House Calls

by Michelle Celmer

  “Which explains why all that muscle you lost since the shooting didn’t turn to flab. You’re naturally thin.” She said it like he was some freak of nature.

  “We’re not so different, you know. You have to work to keep weight off, and I have to work to keep it on.”

  She speared her lettuce, staring at it with distaste. “Frankly, I’d rather have your problem.”

  “Maggie, you look great just the way you are, and I’m not saying that just to get on your good side. I think it’s pretty obvious I find you attractive.”

  Instead of being flattered by the compliment—which, silly him, he would have expected—she bristled with indignation. “And I must have seen you a hundred times in the hospital when I was fat, and you didn’t look twice at me.”

  “I was engaged. I didn’t look twice at anyone.”

  How did the guy always manage to say exactly the right thing? And if he loved his fiancée that much, he must have been devastated when she had ended the relationship. He had to be hurting, and she probably wasn’t helping. She had to remind herself, as cocky and frustratingly charming as the guy could be, he’d been through hell, and there was a fine line even she couldn’t cross.

  She couldn’t let it drop either.

  “You still can’t deny that looks are important to you,” she said. “I saw your fiancée. She was gorgeous. You guys were the perfect couple.”

  Something flashed in his eyes. Not hurt exactly. Something darker. And she had the sinking feeling she’d pushed too far, that her toes had edged over the line.

  “You can’t believe everything you see, Maggie. Things are not always what they seem.”

  Seven

  “Okay, push against my hand again. This time try to hold it.”

  Pete sat on the deck floor at the top of the stairs, his foot braced against Maggie, who knelt on the sand four steps down. Gripping the wood plank, he pushed with his leg, wincing as pain shot up to his knee. They’d been stretching the leg extensively every morning, and again in the evening, for ten days now, gradually adding resistance. It still hurt like hell though.

  Between the stretching and resistance, the long walks on the beach she was taking him on every day and the swimming in the evenings, he had to admit he was walking better. So much so that he was getting a little antsy for the real therapy to begin.

  Though he couldn’t deny he enjoyed the time they spent together. He’d never been the long, casual stroll type—if it didn’t make him sweat, what was the point?—but with Maggie it was different. She was easy to talk to and she had a good sense of humor. He liked talking to her. Sometimes they didn’t even talk, they were just together. He liked just being with her.

  He thought of all the things he and Lizzy had done together—the skiing and parasailing and cycling and a dozen other activities—but he couldn’t recall a single time when they’d just sat together on a warm evening drinking iced tea and talked. He couldn’t recall her laughing much, or making him laugh. Their relationship had been one of mutual respect and common interests. And whenever they did talk, it was usually about her law practice, or fashion or her latest hairstyle.

  They’d never talked about things that mattered. About feelings. Now that he considered it, she was a lot like his parents in that way.

  The thought gave him a cold chill.

  Maggie, on the other hand, seemed to hold nothing back.

  “Make sure you extend the leg as much as you can while you push,” she said, and he tried to comply. Sweat poured from his forehead and dripped into his eyes. It was the second day in a row that the temperature had hit ninety before noon and the humidity was so thick the air sat like wet cotton in his lungs. He didn’t dare complain though, or she would only point out that he wouldn’t be melting in the heat if they were at the hospital PT center. That if he weren’t so stubborn that’s exactly where they would be.

  And she would be right.

  If the heat wasn’t distracting enough, Maggie was wearing another low-cut, form-fitting tank and from his higher vantage point he could see right down the front it. He was trying hard not to stare at her openly, but come on, even he had his limits. Her skin was golden from the sun and lightly freckled. Her breasts were so full and round and soft-looking…

  “You’re not pushing.” she said.

  He tore his eyes away from her cleavage. “Sorry.”

  She abruptly let go of his leg. “If you’re not even going to try!”

  “I am trying,” he said. “I just got distracted. It’s your fault.”

  “How is it my fault?”

  “Are you kidding? Look at you.”

  She looked down at herself. “Yeah? Here I am. What about it?”

  “Your clothes,” he said.

  “Yes, I’m wearing clothes.”

  Man, was she a sass. “Barely. Your shorts couldn’t be any shorter, and look at that shirt. If it were cut any lower you’d be falling out of it.”

  “What do you want me to wear? Jeans and a turtleneck?”

  “What do you wear at the hospital?”

  “Scrubs.”

  “So why don’t you wear that?”

  “What are you, a prude? You haven’t noticed that it’s about a million degrees out?”

  “I just don’t think it’s very professional,” he said, already seeing this was a losing battle. Once she got on the defensive, it was all over.

  “Professional? You’re one to talk, Mr. It’s-too-hot-for-a-shirt. Did it not occur to you that seeing you half-naked might be a distraction to me?”

  If it was, she sure didn’t let it show. He was so used to women staring at him, her total lack of interest lately had been disconcerting. If what she said was true, and he was a distraction, she did a fair job of hiding it.

  But hearing it straight from those luscious lips was a much-needed confidence boost.

  “That’s different,” he said, knowing he was really going to get her hackles up now. In fact, he was kind of hoping he would. Though he felt like a degenerate for it, getting her panties in a twist was a major turn-on. “I’m a guy. Guys are supposed to go shirtless in hot weather.”

  She closed her eyes and took a long deep breath, as if gathering all her patience. “Look, doc, I worked hard for this body and I’ll be damned if I’m going to cover it because you’re a male chauvinist pig.”

  Pete suppressed a smile. “So you think we should be equal, that what’s considered socially acceptable for me, should be the same for you?”

  “Exactly,” she said.

  He shrugged. “Okay. Take it off.”

  A little wrinkle formed in her brow. “Take what off?”

  “Your shirt. I don’t want to be accused of being sexist. If you want to make this fair, we’ll both do my therapy topless. Problem solved.”

  She looked as if she couldn’t tell whether he was serious or poking fun at her. “You know that isn’t what I meant.”

  “Hell, if you’re that proud of your body, show it off. Here, I’ll help.” He grabbed his cane and boosted himself up.

  Maggie rose to her feet, swaying a bit before she righted herself. “Sit back down, we’re not finished.”

  He lowered himself down one step, toward her. “Not until the shirt comes off.”

  She watched him, eyes wary, as if she thought he might actually be serious. But she held her ground. “Like you really think I’m going to do your therapy topless.”

  He nodded thoughtfully, taking another step. This time she took a step back. “You’re right, that probably would be a bad idea. Someone might see. There is still the issue of you distracting me though. Unless…”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Unless what?”

  “I think I know what we can do to fix the problem.”

  She propped her hands on her shapely hips. “I’m afraid to ask what that would entail.”

  “It’s simple. You show me your breasts, then I’ll know what they look like, then they won’t distract me anymore.”

 
; She glared up at him. “You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

  He stepped down onto the sand, right in front of her. “Although you know, once I see them, I’m going to want to touch them.”

  She was trying hard to keep her composure, but he could tell he was ruffling her feathers. Her pulse fluttered at the base of her neck and color climbed high up her cheeks.

  The truth was, all this talk of her breasts was getting him hot. He’d been working hard to think of her in professional terms only. But after that kiss, after she’d practically melted in his arms, he was having a hell of a time. Maybe he should just say what the heck…

  “Oh no you don’t,” Maggie said, her heart hammering about a million beats per second. He had that look again, the one he’d had when he kissed her.

  She took an involuntary step back.

  “Oh no I don’t what?” he asked taking another step toward her, until they were nearly touching, and she had to look way up to see his face. Why did he have to be so darned big? And why did he have to smell so delicious? Soap and sweat and man. It was doing funky things to her head.

  “You look like you’re going to kiss me. And if you try it, I’ll have to do something drastic.”

  “Like what? Kiss me back?”

  “Yeah, you wish.”

  “Yeah, I do,” he said, and the hungry look in his eyes…suffice it to say, her knees instantly went weak. But she refused to back down, to let him get the best of her. Though somewhere, deep down, she wanted him to kiss her—she ached for it even. She could be happy kissing Pete every day for the rest of her life.

  Oh yeah, like that’s gonna happen, the rational part of her brain taunted. The man is so far out of your league. Why would he settle for a woman like you? You’re just convenient.

  “This isn’t professional,” she tried, knowing how lame it sounded. It didn’t help that her voice was shaky.

  “I won’t tell if you don’t.” He reached up and touched her hair, wrapping one curly lock around his index finger. It made her think of the last time he’d kissed her, the way he’d slipped his fingers through her hair and cupped her head, taking control. How much she’d enjoyed being allowed to relinquish control for a while. Sometimes she got so tired of this driving need to keep the upper hand in all situations.

  And he knew as well as she did, if she really didn’t want him to kiss her, all she had to do was tell him. If she insisted, he would back off. Unfortunately the message was getting scrambled somewhere between her brain and her mouth.

  Pete lowered his head and her eyes drifted shut. She felt his fingers slipping along her jaw, through her hair.

  He was going to kiss her again…

  And then what? she wondered. Where would it go from there? A summer fling? Would she sleep with him, only to become desperately attached, then they’d have to go their separate ways when the summer was over, when his therapy was finished? She’d played that game before, and all it had gotten her was a broken heart. It wasn’t her that Pete wanted, he was merely looking to assert himself as a man, to feel whole again. She just happened to be the only willing and available female. And she was very easily replaceable.

  She felt the whisper of his breath on her lips, felt his fingers sliding through her hair, then his lips brushed against hers…

  “No!” she said it so fiercely she startled them both.

  Pete dropped his hand from her hair and took a step back.

  “I can’t do this, doc. It’s not that I don’t want to. Believe me, I do. I just don’t feel it would be right. It’s almost like I’d be taking advantage of you.”

  “Maggie—”

  “If the way I dress really bothers you I can run into town this afternoon and pick up some scrubs.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

  He took hold of her arms. “Maggie, it’s okay. I was teasing you and it got out of hand. I’m sorry.”

  So what was he saying? He’d never really wanted to kiss her in the first place? That it was all just a joke?

  She tried not to let it sting. Isn’t that the way it had always been? She was a lot of fun in the back seat of a car, convenient to fool around with, but when it came down to relationships, guys always went for the skinny girls. The eye candy. She’d thought that would change when she lost weight. Apparently she’d been wrong.

  Maybe it hadn’t been her body at all, but her personality that had driven people away. Maybe the only time guys could tolerate her was when her mouth was occupied doing something other than forming words.

  The idea made her sick to her stomach.

  “You want me to sit back down?” he asked.

  “No, I think we’ve both had enough of that for today. I’ll grab the pails and we’ll go berry picking.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Again?”

  Well, he was back to his old stubborn self. How refreshing.

  “Aren’t they out of season yet?”

  “Nope.”

  “How about some real therapy for a change?”

  She ignored the sarcasm. “After that we need to run into town for some groceries. You’re eating us out of house and home.”

  She saw instant wariness in his eyes.

  “I think I’ll hang back.”

  “You need to get out around people, doc. You can’t hide away forever.”

  He started up the steps to the porch. “When I’m walking better.”

  “But you are walking better. Look how easily you just walked up those stairs. Four days ago it would have taken you twice the time.”

  He turned to her. “Maggie, I’m just not ready. I’m going to go throw on a shirt. Grab the pails and I’ll meet you at the truck.”

  Maggie sighed as she watched him limp away. If only he were even half as confident physically as he was sexually. She knew he was afraid he might stumble and embarrass himself, and truthfully, that could happen. It could also happen a month from now, or six months from now. He was going to have to learn to live with that. He couldn’t stay cooped up inside forever.

  “If you don’t come out with me soon,” she called after him. “I’m going to have to do something drastic.”

  “Do you have any fives?”

  Pete mumbled a curse and handed over his five to Maggie. “I think you’re cheating.”

  With a smug grin, she set the pair down in her ever-growing pile on the coffee table. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a poor loser?”

  What did she expect? After being creamed at Connect Four, slaughtered at Aggravation, and completely sunk at Battleship, he was beginning to get a complex. He was sure with Go Fish being a game of luck, he would have a shot of winning at least a few hands.

  “Do you have any queens?”

  He cursed again and handed it over. “What are you, telepathic?”

  She dropped the queens on her pile.

  Outside, thunder rumbled and rain tinged against the aluminum awning over the porch. It had rained all afternoon and into the evening. With no television to keep them amused, and his refusal to go into town, Maggie had raided the game closet.

  “This isn’t fair,” Pete said. “You probably played these games a million times when you were a kid, you and your sister.”

  “Oh, don’t be such a baby. Do you have any aces?”

  “Go fish.”

  She chose a card from the center, smiled, then set another pair down. “Your turn.”

  “Why is it, when I ask you about your past, you change the subject?”

  Her brow tucked into a neat little frown. “I don’t do that.”

  “Yeah, you do. When I asked if you came here a lot as a kid, you said not as much as you would have liked to. What did you mean by that?”

  The frown deepened. “It’s a long story.”

  He tossed his cards down on the table and hoisted himself up off the floor onto the couch. “Anything to circumvent another humiliating loss.” He patted the couch beside h
im. “Come on, let’s talk.”

  Though she didn’t look thrilled with the idea, she set her cards down and circled the table to sit on the couch beside him, close enough that their thighs were just barely touching. She seemed to do that a lot—walk just close enough so that her shoulder bumped lightly against his biceps, touch his arm when she talked to him, lean over him during the therapy so that her breast would very lightly rest against his leg. Though he might have thought so at first, he was sure she didn’t do it on purpose. Maybe she was just a naturally physical person. Something he’d never been. But he liked the way it made him feel. The intimacy of being physically close to another person.

  He liked being close to Maggie.

  “I’ll talk,” she said. “But first you have to tell me why you had to pay for your own college.”

  “Simple. I didn’t want to be stuck under my father’s thumb anymore. As long as he paid for my school, he controlled what classes I took, where I lived. I refused to let him run my life any longer. After the shooting, he jumped at the chance to have me back under his roof, to manipulate me again.”

  “So why did you go? Surely someone else could have helped you.”

  “Oh, no,” he said. “Now it’s your turn. You have to tell me why you said that about coming up here.”

  “Until I was fourteen, my family spent their summer vacations up here,” Maggie said, looking down at her clasped hands. “I spent mine at camp.”

  “Why would they come up here and send you to camp?”

  Somewhere deep down he could see an old wound split open and ooze bitterness.

  “It was fat camp, doc. For overweight kids.”

  He’d heard of places like that, but he had always been under the impression they were for kids so heavy their health was at risk. “I’ve seen pictures of you on the wall, you didn’t look that heavy to me.”

  “I was chubby. Not huge or anything. Actually, I was pretty small compared to a lot of the other kids, so they always kind of resented me being there. But I come from a family full of naturally thin women. Being fat wasn’t acceptable.”

  He slid his hand down over her clenched fingers, felt her relax the slightest bit. “And traumatizing you was acceptable?”