by Sarah Morgan
‘No, this is fine. You’re right that moving around hurts. I think the journey to the bedroom will be enough of a challenge for one evening.’
As he shifted position, her eyes were drawn to his body.
No man had a right to be so good looking, Tasha thought as she registered the strength in those wide shoulders. It should have been enough that he was a prince. And rich. Looking like a sex god as well was just too many gifts for one person.
She might have been irritated if it hadn’t been for the fact he was about to eat her food. And that was going to be a real test of manhood.
Hiding a smile, Tasha turned her attention back to her own plate. ‘I love your kitchen. The design is fantastic. A whole different experience for me. Dinner for me is usually a cardboard sandwich from the hospital cafeteria at three in the morning.’
‘It didn’t look anything like this when I bought it. The rooms were small and the whole place was pretty dark. I worked with an excellent architect and we knocked down almost every wall, put in the skylights …’ He glanced up at the roof of the double-height sitting room. ‘We decided it was worth gutting the place because it had such potential. We opened it up, let the light flow in. This is delicious, by the way. You’re a good cook.’
Delicious? He thought it was delicious?
Tasha stared at him in disbelief. ‘You like it?’
‘After two weeks of hospital food?’ He twisted noodles around his fork with skill and precision. ‘This is heaven.’
He had to be kidding. It had to be a double bluff. Unless …
Tasha stared down at her own plate. Had she mixed them up?
Cautiously, she took a mouthful, waiting for her mouth to explode into flames from the chilli, but the flavours in her food were subtle and she knew instantly she didn’t have the wrong plate. Which meant he clearly had a mouth lined with asbestos.
‘Is there any more?’ Alessandro speared the last prawn. ‘You don’t seem to be eating yours.’
‘I am. And there isn’t any more.’ She hadn’t thought for a moment he’d eat what she’d served him. Clearly his mouth was as tough as the rest of him.
Feeling aggravated, Tasha finished her food. ‘Why did you fall anyway? Was the horse too difficult for you?’
He accepted the slight with a flicker of a smile. ‘The horse wasn’t difficult. I lost concentration for a moment, but that was long enough for the guy on the opposite team to bring us down. My ankle took most of the weight. My ribs took the rest.’ He leaned back against the sofa, his eyes closed.
She wondered why he’d lost concentration.
‘You were trapped under the horse? Ouch. So no physical activity for the rest of the summer?’
His eyes opened and he studied her from underneath lush, dark lashes. ‘Depends what you mean by physical activity.’
Staring into those dangerous dark eyes, her mouth dried. ‘I meant polo and surfing.’ Tasha felt the heat slowly spread through her body and wished she’d never mentioned physical activity. Even injured, the man was deadly. ‘You look tired. Do you want me to call your security team to help you from the sofa to the bed?’
‘No. I have the crutches and I can manage.’
‘Independent, aren’t you?’
‘You could say that.’
Torn between wanting to see him suffer and not wanting him to exacerbate his injuries, Tasha tilted her head. ‘The crutches won’t be much use while your ribs are so bruised. We might need to think of other options.’
‘This is fine.’ Shifting to the edge of the sofa, Alessandro picked up the crutches and stood up, taking his weight on his good leg.
Tasha flinched.
That had to hurt.
‘Alessandro—’
‘I can do it. Just give me space.’ There was a stubbornness in his tone. A grim determination to succeed despite the agonising pain. Reluctantly impressed, Tasha stood there, careful not to touch him and distinctly unsettled by how much she wanted to do just that.
‘Look, I could call one of those burly security guards—’
‘It would help if you could check the route to my bedroom is clear. So far I haven’t mastered doing this with obstacles.’ His face was chalk-white as he slowly eased his way forward. ‘I’ll just use the bathroom on the way so that I don’t have to make two journeys.’
Tasha watched as the muscles in his powerful shoulders flexed and knew that every movement had to be causing him agony. ‘I think you need help.’
He cast her a look that told her he’d be long dead before he’d accept help from anyone. A crooked smile flickered at the corners of his mouth. ‘You’re offering to assist me in the bathroom? Now, that could be interesting.’
Trying to work out how the atmosphere had shifted to intimate, Tasha felt her face turn scarlet. ‘I just don’t see how you’re going to manage to do what you have to do without help.’
His eyes lingered on hers for a long moment. Mockery mingled with something else that she didn’t even want to put a name to. ‘You want to come and watch how it’s done, tesoro?’
He’d called her that at seventeen and her heart rushed forward, doubling its rhythm. ‘Don’t speak Italian.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because …’ Her mouth was dry. ‘Because I don’t speak it and it’s rude to talk a language someone doesn’t understand.’
‘It’s my native tongue.’
‘I know. But you’re fluent in English so that’s no excuse.’ She scowled at him. ‘I just don’t want you falling and fracturing more bones. I’m not sure my patience with this whole nursing thing is going to last that long, so you’d better heal quickly.’
He shifted the position of the crutch. His knuckles were white where they gripped the handles. ‘I won’t lock the door. If I find myself in trouble, I’ll shout and you can come to my rescue. But not on a white charger. I’ve had enough of horses for one week.’
Pinned to the spot by that dark, sexy gaze, Tasha felt as if she were the one who had eaten the chilli. Her entire body was caught in a fiery rush of heat and suddenly she didn’t feel like the one in control. ‘Fine,’ she croaked, ‘leave the door unlocked. Good idea.’
Feeling the heat in her face, she moved through to his bedroom and cleared the suitcase off the bed. His bed was enormous and faced out towards the sea.
How many hearts had he broken in that bed?
Trying to push aside disturbing images of Alessandro’s strong body tangled with a slender female frame, Tasha ripped the duvet back so that he could get into the bed and wondered why on earth she’d volunteered for this job. Why had she ever thought she could make his life difficult? The herbal tea had been moderately irritating but the chilli hadn’t even registered on his taste buds, and all her digs about surfing hadn’t had much impact either.
And now she was stuck here with a man who made her think things she didn’t want to think. It had always been like that, she remembered crossly, even as a teenager. When Alessandro had walked into the room there had never been any confusion. She’d known she was a woman.
If she really wanted him to suffer then she needed to do something drastic.
What was a man like Alessandro likely to be missing more than anything?
Tasha gave a slow smile as she thought about the other items in her shopping bags.
Time for Plan B.
The pain in his ribs was excruciating. Even small movements resulted in blinding agony, as if a burning-hot poker was being forced into his chest.
But at least it distracted him from the parts of his life he was trying to forget.
Taking advantage of the privacy of the bathroom, Alessandro gave in to the pain.
He balanced himself against the washbasin and reached for a glass. To add to the pain in his ribs and his ankle, his mouth felt as though someone had started a bonfire. Chilli, he thought, gulping down water. When he’d taken the first mouthful of food he’d thought she must have made a mistake but then he’d seen her eating
hers happily. Clearly she liked her food hot. Not wanting to offend her, he’d forced his down, eating it as quickly as possible. If she walked out, he’d be back in hospital and there was no way he was going back to hospital. So he’d forced himself to eat with enthusiasm the food she’d prepared.
He drank deeply, wondering how long it took nerveendings to recover. There wasn’t a single part of his body that wasn’t burning.
Frustrated by his own weakness, accustomed to being at the peak of physical fitness, Alessandro used the bathroom and then clenched his jaw against the pain and hobbled back towards the bedroom, trying in vain to find some way of distributing his weight so that the movement didn’t exacerbate his injuries.
Tasha had turned back the duvet and smoothed the sheets.
Never before had his bed looked so inviting, but the short distance from the door felt like running a marathon. It didn’t help that she was watching him, those cool eyes steady on his face.
‘Aren’t you taking your nursing duties a little too seriously?’ He wished she’d turn away so that he could give in to the pain. ‘You’re off duty once I go to bed.’
‘I’d better help you undress.’
Was she serious? Marvelling at the discovery that extreme pain didn’t seem to interfere with sexual arousal, Alessandro gritted his teeth. For his own sanity he knew he didn’t dare let her touch him. ‘I’ll manage.’
‘How? At least let me help you change your shirt for pyjamas.’
‘I don’t own pyjamas.’
‘I thought you might say that, so I bought you some when I was out shopping.’ Pleased with herself, she picked up a bag and produced a pair of pyjamas.
Distracted from the ache in his loins by the flash of vivid colour, Alessandro blinked. ‘Pink?’
‘It was the only colour they had.’ Her expression was anxious. ‘Oh, dear. Are you one of those guys who believes wearing pink makes them less masculine? Sorry. I hadn’t thought of that. Only I know some guys wear pink shirts these days and I thought these might be OK …’
Was she winding him up? His swift glance at her face suggested nothing but concern. Wondering just how far he was going to have to go not to offend her, Alessandro reminded himself that without her he’d be back in hospital.
Her generosity was the reason he’d be sleeping in his own bed tonight.
All he had to do was keep his hands off her. Which shouldn’t be that hard, surely, given that every movement was agony.
‘I don’t have a problem with pink.’ He eyed the pyjamas in disbelief, wondering which idiot had thought there was a market for such a vile creation. ‘But I don’t think they’ll fit over the cast.’
‘Leave that to me.’ Beaming at him, she picked up a pair of scissors and cut a slit down one of the legs. ‘There. Simple.’
Reflecting on the fact that the wretched garment now looked more like a dress than trousers, Alessandro manoeuvred himself onto the bed and let the crutches fall to the floor. Pain lanced his side and he sat still, breathing slowly, hoping it would pass. The helplessness was driving him mad.
‘I’ll help you take off your shirt.’ Tasha sat next to him on the bed and gently eased off his shirt. As she exposed his chest, the breath hissed through her teeth. ‘I’ve never seen bruises like those, Alessandro. How are you still walking around?’ Her tone altered dramatically. Light and flirty gave way to crisp concern.
‘I’m fine. To be honest, walking isn’t any more painful than breathing.’ He was taken aback by the change in her. The girl had gone and in her place was a doctor. A concerned doctor. Her fingers gently traced the bruises and when he glanced at her face he saw that her expression was serious.
‘Does this hurt?’
‘No.’
She gave him an impatient look. ‘Honest answers only, please. A man wearing pink is allowed to express his true emotions even if the resulting language is colourful.’
‘All right. It hurts like crazy and I want to punch something?’
‘And when I do this?’ She pressed lower down and Alessandro swore long and fluently.
‘OK.’ She didn’t blink. ‘Now I know you’re telling the truth.’
The pain was a blinding, agonising flash. Once again he had that sick dread that the doctors might have missed something. Something that was going to keep him bedridden for longer than a fractured ankle and a few broken ribs. ‘Are you trying to kill me?’ He spoke through his teeth and she straightened, her hair sliding over her shoulders.
‘Actually, no. I’m checking you over. I don’t like the look of those bruises. Just sit still. I’m going to check your breath sounds.’
‘I’ve already been examined by about a hundred doctors. They kept wheeling in yet another expert to give an opinion.’
‘Sorry, but the only opinion I trust is my own.’ She disappeared and reappeared a moment later with a stethoscope in her hand. ‘Good job I packed this in my box of tricks, although I haven’t listened to an adult’s chest for quite a while.’
‘If that’s supposed to fill me with confidence, it doesn’t.’ It was a lie. Strangely enough, he was relieved to have her opinion. He remembered Josh telling him that Tasha had astonishing instincts to go with her sharp brain. He had no doubt that she was a skilled doctor. Unfortunately that didn’t make things any easier and he sat still while she touched the bruising, trying not to think about how her fingers felt on his skin. ‘Do you have to prod me?’
‘I’m checking there’s no underlying trauma. Those bruises are very impressive. Must hurt a lot.’
Alessandro spoke through his teeth. ‘Not at all.’ As if the pain wasn’t enough, he also had the extra hit of sexual arousal. As she tilted her head, her hair slid forward and brushed against his arm. He tried to move backwards but every movement felt as though he were being slammed into a wall.
‘Bones have a lot of nerve-endings,’ she murmured. ‘That’s why it’s painful.’
‘Thanks for the explanation.’
‘Generally, when someone breaks a bone, the treatment is to immobilise it. We can put your ankle in a cast to protect it. Unfortunately we can’t do the same thing for your ribs.’ Tasha put the stethoscope in her ears. ‘Every time you breathe, you hurt yourself again.’
‘Can’t they strap my chest or something?’
‘No. Now stop talking while I listen.’ She narrowed her eyes and moved the stethoscope on his chest. Her hair whispered across his arm. ‘Breathe in for me.’
Alessandro did and almost passed out. Pain skewered him and darkness flickered around the edges of his vision, muting the lust.
Her eyes locked on his. ‘Breathe in and out through your mouth.’
Was she trying to torture him?
But when she finally removed the stethoscope from her ears, her expression was serious. ‘Your breath sounds are fine, but I’m going to keep an eye on you. To answer your question, they actually did used to strap chests in the old days, but not any more. It impedes movement and stops you breathing deeply—you can’t shift the secretions in your lungs and you can end up with a vile infection. Then you’re back in hospital on yet more antibiotics.’
The word ‘hospital’ was enough to make him ride the pain and breathe deeply. ‘I get the message.’
‘Don’t worry—a young, fit guy like you can cope with a couple of broken ribs and heal quickly. It’s older patients who suffer.’ Digging her hand into her pocket, she pulled out her phone. ‘I’m just going to call your doctor. I want to add in a drug.’
‘I’m already swallowing the contents of a pharmacy.’
‘I want to give you a non-steroidal alongside your painkillers. I don’t know why he didn’t give you that. You don’t suffer from stomach problems, do you?’
‘I’ve never suffered from anything,’ Alessandro growled, ‘until a horse fell on me.’ Watching Tasha talk on the phone, he found his eyes lingering on the curve of her cheek and the thickness of her eyelashes. She was brisk and professional, giving her opin
ion bluntly and firmly to a man at least twice her age. Impressive, he thought. And he could imagine her working with children. As a teenager, she’d had an irrepressible sense of fun. Remembering some of the tricks she’d played on her brothers, he allowed himself a faint smile.
‘OK, so that’s done.’ She slid the phone back into her pocket. ‘In the morning I’m going to pick you up some extra tablets. I think it will help and so do the guys at the hospital. They should have thought of it, but sometimes it takes a woman to get these things right. Now, then—pyjamas.’
‘I can dress without your help.’ Alessandro, who had never felt awkward with a woman in his life before, suddenly felt awkward. She was behaving as if they had no history. As if—
Tasha picked up the pink pyjamas and dangled them in front of him, her expression bored.
‘I’ve seen it all before, Alessandro. I’m a doctor.’
‘You haven’t seen m—’ He was about to say that she hadn’t seen his body before, but then he remembered that she had. And he’d seen hers. All of hers.
And he didn’t want to mention that. If she was going to act as if nothing had happened, so was he.
He looked at her cautiously, but her face revealed nothing but professional concern.
‘I want to examine the rest of you. Lie back for me.’ Her expression serious, her hands moved down his body, sliding and pressing. ‘Does this hurt?’
‘Everything hurts.’ Feeling her cool fingers on his abdomen, Alessandro sucked in a breath. How low did she intend to go?
Lust slammed through him and Alessandro grabbed the duvet and pulled it higher, ignoring the avalanche of pain that rained down on him. ‘I’m fine. I can manage. Go to bed. You must be tired.’ He wished she’d step back a bit. Her scent was playing havoc with his libido and this close he could see the smoothness of her skin. How the hell could a guy be aroused when his broken ribs were virtually impaling his lungs? ‘Goodnight, Tasha. Thanks for all your help.’
‘If the pain changes, let me know.’
The pain had changed. Suddenly it was all concentrated below his waist and it had nothing to do with being trampled by a four-legged animal. ‘Get some sleep.’
