Swinging On A Star
Page 18
Which is why he’d brought her to his house.
She’d giggled when he’d carried her from the taxi into the living room, setting her on the sofa and elevating her leg with a pillow. Apparently in her current state, being ferried around like a fainting heroine in a historical novel was amusing. She’d been given a set of crutches but frankly she scared Max to death with them. At best Carrie could only be described as awkward when she’d tried them out at the hospital but then she was under the influence of some powerful painkillers. It was much easier and simpler, not to mention safer, to simply carry her where he needed her to be.
He put a few pillows behind her back and handed her the remote for the television. “Now why don’t I get you a nice cup of tea? Are you hungry? I can fix something.”
Carrie shook her head, placing the remote on the end table. “Still full from lunch but thank you. No tea, but maybe a nice glass of water? The pain medication is making me thirsty.” She blinked a few times and yawned. “And a little sleepy too.”
Hurrying into the kitchen, he quickly fixed a glass of ice water and brought it out to her only to find her fast asleep, her head lolling against the cushions. With a chuckle, he retrieved a wool throw from the closet and covered her up, careful to tuck the blanket around her feet and shoulders. They’d both been chilled to the bone after getting caught in that rainstorm.
After running upstairs to change clothes and into an old pair of sweats and a t-shirt, he checked on Carrie again still peacefully sleeping although the blanket had slid off and onto the floor. He tucked it around her again and settled into a chair opposite the couch to check his emails on his laptop. His attention, however, kept straying back to his houseguest as she slept, her expression in sweet repose.
In deep contrast to pretty much all of her waking moments.
He winced as he remembered her whimpers of pain when they’d manipulated her ankle in the hospital to see how badly it was damaged. Her full lower lip had trembled but fighter that she was, she’d held back the tears that had surely wanted to fall. A few expletives had escaped from her potty mouth but all in all Carrie had been quite brave. He’d expected a few of those curse words to fall on his head but so far, nary a one.
After all, this was Max’s fault.
Like the stupid idiot that he was, he’d been running too fast on the wet pavement. His legs were twice as long as Carrie’s, so of course she’d been struggling to keep up. He’d wanted out of the rain and because of his thoughtlessness she’d been hurt. He was supposed to be taking care of her and now she’d been injured. Paige and Nate were going to throw a fit when they found out. Max had some groveling due for Carrie and he would gladly do it. Hopefully when the pain medication wore off and she started to think more clearly, she wouldn’t hate him.
His gaze traveled back to the couch where she lay sleeping, her long, dusky lashes fanned out on her cheeks and a dainty hand tightly clutching the blanket to her chest as if it were her favorite stuffie. When awake, Carrie was a formidable and strong woman but right now she looked almost like an angelic child. His protective instincts had already kicked in but now they seemed to take up every part of him until his chest was painfully tight at the mere thought of anything bad happening to her. He’d keep her safe and happy no matter what.
Time ceased to be meaningful as he studied her head to toe. The long fiery red hair, her stubborn chin and graceful neck, her perfectly polished toes peeking out of the boot. Every time he saw her again he was struck by how much more beautiful she was than the time before. Was she growing more lovely or was something changing inside of him?
Going back and forth between watching her sleep and checking his email, he didn’t know how much time had passed when her lids fluttered open and a smile curved her lips for a split second before a grimace took its place. The medication must be wearing off.
“Shit, I hurt.”
Quickly tossing his laptop aside, he was up and out of the chair. “I’ll get you the pain pills the doctor prescribed.”
“Wait,” she called, struggling to sit up, her forehead furrowed with the effort. “I don’t want to take those unless I have to. Maybe just at night. I have some ibuprofen in my purse. Fuck, where is my purse? We didn’t leave it in the street, did we?”
There was panic in her voice and Max hurried to her side and knelt down, taking her hands in his. “I told you I have this handled, didn’t I? Your purse is on the foyer table. Do you want me to get it for you?”
Not waiting to hear her answer, he snagged the oversized handbag from the table and placed it down next to her. Knowing Carrie, she wouldn’t have rested until she saw the damn thing with her own two eyes.
She pawed through it, placing odds and ends on the coffee table before tossing back two pills and chasing them with the now tepid glass of water. Her gaze followed his to the items she’d unloaded from her purse.
“What?”
Picking up the small bottle, he flipped the lid and sniffed. Alcohol.
“Hand sanitizer,” she offered, her brows raised.
He held up a second item.
“Hair tie. You never know when you’re going to need to pull your hair back.”
“Obviously.” He held up a third. “And this?”
“Band-aids or as you call them, plasters. I get a lot of paper cuts.”
There was a tin of mints, a brush, a comb, a tiny notebook with a pen, a head band, an e-reader, an Oyster card for the Tube, chocolate, dental floss, tissues, safety pins, a mobile charger, a bottle of nail polish, and several tubes of lipstick.
And the purse wasn’t yet empty. It had been heavier to carry than she was.
“Well, my sweet, should there be a zombie apocalypse you are all set.”
Carrie stuffed everything into her bag. “I think you’re making fun of me.”
“I’m just surprised. You’re usually one of the most organized women I’ve ever seen but in this one area you have a giant bag of odds and ends.”
Pulling open the top of the purse, she held it up so he could see inside. “It is organized. I have a place for everything and I know where it all is. It only looks muddled to the untrained eye.”
It was his turn for his brows to shoot up. “Am I the untrained eye in this scenario?”
“Are you an expert on women’s handbags?”
Max had to admit that he was not.
“No, but I’m trainable.”
“My point exactly. Now do you think I could trouble you for some ice for my ankle? It hurts like someone took a sledgehammer to it.”
Shit, he needed to get on the ball if he was going to take care of her. “Of course. One ice pack coming up.”
He refreshed her water while he was at it and then handed her a stack of menus. “Choose whatever you want.”
Gingerly she accepted them but didn’t open any. “You don’t need to go to any trouble. I can just order something when I get home.”
Home? Carrie had no clue. He’d expected an argument when she figured out she was just about helpless but it appeared…she hadn’t figured it out yet.
“Sweet,” he said gently, lowering himself into the chair next to the couch. “You aren’t going home tonight. Or probably tomorrow night either. Or the next. Don’t you remember that the doctor said no weight on that ankle for at least a few days? That means you can’t be on your own.”
It took her a long moment before she seemed to understand, panic crossing her features.
“I can’t stay here.”
Why not? She hadn’t minded last night.
He kept his voice even and calm, not wanting to get pulled into an argument about this. She wasn’t leaving and that was final. “You need someone to take care of you. I’m sure Paige would want to do it herself if she was here but she’s in LA. It’s not a problem because I’m glad to do it. This is all my fault anyway.”
Carrie shifted position, wincing as she moved her tender ankle. “How is this your fault? I was clumsy and I fell.”
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“Chasing after me,” he shot back. “My legs are twice as long as yours are. I was thoughtless and you paid for my inattentiveness. I truly am very sorry, Carrie. I never meant for you to be hurt.”
“My shoe slipped,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s not your fault.”
“Because we were running. If we had been going at a more reasonable clip it might not have happened.”
“Or I might have been flattened by a London taxi. Seriously, you don’t have to feel guilty. I’m sad to say this isn’t the first time I’ve fallen ass over teakettle and it won’t be the last.”
He clapped his hands on his knees. “Be that as it may, I do feel responsible. Now what would you like for dinner?”
Her expression turned mutinous. He had a fight on his hands.
“I cannot stay here, Max.”
“Why not? You clearly cannot stay by yourself. How will you get around?”
She pointed to the crutches he’d leaned against the doorway. Far away from where she was lying so she wouldn’t be tempted. “With those.”
“Oh? How will you carry food or drink back and forth? Or get in and out of the shower? Or climb the stairs? You haven’t thought all of this through, love. The hospital was very clear in their instructions. You’re to have someone to look after you for a few days until you’re getting around better. They wouldn’t have released you if they thought you were going to be on your own.”
Her mouth was hanging open and he had to stifle a laugh. She appeared positively scandalized. “The shower? You’re planning to help me bathe?”
In every way possible if she’d let him.
He gave her an evil grin. “It will be my pleasure.”
Her mouth opened and closed a few times as her gaze darted to the crutches then back at him. Every alternate scenario she could think of was whirling through that brilliant mind of hers but she was going to come back to the same solution he’d come to hours ago. Falling back against the cushions, she gave a sigh of defeat.
“Fine, but we’ll…reevaluate…in the morning. I might be a lot better.”
“We’ll see,” he replied, picking up the menus again and handing them to her. “Now choose some dinner and then a movie perhaps? Whatever you want to do tonight.”
Max was simply grateful she’d given in and stayed. But he had a feeling that this might just be the battle and not the war. Victory was far from a sure thing when it came to Carrie.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Max had missed his calling. He should have been a nurse, not a movie star. He’d fetched and carried for her all evening, doing everything but cutting her meat. With the gigantic boot on her leg she was terribly awkward, making it difficult to do even the simplest of tasks. There was one thing it didn’t impede and that was eating. She’d scarfed down the pizza they’d ordered in no time.
There was a movie playing on the huge television on the wall but Carrie wasn’t all that interested. She couldn’t seem to get into a comfortable position on the couch and going to bed with a good book sounded like an excellent option. But one question had hung in the air all night like a neon sign in her favorite watering hole back in Florida.
Would she be in that bed alone?
More than likely, no. He’d said he intended to help her bathe although he might have been pulling her leg, which would be cruel considering she had an injured one. She wanted a shower or bath desperately, having been baptized with buckets of rain water earlier in the day plus the grime she’d picked up on the city pavement. There was something about being freshly clean when she slid between the sheets. It was a primal feeling that she never got tired of. It required, however, Max’s cooperation.
The man that was currently dominating her thoughts reached for the empty ice cream bowl sitting in her lap. “More? I think I have biscuits—I mean, cookies—as well.”
Patting her stomach, she handed him her dishes. Turns out he was domestic too, cleaning up the kitchen and dirty dishes while she relaxed.
“I’m stuffed, thank you. But…”
Pausing on the way to the kitchen, Max waited for her to continue.
Crap. I could just go to bed dirty. But…ewww.
“I was wondering…if maybe…you could help me take a bath? I feel filthy after rolling around on your London sidewalks.”
To his credit, he didn’t give her the wolfish smile she’d seen in the past. Simply nodding his head in assent, his expression solemn. “Whatever you need. Just let me tidy up the kitchen.”
The image of Max elbows deep in suds was doing strange things to Carrie’s libido. A man was never more attractive than when he was cleaning or cooking. Unless it was holding a baby. That blew everything else out of the water. Maxwell Hayes with a child in his arms would simply not be fair to womankind.
It didn’t take him long to finish whatever he was doing in the kitchen. “Are you ready?”
“More than ready. I just want to curl up in bed with a good book.”
She wasn’t in any condition to curl up with Max. Was she?
Throwing off the blanket, she sat up but before she could swing her legs down to the floor, Max had bent over and scooped her into his arms bridal style.
“Hold on, love. We’re going upstairs.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice. He’d carried her to the taxi from the hospital and then into the house but it hadn’t involved dizzying heights. Burying her face in his neck so she couldn’t look down, she tried to pretend she was lighter than she actually was, although he didn’t appear winded at all.
He settled her onto the long bathroom vanity. “I know you said you wanted a bath but getting in and out of the tub might be problematic and slippery even with me lifting you. I’d suggest a shower. You can sit on the seat and be comfortable.”
Carrie had pictured herself sitting in bubbles but he had a point. Getting in and out of that tub was going to be a bitch and a half even with him lending the muscle. She didn’t want to put the poor man into traction.
“That’s a good idea. I’ll do that.”
Max stripped his t-shirt off and tossed it aside. “Excellent.”
Eyes wide, Carrie held up her hand. “Whoa there, Hamlet. What are you doing?”
He didn’t answer, instead shooting a question back at her. “How are you planning to get in the shower?”
Studying the path from here to there, she considered her options. “I’ll take off the boot and hop over there.”
He crossed his arms over his extremely attractive chest. “On a floor that might be wet? That doesn’t sound all that safe, does it?”
No, it didn’t but for some reason she was feeling self-conscious, which was incredibly stupid. He’d seen – and touched – every part of her last night and this morning. But while it was one thing to get an eyeful during sex it was something else entirely during the clinical process of being hygienic.
Dropping her gaze to her toes, she swung her good leg back and forth nervously. “I’m a little shy.”
His sock-clad feet appeared in her view and his fingers lifted her chin so she was looking up into those crystal clear blue eyes. “Shy? Whatever for? I’ve seen what you have as you’ve seen me too.”
And it had been glorious.
She shrugged, heart suffusing her cheeks. “I know it’s silly but this… It’s different.”
Leaning down, he brushed his lips against hers, light as a feather. “Please let me help you, Carrie. I know I’m difficult and grouchy but I swear that I can take good care of you if you’ll let me.”
The lump in her throat wouldn’t let her speak so she simply nodded. He gave her a triumphant smile before stepping back and stripping off the rest of his clothes, which ended up in a heap on the tile floor. Completely unconcerned about his nudity, he twisted the water on in the huge shower stall.
Damn, he looks good.
“Now let’s get you undressed.” He knelt down, his fingers going to the Velcro ties on the boot. “Should we start here?”
“I saw you wince. Are you okay? Should I get your pain medication?”
Shaking her head, she shrugged off her blouse. “I’ll take some when I get in bed. It just hurt for a moment when you took the pressure off the ankle.”
Max took the blouse from her hands and carefully folded it and placed it on the hamper lid. Next came her jeans which was a bigger deal but with his help easily dealt with. The lone sock on her left foot followed. Now she was only clad in her bra and panties, a fact that Max seemed to appreciate. His warm gaze roved all over her body and her skin tingled in response.
He hadn’t even touched her. Yet.
Reaching for the butterfly clasp between her breasts, Carrie unclipped it and pulled it away, her nipples puckering in the cool air. She set it on top of the neatly stacked pile of clothes before reaching down for her panties but his hands had made it there first. He hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband and tugged them down as his other arm lifted her bottom off of the vanity, his rough skin skimming her sensitive flesh all the way to her toes. The scrap of red satin joined the rest of her clothes, almost like the cherry on top of a silk and lace hot fudge sundae.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes locked with his.
“You’re welcome.”
His voice was husky with a desire that his naked body couldn’t hide. His cock was at full attention and she had to drag her fascinated gaze away from it. Staring wasn’t polite.
She tried not to squirm too much when he lifted her into his arms and placed her in the shower, setting her down on the tiled seat. The steam and hot water felt heavenly and she immediately felt her muscles loosen and the tension she’d been carrying in her neck and shoulders dissolve.