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Birch had to swallow down the desire for her that was almost choking him. He tightened up his abdomen to steel himself against the pain, or maybe it was to look better for her. He couldn’t be a hundred percent sure of his intentions at the moment. “Okay, Doctor. Do your worst.”
She chuckled. “Count of Monte Cristo, I love that show.”
Birch’s breath shortened. He’d loved the show as well, but it had hit a little too close to home. Betrayed by Bermuda and losing his brother to the wiles of a shady actress. Maybe the plot wasn’t right on, but those feelings of betrayal and revenge that drove Edmund Dantes still ate Birch up.
When he didn’t say anything, she must’ve taken that as his permission to go. She rested her right forearm on his thigh and leaned even closer. It was all Birch could do to not gasp like a little girl and get teased by her again. Her tongue was out slightly as she concentrated. She held the stitch with her left hand, and keeping her right hand steady by using his thigh as her stable shelf, she cleanly snipped a stitch and then tugged it out. It didn’t even hurt. She would be a good doctor. She competently repeated the process eleven more times. Only the spot where he’d jabbed himself was tender, the rest was easy and simple. Birch could’ve sat there on the hard counter with her leaning into him, her arm braced on his thigh, her hand brushing the side of his abdomen, all night long.
She pulled back and smiled up at him. “All done.”
She got a clean paper towel and dabbed away the drops of blood from where he’d jabbed himself. He handed over the ointment and box of Band-aids, only jolting slightly when their hands brushed. She gave him a longing look and thanked him. He marveled at how sweet she seemed to him. Everything he’d learned through years of interactions with actresses and the entertainment industry, the promise he’d made to his only brother, was being challenged by this one beautiful woman.
She put ointment directly on one large Band-aid and then gently smoothed it over his wound. Glancing up at him with a sweet but almost mischievous glint in her dark eyes, she gently bent down low and pressed a lingering kiss on his abdomen, precisely above the Band-aid. Birch sucked in a loud breath and knew it was going to be impossible to steel himself to her if she ever touched him with her lips again.
“Thank you for taking a knife for me,” she whispered, glancing up at him from beneath thick, dark eyelashes. If a woman had ever given a more alluring look he’d certainly never been the recipient of it. All he wanted was to pull her up to him, lean down, and kiss her. He’d kiss her long and hard and then he’d pull back and her eyes would shine with joy as he jumped down from the counter, swept her off her feet, and carried her to the couch. Then he’d proceed to kiss her until this craving was satiated.
He shook his head to clear it, scooted away from her on the counter and jumped down. “Thank you for doctoring me. I will pretend to be the maid now.” He forced a smile then busied himself cleaning up the wrappings, getting a paper towel wet, and looking over the floor for blood. He only found a small dot of dark red to wipe up.
“I guess I’ll … go to bed,” Allison said from behind him. Her voice sounded uncertain and as vulnerable as he felt. Could she possibly be as pure, innocent, and sincere as she appeared?
“Okay,” he murmured, not allowing himself to look at her. If her eyes held half the power they had earlier. if he looked at her while she used the potency of that throaty voice, and if he let himself remember how incredible it had felt to have her touch him, he’d fold and be begging her to kiss him, to date him, to ruin his life like Amelia had ruined his brother’s. He couldn’t forget his promise. “Thank you, again, for helping me.”
“Anytime.”
Her footsteps didn’t storm past him to the foyer and the stairs. Birch closed his eyes and stayed studying the floor for nonexistent drops of blood. Finally he couldn’t take it any longer. He glanced up. She stared at him, her dark eyes large and liquid and lovely.
Birch met her gaze for several long seconds and the connection that sprung between them would’ve been a thing of beauty, if he wasn’t so disturbed by his reaction to her. He did the only reasonable thing a tough guy could do in such a situation. He turned, and ran for the stairs.
