lolling and his eyes fixed on Michael, oblivious to the problem he’d caused.
Sinking onto a kitchen chair, Michael wiped the sweat off his brow and breathed deep, absorbing the pain, and worked to ease the tightness in his thigh muscles.
Talk about being a geriatric. This was ridiculous. In his rugby days whenever he’d got knocked down he shrug the pain aside and get up to continue running around the paddock. He was not as fit as he’d been then, for sure. Using the gym and going for runs was not the same as the hours and hours he and his teammates had put in to keep their bodies in tip-top condition.
‘You all right?’ Stephanie swished into the kitchen, an empty glass in hand, thick bathrobe wrapped around her body, hiding all those superb curves he adored.
‘Sure.’
As she filled the glass from the fridge water dispenser she studied him. ‘You’re very pale.’
‘Hard to get a tan in winter.’
‘Smart Aleck.’ There was a hint of a smile on those luscious lips.
‘You been asleep at all?’
‘Not yet. I find it hard, being out of routine. It’s years since I did nights, and I was never good at sleeping during the day.’ She sat down beside him, with no sign of the funk that had been gripping her before. ‘Let me look at that leg.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘As any red-blooded, full-of-testosterone male would say.’
‘Sometimes I think you forget that I’m a doctor and quite capable of dealing with my own injuries.’
But he was already tugging his track pants down to his knees. Oh, so sexy... Track pants were not a turn-on. Definitely more comfortable at the moment, though. That thigh did not need fitted trousers holding it tight, and nor did another part of his anatomy that had a tendency to get hyped up whenever Steph was close.
Which was why he’d slipped a pair of boxers on when he’d got up. Having Stephanie noticing his apparatus while she changed dressings wouldn’t be good. Especially as said apparatus had a tendency to tighten, thicken, and show its feelings for her without any input from his brain. He leaned forward, arms folded low over his abdomen in case that particular reaction got carried away now.
‘Since we’re looking at it, I’ll change the dressing and save the discomfort later.’
She was so gentle removing the gauze pad he didn’t feel a thing. But then he was concentrating on not noticing how her thick hair fell over her cheek, and on not breathing in that honey scent. He cursed silently. Reaction happening.
‘Do you think you could make me a cup of tea?’ Now. Immediately.
‘Give me a minute and I’ll put the kettle on.’
A minute? That was a lifetime in this condition.
‘Great.’ Not.
In a minute he was going to be tied up with need. Need that overrode everything else his body was feeling as those gentle fingers cleaned a smear of blood from the stitches holding him together. That was what he needed to stay strong and sane—stitches in his head. Talk about going stark raving mad...
What could he talk about that was totally unrelated to skin and fingers and tightening muscles? ‘Do you eat pasta?’
Ouch. Her finger had slipped, rubbed the top of some of the stitches. Served him right.
‘Love it.’
Love what? Oh, pasta. Of course. ‘Then that’s what I’ll make.’
‘Pardon? Michael, are you all right?’ She laid her palm on his forehead. ‘No temperature,’ she quipped. ‘But it seems you’ve forgotten I’m here because you can’t get around easily. You sure can’t make pasta. Unless... I get it. Where’s the menu? I’ll pick what I want and you phone the order in later with yours.’
That palm was soft, warm, soothing...not to mention downright sexy. Who knew his forehead could feel hot and intense and needy from Stephanie’s touch? Not him. But then around Steph he was learning about quite a few things he’d never have believed possible. Like how he wanted to make her a meal to show how much he appreciated having her here while he was incapacitated, how happy it made him to know she cared enough to be in his house when she clearly didn’t want to be.
‘Michael? Menu?’
‘There isn’t one.’
He loved how her eyes widened, that brown shade looking soft and gooey, like caramel melting in a pan. Or was that his stomach feeling gooey? Like a besotted kid dealing with puppy love?
‘Now I know I can’t go back to bed. You’ll get up to something that’s not good for your wrist or your leg if I do.’
A smile broke out, lifting her cheeks, lightening those eyes further. Warming his insides, sending his heart into some strange unknown rhythm, giving him hope. Hope? For what? A future different from the one he’d known since that promise to his dad? One where everything worked out? A future with Stephanie in it permanently?
She did this to him. Rattled him, knocked his beliefs sideways so he rethought everything he lived by. She wasn’t good for him, pushing his boundaries wide.
Stephanie was so close the corners of their chairs touched. He only had to lean forward a little, use his good hand to gently pull her nearer and then put a finger under her chin to lift her head and those full smiling lips were right there, under his mouth, startled into silence, into inaction.
His mouth was on hers, kissing her as though this was his last kiss ever, giving everything he had, taking whatever she had to offer. As her lips softened under his he relaxed and gave up trying to remain in control of his manhood...of anything. No point. He was going with it for all it was worth—enjoying the moment, forgetting the consequences.
Pain tore through his leg.
Michael jerked back, gulped, bit down on the oath rolling across his tongue. What the—? This was the worst pain yet.
‘Zac, move away.’ Steph stood up fast, her chair rocking back as she reached for the dog’s collar and tugged him aside. ‘Keep away from Michael’s leg.’
Her eyes glistened as she hovered next to Michael.
‘I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought him with me.’
‘What else were you supposed to do?’
The dog was her pet—she couldn’t give him back for a few days even if there was someone to return him to.
Deep breath, keep everything normal. ‘Don’t worry. These things happen. He doesn’t understand.’
‘Yes, but—’
He reached for her free hand, threaded his fingers between hers. Hadn’t they just experienced the most amazing, heart-stopping kiss? Forget the blasted dog.
‘Yes, but nothing. I’m fine.’
Physically he was in agony. Mentally he wasn’t any better.
When Patricia had left him he’d known he’d never risk marriage again. Divorce was in the genes. So was taking responsibility ser
iously. While Carly had now gone offshore and seemed happy and content, wasn’t getting into major difficulties, he knew that could change any day. But it was Chantelle who gave him the most concern. She pushed herself too hard and the cracks were starting to appear. He had to be there for her, and more importantly for Aaron, if everything turned to custard again.
It wasn’t the first time she’d got so far with sorting out her life and then gone off the rails. He had to admit that this time she did seem to have more control over her emotions. And if that was so he might be able to have some life for himself. But he still couldn’t risk hurting Stephanie and breaking his own heart as well.
He was thinking all this while holding Stephanie’s hand. He looked at her, saw uncertainty, but couldn’t let go. He wanted her. Forget all the reasons he’d just put up for not doing this. He wanted her.
‘Stephanie?’ Her name slipped off his tongue as easily as melted chocolate.
Her eyes widened and her fingers tightened briefly around his. Then she stepped away. ‘Not a good idea, Michael.’
Her tongue slid across her lips, refuting her words. She wanted him. Fire glinted in her eyes.
‘I agree. Doesn’t mean we have to be sensible, though.’
Her hands slapped onto her hips, her fingers white where they dug in. ‘I’m the most sensible woman you’ve ever met.’
‘I can change that.’
Her lips twitched, but the intensity in her eyes didn’t lighten. ‘I know you can, Michael, but it’s not happening.’
