by Tami Hoag
“Did I say anything?”
“Yes. You said ‘Hmmm,’” she accused. Plopping down onto her chair, she crossed her arms over her chest.
He rolled his eyes and calmly turned back to his paper. “Seems a fella can’t do much of anything around here without getting your back up.”
“My back isn’t up.” She sniffed indignantly, deliberately slouching on her chair.
“Then why jump all over Justin just because he wants to meet Jace? It’s only natural for a boy to want to get to know a sports star.”
“I don’t want him hanging around with Jace.”
“And why is that?”
Because if Justin spent time with Jace, that would mean she would inevitably end up spending time with Jace, and that was the very thing that had kept Rebecca tossing and turning as night had faded into morning. After the way her body had responded to his kiss, she didn’t trust herself to go anywhere near him outside the physical therapy department.
“Because he’s a bad influence,” she said when she realized her father was waiting for an answer.
“Oh, I see.” He chewed thoughtfully on fluffy scrambled eggs and washed them down with a swallow of orange juice. “You’re afraid Justin will start doing unnatural things such as playing baseball.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
Hugh put his fork down across his stoneware plate and rested his elbows on the table. “Daughter, you’re making Jace sound like a child molester. As I remember, he’s very good with kids. He used to help out with Little League. The kids loved him.”
“You’re making him sound like a father figure.”
“Hmmm…”
“There you go again with that ‘Hmmm’ business,” she said, more rattled by her fleeting thought of Jace as a father than by her own father’s mutterings. “It seems to me you have a very convenient memory where Jace Cooper is concerned,” she said. “You only remember his good points.”
“And you only remember his bad points,” Hugh retorted, then buried his nose in the entertainment section.
“They live on in infamy,” Rebecca grumbled, taking a sip of lukewarm coffee.
In fact, she was ready to add to Jace’s list of faults. He made her lose sleep, fight with her family, and drink cold coffee. He kissed her until she wasn’t sure who she was or what she wanted. He butted into her life when everything was sailing along smoothly. The man was an utter cad.
And he was going to be waiting for her when she got to work, she realized as she glanced at her watch.
What a rotten day. And it wasn’t even eight o’clock yet.
Jace was holding court when Rebecca walked into the exercise room. He sat on a table surrounded by an assortment of patients, doctors, and nurses. He may have faded out of the spotlight in Chicago, but in Mishawaka he was definitely hot property.
“You look as if you could use this,” Dominique said, pressing a cup of coffee into Rebecca’s hand.
Rebecca stared morosely across the room. The small crowd around Jace burst into laughter at something he’d said. It should have been illegal for someone so irresponsible to wield so much charm. “I could submerge myself in a vat of coffee, but I still don’t think it would help.”
“Didn’t get much sleep because you were worried about seeing him in here today, huh?”
Rebecca glanced up at her friend with a rueful expression. “I didn’t get much sleep knowing he had just moved in with my neighbor across the alley.”
Dominique smoothed a hand down the purple knit dress that hugged her heart-stopping figure. “Hmmm…”
Rebecca sighed. “Oh, please, not you, too, Dominique.”
“What did I say?”
Rebecca rolled her eyes and let the subject drop. The group surrounding Jace erupted into another round of raucous laughter. Dr. Cornish looked as if he might faint from lack of oxygen. A shapely blond nurse from orthopedics leaned close to Jace and patted his shoulder affectionately as she giggled.
Tossing back her coffee, Rebecca crumpled the Styrofoam cup and flung it into the trash, then crossed the room with a purposeful stride. She stopped short of the circle of admirers and planted her hands on her hips.
“The fascinating story of the misadventures of Super Cooper will have to continue at a later time, people. I, for one, have work to do,” she said in a tone so sharp it could have carved stone.
At the sound of her voice the crowd parted like the Red Sea. They dispersed after one glance at the look on Rebecca’s face. She heard them leaving, but she didn’t turn to watch them go. Her gaze was unwillingly riveted to Jace. He sat on the table, his legs dangling over the edge, with a hand braced on either side of him and his navy blue eyes staring steadily at her. Heat spread under the surface of her skin like wildfire as her body recalled their last encounter.
“’Morning, Becca,” he said softly. “Did you sleep well?”
“Perfectly,” she lied.
Jace considered calling her on it, but decided against it. She looked angry enough already. “I didn’t,” he admitted.
“Was your knee bothering you?”
“Some. My conscience was bothering me more,” he said honestly. “I’m sorry I pushed so hard yesterday, Becca.”
Dammit, Rebecca thought, he was doing it again. He was throwing her completely off balance. The Jace she remembered didn’t make apologies for his behavior, no matter how outrageous. She had been set to lay into him tooth and nail for disrupting her department. Now he’d taken the wind out of her sails with a few softly spoken words.
Well, she thought, suddenly melancholy with remembrance, his voice had always been able to do strange things to her. When he spoke in that soft, intimate way, it was as if his voice were weaving a sensual web around her brain, effectively cutting off her highly efficient thought process.
Entranced, she stared at the clear lines of his mouth, the neat archer’s bow shape of his upper lip, and the tiny silver scar that angled away from it. It was amazing how this one part of his body could wrest away her control, but then this one part of his body was very versatile and talented. It could soothe her with words, sear her with kisses…
“I apologize for upsetting you, but I don’t regret kissing you,” he said.
Rebecca nearly bolted at the sound of his voice, but caught herself and stepped forward. “Stop staring at my mouth,” she said half under her breath.
Jace chuckled. “Was I staring at your mouth? That’s probably because I was remembering what it tastes like.”
Rebecca was all too aware that they had a captive audience. Dominique was watching from the corner of her eye as she worked with Mrs. Krumhansle. Mrs. Krumhansle was even less discreet. Bob Wilkes sat at a weight machine across the room, halfheartedly lifting a dumbbell as he stared at them. She could almost hear him straining to catch a word or two of the conversation.
Jace smiled. It wasn’t his media smile. It wasn’t his playful smile. It was the smile he trotted out after an intimate encounter—lazy, disgustingly knowing. When he spoke, his voice was as warm and soft as flannel sheets. “What were you thinking about while you were staring at my mouth?”
“That’s it.” Rebecca bit the words off. She swung her arm toward her door. “Into my office. Now.”
“Gee, honey,” he teased, “can’t you wait until we get home?”
She thrust his crutches at him and stormed toward the office, barely resisting the urge to kick the door in. Jace followed, wincing—not at any pain in his knee, but at the thought of the tongue-lashing he was obviously going to get.
“I won’t stand for it, Jace,” Rebecca said as soon as the door clicked shut behind him. “I will not have you undermining my authority in this department. I agreed to work with you to rehabilitate your knee. The least you can do is respect my position here.”
“I do.”
“Oh, really?” she asked, pacing back and forth behind her desk.
“Yes,” he said evenly. “I have all the re
spect in the world for your position here, Becca. I don’t think a little teasing is going to undermine your authority. Don’t your other patients tease you a little every once in a while?”
They did, but the big difference was, she didn’t have a past with any of her other patients. Their sometimes ribald comments meant nothing to her, they were sheer bravado. Jace’s were sheer torture.
“It’s your entire attitude that bothers me, Jace,” she said, calling on the vast reserves of anger she had stored up against him. The only thing that made any sense to her in this situation was keeping him at least an arm’s length away. “I won’t have you turning my therapy department into a three-ring circus. You came here to work, not to hold fan club meetings.”
“Hey, I didn’t invite those people in here,” he said, lifting his hands innocently.
“Tell me you weren’t enjoying the attention,” Rebecca said sarcastically.
“I’m a minor celebrity. It goes with the territory. What was I supposed to do? Shoot them? Ward them off with a rope of garlic? Maybe I should have come in incognito.” His eyes twinkled with sudden mischief. “I could have worn my Tommy Lasorda costume.”
The ludicrous image made the corners of Rebecca’s mouth quirk. She clearly remembered the costume party Jace had dragged her to seven years before. She had ended up having the time of her life. Naturally, Jace had stolen the show with his impersonation of the well-known Dodger manager. Now Rebecca pressed a fist to her lips to keep from laughing.
It must have been the lack of sleep, she thought. She was suddenly feeling giddy instead of angry. Naturally she didn’t want to consider the possibility that her weird state of mind had anything to do with being alone in a room with Jace. She didn’t want to think he could disarm her so easily.
“Just a minor celebrity, huh?” she questioned. “Are you always so modest?”
“No.” He chuckled, picking up her paperweight and tossing it from hand to hand. “Are you always so pleasant to your patients first thing in the morning?”
“No.” Her green eyes glittered like peridots. “Sometimes I get PMS.”
For a moment they laughed together like old friends, and Jace took hope. Rebecca’s wounds were still tender, but they hadn’t totally scarred her heart. She could still laugh with him. She would love with him again in time, if he were lucky and careful. It was going to take just the right combination of pushing and coaxing and convincing her he had changed. He felt as if he were walking a tightrope over a mine field, but the reward at the end of the line was going to be worth it.
He’d spent half the night picturing them as a family—himself and Becca and Justin. Justin. He made a mental note to call his mother and ask her if he’d had freckles when he was six.
“Maybe we should start the day over,” he suggested. Immediately he thought of the way he would have liked the day to have started—with Becca in his arms. It had been pure masochism to lay in bed remembering what it was like to have her there beside him, to wake up with her cuddled against him. With an effort he pushed the image away.
It was a safe bet Becca hadn’t slept any better than he had. Of course, he’d given up betting, but the fact remained that there were shadows under her eyes and her temper was obviously on a short leash. He’d seen the light burning in her bedroom window until past midnight.
“Truce?” he asked.
For a long moment Rebecca stood considering the possibilities. Maybe if they declared a truce, the war inside her would stop raging as well. She could still keep her distance from him, and she wouldn’t constantly be wearing herself out with anger. She thought of the list she’d made of ways to handle the situation with Jace. Hadn’t her solution essentially been a truce? She had told herself to treat him as she would any old acquaintance and put the past behind her.
“Truce,” she said, nodding. “But you have to understand the ground rules, Jace. This is my ballpark, I’m the manager and the head umpire. It’s essential that I maintain a certain level of control. Do you understand?”
He understood. She was telling him to keep his distance. He nodded but reserved comment. Understanding and agreeing with her were two different things.
“Good,” she said. “Let’s go take a look at that knee.”
“Becca?” he asked as she reached for the doorknob.
“What?”
Jace shook his head and smiled engagingly. “You’re much too pretty to be an umpire.”
If Rebecca had thought all her problems were over just because Jace had agreed to behave himself, she soon found out she was mistaken. Jace sat on the examination table in a pair of navy blue running shorts, his muscular legs magnificently bare. Somehow she had managed not to think about the fact that she was going to have to touch him. Often.
She was going to have to put her hands on his thigh, feel the crisp hair against her palms, feel the flexing and relaxing of those muscles without remembering. If she let her guard down for one second and remembered running her hands over his thighs as they made love, she was going to be in major trouble. She was going to suffer spontaneous combustion and melt down into a puddle on the floor of the exercise room. That would more or less ruin her image as head honcho of the PT department.
She swallowed hard and went on staring at his knee, trying to school her thoughts and call upon the logic that had always ruled her brain.
“How’s it look?” Jace asked nervously. “Is the swelling down enough?”
“Huh?”
“Please, Becca, tell me I’m not going to have to see any n-e-e-d-l-e-s.”
“Oh!” She snapped back to the business at hand. “No, it looks much better today.”
Professionalism, Rebecca, she told herself. You’re a professional. Keeping the thought uppermost in her mind, she grasped Jace’s leg with hands that weren’t quite steady and slowly began to examine his knee. She relaxed as she performed a battery of familiar stability tests. This was her field; she knew it inside out.
“Have you been doing your isometric exercises?”
“Religiously. Am I ready to go on to weights?”
“We’ll see. Are you that anxious to get out of Mishawaka?”
“No,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I’m that anxious to get back to baseball. I want you to understand what this means to me, Becca. The Kings’ management isn’t counting on me coming back. In fact, they’re pretty sure I won’t come back. They sent me down here hoping I would take it for the slap in the face it is and retire.”
“Why would they do that? I’m told you’re as good a third baseman as anybody in the game.”
“I’ve also been a pain in management’s rear,” he said, frowning darkly. “They aren’t any more willing to believe I’ve changed than you are.”
Rebecca examined his leg in silence as she tried to deal with her feeling of guilt. No, she wasn’t willing to believe he’d changed. The fact that her attitude hurt him was evident in his tone of voice.
“I’ve never had to work this hard for something I want,” he went on. “Maybe a couple of years ago I couldn’t have done it, but I can do it now. I’ll give a hundred and ten percent to prove it.”
He certainly sounded sincere. As his therapist Rebecca owed it to him to believe in him. As a woman she owed it to herself to be wary of him. How was she supposed to do both?
First things first, she thought, easing his leg back down to the table. “I’ll settle for a hundred percent. That extra ten percent could do more harm than good. I’ll put you on what I feel is the maximum program for you, Jace. Don’t exceed it. Your knee can take only so much strain.”
Jace nodded as he swung his legs up onto the table and straightened them out in front of him as she instructed. “You’re the boss.”
“Don’t you forget it.” She smiled at him, grasping his thigh just above his injured knee. “Tighten this muscle for me. Tighter. Tighter. Good. Relax.”
“What about dinner tonight?” he asked a bit too loudly.
&nbs
p; Suddenly the PT room was silent. Not one machine clanged. Not one person so much as breathed. Every eye was riveted on the two of them.
“What about it?” Rebecca asked calmly.
“What do you feel like eating? Steak? Chinese? Italian?”
The density of the silence around them increased to deafening proportions.
She gave Jace a bland smile and congratulated herself on her brilliance. This was the moment she’d been waiting for. “Sorry, Jace. I don’t date patients—ever.”
Murmurs ran around the room, rising and falling like a wave.
Jace narrowed his eyes as he studied the look on Rebecca’s face. She thought she’d outfoxed him. Well, he’d gotten around that rule of hers once before; he would do it again.
“Ask anybody here,” Rebecca said. “They’ll tell you the same thing. I don’t date patients. It’s a very bad idea, as I once found out.”
“Times change, Becca,” he said softly. “People change. Policies change.”
“Not around here.”
He held her gaze with his own for a few long seconds. “We’ll see.”
Suddenly a hand encased in a sweat sock appeared under Jace’s nose. He jerked back in surprise and stared at the thing. The sock had a face painted on it—expressive brown eyes, a big nose with a little black mustache beneath it, red lips. A tuft of unraveled black yarn had been stitched on top to simulate hair.
“She doesn’t date patients, Jace the Ace,” the sock said in a funny little voice. “You’re out of luck, lame duck.”
Jace’s eyes darted from the sock to Rebecca. She was calmly looking over his shoulder at the owner of the hand puppet.
“Hello, Turk,” she said.
The man stepped around the table to stand beside her. He was tall and built like a licorice whip with the facial features of a goose. A silly-looking mustache wiggled under his nose like some exotic angora caterpillar. He stood with his right arm raised so his sock hand puppet was at shoulder level.
“Jace, meet Turk Lacey—” her gaze slid meaningfully to the sock—“and Mr. Peppy.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jace mumbled. He started to hold his hand out, then pulled it back. Turk probably wouldn’t like it if he touched Mr. Peppy. At any rate, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
