The Risk

by Skye Jordan

  She laid the metal gently against his skin and started stroking his calf knot in short, steady movements. It felt a lot like the massage on his ankle, and he relaxed a little.

  “Did you grow up in San Francisco?” he asked, wanting to know more about the woman who’d both rocked his world last night and who he’d be living with for the next six weeks.

  “Santa Barbara.”

  When she said no more, he asked, “So what brought you to San Francisco?”

  “The job with Performance.”

  “Where’d you go to school?”

  “USC.”

  The University of Southern California was one of the most prestigious and expensive colleges in the state, and pretty high up on the list throughout the country.

  “Impressive,” he said. “That cost some big bucks. Do you have student loans out your ears, or did your parents pick up the tab?”

  Changing angle and pressure, she worked the thick part of his calf from a different direction. “I’m not very close with my parents. I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “All right,” he said, “Since you don’t like talking about yourself, tell me what you’re doing.”

  “This is a common area in the lower leg to develop restrictions,” she said, sliding right into her escape route. “There’s a ball of fascia at the lateral portion of the gastroc muscle that causes most of the problems with dorsiflexion.”

  “Dumb it down for me, girl,” he murmured, her force growing heavier on his leg and moving higher.

  “I also like to concentrate around the fibular head, because stricture here is directly related to ankle mobility.” When she was done there, she picked up his foot, bent his leg at the knee, and worked the tool along one side of his shin, then the other. “This reinitiates first-stage healing. The body directs blood flow to what it sees as a new injury, and starts the healing process again. But now as it heals, you’ll have constant therapy and a kickass diet, which will keep the scar tissue from forming as intensely again. The new tissue will be strong and flexible—all the better to snowboard with.”

  By the time she finished, Noah’s skin burned. But underneath, he felt fluidity within his limb, a loose, comfortable sensation he hadn’t had in months.

  “Okay, roll over again,” she said.

  He shifted to his back and propped himself up on his elbows. She pressed the flat of his foot to her abdomen again, gripped his foot with both hands, and manipulated the joint. Sure, there was a little discomfort, but far more movement than he’d had since before the accident.

  “That’s a start.” She didn’t seem anywhere near as pleased as Noah felt. “Hop off the table. Try some toe lifts.”

  She stepped back, hands on hips, eyes riveted to his feet. But the last time Noah tried to push his body weight up on his toes… A shiver ran down his spine; gooseflesh rose on his arms. Despite his deliberate effort to erase the memory, he could never forget the knife-sharp gouge that had stabbed his calf.

  He rotated his ankle first. Then, hand braced on the table just in case he needed support, Noah took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and pushed up on the balls of both feet.

  And both ankles bent. Just like they should.

  Sure, his left was stiffer, but it bent. And it held his weight. “Oh my God.” He lowered and pushed up again with no pain and no difficulty. “Oh my God.”

  She turned away, pulled a jump rope off the wall, and tossed it to him. “Try a few. Slow and close to the ground.”

  “Whoa.” He gave her his you-can’t-be-serious look. “Toe lifts are a whole lot different from jumping.”

  “You’ve got the muscle and the support structures in place. Now that the fluid is flowing around those tissues again, they’ll move the way they should. And the best way to keep them moving is exercise.”

  He offered a hesitant “Okay…”

  He started with single jumps on his good foot, his injured foot barely touching the ground.

  “Add a little more of your weight to your other foot with each jump,” she said.

  With little more than a twinge, his ankle moved with the pressure, bounced back with the release. And did it again. And again. And within a couple of minutes, he was jumping rope with his weight distributed evenly on both feet. “No. Way.”

  He continued jumping, testing out different amounts of pressure. He felt strong and free for the first time in months. “You’ve been here one day, and look at me. I’m jumping rope.”

  When he looked up at her, she was grinning. A big, white smile that split her pretty face and brought out dimples beside her mouth. The joy there lit her from the inside out, and the sight made Noah lose his rhythm. The rope hit his shins, and he looked down in confusion.

  “Okay, get dressed and jump for five minutes without shoes.” She tossed him his jeans from the table. “Then put on socks, running shoes, and tie them tight enough to support your ankle but not tight enough to stop circulation. Jump another fifteen minutes. Finish by sliding into your hot tub for an hour to soak. That will give me time to unpack the groceries and get ice ready for you. You can ice it while I’m giving you a nutrition and cooking lesson.”

  He stared at her while thoughts clicked through his mind in split-second wisps—she wasn’t bitching about pulling groceries in by herself; she was letting him relax while she continued working, and she was still planning on cooking and teaching—all after a very long twenty-four hours. Sure, it was her job, but still…

  “Who are you,” he asked, “and what did you do with the Julia I drove to meet the tow truck this morning?”

  “Get used to it—Julia’s on duty now.”

  But as she walked out, Noah found he was both thrilled by today’s success and disappointed she was so steadfast in her opposition to sleeping with him while they worked together. Because watching her ass tip back and forth beneath that cheek-hugging denim created an ache deep in his gut, one he’d be living with for a long damn time if he couldn’t convince her to ease those rigid rules.

  Julia stepped into the back door of Noah’s house to blaring rap music. Not unusual, but she still winced a little at the assault on her eardrums as she slid her parka off, toed out of her boots, and shook snowflakes out of her hair.

  She’d quickly learned over their first week together that she and Noah had similar tastes in a lot of things, including music. He just liked his about fifty decibels higher.

  She started toward the kitchen five feet away, but jerked to a stop as someone whizzed through the room on something that moved entirely too fast.

  That was another thing she’d learned over the last seven days—Noah really, really, really liked speed, air, and adrenaline. Not necessarily in that order. He was also an incurable extrovert, and every time she came into the house, there was inevitably someone, or more than one someone, there talking business, hanging out, working on the boarding trampoline in his gym or raiding the fridge. She’d never known men could eat so damn much food until she had to keep his fridge stocked.

  Since she wasn’t sure if the blur she’d just witnessed was Noah or one of his many buddies, she decided to hold off yelling at said blur.

  She set down the electrostimulation machine she’d received in the mail today on the breakfast bar and started toward the living room. “Noah—”

  His name ended on a scream as the blur whipped into the kitchen. Julia jumped back to avoid collision. She grabbed the counter with one hand and slammed the other to her chest as the blur slowed to a stop in front of her. Noah. Surprise, surprise. And the thing he was riding looked like a cross between a snowboard and a skateboard.

  Julia caught her breath. “Goddammit, Noah.”

  “Sorry, didn’t hear you come in.”

  No freaking kidding.

  He picked up the remote on the counter, pressed a button, and the music lowered. His blue eyes sparked with excitement, his smile ridiculously joy filled. He wore a white tank with a neon green Monster logo covering the front, and black cargo
shorts.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Practicing.” He bent his knees and hopped, pulling the board off the floor and twisting to make a quarter circle. Julia sipped air just before he touched down again. She reached for his shoulder to hold him down, but he moved too fast, repeating the movement three more times until he faced her again.

  When he hit the ground, Julia pressed a hand to his shoulder to keep him there. The sight of him jarring his ankle like that frayed her patience. “Jesus Christ, you’re like a four-year-old on crack.”

  He lifted one golden brow. “Have you ever really seen a four-year-old on crack? I think not.”

  “Do you have ADD or ADHD or something? You don’t ever sit still or stand still or do anything…just…still.”

  He grinned and leaned his hands on the counter, swooshing the board back and forth while his upper body remained in one place. “Standing still is a waste of potential energy.”

  She narrowed her eyes, suddenly realizing why he was so amped. “Finn’s still here, isn’t he?”

  “Bing-bing-bing,” Finn called from the living room. “That lady wins a prize.” He came around the corner and sauntered into the kitchen. Unlike Noah, who’d showered after the evening workout, Finn was still in his workout tank and shorts, rich brown hair sloppy, olive skin grungy, and all in all not unattractive as far as that after-workout appeal went.

  “I should have known.” She released Noah’s shoulder, and he carved his way around her and down the hall again with a finesse and skill that mesmerized her every time she saw it. “Why is he always five times as amped when he’s with you?”

  Finn rested his forearms on the counter and pointed that bright-white grin at her. “You’re giving me way too much credit. That’s all Noah, all the time.”

  She heaved a sigh and closed her eyes. “Lucky, lucky me.”

  The man made her crazy in a variety of ways. He also made her laugh, made her think, and definitely made her hot. In the last week, she’d surmised he was, by far, the most challenging athlete she’d ever rehabbed.

  Noah swooshed past, skimming his hand along the hall, then pushed off, did something like a twisting jump that happened so fast Julia couldn’t define the move, then landed and curved toward the front door.

  “Noah, stop it,” she called after him, her unease ramping with every moment he stayed on that board. “What part of taking it slow didn’t you—”

  “Hey, watch this.” He neared the front door, where a staircase led to the second floor and, still moving forward, gripped the heavy balustrade supporting the railing, using it as a pivot point to jump and flip around, then sailed back toward her, all with the grace and ease of a champion. He caught himself with both hands on the doorframe into the kitchen, just shy of plowing into her. “Cool, right?”

  “I’ve spent seven days—seven days—loosening up that ankle, Hunt. Now you’re…you’re… What the hell is that, anyway? A skateboard or something?”

  “It’s my practice board. It’s a special snowboard mounted on wheels with gizmos to make it feel like a snowboard. It doesn’t really act like a snowboard on snow, but it’s better than no snow—which we need to have a talk about, by the way.” He gestured to himself up and down. “This is me, practicing.”

  “You call boarding through the house, around furniture, over tile and carpet and wood, probably

  four-wheeling down the stairs, practicing? And you’re not ready for snow.”

  “Streetstyle’s all the rage,” Finn said. “Burton’s got a competition strictly for streetstyle. Noah should enter this year. Big air’s his gig, but he’s damn good at streetstyle.”

  “All those long days on the loose as kids, right, bro?” Noah carved a wave pattern past them

  again, using the edge of the table to pull him into a turn. “Lousy parents are good for something. And I’m totally ready for snow, Quinn. Get wood just thinking about it.”

  Oh Christ. She wished he wouldn’t bring up his wood. She had a hard enough time keeping it off her mind as it was. “Noah, please stop. You’re making me dizzy and freaking me out.”

  “Hey.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Watch this.”

  “Finn, please tell him—” Julia started to implore Noah’s buddy but caught sight of Noah tipping the board on end and spinning, donut-style, in the foyer. Then jumped, flipped, and sailed toward her again. “Jesus Christ, Noah.”

  “Well, since you two kids are having so much fun,” Finn said, “I’m going to head on home.”

  “Get him off the damn board first,” Julia told him.

  “I may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I’m not stupid enough to come between Noah and his board. I’m outta here.” He lifted his fist to Julia, and she met the bump. “Later, bro,” he called to Noah on his way out. “Get off the board so Julia doesn’t have a heart attack, would you?”

  “She’s too stubborn to have a heart attack.” Noah followed Finn down the hallway, swerving into the dining room as Finn closed the door.

  “What the hell?” she said, experiencing a shocked awe that kept her gaze on him even when watching amped her blood pressure. “Do you realize how dangerous that is? One misstep, and you could reinjure your ankle all over again.”

  He rushed toward her again, moves smooth and strong. She had to admit, there was something seriously hot about the confident way he owned that board as if it were an extension of his body.

  He came to a stop at the counter, dropped his elbows to the granite, and grinned at her. His eyes sparkled, his smile gleamed, and his entire face radiant with life. “Where was your head when we talked about not pushing this?” he asked. Heat slid into his eyes, and he rocked his hips side to side, swishing the board. “Probably in your pants.”

  She heaved a sigh and covered her eyes. “Sometimes you’re like an exuberant puppy. Too cute to get angry with.”

  His grin fell into a thoughtful frown. “I’m going to take that as a backhanded compliment. Like…seriously backhanded.”

  “You’re making me crazy.”

  “Hey, relax,” he said, his voice that easy, casual what’s-up-dude tone she’d grown to enjoy. “I’m a professional, remember?”

  “That didn’t stop you from getting here, did it?”

  He kicked up the board on one side and started spinning again.

  “Oh my God. I can’t watch.” Turning away, she pulled a water bottle from the fridge. “If you hurt yourself, I’m not fixing you.”

  He slammed the board to the floor. “Isn’t that your job?”

  “My job is to heal the injury you have, not the new ones you create doing stupid shit I’ve told you not to do yet.”

  He just gave her that maddening grin. “You’re so cute when you’re jacked.”

  “I’ll show you jacked when I get you on the table.”

  “Promises, promises.” Bending at the waist, he unfastened the boots holding him to the board and stepped out in bare feet.

  Julia almost spit her water out. “What the hell? Where’s the brace I told you to wear?”

  He gave her a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s itchy.”

  Frustration swirled into something resembling a tornado. She slammed her water bottle on the counter. “I don’t think you’re getting therapy tonight. If I touch you, I’m pretty sure I’ll leave marks.”

  “Ooo, baby.” He strode past her, purposely brushing her shoulder on his way to the fridge. “I like the sound of that.”

  He pulled a bottle of water from the door and leaned his hip into the counter. With those bright eyes holding hers, he lifted the bottle to his mouth and downed half, then sighed and licked his lips. And, yeah, she watched, because…well, she could. And because fantasies were as close to Noah as she was going to get.

  “Besides,” he said, “you didn’t tell me not to get on my practice board.”

  “You are, officially, maddening.” She set her water down next to the electrostimulation unit.

  H
e frowned hard at the contraption. “What’s that? And what are those electrodes for?”

  “My new toy.”

  “Whoa, wait, what? You’re not planning on putting those on me.”

  “Yep, sure am. Tonight, in fact. If you’re a good boy and hop onto the table, I’ll put the electrodes on your ankle and not other more sensitive areas of your body.”

  He laughed. “I have better ways to both stimulate and be stimulated.”

  “Table,” she ordered, picking up the machine and turning on her heel for the gym.

  “I want you to try the board first.”

  She turned back. “No way in hell.”

  “I want you to see how stable the boots are, how much support they give me. And since you’ve never boarded, it would be good for you to experience for yourself how it feels on my feet and legs.”

  He did have a point, but… She eyed the boots dubiously. “No, thanks. I’ve spent hours on YouTube. I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

  “Did you just compare my snowboarding to those amateurs on YouTube?”

  She exhaled. This was how they spent their days—bantering. And, yes, that led to a lot of laughing. But tonight, after being surprised and scared and just plain-ass tired, she wasn’t in the mood. But she also knew how determined he could be, and if she didn’t appease him by trying the stupid board, he’d be next to impossible to get onto the table for therapy. And she really wanted to put some space between them and sink into the tub with a glass of wine.

  “Fine, I’ll try it, but only if you promise not to let me hurt myself. I can’t rehab us both at the same time.”