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‘I need your help,’ she announced without preamble. ‘Please?’
She didn’t dare look over her shoulder to check he was following her as she marched back into the bathroom, grateful for the steam, which offered at least the psychological semblance of privacy.
Professional, polite, detached. Professional, polite, detached... She repeated it like a mantra so by the time she faced Max she was more composed than she’d been before.
‘You want my help...for a shower?’
He sounded aghast but she refused to let it get to her.
Professional, polite, detached. She could do it. She would do it.
‘To wash my hair,’ she explained. ‘We can keep underwear on—it’ll be like a bikini for the beach.’
Well, no, not really, but she could pretend that was what she was thinking.
‘This is ridiculous,’ he muttered, shaking his head and walking out of the bathroom without another word. Evie watched the empty doorway and tried to quash the sense of loss.
The minutes ticked by, and still Max didn’t return. Talk about adding insult to injury. He wasn’t attracted to her yet the idea of stepping into the shower had appalled him that much, he wouldn’t even entertain helping her. It was a sobering realisation.
Did it matter if ten other men found her attractive in the future? Wouldn’t she always remember that the one man who really counted, at least in her head, had been so shamefully turned off by her?
There was nothing else she could do. She would just have to try her best to do it alone. With a shake of her head, she resumed her attempts to unhook her bra.
* * *
‘You’ve done your obs?’
Evie swung around, dropping her arms too late and folding them across her chest as he reappeared in the doorway, the baby monitor in his hand.
‘That was where you went? To check on our daughter?’
‘Where else?’ he managed, surprised at the relief in her tone. Where had she thought he’d gone? ‘You didn’t answer me, though. Have you done your obs?’
‘I have,’ she confirmed awkwardly. ‘How’s Imogen?’
‘She’s asleep. Like I said, long night teething and she didn’t sleep in as long as I’d expected this morning. She just wanted a bit of a play and some breakfast of her own to fill her little tum and she was ready for a catch-up nap.’
His gaze dropped to her chest as it peeked out from behind her forearms.
‘So, do you need some help?’
‘No,’ she squeaked, coughing to regain her normal voice. ‘I’m fine now.’
A beat passed.
‘Clearly you’re struggling.’ Max blew out a breath and walked back into the room. ‘Turn around.’
‘No, I’m fine. I just...’
‘Quit stalling and turn around, Evie.’
He had to stay composed, not give away just how much she still turned him on. He’d managed it downstairs in the kitchen when he’d got her to strip off her wet top, though it had taken some effort. He just had to remember that she wouldn’t recover if she wasn’t relaxed, which meant not making her feel uncomfortable, as though he might pounce on her any second.
He had to think of her like any other patient. He was never attracted to them no matter how attractive they were.
Except that she wasn’t any other patient. She was Evie. And that was what made her stand out from anyone else he’d ever known.
The heavy silence hung between them as Max reached around and unhooked her bra in one simple, efficient movement.
