by Hill, Sierra
A week later, his thoughts a thousand miles away from Angela what’s-her-name, he now had a case of blue balls over a tight-assed therapist who had a penchant for picking fights. And it turned him on, even in his current condition.
Finishing his paperwork, Mitch glanced toward the receptionist whose fingernails were loudly and rapidly clicking the keys of her computer. She looked up at him.
“Are you all finished? I can come get it from you,” she smiled politely, brushing down her skirt as she got up to step around the desk. She looked at his leg and eyed him curiously. “How’d you hurt your knee?”
She took the clipboard and pen from him and began twirling it between her brightly painted fingers. She looked young, maybe twenty, wearing a floral print baby doll dress that showed off her tanned legs and oversized tits. For some reason, he was reminded of the classroom scene in Indiana Jones where the young female student flirted with Professor Jones. He might not be a teacher, but he knew a come-on when he saw it.
So unlike what he saw last night from Rylie. She was anything but vamped-up flirtatious or coy. She didn’t try to come on to him, or use her sexual charms to get him to buy her a drink. In fact, she seemed oblivious to her sexual potency or how much she affected him. She was a ball-buster, giving back even more than he dished out to her. She had a quick wit, wasn’t afraid to show him up and was smoking hot. And all he thought about last night was his missed opportunity to get her into his bed.
But it looked like his luck had turned around. Maybe having knee surgery wouldn’t turn out as bad as it seemed.
Mitch smiled back to the receptionist and began to tell her the story of his trip gone horribly wrong. He’d soon finished reciting the weekend adventures that led to his accident and excused himself to go change into his rehab wear.
Stepping out of the locker room, his attention was drawn to Rylie’s response at getting a very motherly hug from the elderly woman she had been working with earlier. He stood back to lean against the wall, casually admiring his new therapist as she assisted the woman in a walker to the front desk.
Her figure was tall and lean, her jeans hugged every tight curve. With long legs that expressed a level of athleticism, it wouldn’t have surprised him to find out that she had been a track star or volleyball player in college. Fit and trim, but not with the hard edge that some female athletes could possess. And judging from her behavior last night, she had a competitive spark that could surely ignite things in and outside of the bedroom. He was beginning to reconsider his aversion to this therapy thing. It could definitely have its advantages.
“Mr. Camden…are you ready to get started with me?”
Mitch nearly choked. Yes, you could say that.
He pushed himself upright and bent down to pick up his crutches. He hefted his arms over and on to the crutches and nodded his head in her direction.
“Lead the way,” he said, following her into the room that resembled a mini gymnasium. “And please, call me Mitch. We’ll be working closely together over the next few months; we might as well be on a first-name basis.”
He saw her consider it for a moment and then, as if it pained her to agree, she acquiesced. “All right…Mitch,” she drawled, placing her hands on her hips to stress the point she was about to make. “You can call me Rylie or Ry. But don’t think the lack of surnames is going to get you off easy. I work my patients hard because that’s the only way progress can be made. You’ll need to put in the effort and not screw around. If you want to be successful in your recovery, then you have to do what I say and as often as I say. Got it?”
Wow. She was a tough one. No nonsense. No bullshit. He wasn’t normally one to give up any sort of control. Not in the boardroom or the bedroom. But for some reason, the idea of Rylie taking control of things seemed to be a pretty good trade-off. He wanted to see where things would go from here. He just might like it.
“Aye, Aye, Cap’n,” he clipped, giving a quick salute. “I have to admit I like the idea of getting off easy, and I’m warming to the thought of you telling me what to do.”
She scowled and her eyes, the color of melted chocolate, glared daggers at him. Truth be told, he was waiting to get slapped. He may have just crossed the line. Instead, she doused his thoughts of carnal knowledge with two words. Ice bath.
“Are you kidding me? You want me to get in that tub of ice water?” Mitch spat out the words and then immediately realized his mistake. He clamped his mouth shut as he noticed her stare, an unspoken, You’re going to start that shit already? look.
“Uh, sorry,” he graveled. “Okay. How do I get in this thing?”
She shook her head. “I’ll help you.”
Her hands moved out to grab his crutches, setting them down on the floor to the side of the tub. Reaching toward him, her arms extended around his back, shifting his body weight onto hers. She locked her arms around him in a bear-hug grip, her head turned to the side and resting against his chest. Mitch’s entire body tensed, uncertain of his reaction to her closeness and her touch. His chin rested on the top of her head as he breathed in the scent of her hair. Vanilla and a hint of honey. Sensual and soft invaded his senses. As her hands made their way down his back and under his bottom, they agilely guided his leg over the side of the tub, helping him to sit comfortably on the ledge.
With nowhere else to place his hands, he draped his arm around her neck and clung to her. Feeling vulnerable and weak, Mitch cursed himself for having to rely on this beautiful and sexy woman to assist him into this contraption. It certainly didn’t help his ego.
“I think I need to prepare you…this is going to be extremely cold. We’ll need to work up to this, so for today, let’s try for a minute.” As she said this, Mitch was lowered into the forty-degree pool of ice-cold water.
“Mother of God, this is freezing! Are you trying to get me back for last night?” he growled, his voice shaking from both the emotion and the frigid temperature. His body convulsed and goose bumps littered his arms, legs and torso. He turned to her in time to see the wicked smile quickly vanish from her mouth. She sighed.
“I think I mentioned it was cold. Believe it or not, I’m not trying to get you back for anything. This is a normal part of therapy and there is a science behind the healing power of ice. The cold temperature decreases the inflammation and swelling in your muscles and joints. With all of the trauma your knee has had, we need to kick-start the rejuvenation process. After your surgery, lactic acid begins to crystalize around the joints and the ice helps to shock it.” She moved around to the back of the tub and pulled out an oversized towel. Moving behind him, she handed him the towel and placed her hands under his arm to hoist him up onto the step again. Although his torso and below felt like a frozen human Popsicle, the feel of her against him sent heat waves coursing through his body.
“Okay, let’s get you dried off and warmed up so we can start your exercises.”
****
By the time the hour-long appointment was up, Mitch had begun to perspire and beads of sweat clung to his skin. His breathing was erratic and choppy and his attitude surly. Rylie had expected this to happen, as it did with most patients on their first visit.
Rylie had seen it all with a myriad of clients who had come and gone and wasn’t surprised by the shape Mitch was in by the time he finished up. It was her job to find the individual limit for each patient and learn when she could push for more and when to give it a break. Observing Mitch over the last hour, it was clear he had the physical endurance and stamina, but she hadn’t had time yet to assess his motivational energy.
When it came to therapy, it was easy for many patients to quit too early on, as the pain and fatigue of the work could become overwhelming. Her job was to be a cheerleader, a mechanic, as well as a psychologist to enable their continued progress. And it didn’t surprise Rylie that Mitch might try to impress her with his ability to work through the pain.
What did come as an unexpected surprise were the jolts of electricity that
erupted through her body whenever she made contact with his. Being physical with others, whether it was men or women, young or old, came with the physical therapist territory. It was what she did for a living and she was supposed to be immune to it. And yet she had never before experienced such an instant and intense heat from another human being. This worried her. This could be a problem.
And that problem was a solidly built, very handsome man who was now lying supine on her exam table, an ice pack fitted around his left knee. Rylie had excused herself to her office under the guise of updating her progress notes while he iced and recovered from the exercises.
In truth, it was she who needed time to recover. Her chest felt tight, as if someone had punched her with a twenty-pound medicine ball, limiting her ability to take a breath. Was that her heart racing so fast? The moment she had made body-to-body contact with Mitch maneuvering him into the cold tub, it had sent her heartbeat skyrocketing.
He smelled delicious, of soap, spice and musk. An all-male scent emanated from his entire being. She could feel the strong, sinewy texture of his back and the thick muscular legs as she positioned him on the tub bench. And his chest, the soft tufts of golden-brown hair peaked through the top of his T-shirt, flirting with her nose as her face was pressed against his chiseled torso.
She was barely able to concentrate as he leaned against her, pressing his weight and his lower extremities into her. She could feel his length pressed into her belly and wondered what he would feel like to be buried inside her.
She shook her head clear as the sounds of the timer jarred her back into reality. She couldn’t hide out in her office forever. Grabbing a few pamphlets and instruction sheets, Rylie went back out into the clinic gym to finish up her session with Mitch.
“I have a new nickname for you,” he said, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, as she sidled up to the exam table. “You want to know what it is?”
“I don’t know. Do I? How appropriate is it?”
He laughed. “Oh, I think it’s quite appropriate under the circumstances,” he said, his voice husky and serious. “From now on I’m calling you Ice Queen…IQ for short. Because even if you don’t openly admit it, I know you’re trying to freeze my balls off on purpose.” He shook his head, handing her the icepack that had been wrapped around his now frozen knee.
“You really have a low opinion of me. Honestly, if I really meant to freeze your balls off, the icepack would have been placed a bit further north,” she said, stifling a laugh. “Now, let’s talk about the exercises you need to do at home before your next visit.”
“How do you know Mark?”
Her head popped up from the table, her eyes wide in surprise. “What…excuse me? What do you mean?”
“The party last night, Mark Olsen’s going-away party. You two obviously work together and he talked about you, so I’m naturally curious about the type of relationship you have with him.”
Rylie stood there bewildered as to how he got onto this topic. What business was it of his how she knew Mark? The gall of this guy.
“What exactly are you implying?”
“I was curious if you’re sleeping with him or anyone else for that matter?” Mitch leaned back on the table, his arms placed casually up behind his head, his bum leg draped over his other, looking sexy and pleased with himself.
“What business is it of yours?” she huffed. Rylie could feel her face turn bright red and her hands trembled. “Mr. Camden. I am your physical therapist. I am here to help you get back up on both feet - literally. I am not here to cure your curiosity on my personal life.”
“So you’ve slept with him. Say no more.”
“Good grief, I have not slept with Mark!” she said, louder and with more intensity than she meant to. She took a quick look around the room to see if anyone had overheard her outburst. Luckily no one seemed to notice. “Not in the past nor ever in the future, for that matter. We went out once or twice a long time ago, but decided we’re better off friends.” She couldn’t believe she just told him that. This man was trying her patience.
Mitch chuckled. “I know. He told me that when I asked him about you last night. I just wanted to hear you say it.”
“Wha? - You schmuck! You goaded me into telling you and you already knew the answer? You have some nerve,” she fumed, trying to contain her frustration and regain her composure. What was this guy’s deal? He was exasperating. She needed to get the ball back into her court.
“Well, how do you know Mark? Have you slept with him?”
His laughter was a loud boom, a commotion that now had heads turning to see what was going on. Swinging his legs around to the side of the table, he grabbed hold of the crutches that were leaning against the wall. Then he reached out and tweaked her nose. She pulled her head back at his gesture.
“As a matter of fact, I haven’t slept with him either. But don’t hold that against me, I’m sure he’s a really nice lay. Mark’s family and mine go way back. I’ve known him since we were kids.”
“I see.” She paused, considering how to ask the next question. “So, you asked Mark about me? Why?”
“After our encounter at the bar and your flippant departure, I wanted to know who you were. I figured you were there for Mark’s party, so he knew you and he’d give me the details. I like to know in advance about the women I slee - uh, work with.”
Rylie was all at once confused, flustered, angry and yet, intrigued, as to why Mitch would want to find out more about her. She thought back to the previous night and their limited exchange and conversation. She didn’t think she threw off any vibes indicating her interest. Her flirting wasn’t over-the-top and she certainly didn’t come on to him like most other women likely did. Although he was forward, he didn’t seem to show any further interest in her after she left him sitting at the bar. If he had, why didn’t he come talk to her again? Before she could consider that possibility, she knew the answer to that. She had shut him down with little room for reopening that door.
“Well, you apparently got the details, so let’s move on to what’s next for you. Why don’t you have Claire schedule your next appointment. You’ll need to continue to do your home exercises daily and come in three times per week.”
“Yes, about that. I’ve arranged for in-home PT from here on out. I have an extremely busy work schedule and that will just make it a whole lot more convenient for me. Mark said this clinic offers those services.”
“Sure, of course,” she said, handing him the folder of instructions and leading him to the reception desk. “I’ll just get the name of your in-home therapist and send over my progress notes and eval forms, along with the recommendations for needed equipment.”
Mitch stood at the front desk looking at her as if she were an alien, his brows furrowed. Balancing himself on the crutches, he took out his wallet and handed Rylie a business card. She accepted it suspiciously, uncertain as to its purpose.
“That has my home address, along with the security code to my entry gate. Apparently you seem to be missing a relevant piece of my therapy requirements.” Smiling that devilish grin, he placed the wallet back in his pocket. “Ms. Hemmons…I’ve already arranged for you to be my in-home therapist.”
Rylie blanched.
Mitch pushed the automatic door opener with his crutch. Turning back to see her still standing there, unmoved, he winked.
“See you on Friday, IQ.”
CHAPTER THREE
“What in the hell did you get me into?” Rylie practically yelled when she and Sasha were finally in the back office for their lunch break.
Rylie had been so amped up and agitated over the previous several hours, she couldn’t contain herself any longer. She’d confronted Sasha with what she felt was her erroneous decision of offering up Rylie to make house calls for her new patient. She wasn’t certain if she was upset with Sasha for not telling her in advance about this twist or if she was pissed that she heard it directly from Mitch. Or just the sheer fact that she felt like an
idiot for not knowing the plans.
“I can’t believe you failed to mention this little tidbit of detail to me when you so casually gave me Mitch Camden as a patient this morning. How could you do that to me?”
“Rylie, calm down. Honestly, I don’t see what the big deal is. I just forgot to mention it this morning. I’m sorry you feel slighted, but why is it such a crisis situation for you? You’ve done in-home therapy for other patients in the past. How is this any different?”
Rylie had moved from the doorway into the room and plopped down on the small beat-up leather couch. Her response to this situation did seem a bit out of proportion, considering it wasn’t her first in-home client she had assisted. She had others over the last few years and it never bothered her before. But that was before him. Her concerns were obviously geared toward how this particular client made her feel. And she didn’t like it. She didn’t like feeling that way at all.
Trying to explain her emotional predicament to Sasha would be futile and could possibly jeopardize her professional credibility. She didn’t even know what she was feeling. She felt stupid and immature. She had worked too hard to lose her shit over a physical attraction to a man who was just a player, anyhow.
“I’m sorry, Sash. I didn’t mean to overreact.”
“Hmm…that’s exactly what you’re doing. It just seems over the top for you.” Sasha sat down next to her friend, handing her half of her tuna sandwich. “What exactly is the problem?”
“I don’t know. I can’t explain it, but the man gets under my skin. He annoys the hell out of me. He says things that are…” Rylie paused, trying to find the right word to describe the agitation he created in her.
“Are what?” Sasha asked curiously, folding her legs underneath her bottom and taking a bite into her sandwich.
