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“Thanks,” she replied as Stuart left to get a shower. Sitting in close quarters with him while they wove through traffic was not her idea of fun. She’d bet he had a tiny Italian sports car so their knees could bump on every turn, too.
“Like I said,” she remarked to Nigel, who had returned and was weaving in and out of her legs, “he’s making it awfully difficult.”
* * *
Stuart took the stairs two at a time. So much for the restorative powers of a good run. Five miles and his thoughts were still racing.
Not just his thoughts. All he could say was thank goodness Patience wasn’t trying to look sexy or he’d have a heart attack.
It was time he accepted the fact that he’d gone from finding the woman attractive to being attracted to her. His fate was sealed the second his arm slipped around her waist. She fit so perfectly, her hips aligning with his as though they were meant to be connected...
Giving a groan, he kicked his bedroom door shut. It was all that damn tendril’s fault. If the strand had stayed tucked in her band where it belonged, he wouldn’t have been compelled to brush the hair from her face, and if he hadn’t brushed her hair, he never would have considered kissing her.
And oh, did he consider. He owed her a thank-you for bolting upstairs. Kept him from crossing an improper line with his aunt’s employee.
Raised a few more questions, too. Mainly, what made her flee in the first place? Stuart swore that for a few seconds before Patience took flight, he saw real desire in her eyes. Did she back off because she realized the mistake they were about to make or because of something more? The lady sure had her secrets.
Maybe he could find out what they were. That is, if he could keep his attraction—and his hands—to himself.
* * *
Surprisingly—or perhaps not so surprisingly—Patience left for the hospital without him. The hastily scrawled note pinned to the coffeemaker said she needed to stop at the tea shop to buy Ana her Russian caravan tea. “A reasonable excuse,” he said to Nigel. But the tea shop was only a block away, and in the direction of the hospital. He would have gladly waited while she ran her errand.
No, more likely, she wanted to avoid being in the car with him. For him to care about her decision was silly, but care he did. Why didn’t she want to ride with him?
Unfortunately, any answer had to wait because when he arrived at the hospital, his aunt was awake. Someone had raised her bed so she was sitting upright. Patience stood by her head, brushing out her hair. Stuart watched as her arm moved with long, slow strokes, each pass banishing the tangles of hospitalization. “Do you want to leave the braid down or wear it coiled?” he heard her ask.
“Coiled,” Ana replied. “Of course.”
He smiled. His aunt always insisted on looking as regal as possible. She was wearing the serenest of expressions. Her eyes were closed and the hint of a smile played across her lips. For the first time since he’d come home, she resembled the Ana he remembered.
His chest squeezed tight, his heart and lungs suddenly too big for his body. He was afraid to cough lest he spoil his aunt’s moment.
“Good morning.” The moment ended anyway, as Dr. Tischel, Ana’s primary care physician boomed his greeting from behind his shoulder. “Lapushka!” Ana greeted with a smile. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long. I didn’t want to disturb your beauty session.” He locked eyes with Patience only to have her break the gaze and resume brushing. “How are you this morning, Tetya?” He kissed Ana’s cheek.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “How am I, Karl?”
“Remarkably lucky, for one thing. You’re too old to be rolling down staircases. We all are.”
All the more reason not to stare at women two-thirds your age, thought Stuart. The good doctor’s gaze had locked itself to a spot below Patience’s neck. The housekeeper had angled her body toward the wall, but that didn’t stop the man’s blatant assessment.
“Will she be able to go home soon?” Stuart asked in a loud voice, drawing the man’s attention. A question to which he already knew the answer, but then he wasn’t asking because he wanted information.
“I’m afraid not,” the doctor replied. The man didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. “You took a nasty fall, Ana.”
He lifted the sheet from where it covered the upper part of her legs. On the leg without a cast, a large bruise turned Ana’s kneecap purple. Dr. Tischel touched around it, causing Ana to wince.
“Knee’s pretty tender,” he said, stating the obvious. “You’re definitely going to have to stay off your feet for a little while.”
