He didn’t budge.
“Ty?”
“I knew you’d be back, begging me to take you.”
“I’m here to check on you.”
“Then check on me.” His voice was groggy but there was nothing groggy in those eyes when they opened and watched her with an intensity that made her squirm.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’d feel better if you stopped sucking on that pretzel. It’s making my blood drain southward.”
“You’re fine,” she decided, swallowing the pretzel and leaving him to go back to sleep, which he did instantly.
She went to the living room and proceeded to watch the clock tick. After another hour, she went into the bedroom again. Moonlight streamed over the bed, highlighting the long, lean form lying there. He’d kicked off the covers. He was sprawled on his back, one arm over his eyes; his big chest rose and fell evenly. She knew this because he wore only a pair of boxer briefs, ribbed cotton, charcoal-gray.
They fit him snugly just below his navel. He was bruised and cut over a good portion of his torso. He also had scars that had nothing to do with his fall. A long, nasty-looking one low on his flat belly that looked like a knife wound. A puckered one near his collarbone that looked like an old burn, and another on his arm. There was a long scar down one muscled calf, and another on his thigh. And then there was the tattoo he’d shown her—an intricate design winding around his left bicep.
And he called her a warrior.
She had bits and pieces of him now, and had put together a picture of how he’d grown up and become the man he was. There were still quite a few pieces of the puzzle missing, but he wouldn’t welcome her curiosity. She shouldn’t feel that curiosity at all, but did. He’d raised himself, a fact she couldn’t deny made him all the more fascinating.
How could his mother, any mother, turn her back on a child? What kind of mother did that, let her own son think she didn’t want him?
That it hurt her, hurt her for him, was another concern. She shouldn’t feel this way, this possessive, protective way. He certainly wouldn’t want it, nor, for that matter, would he want her compassion. He was far too proud for that.
And yet she couldn’t tear her eyes off his beautiful form. So she sank to the bed at his side and wondered what the hell she was going to do with him.
“You going to watch me sleep all night?”
She jumped back up, pressed nervous hands to her stomach. “You’re awake.”
“Want to see how awake?”
Since he was talking with his eyes closed, very carefully not moving a muscle, she smiled. “Do you know where you are?”
“In your bed. Without you.” His voice was low, husky. Unbearably sexy. “Want to check anything else? My temperature maybe? I’m hot, darlin’. Really hot.”
“You’re hurt.”
“Not that hurt.”
She eyed him. He still hadn’t moved a single muscle. And suddenly, the doctor inside her vanished, replaced by a mischievous woman who knew she was safe. “You don’t think so? You really think you could…?”
“I know it.”
“Yeah? Then prove it. Come get me, big guy.”
He pried a bleary eye open, closed it again when she sent him a cocky smile.
“Come on, come get it,” she dared, making him groan.
“Can’t you help a man out a little and come down here?”
“Nope.”
“Ah, now see, that’s just plain old mean.”
“Goodnight, Ty.”
“We already said that.”
“We’re going to say it several more times yet tonight. You can thank your concussion for that.”
He swore colorfully, making her smile again. A man who could put together those descriptive words was going to be okay.
The next time she checked on him, he was in such obvious discomfort and pain she ended up sleeping in a chair at his side to watch over him more closely. In the deep of the night, he shifted, then groaned, and she was there, reaching out to touch, to soothe. Though he didn’t say a word, she knew he was awake, and terribly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Me, too. I’m sorry I fell through your ceiling. I’m really sorry I did that.”
“Need another pain pill?”
“Yeah. I’ve decided I like those.”
“And the doctor? How about her?” She had no idea why she asked, and held her breath, wishing she could take it back.
But a weak smile touched his mouth. “Maybe I decided I like the doctor more than a little.”
“That’s only because I’m holding the goods.”
His eyes opened at that. “You have the goods all right.”
She blushed. Blushed.
“And I’m not talking about your tight little hot bod either, Dr. Nicole Mann.”
She had no answer for that, but as he drifted off, none seemed to be required.
BY MORNING NICOLE was the hoarse, groggy one. Since when had one single patient taken so much out of her?
Since she cared. Too much.
But she had an even more pressing problem at the moment. She wasn’t convinced Ty could handle the day by himself. He hadn’t yet managed to get out of the bed without her support, and though he did keep up a healthy stream of come-ons, she knew damn well he was all talk and no go.
So she did it. For the first time in her entire professional life, she picked up the phone and took the day off.
And wondered if she’d gone completely off the deep end.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AFTER SHE’D CALLED in to the hospital, Nicole stood in the middle of her living room, idle. Idle.
What was she going to do with herself with only one patient to take care of?
The entire day loomed large in front of her, when she’d never allowed herself a leisurely moment in her life. With a shrug, she pulled up a stack of medical journals and other related work reports she could read.
But for the first time since she could remember, they didn’t appeal. So she sat in front of the TV she’d turned on only a few times since she’d purchased it several years ago.
And in no time flat, discovered the utter, addictive joy of daytime television. With the remote in hand, she clicked back and forth between Bewitched, I Love Lucy and Court TV.
Then the phone rang, annoying her. So did her caller.
“Hello.” The lazily cultured voice was Dr. Lincoln Watts. “Slacking off today?”
Nicole’s finger tightened on the phone. “I’m entitled to call in.”
“Did you stay up too late?” His voice lowered. “Or did your lover keep you in bed this morning?”
“I won’t be in today, Dr. Watts. That’s all that concerns you. Period,” she said with shocking calm, and because the commercial was over and I Love Lucy was starting again, she hung up the phone. She stared at her hand on the remote and realized she was shaking with fury.
Not even two seconds later came the knock on her door. Damn it. She got up, and gaze still locked on the TV, opened the door.
“Morning.” Suzanne held a covered tray that smelled so delicious Nicole promptly forgot about the TV.
“Not for you.” Suzanne slapped Nicole’s hand when she went to lift the cover. “For Ty. Tell him I hope he’s feeling better.”
“You brought Ty food and not me?”
“Yes, and don’t cheat him by eating any of it. He needs his strength to heal.” She whistled slowly at the hole in the ceiling of the living room. “That poor, poor baby.”
“He’s not a baby.” Nope, as Nicole had now seen just about every inch of his long, hard, perfectly formed body, she could say that for certain. “And food doesn’t heal.” She lifted her chin. “My skills as a doctor are going to do that.”
Suzanne shot her a look of pity. “Oh, honey, have you got a lot to learn about men. There’s only one way to reach them, and it’s not, contrary to popular belief, through their penises. It’s through their stomachs. Now giv
e him this tray with a nice morning smile and you’ll see what I mean. You can smile this early, can’t you?”
Nicole glared at her.
Suzanne laughed. “Well, honestly, I don’t see you smile that often. Actually, I don’t see you do anything but work.”
“Not today. I called in.”
“You…called in?” Suzanne slapped a hand to her mouth in disbelief. ”You?”
Nicole rolled her eyes. “It’s not that big a deal.”
“To you it is. You, the workaholic, took a day off to care for Ty. That’s huge.”
“He did fall through my ceiling.”
“You took a day off.” Suzanne marveled at that for a moment. “Wait until Taylor hears you’re falling for him. She’s going to be the last one of us holding on to that vow of singlehood.”
“Oh no.” Nicole laughed. Fall for Ty? Ha! “I don’t know what you think is going on here, but you can just wash it right out of your hair. I’m staying single forever, just like Taylor.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I am.” She meant it. Ty would finish his job here and sooner or later he’d be gone. Long gone. He wouldn’t so much as look back, as looking back wasn’t in his genes.
She wouldn’t look back either, she’d—
She’d miss him. Damn it. She’d really miss him.
But she’d carved out a good life for herself. She had her career, a family that was only slightly dysfunctional, and friends, even if they were nosy as hell. She had all she needed.
“I used to be in denial, too,” Suzanne said with a knowing smile.
“It’s not denial.”
“Right. Hey, I’ll come back later for the tray and any details you want to share.”
“There won’t be details.”
But Suzanne had already walked away. “Damn it,” Nicole muttered when Suzanne’s laughter floated back up the stairs. Shrugging it off, she went back to her shows.
And wondered if Ty was dreaming of her.
TY CAME AWAKE in slow degrees. When he was fully conscious, he carefully opened his eyes.
The sun rudely pierced into the room, stabbing him with the brightness until he closed his eyes again. He took mental stock and decided his entire body felt as if he’d been thrown under a steamroller.
Except for his head. His head felt as if he’d put it into a giant vise and cinched it down.
With no little amount of struggle, he managed to get to a sitting position. From there he eyed the bathroom door, only a few feet away.
It might as well have been a hundred miles. Determined, he staggered up, and for his efforts, nearly passed out. Gripping the back of a chair, he took a handful of deep, careful breaths. Daggers shot upward from his ankle. His ribs screamed. He had no doubt his head was going to fall right off. But he made it to the bathroom, shut the door and leaned back against it.
“Ty!” From the other side of the door came Nicole’s worried voice. “What are you doing!”
“Considering getting sick.”
“Are you okay? Are you hurting? Do you need any help?”
“No, yes and no.”
“Ty—”
When he was done, he opened the door, about two seconds away from passing out.
Nicole was right there, wrapping herself around him, taking his weight. “Of all the fool things to do, getting up by yourself, trying to walk, moving around as if you didn’t drop yourself on your head just yesterday…”
“Not back to bed,” he said when she turned him that way. “Not unless you’re coming, too.”
Her arms were around his bare middle, carefully avoiding his hurt ribs. He liked the feel of her hands on him. Too much. She took him to the living room where he could see the blanket strewn over the futon. An episode of I Dream Of Jeanie was on TV. Next to the futon was a half-eaten bowl of cereal.
“Are those Frosted Flakes?” His mouth started to water. “And I love that show.”
“It’s a Jeanie marathon. This is the one where she gets stuck in her bottle.” She looked at the TV. “I think I’d like to be able to toss my ponytail and have my every wish come true. You’ve just missed I Love Lucy. She was working on a candy assembly line. Honest to God, I’ve never laughed so hard…what?” she asked self-consciously as he stared at her.
It was just that her eyes were laughing. Her cheeks were flushed. And her hands were still on him. Irresistible combo. He found his insides stirring, and not just the part of him that usually stirred while staring at a beautiful woman, but something in his chest. She looked…happy. It wasn’t a look he’d seen on her before, making him realize he hadn’t often seen her outside of work mode.
He liked this side of her, he liked it a lot. “You haven’t seen these shows a hundred times?”
“Are you kidding?” She laughed, a sweet, simple sound. “We weren’t allowed to watch anything but public television growing up. I never even had a TV until a couple of years ago, but I rarely turn it on. I can’t believe what I’ve been missing. And The Brady Bunch! What a crackup—” She narrowed her eyes when he grinned. “Stop that.”
“You’re pretty damn adorable, Dr. Dweeb.”
Her mouth opened, then shut. “I never know how to take you,” she finally said.
“Take me any way you want, darlin’, just take me.”
She stepped back, which left him holding up his own body. He braced his legs, shooting an arrow of pain from his ankle directly to his ribs. Clutching them made his vision waver again and he gritted his teeth.
“You fool,” she said softly, reaching for him again, easing him down. “Sit. Lucky for you Suzanne took pity and brought you a tray of food.”
“You mean you aren’t going to slave over a hot stove for me?”
“I don’t slave over a hot stove for anyone.”
“Hence the Frosted Flakes.”
“Hence the Frosted Flakes,” she agreed. “Pouring milk into a bowl, now that I can do.” Shrugging, she set a heavenly smelling tray on his lap. “I think I missed the girlie gene. I don’t cook, I don’t sew, and…” She lifted a napkin Suzanne had folded into a flower. “I sure as hell don’t fold napkins into shapes.”
It took an effort to smile when his head was pounding, but she looked so unexpectedly vulnerable, he tried. “I like you anyway.”
She didn’t smile back, but she didn’t slug him either. “You do?”
“Yeah, I do.” She hadn’t turned out to be anything as he’d imagined. She wasn’t aloof or spoiled, or insensitive, but was warm and giving and incredibly compassionate. In fact, he had to resist the urge to pull her close and bury his face in her hair. Not only would it hurt like hell to do so, but the urge was wrong. He had no business feeling this way, none at all. “I think you’re a pretty incredible woman, Nicole. And sexy as hell to boot.”
She let out a deprecatory smile. “I’ve never been accused of being sexy before.”
“Then you’re not listening, because I’ve been thinking you’re the sexiest woman I know from the first time I set eyes on you.”
“Well.” Brushing her hands on her jeans, she backed away, looking around her as if searching for some way to keep her hands busy. “I’ve got to…”
When she just turned in a slow circle, at a complete loss, he wanted to laugh. “Work?” he finished for her.
“No. No work today. I, uh…” She avoided his gaze, lifted the lids off the food Suzanne had left him. “Here. You need food before you get more pain meds.”
Obediently he picked up a fork, groaning at an ache in his shoulder. Definitely he was getting too old to be falling through ceilings. “Why no work today?” He saw the truth in her eyes and gaped at her. “You called in? For me?”
“Well, what were you going to do? Make your own breakfast?”
“You didn’t make breakfast,” he pointed out, moaning again, this time at the taste of Suzanne’s homefried potatoes melting in his mouth.
“You complaining?”
“Nope, not at all.” He to
ok another bite, studied her. “You took a day off for me. I think you’re crazy about me.”
“Shut up and eat.”
“Yeah. Okay.” He shoveled in more food. “Thanks,” he said into her inscrutable gaze. “For taking care of me.”
“Yeah, well, don’t get excited. I would have done the same for a stray puppy.”
Oh, yeah. She was crazy about him.
NICOLE HAD NEVER known the guilty pleasure of a day off. She’d heard her coworkers talk about how they occasionally stayed home simply to brain-rest, doing nothing more than eating junk food and watching soap operas all day long, and she’d always felt a sort of superior smugness about not feeling the need to do the same.
Soap operas. Please.
But���and she couldn’t quite believe it—they were wonderful. She sat on the floor, crosslegged, in a ratty old pair of sweats and a comfy tank top, cradling a bowl of popcorn in one hand and the remote in the other. On the futon above her, crashed out cold, slept Ty.
It was odd, the feeling of contentment. Odd and terrifying.
When someone—two nosy someones—knocked at her door, she rolled her eyes. “You know, this is getting insulting,” she whispered as she opened the door and faced Suzanne and Taylor. “I can take care of him.”
Suzanne passed her a tray, probably loaded with lunch, because heaven forbid “poor baby Ty” starve to death with Nicole’s inability to so much as toast bread. “Frosted Flakes three times a day is not nutritious.”
Taylor grinned. “And…don’t take this wrong…but we’re not quite sure you know how to take care of a man.”
“He’s not a man, he’s my patient.”
“I think he’d say differently.” Taylor held out a laptop computer to her. “Tell him I locked up his car, but this was in it and I thought maybe he’d want it.”
“He’s not going to work, I won’t let him.” Nicole knelt to put the tray of food on the floor beside the door before rising to take the computer.
“Really.” Taylor lifted that superior blond brow and gave her a knowing, far-too-self-righteous smile. “Know what I think?”
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