Teamwork

by Lily Harlem

  Silence.

  My palm absorbed heat from the solid curve of his shoulder, but it wasn’t as intense as before and I curled my hand over his other shoulder to compare. “How is it feeling?” I asked quietly.

  I heard him swallow. “Better.”

  “Has your pain score dropped from a two?”

  There was a long pause. “Yeah, maybe a one now.”

  A bubble of triumph swelled within me. “Great, just what I hoped and certainly some of the heat has gone.” I lifted my hands from his wide frame and moved away from the bed. “Are you up to standing?”

  He gave a humph and stood.

  Damn, the man was tall. I knew he would be, but against my five feet three, his beyond six seemed even more pronounced.

  He turned to face me and I couldn’t help but let my gaze slide down what was a truly magnificent body. If he could just keep his huffs and grunts inside, he would have been a fine specimen of a man—roped with muscle, bronzed like a warrior’s shield and darkly exotic with his long, shiny hair, angled features and dramatic tattoo.

  Stop it, woman. Not only is he a total grump, you’re at work. He’s your patient.

  I took hold of his lower arm and looked up into his sulky face. “Let your forearm lay heavy in my hands, that way I do the lifting and not you. We’ll just do passive exercises today and I’ll show you the others tomorrow.”

  Silence. Just a tightening of his lips and a small nod.

  His breaths breezed steadily over my cheek and I averted my gaze so I could watch the movements of his shoulder rather than looking into such a hooded expression.

  Very gently I lifted and rotated his arm so that his shoulder joint received a soft work through all the angles it needed to. His limb was heavy but I suspected he was still supporting some of it and not completely relaxing into my hold. I wished he wasn’t. It would have been a better workout if he’d let me put in the effort rather than him.

  “Do you want the sling back on?” I asked when I’d finished.

  “Should I?”

  “Yes, probably a good idea.”

  “You know best.”

  I reached it from the bed and walked back up to him. Normally standing next to a patient who was wearing only his boxers wouldn’t have affected me, not in the slightest. It was something I did every day. But there was something about touching this athlete, aligning the material over his arm, then sliding around him to move aside his hair and fasten a knot, that sent tingles up my spine. Once again I berated myself. I had a job to do, joints to exercise, techniques to show him. If his health was really causing problems with his career, I needed to give him a good assessment and the best advice I could for his onward recovery.

  I only hoped the female side of me understood that, because I wasn’t known for staying in control when handsome men were around.

  “Can I get back on the bed?” he asked, his sullen tone shaking me from my dreamy state.

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  He maneuvered himself onto the mattress. I reached for the sheet to help him but he snatched at it one-handedly and tugged it up.

  “Shut the door when you leave,” he said in a rasping, exasperated voice.

  Okay, so maybe resisting a rude, obnoxious pig wasn’t so hard after all.

  Chapter Two

  Raven’s hunky visitor grinned at me as I stepped into the side room the next day.

  “My, my, have you worked wonders on misery guts,” he said with an approving nod.

  “Shut the fuck up, Pretty,” Raven ground out from the bed. His arm was still in a sling and an empty breakfast tray sat in front of him.

  I tried to control a flirty little smile as the heart-stoppingly beautiful blond man stood and placed his hands on his denim-clad hips. He wore a white t-shirt with a small snake logo over his right pectoral muscle. The sleeves were tight on his wide biceps and the jeans hugged his groin in a fascinating, bulging kind of way.

  I quickly shifted my attention to Raven. “How are you feeling?” I asked, barely controlling a sashay in my step as I moved toward my patient’s charts.

  “I’ll be better in forty-eight hours time when I can sleep in my own bed.”

  “Ah, but didn’t you just say how much you’d miss your lovely, needle-wielding physical therapist once you got back to Orlando?” Blond god asked.

  Yeah, right.

  “No, I said, if the pain returned then I’d have to find an acupuncturist back home.”

  “The pain has completely gone?” I asked, glancing up from the nurse’s night report.

  Raven shrugged and that in itself told me everything I needed to know.

  “Yeah, I guess,” he said.

  I grinned. “That’s great news, sometimes a dramatic difference can be seen after only one session, but usually it is three of four before nerves settle down and balance is restored.”

  “Can I take this thing off then?” He plucked at the sling with his other hand.

  “No, not for a few days, give that tear a bit longer to heal. We don’t want you going back to square one, even if it was only a very small rip.”

  He sighed and shut his eyes. Rested his head back on the pillow and did that thing with his mouth that made his lips narrow into a dead-straight line.

  I did my best to ignore the irritation I clearly induced in Raven and the attraction I felt for the other man. Tilting my chin, I put on my most professional air of authority. “I’ll just give your anti-inflammatory medication another thirty minutes to work and then I’ll be back to go through those hydrotherapy exercises you can do when you get home.”

  “Hydrotherapy, that sounds great.” Raven’s visitor stood and moved toward me, his gaze roaming down my body as if it were a hot caress, then traveling up and settling on my face.

  I glanced between him and Raven and backed out of the room. The atmosphere was bipolar. Frosty and knife-sharp one second, sexy and warm the next. Neither my mind nor my nerves could cope.

  Halfway down the corridor, I felt a sudden pressure around my upper arm. Turning, I once again came face-to-face with what was possibly the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. I dropped my line of sight to the logo on his t-shirt. Beneath the snake were the words Orlando Vipers.

  “Please don’t rush off,” he said, not releasing my arm. “I have a proposition for you. Do you have time for coffee?”

  I tried to move my wrist, to check my watch, but couldn’t. He was still gripping me with big, insistent fingers.

  Noticing his hold, he released me, shoved his thumb through a belt loop on his jeans and let his hand hang relaxed, right against that enticing bulge.

  Coffee? Proposition? Bulge? I am no way near relaxed.

  “Well, I guess it’s nearly break time,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “Great.” His face lit to a full-wattage smile. It was dazzling, enough to make my knees go weak. Anyone would have thought I’d just told him I’d secured world peace and was going to let him take the credit.

  “I’m Todd Carty by the way,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m a forward for the Vipers.”

  “Fiona Wrigley. Nice to meet you.”

  Five minutes later we sat in the hospital canteen with two strong coffees between us.

  “Raven and I have been friends for a long time,” Todd said, tipping sugar into his coffee. “You haven’t seen the best side of him. He’s a great guy underneath all that caveman crap.”

  “I’m sure he is,” I said, smiling and loving the way Todd smiled back, once again flashing his perfect white teeth. “No one is their best in hospital, I understand that.”

  “He’s having a rough time. I don’t know if he told you, but he’s only been back on the ice a few weeks after a leg injury. I had to persuade him to come to the UK with the Vipers, he wanted to stay home and just keep his fitness up before the start of the season. But I thought the tour and the warm-ups would do him a favor, get him to the top of his game again. Because he’s good, you know, in fact m
ore than good. He’s one of the best, which is why Fergal paid a damn fortune for him, record price for a defenseman last season apparently.”

  I nodded, my mind vaguely skimming through what Todd was saying as I studied the way his mouth moved around each word.

  “So naturally I feel bad that he’s gone and got himself injured, you know, like it was my fault ’cause I persuaded him to come in the first place.”

  “Accidents happen. They’re no one’s fault. That’s why they’re called accidents.”

  He took a sip of coffee. “Yeah, I guess, but I can’t help but feel guilty.” He paused. “Which is where you come in.”

  “It is?”

  “Yeah.” He placed down his drink and leaned forward. “I’ve just spoken to Fergal—”

  “Sorry, who is Fergal again?”

  “The owner, of the Vipers.”

  “Ah, okay.”

  “And I told him what a wonderful job you did with Raven’s shoulder yesterday. How you stopped him cursing and complaining for the rest of the day after you performed your magic. Hell, Raven even cracked a smile in the evening when I came back to sit and watch TV with him.”

  “Well it wasn’t magic, it was just a bit of acupuncture and—”

  “It was completely magical. And if you can do that with his shoulder, perhaps you could help his leg too. He’s not admitting it, but I’m sure it’s still giving him grief and he’s not going to get back to the top of his game until it’s better.”

  Nodding, I said, “Yes, it is still painful for him, but he didn’t want me to go near it when I tried to help.”

  Todd widened his eyes. “Ah, so he admitted it was still a problem?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  He leaned back and folded his arms. “That’s my point. He’s so intent on getting on the ice again, being the best defenseman on the team, in the country, that he’s willing to ignore his discomfort. But of course in the long run that’s not going to help him at all.”

  “No, it won’t. Injuries need to be fully recovered before they’re subjected to the stress of a contact sport like hockey.”

  “Exactly, which, Fiona Wrigley, physical therapist extraordinaire, brings me to my point. How would you like a working holiday in Orlando?”

  It felt as though I’d been thrown into the air. My brain was flailing for comprehension, my stomach somersaulting.

  Go to Orlando?

  “I-I… But…”

  Todd reached out and covered my hand with his. “I think your expertise could be just what Raven needs. Plus I get the feeling you won’t take any crap from him, and that’s also something he needs.”

  A whispering tingle ran up my arm and settled in my chest. His touch was firing up nerves that had been asleep for some time. “Well, no, not when it comes to treatment. I’m very passionate about what can help my patients.”

  “I’m sure you’re very passionate about many things.” He rubbed his thumb over the top of my hand and gave a crooked smile, the sparkle in his eyes speaking a thousand words, the heat in his stare stoking a flickering flame of lust burning in my belly.

  Bloody hell, he’s flirting with me.

  “Well, I, yes, I guess I am,” I managed.

  He nibbled on his bottom lip as if suppressing a smile. He was enjoying the fact he had me ruffled.

  “So,” he went on, grinning uninhibitedly now. “If you’re able to take some leave from the hospital, three or four weeks, then that would be great. Fergal would be prepared to speak to your superiors if need be, perhaps offer a retention fee.”

  “That wouldn’t be necessary. I work for an agency, scheduling shifts on a day-to-day basis. My time is my own.”

  He nodded slowly and raised his eyebrows. “Nice way to live.”

  “Yes, it suits me. I like to travel. See places, meet people, learn new skills.”

  “So travel to Orlando. All expenses will be paid. First-class round-trip flights, accommodation, plus a very generous wage.”

  I withdrew my hand from beneath his. Sipped my coffee and glanced out the window. It was raining, the sky a heavy gray dishcloth hanging over Cardiff. Orlando, Florida, the sunshine state. I had to admit it was very appealing. A light tan would suit me, as would a change of scenery.

  Suddenly something else popped into my mind. It was an advert I’d seen for a reflexology conference in Miami at the end of the month. It was being given by a professor whose work I admired very much but had yet to meet in person. Perhaps if I agreed to Todd’s plan, I could make my way there. Pick Professor Nordstrom’s brains on some issues that were bothering me about a spinal cord patient I’d seen a while ago.

  “Well, you haven’t said no,” Todd said. “I guess that’s a good sign.”

  “Mmm, I’m tempted.” I turned back to him. “There’s a conference in Miami this month that I’d like to attend.”

  “Perfect, I bet Fergal will even throw in the registration fee if I tell him it was a deciding factor to get you onboard with the fix-Raven plan.”

  “This Fergal sounds like a rich guy.”

  “He is.”

  I looked out the window again. Drips were streaking down the other side of the pane. The rooftops below the fifth-floor canteen appeared distorted through the haphazard lines of raindrops.

  “Say yes, Fiona. What have you got to lose?” Todd asked in a rumbling persuasive voice.

  “Leaving tomorrow?” I asked.

  “Yep, Raven is flying back midafternoon from Gatwick. You would go with him. The Vipers have one last game to play in the UK and then I’ll be in Orlando by the end of the week.”

  “But what about a ticket for tomorrow’s flight? It might be full.”

  “Nope, two tickets were booked. Fergal would have hired a nurse to go with him.”

  I suppressed a shocked laugh. “He doesn’t need a nurse.”

  “I agree, but it’s fortuitous that there’s a spare seat. As though you heading to Orlando was meant to be.” He gave me that dazzling smile of his again.

  “Mmm.” A nine-hour flight sitting next to Mr. Snappy didn’t appeal in the slightest. Neither did treating him every day over the next few weeks. But the challenge of helping his leg recover enough to be subjected to hockey again was like bait. I’d had several ideas already. Skimmed sport therapy articles when I’d got home the evening before.

  Todd reached forward and took my hand again. “If you’re worried you’ll be lonely, then don’t be. When I get back I’d love to show you the sights, take you to dinner, maybe to a game. What do you say?”

  That smile again and that big hand heating mine. Oh, and those euphoric words that promised time with a devastatingly attractive and sinfully seductive hockey player.

  Okay, the decision has made itself. Grouchy patient or not.

  “That sounds lovely. I’ve never been to Orlando, many parts of the US, but not there.”

  “You’ll love it, there’s so much more to see than Disney.” He widened his eyes. “Does that mean it’s a yes?”

  My chest rose and fell as I sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. “Yes, it sounds too good a job offer to turn down.”

  His cheeks balled and he produced a wide, triumphant smile. “It’s not just work, Fiona, it’s going to be one hell of a lot of fun too.”

  * * * * *

  The next day, for the first time ever, I boarded a flight and turned left instead of right—toward first class. Raven followed close behind as we were shown to our seats—large, plush seats that could almost be laid flat and had every gadget and convenience surrounding them.

  “Champagne, madam?” an air hostess asked as I sat.

  “Lovely, thanks.” I took the offered flute of bubbles and set it on my table.

  “Mr. Starr,” she said, holding out a silver tray with another glass perched on it.

  “I’m good, thanks,” he said, dropping his bulk into the seat next to mine. He still wore his sling and his left hand was resting high, near his right collarbone.<
br />
  “I have to say how thrilled we are to have you onboard American Airlines today, Mr. Starr,” the hostess said, giving a stretched, glossy red smile. “Anything you need at all, just ask. My name is Tara, and I’m at your service for the next nine hours.”

  “Okay.” He toed off his sneakers and kicked them to one side. Rested his feet up in front of him. He wore black socks.

  “And maybe later, before you disembark, you’d be kind enough to autograph this week’s edition of Hockey Today. I’m a huge Vipers fan. It really would mean a lot.” She gave a tinkling little laugh.

  “Yeah, sure, no problem,” he said, one-handedly tugging an iPod and a set of earphones from the front pocket of his flight bag.

  “Thank you, very much… Er, would you like a hand with that?” She gestured to the knot his earphone wires were in.

  “Nope. I can do it.”

  “Yes, yes of course.” She glanced at me, a fast, assessing flick of her eyes.

  I knew what was going through her mind. Were we together? Me and Raven. An item, a couple. And if so, what did I have that she didn’t? My ginger hair, passed down through generations of Welsh ancestors, curled around my shoulders in an unruly fashion. And I wasn’t the svelte shape she was; my sweet tooth ensured I had curves, dips and soft spots in what I considered to be all the right places.

  She ran her hands over her slim hips, smoothing the blue pencil skirt she wore, and turned her attention back to Raven. “We’re scheduled to take off on time, so if you could just make sure your belt is secure, I won’t have to bother you again.”

  “Yep,” Raven replied, making no move to do up his seatbelt and still fiddling with his iPod.

  “Would you like me to do it for you? Your seatbelt?” she asked.

  “Knock yourself out.”

  She leaned over him, fussing and fiddling, lingering as she smoothed out the straps and clicked them over his lap. I swear a rise of color reddened her cheeks as her hands hovered over his fly and she did up the clasp.

  “Thanks,” he said when she finally straightened from her task.

  “You’re welcome, and anything at all, just ask.”