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“My goddamn ankle. I twisted it when I… Hell of a sprain, I think.”
She knelt down and as gently as possible worked up the right leg of his jeans. “Good Lord! Why didn’t you show me this sooner?” The ankle was swollen and discolored.
“Because I was bleeding like a stuck hog. First things first. It’ll be all right.” He bent over, pushed aside her probing hands, and pulled down his pants leg.
“You should have it X-rayed. It could be broken.”
“It isn’t.”
“You’re not qualified to give a medical opinion.”
“No, but I’ve had enough broken bones to know when one’s broken, and this one isn’t.”
“I can’t take responsibility if—”
“Relax, will you? I’m not going to hold you responsible for anything.” Shirtless, shoeless, he hopped toward the door through which he’d entered.
“Would you like to wash your hands before you go?” she offered.
He looked down at the bloodstains and shook his head. “They’ve been dirtier.”
Lara felt derelict in her duties as a physician treating him this way. But he was an adult, accountable for his own actions. She’d done as much as he had permitted.
“Don’t forget to take your antibiotics,” she cautioned as she slipped under his right arm and fit her left shoulder into his armpit. She placed her left arm around him for additional support as he hopped through the door, his right arm across her shoulders. A pickup truck was parked a few yards from the back steps. Its front tires had narrowly missed her bed of struggling petunias.
“Do you have some crutches?”
“I’ll find some if I need them.”
“You’ll need them. Don’t put any weight on your ankle for several days. When you get home, put an ice pack on it and keep it elevated whenever possible. And remember to come in at—”
“Four-thirty tomorrow. I wouldn’t miss it.”
She looked up at him. He tilted his head down to look at her. Their gazes came together and held. Lara felt the heat emanating from his body. He was muscular and fit, and she was certain that his vital body would heal quickly. He was a physical specimen, which she had tried, not entirely successfully, to regard through purely professional eyes.
His eyes scanned her, looking intently at her face, her hair, her mouth. In a low, rough voice he said, “You sure as hell don’t look like any doctor I’ve ever seen.” His hand slid from her shoulder to her hip. “You don’t feel like one either.”
“What is a doctor supposed to feel like?”
“Not like this,” he rasped, gently squeezing her.
He kissed her then. Abruptly and impertinently, he stamped her lips with his.
Gasping in surprise, Lara disengaged herself. Her heart was knocking and she felt hot all over. A thousand options on how to react flashed through her mind, but she considered that the best one was to pretend the kiss hadn’t happened. Taking issue with it would only give it importance. She would be forced to acknowledge it, discuss it with him, and that, she hastily reasoned, should be avoided.
So she assumed a cool, haughty tone as she asked, “Would you like me to drive you somewhere?”
He was grinning from ear to ear, as though he saw straight through her attempt to conceal her discomposure. “No, thanks,” he replied cockily. “This truck’s got automatic transmission. I’ll manage with my left foot.”
She nodded brusquely. “If I hear of any crimes that occurred tonight, I’ll have to report this incident to Sheriff Baxter.”
Laughing even as he grimaced in pain, he climbed into the cab of the pickup. “Don’t worry. You’re not obstructing justice.” He drew an imaginary X over his left breast. “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a cross-tie in my eye.” The engine sputtered to life. He dropped the gear shift into reverse. “Bye-bye, Doc.”
“Be careful, Mr.—”
“Tackett,” he told her through the open window. “But call me Key.”
Everything inside Lara went very still. It seemed her heart, which had been racing only moments earlier, ceased to beat at all. Blood drained from her head, making her dizzy. She must have gone drastically pale, but it was too dark for him to notice as he backed the pickup to the end of the driveway. He tapped his horn twice and saluted her with the tips of his fingers as the truck rumbled away into the darkness.
