He studied her for long moments and then unzipped the front of his wetsuit. As he moved, a muscle clenched at his jaw.
Something wasn’t right here. “Is there a problem you’re not telling me about? Is it Dutch?”
“He should pull through. I know what to watch for.”
“Then what?”
Max pulled his wet suit down to his waist. His chest was ridged with rows of muscle above sculpted abs. The up-close view made fingers of heat jab at hidden parts of Miki’s body.
Okay, he was built. No, that wasn’t nearly strong enough. The man was major-league hot. With a body like that he could have sold gym equipment on late-night television and made a fortune. There wasn’t a hint of fat on him anywhere. She kept physically active and liked to think she was in decent shape, but this body was completely out of her league.
Miki took a deep breath. Something happened when a woman looked at a body like that. It made her wonder how those muscles would feel naked under her in bed.
He turned away and tugged at his wetsuit, his shoulders tightening in a beautiful, sculpted line. Miki felt new heat swirl through her body. What was going on here? He was the enemy, sort of. She didn’t give a damn how gorgeous his body was.
Yeah, right.
But when he turned back, Miki’s breath caught in horror. A six-inch gash ran across his back, oozing fresh blood. “That happened when you were fighting?” Her voice was unsteady.
“Our pal was pretty good with a knife.” Max’s face was unreadable.
“And you didn’t say anything until now?” Maybe he was Superman after all.
“I had other things on my mind.” Max tossed her his medical kit.
She fumbled, but managed to catch it. “I don’t understand.” She wasn’t good with blood. Whether her own or others, the sight of blood always made her feel faint. A therapist had told her it had to do with watching her mother die and all the blood tests that were done during treatment and after treatment, all of which had failed. Miki didn’t know if that was true—he’d hit on her after the first appointment so she’d never gone back.
Small wonder she didn’t trust people very much.
“I can’t see behind me, Miki. You’re going to have to clean the wound and then stitch me up. Everything you need is inside that medical kit.” His voice hardened. “If you’re thinking about stabbing me, now’s your chance. There are six different blades in that kit, and I’m going to trust you with all of them. Do you have a problem with that?”
Perfect abs, Miki thought, feeling a little dizzy. She took a quick peek, her eyes slipping lower.
Perfect everything. With no hint of self-consciousness Max gave a final tug and kicked off the wetsuit.
Gorgeous wasn’t nearly strong enough in the adjective department. Miki swallowed, unable to take her eyes away. The buff, naked body moved closer.
Life was stupid and unfair, she thought. Women obsessed about wearing a halter top, much less stripping down to the buff, but men like Max walked around commando and didn’t bat an eye.
He stared at her over one shoulder, his back turned. “Aren’t you going to take the scalpels out? I’m ready.” Their eyes met, and Miki felt heat fill her cheeks as he turned around to face her.
That was when she really began to hyperventilate.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE MAN WAS ABSOLUTELY SERIOUS, Miki realized.
He was inches away, completely commando, a sight pulled out of her most private fantasies. She felt a little zing of dizziness as his thighs flexed. “You think—I mean, you want me to—”
He looked down at her, a faint grin on his face. “Yeah, I do.”
Okay, this was what real hypoxia felt like. She wasn’t exactly prim. She’d had enough serious relationships to know her way around the male anatomy. But she had never seen prime material like this before. As her pulse hammered in her ears, Miki realized that she had never had such a physical reaction to any other man. Was it the stress? The adrenaline rush of danger?
Her palms were sweaty. Her body was alive and restless, flushed with heat. She was seriously aware of him, sensing him with every nerve in her body. A little voice urged her to get closer, but she managed to ignore it.
Clearing her throat, she looked away.
This isn’t happening, she thought.
Breathe, she thought.
Breathe before you pass out.
Except Miki had a feeling that any second her body was going to hit the red zone and she would do something crazy—like reach out and grab those amazing abs for the sheer pleasure of it.
What was she thinking? This man was her enemy, or at least still harboring hostile feelings for her, despite their awkward and very temporary truce. She couldn’t afford to be swayed by a little skin.
She was smart.
She was tough.
She was also having a hell of a time keeping her gaze on his chest when it insisted on slipping lower. But all of that was going to stop right now, Miki swore. “You can put the swimsuit back on,” she snapped. “Going full commando isn’t required.”
His eyes narrowed. He looked surprised. Miki realized he didn’t understand her embarrassment.
She hated men who were completely self-confident about their bodies. It just wasn’t fair. “Well?” She put her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “Get dressed.” If you could call wearing a little scrap of black nylon dressed, she thought grimly.
He shook his head slowly. As his lips twitched, Miki realized that he was enjoying her discomfort.
The jerk.
She waved a hand in the general direction of his lower body. “I mean it. No clothes, no stitching.” And how in heaven she was going to find the strength to face a knife wound was beyond her.
“Seeing my body really bothers you?” His brow rose. There was something unreadable in his eyes.
Miki felt heat torch her cheeks. “It’s nothing I can’t deal with,” she snapped. “But it may be uncomfortable for you to get dressed after I stitch you up.” A clumsy explanation, but it was the best she could do with her brain caught in a serious state of oxygen deprivation.
He smiled faintly, as if she hadn’t fooled him for a second. “I’ll survive. It’s best to make an aseptic environment near the wound.”
Aseptic, Miki thought dimly. Her brain bought the idea, but the rest of her body wasn’t handling it so well.
“Look, I’d do this myself but I can’t,” Max went on. “I need you to stay calm and clean the wound, then put in eight stitches.”
Eight stitches? She waved her hand. “No. Not even a microscopic chance. I can’t. Sorry. Impossible,” she said hoarsely.
His fingers cupped her chin. “Do you want to tell me why?”
“You’re naked,” she rasped.
“I can still talk,” he said quietly. “So let’s have it. Just clear the air.”
“Air?” Miki didn’t want to talk. She was unbearably aware of his lean, dangerous body within hand’s reach, and talking wasn’t anywhere near the top of her agenda. She cleared her throat. “It’s personal.”
“I’d say we’ve gotten past being strangers, wouldn’t you?”
Miki closed her eyes, which was the only way to keep her restless gaze north of the danger zone. “I don’t want to have this conversation.” She was perilously close to blurting out the details of her mother’s long illness, the months of dealing with the fragile skin and deteriorating veins that came from complex cancer treatments. Miki had never told anyone about her fears or the residual pain, and she wasn’t about to start now.
She glanced over her shoulder, relieved to see that Dutch was asleep. “There has to be some other way. Maybe if I hold a mirror for you or—”
“There’s no other way.” He cut off her vague proposal. “If this wound gets infected, it could be dangerous.” He gripped her shoulders. “I need you, Miki.”
The rough sound of his voice made the little hairs stand up along the back of her neck. When had a man
ever said that to her and meant it?
“Breathe,” he ordered quietly. “I’ll talk you through it.”
“What about the pain? I’ll have to give you something for that.”
He shook his head. “Not necessary.”
There it was, the tough-guy factor again. But there was no point wallowing in fear and uncertainty because she figured Max was right. He needed help and she was the only one available.
Looking down, she saw that she was clutching the medical kit. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Describe the wound to me. If the cut isn’t clean, you’ll have to recut the surface at a ninety-degree angle.” He turned his back to her. “Look closely. Tell me if the wound is clean or jagged.”
He had the most amazing butt, Miki thought grimly. She took a few seconds to enjoy the sight of his lean, tanned thighs, girding herself for the shock of the wound.
She took a deep breath, horrified by the bloody, jagged skin. “No, it’s not straight. He must have jerked the knife.” She heard the words echo hollowly in her ears. “I’ll have to clean it before I can tell you anything more.”
“Sterile gauze wraps are packed in the medical kit. You’ll find a small bottle of Betadine there, too. Better clean your hands first.”
After she’d washed with Betadine, Miki splashed some of the dark antiseptic onto a piece of gauze. Once the gash was clean, she could see the full depth of the incision. How had he managed to stay mobile all this time without a painkiller?
Max touched her shoulder. “How does it look?”
Awful. “Jagged.”
“How deep?”
“Maybe half an inch.”
“Can you see bone?”
Bone? Miki shuddered. “No.” Thank God. More blood welled up and she brushed it away with fresh gauze. “What do I do now?”
“Take the number fifteen scalpel. That’s the one with the long, curving blade. Do you see it?”
Miki found the blade and removed the scalpel from its sterile wrapping. “Ready.”
“Good. Now you’re going to stretch the skin tight because that’s the only way to make a clean incision.” His voice was as cool and impersonal as if he was talking about someone else’s body.
“Shouldn’t I give you something to numb the site? This can’t feel good.”
“I need to feel what you’re doing in case you go too deep.”
Miki’s hands began to shake more than ever. How could he possibly do this? For that matter, how could she?
“Tell me how,” she rasped.
“Squeeze the skin between your thumb and forefinger and look at the wrinkles. That will tell you the cross lines. Do it now.”
“Okay. I see them.”
“You’re going to cut at a ninety-degree angle to those lines. You have to grip the tissue tightly so you don’t slip. Take your time. Do it right. Forget about me and everything else.”
Miki felt dizzy. She couldn’t do this. He was crazy. They were both crazy if they thought she could.
As she hesitated, Max looked back at her and smiled crookedly. “You’re doing fine, honey. Take a deep breath and look at me. Come on, breathe.”
His voice sounded tinny, but the deep breath worked and her nerves settled. “You’re certain you don’t want some kind of anesthetic?”
He shook his head. “Take your time. I trust you. You’ll get it right.”
Her eyes snapped to his face in surprise. He trusted her?
Biting her lip, she shoved everything out of her mind but the task in front of her. “I’m going to cut now. If you need to…curse or anything, that’s fine.”
His husky chuckle echoed in the quiet air. Miki realized he was laughing.
“Honey, I’ve been through a whole lot worse than a few stitches. You don’t have to worry about me screaming. You should get started now.”
There was a sense of unreality about the whole experience as Miki tugged on a pair of sterile surgical gloves, trying not to think about the last time she had worn gloves like these, only a few days before her mother’s death. Even now, the memories were still raw.
Following Max’s calm directions, she pulled the skin, positioned the scalpel and cut outside the jagged edges, forcing herself to forget she was cutting living flesh. Instead she pretended she was working on an elaborate high school science project.
Blood welled up inside the wound, and she ripped open a new package of gauze. Then there was more blood. A new wave of dizziness hit her. She swayed and felt Max’s arm slip around her waist, steadying her.
“You’re doing great. Hold on.”
She tottered on the edge of hysterical laughter. He was the one serving as a living pincushion, but he was reassuring her.
She forced herself to focus, shutting out everything else. “What next?”
“There’s no sign of gushing blood, I take it. If an artery or vein were hit, you’d see it.”
She shook her head and muttered, “No.”
“That’s good. Before you close the wound, you need to check it carefully. Use the scalpel and be certain that there’s no foreign matter, no dirt or cloth present.”
The calm instructions helped her clear her mind, and she probed the wound from one end to the other. “It’s clean, but it’s bleeding.”
“A little blood flow is good to help clean things out. Since the wound is less than six hours old, we can do a direct suture. You’ll need to drape the wound to make a sterile barrier before you start. Truman, bring the bag.”
The Lab looked up. Without hesitation, he pulled a black nylon duffel bag out of the corner and carried it across to Max, who unzipped an inner pocket and pulled out a plastic pack with sterile paper towels.
Almost over, Miki told herself. It wasn’t as if he was going to die from this.
He handed her the closed plastic bag. “Drape the wound and then put on new gloves. I’ll hand you the needle.” As he spoke, Max stretched out on the cot, turning onto his side in a smooth movement.
Despite her panic attack, Miki was still a woman, and she had to savor the sight of all those rippling muscles just once more. “I’m ready.”
“Use a square knot, and try to keep the stitches even. You want both edges to meet, with no overlapping skin. No spaces. either. Any open places become a playground for bacteria.”
“Okay.” Miki swallowed hard. Stitches? She couldn’t do this. “What else do I have to know?”
His voice was husky. “That you’re damn brave, Blondie. You can cut me up anytime. Only next time you have to get naked, too.”
Her eyes cut to his face. His words were like a dark caress, spurring a wave of hot, sexual images. But she wasn’t going to think about how those hard hands would feel sliding over her heated skin.
Breathe, idiot. Gritting her lips, Miki took the curved needle he offered her. If he could be cool, so could she.
“Focus on the suture tension. Try to keep everything even, and don’t pull too tight. How do you feel?”
Like shit. “Fine,” she lied. She took a jerky breath and felt Max’s hand open, gripping her thigh.
“It’s going to be fine. You can do it.”
“I can do it,” she repeated, and as she said the words something bleak and heavy lifted from her shoulders. She stood a little straighter, breathed a little deeper. “Damned right I can. I’ve got the idea.” She gritted her teeth. “Bombs away.” She felt sweat bead her forehead as she pushed the needle cleanly through both sides of the wound. Time seemed to stretch out in a nauseating blur.
Finally her first suture was in place. With fierce concentration, she finished two more stitches. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. You’re doing great.”
She put in five more stitches, smeared antibiotic cream around the wound and taped a fresh gauze pad firmly in place. “Done. Everything is clean and the stitches look even. At least I think they are.” As she sat back, bile filled her throat and she tried to speak, but no words would come out.
&nbs
p; “Take it easy.” Max turned, grabbed her shoulder and pushed her forward. “Head down. Deep breaths. You’ll be fine.”
Miki hunched over, feeling blood fill her face while the world slowly came back into focus around her.
She realized she’d lumbered her way through, despite the painful memories of her mother. She sat up and smiled at Max crookedly. “I may not throw up after all.”
“Always good to hear that.” He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, his eyes narrowing. “Still dizzy?”
Whatever it was, the bout was over. She managed a smile. “I guess not. Are you ready for that anesthetic? Me, I’d be begging for hard drugs by now.”
“Not quite yet.” His eyes darkened. “Because there’s something else I’ve been wanting for a hell of a long time.” His hands slipped around her shoulders.
Before Miki could brace herself, he was kissing her and it was the real deal, full contact, hot and expert.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MIKI COULDN’T MOVE. Her skin was on fire, her head pounding. It was the dizziness that got her, she thought. Dizziness and stress could make you do strange things, couldn’t they?
Like kissing him back.
His hands opened, lifted her face.
Miki felt pulled toward him, gripped by curiosity and need in a primitive way that would have scared her if she’d been calm enough to think straight. But the last thing she wanted was for this moment to end before she knew exactly where it was heading.
“You’re not screaming yet.” His eyes were dark and focused. “You’re not calling me a bastard and trying to knee me in the groin.”
“No,” she whispered.
She wasn’t doing any of those things, not even thinking about them. There was an odd whine in her head and her pulse sounded too loud. They were strangers, she thought. Her mind told her to back off.
But her body had other ideas. And right now, her body seemed to be calling the shots.
“What is it about you?” He pressed his mouth against the pulse that hammered at her wrist. “Something about how you drive your hands through your hair.” His tongue nuzzled the sensitive base of her throat, slow and searching.
Code Name: Blondie Page 13
