by Cari Quinn
All it took was a single phone call to his travel agent to make the plans for their trip. They would stay at the hotel where the event would take place. He’d landed a suite with two rooms. The plane tickets and itineraries had showed up in the mailbox today. He couldn’t wait for Frankie to arrive so he could give her all the paperwork.
The brain swap theory kept gaining more and more credibility.
He glanced at the clock and wondered where she was. It’d sure be nice when he could drive again. His car having a manual transmission had put a serious crimp in his self-sufficiency. He guessed he could have rented something. Hell, he could have just bought something else. But truth be told, he kinda liked having an excuse for Frankie to hang around. He knew it wouldn’t be forever, and he knew he played with fire.
Every woman in his life had left him, and when Frankie did…
He shook his head. He wouldn’t think of their inevitable separation. ’Cause she didn’t matter to him other than the doctor charged with helping him recover.
A soft knock on the front door announced her arrival just before her voice called, “Xavier. I’m here.”
“I’m in the kitchen.” He gathered the paperwork, separated her tickets and information from his.
Once again she wore those damn scrubs. Did she not know how unflattering they were? He inwardly shrugged. Yes, she probably did.
He stood and handed her the folder he’d prepared. She accepted it, then her gaze shot up to his.
“What’s this?”
He didn’t answer, just waited for her to open the folder and find out for herself. She thumbed through the pages, smiled. “Awesome. I think you’re going to be really happy you’re going to this. You only get a twenty-year high school reunion once in your life.”
He grunted and rolled his eyes. He had to admit to being a little bit excited about going to the reunion. But it wasn’t for the reasons Frankie so obviously thought. He couldn’t care less about the chumps he’d crossed the stage with all those years ago. He was, however, stoked to spend some time with Frankie. Time away from the stadium, away from real life, away from … Christian.
His molars ground together and he felt his blood pressure spike. He hated the guy. Which said something. Xavier’d been top dog in the sports world for so long, he didn’t let other guys get to him, but he’d be damned if that little shit didn’t rub him the wrong way.
“Um … X, you okay?”
He blinked, shook his head then said to the floor, “Yeah, I’m fine.”
She dipped her head into his line of sight and smiled. “Then why do you look like you want to murder someone?” Her soft, warm hands curled around his. “You need to relax and I think I’ve got just the way to accomplish that.”
“I don’t need another massage.” Even as he said the words his thoughts drifted back to having her hands rubbing on his naked skin and he had another problem. Lust joined the violence and he thought he might spontaneously combust. Kaboom!
He stalked to the sink, turned on the faucet and stuck his fists into the ice cold spray. He wondered if she’d notice if he stuck his head underneath the water. Hell, would it shock the hell out of her if he doused himself with the sprayer?
And then she touched him. Her fingertips slipped over his shoulder. He jumped and retreated around the island, plowing his wet fingers through his hair.
“Xavier.”
He swallowed and met her concerned eyes. She took a step toward him. He circled further around the island, unwilling to give her a gander at how much she’d affected him. His hands shot up.
“I’m good, Doc. Real, real good. I promise.” Damn, he was a fantastic liar. “You said you had something planned?”
Her stare intensified, moving ever so slowly over his face, dropping to caress his bare chest. Oh shit. She was killing him!
When her gaze clashed with his, he sucked in a breath, holding it deep within his lungs because it might be the last one he’d ever take. She stared at him, not so much as blinking.
She leaped across the island, throwing her arms around his neck. He dragged her against him. Her tiny body melting against his. He cupped her bottom as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her pelvis cradled his groin perfectly and he groaned at the feel of all her softness. He backed her into the wall and grabbed for the hem of her scrubs, yanking the hideous garment over her head and throwing it across the room.
She cleared her throat.
He blinked.
She smiled.
He groaned … and not in a good way.
She leaned toward him from the other side of the counter. “Where’d you go just now?”
He shook his head, tried to extinguish the fire in his blood. “It doesn’t matter.” His voice sounded tight, low. Seriously. What the hell? “So, um … you had plans?”
“Why don’t we go down to the stadium? I think it’s time you start using some weights. Totally limited. I’ll be there the whole time to make sure you don’t overdo it. Whatcha think?”
“I think that sounds great.” His crotch had other ideas. “Can you give me a few minutes to … get my shit together?”
She raised a brow and her dimple appeared. “Sure thing. I’ll wait in the car.”
* * *
Feeling the raised cool metal of the weight against his palm warmed his heart. It’d been too long since he’d lifted anything more than a loaf of bread. He was going soft. As he watched Frankie where she stood talking to one of the other guys, he realized his muscles weren’t the only part of him going all pathetic and weak.
His grip tightened on the bar and he curled his arm, forcing his bicep to tense with the motion. Damn. It felt good to strain his muscles. Well, not strain exactly. The amount on weight on the bar didn’t come close to what he’d lifted in the past. But Frankie, damn her, didn’t want him to push it. She’d even stood guard over the weights to make sure he didn’t add too much.
She didn’t seem too concerned with him now, though. Given the amount of attention she devoted to Santiago, the little position-stealing prick. She probably wouldn’t notice if he tried to lift a freakin’ elephant.
Xavier ground his teeth together and lifted. One. Two. Three … Seven. Eight. He felt his nostrils flare with his breaths.
When she threw her head back and laughed out loud to something Mr. Left Field said, he realized his strain had nothing to do with the weight he bore.
What the hell?
He may not be the smartest guy on the planet, but he wasn’t stupid, and he had a pretty damned good idea what his problem was.
What do you know, Denial just happened to be a beautiful place with sandy beaches and lots of sunshine, and Xavier had pitched a sonofabitchin’ tent.
Still giggling and sporting her adorable dimple, Frankie reached out and brushed a hand over the tattoos on Ricky’s forearm. He grinned and flashed a panty-dampening smile. Little shit!
Xavier switched hands and began the curl-and-relax motion with his right arm. His shoulder protested and he cursed. Carefully he removed some of the weight and tried again. No big. He could do this. It frustrated the hell out of him, but he’d have to build up his strength. Wasn’t that just a bitch?
Speaking of which, Ricky laughed. Xavier flexed his bicep and Frankie didn’t notice. She shook her head, clearly amused by his replacement if her smile told him anything.
He pushed through the exercises, making sure he didn’t push things too far. The last thing he wanted was to damage the injury. He’d played the part of invalid for far too long. But when Frankie looked over her shoulder to check on him, he wondered if keeping her at his beck and call would be such a bad thing.
Ricky said something. Frankie nodded. “Sure thing. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Xavier shook his head and stood. He glared daggers through the back of his replacement. The animosity he felt toward the guy had nothing to do with the flirting. None.
Frankie smiled as she met him at the weights. “You looked l
ike you were doing okay.”
“Yeah, you, too,” he muttered sourly under his breath.
Her only response was a sigh. Damn, he’d been an ass again.
But before he could apologize, she took his arm, squeezing up his right forearm, over his bicep, finally massaging his shoulder. “Any pain?”
“Nope.”
She squeezed hard. His eyes flew to hers just in time to see them narrow. “Don’t lie to me, X.”
Using one pointer finger, he crossed his heart. “I promise. No pain.”
She nodded. “Sore?”
He gave her a quick jog of the head. He had just promised to be honest with her. “Nothing I can’t deal with.”
She shook her head, clucked her tongue. “That’s not saying much. I know how stubborn you are.”
“I’m okay, Doc.” He walked around her, heading in the direction of the leg press machine.
He heard her stutter step then she fell in behind him. “Don’t tell me you’re done.”
A grin spread to his lips. He bit into the bottom one to keep from letting her see his amusement. He turned on his heel and caught her as she plowed into him. She gasped and looked up into his eyes. She panted. He gripped her hips tight, his fingers digging into the soft cotton fabric of her scrubs.
He dipped his head to speak right in her ear. “I’m far from done.” The with you he kept to himself.
“Oh.” She breathed, her chest rose and fell in quick succession. Her eyes went dreamy. He raised one hand to cradle her face, his thumb tracing her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. He blinked to make sure this wasn’t another insane fantasy. As his eyes opened, so did hers. She smiled, lazy and slow. She stretched up on her tiptoes, bringing her breasts flush against his chest, his lips within reach of his. Her arms slipped around his neck. Her lids lowered, her lips parted.
“Am I interrupting?”
Frankie bolted out of his arms, jumping back way out of his reach. She whirled around and stumbled, but before Xavier could assist with the strong and steady, she smoothed her hands over the front of her scrubs and stepped toward Christian.
The guy quirked a brow and grinned at her, smirked at X. “Saved by the Bell, huh?” He blew on his nails before rubbing them on his shirt over his pectoral.
Frankie burst out in nervous laughter, shaking her head like she’d never heard anything funnier in her entire life. Xavier, however, thought the guy was a complete moron and his joke absurd.
With a hand pressed to her throat Frankie explained, “Bell is his last name.”
“Oh.” Still not funny.
Christian shrugged. “You called. I came. What’s up?”
The normalcy of the question seemed to break Frankie out of her trance. She strode in the direction of the door. “Oh, yeah. I wanted to show you something. It’s in my office.”
Christian smiled, turned to raise his brows at Xavier. “Okay, lead on.”
The wink synched it, Xavier hated the guy. No, hate wasn’t a strong enough word. Loathe? No. Detested? Closer. Wanted to beat the living shit out of the guy? Yeah, that about described it.
* * *
She’d known the chastisement was coming. Knew Christian wouldn’t be able to ignore the fact she’d been all over Xavier. As soon as they stepped into the hallway, he started to laugh.
She did her best to pretend he didn’t exist until they were safely in the confines of her office with the door closed. As far as she knew, there wasn’t a rule against her dating one of the guys. That didn’t mean there wasn’t one. And Xavier was more than just one of the guys, he was her patient. Hell, she’d been in the freakin’ OR while his shoulder laid open and exposed.
She shook her head and strode around her desk to sit down. After twisting the chair around to face the wall, she leaned forward, her head between her knees. Christian’s hand on her back offered reassurance with the pressured circles.
“It was just me.”
“I know.” Her lungs turned to stone and she panted to get breath in and out. “What if it hadn’t been?”
“Frank.” He gripped her shoulder and silently told her to sit up. “Frank, look at me.” She did, expecting to see ridicule, but instead found concerned humor. “Don’t borrow trouble, sweetheart.”
“I’m not. It’s just—”
“Stop.” He dropped down on his haunches, positioning himself between her parted thighs. “From what I saw, he was as active participant as you were.”
“You weren’t there for the beginning.” She yanked the rubber band from her ponytail, ran her hands through her hair, and secured the band again. “I practically threw myself at him. He only—”
Christian’s smile and head shake stopped the words in her throat. “Obviously you didn’t check out his pants.”
Her brows furrowed. “His pants?”
“Those flimsy workout shorts didn’t hide a thing, babe.” He wiggled his brows. “He was right there with you.”
She felt color blossom in her cheeks at the reference to Xavier’s arousal. He’d been naked in front of her and hadn’t reacted to her. Not once.
“Maybe, but—”
“No maybe about it. A guy can’t fake that, Frank.” He tipped her chin and brushed his lips over hers as he stood. After he’d rounded the desk and plopped himself down in a chair, he crossed his arms over his chest and grinned. “So, now to the reason I’m here.”
She tipped her head to the side and examined his face. “Yeah, ’cause I didn’t call you.”
He threw his head back and bellowed a laugh. “I know. I just really like to dick with him. He’s such an easy target.”
Frankie scowled at him, but didn’t offer further reaction. She didn’t understand men, and surely didn’t understand why Christian goaded Xavier, or why Xavier cared.
“I’ve been offered a billboard.” Christian stretched his arms up, knitted his fingers then stuck them behind his head.
“No way! That’s awesome!” She’d thrown herself into his arms before she realized she’d even moved. Her giggling mixed with his chuckles. “Holy crap. Please tell me you’re not stupid enough to have said no.”
“Of course I said yes.” He continued to laugh as she stood to lean her bottom against the front of her desk. “It’s going to be on the I-15, right off the Strip. Do you know how many people will see my face?”
“And your body.”
He nodded. “And my body.”
“This is huge!”
His grin widened. “I want to celebrate. Can you sneak away for a bit?”
She thought of Xavier and his lack of transportation. “I can’t. Unless you want to grab something in the cafeteria. I’ll buy.”
“How very generous of you.” They both knew she didn’t pay for the food in their “cafeteria”. Nobody did. It was a perk of being a member of the Rockets family. “Let’s go. I love their mashed potatoes.”
Chapter Thirteen
Xavier’s call early this morning bothered Frankie. Since his injury, he’d ridden to the stadium with her. She enjoyed their time together. Despite his sour attitude, she liked having him to herself. This morning, though, he’d called to inform her he’d be going to the stadium himself.
She guessed she should have seen this scenario coming. Xavier’s shoulder was on the mend. It wouldn’t be long before he could resume a mostly normal life. She hadn’t seen evidence to prove otherwise, and still hoped he’d make a full recovery. If he didn’t…
Her heart plummeted to her toes. News like that would be the final cold gust of realization to complete his tailspin. She hated the idea of being the one to inform him of such detrimental news. She kept hoping each session of physical therapy, each massage, would be the turning point. And she kept hoping. And hoping.
Her thoughts still focused on him when she saw him walk past the large glass window separating her office from the hall outside. He didn’t look at her, didn’t search for her out from the corners of his eyes, didn’t slow dow
n to make sure she’d seen him. The set of his jaw exposed a man on a mission.
What the mission happened to be, though, frightened her a little. She wasn’t sure where his head was at the moment. He seemed okay when they were together, a little distracted, but his outlook had seemingly improved. In the time they weren’t together, he’d changed. Drastically. Short one word answers on the phone. Hours between returned texts, if a response came at all.
Unable to help herself, she stuck her head out into the hall. His wide shoulders expanded with a deep breath. He disappeared into the PT suite. Without her.
What the hell?
She’d overseen every step of his rehab. She’d dealt with his piss-poor attitude and cutting remarks. And now he thought he didn’t need her?
He doesn’t.
Well, shit. Wasn’t that the blinding truth?
Xavier had healed enough he could take care of himself, do most everything on his own. She knew it. Apparently so did he.
Before she realized what she’d done, she stood in the doorway and watched as Jeff worked on Xavier’s shoulder. So, he wasn’t anti-help.
He seemed to be anti-Frankie.
That stung.
She went back to her office, determined to get through the mountain of paperwork on her desk before the day ended. Yeah, she’d heard what was said about good intentions. Who cared? She seemed to be in hell anyway.
And hell’s name happened to be Matthias Xavier III.
Damn man.
* * *
Def Leppard blared from the speakers in the PT suite and Xavier sang every word. In his head. He didn’t sing anywhere but the shower. Call it his gift to the world.
As Jeff lifted his shoulder, moving it through the necessary motions, Xavier gritted his teeth to allow for a grin. It was nice to work out his shoulder and not have to worry about reacting to the person jerking on him.
He shook his head, not willing to go there. Ever.
Holding Frankie in his arms for mere moments had given him a taste of something he wanted badly. Too badly. Unacceptably badly. No doubt he’d have pushed that kiss further if good ol’ Bell hadn’t decided to save the day. But that would have been because his libido was in control. Now that his brain called the shots, he saw things a bit differently.
