"You hungry?" Shay asked.
"In a minute." He should turn on the TV, but he couldn't be bothered. He did need to use the facilities and he slid himself over to the side of the bed.
"You should walk," she said as he marched over to him.
"You're a sadist."
"It's good for your healing. You should walk more. I can get you a walking frame."
"Over my dead body.” He had some limits and he wasn't going to hobble around with a walking frame like some nursing home tearaway. Pulling himself up, he stood, hating how weak he felt. He had to put his arm around Shay's shoulder to support himself, then took a step. She placed her arm around his bare chest, making sure she was there if he faltered. It didn't hurt outrageously, but it felt really awkward. Still, he pushed through step after step until he was in the bathroom, exhausted and ready to sit. "Out," he said, wanting privacy.
"Aren't you cheery today," she accused and left. "Yell when you're ready to go back."
He wished he could walk on his own; it was embarrassing having to have her help him walk. It was also embarrassing having to do his business sitting down.
Breakfast was ready by the time she'd helped him back. The smell of bacon and eggs filled the whole apartment, and she wasn't a bad breakfast cook.
"I need to clean and dress your wounds when you're done. I'll wash those pants too while I'm at it."
He knew the apartment came with a washing machine and drier, stuck in a tiny cupboard off the kitchen, but he'd never used it. Strangely, in the few days she'd been here, she was more at home in his apartment than he was.
"You going to undress me, are you?" he said teasingly and noted the slight flush on her cheeks.
"It's also time that we clean you up a bit."
"The infamous sponge bath," he said, almost purring. "This should be interesting."
He took his time eating, wondering if he'd found the thing that got to Shay. The one thing that seemed to fluster her was his nakedness. No doubt a bit of an unfortunate characteristic for a nurse. When he was done eating, he leaned back. "Come on then, nurse, tear my clothes off."
Shay gave him a pointed look then went away, returning with medical stuff, placing it down on the bedside table and flicked out a new, clean sheet that had been sitting on the chair. She'd changed the bedding while he'd been in the bathroom, he noticed. Flicking the sheet again, she covered him with it, then drew up the side so she could work the pants over the metal contraption on the side of his leg.
He'd had women undress him before, but never this clinically. It still heated him though, but Shay only paid attention to his injured leg, which the sheet exposed, draping just around his package and revealing the length of his body. The flush to her cheeks had returned, maybe even a little brighter. He'd lost a little bit of muscle definition through, being in bed, but he was still solid. The bruising was prominent across his chest, but they were changing colour.
She retrieved a pad and wet it with something astringent and smelly out of a bottle and wiped around the spot where the metal pierced his flesh.
"They will remove this during the surgery," she said. "And you should recover quite quickly. If all goes well, you're ribs will probably give you more trouble."
After cleaning the other wound with the same smelly concoction, she tended the grazing on the other side of his torso and the other on his shoulder, which required a dressing, then put the medical stuff away. She went to the kitchen and returned with a bowl.
She started with his hand, working the warm flannel over his skin. The slight flush was still colouring her cheeks and Peter smiled. Relaxing, he let her slowly stroke over his skin with the flannel. He would think of this as a massage. It felt really nice. His skin relished some attention, but he kept a tight lid on anything kinky fleeting into his mind. He wasn't going to be the sad sack that got a hard-on during a sponge bath.
She urged him to move on his side and he complied. Maybe he actually should get a massage, he thought. It might help with his recovery, as well as get some of the tension out of his body from the injuries as well as the lack of sex.
"Do you want to clean down around your privates, or shall I?"
"I'll do it," he said. "You're blushing quite enough as it is." The truth was that he really wasn't going to tolerate a hard-on and her fiddling with his bits would definitely bring one on. He grabbed the flannel and reached under the sheet, watching as her cheeks glowed red, sternly looking out the window. "Didn't know nurses could be such prudes."
"I'm not a prude," Shay defended herself a little too quickly. He lifted the sheet, giving her a peek and smirked with her uncontrolled shocked expression. Her mouth grew tight with disapproval. "See—prude."
She gathered up the things and marched back to the kitchen, leaving him to wonder about her. He was pretty sure she wasn't inexperienced. She dressed in tight jeans and poor quality fuck-me boots when she went out. Maybe her hesitancy resulted from the fact that she shouldn't be blushing at naked men when she was doing her job. Either way, he had an in and he wasn't done with it. Teasing his nurse was the only entertainment he had. When he was better, he might have to urge her to be completely unprofessional in her nurse/client relationship. Leaning back with his arm behind his head, letting the sheet ride low, he watched her. He would enjoy that.
Chapter 7
* * *
Peter was asleep when she got there, still nude from what she could see as he lay on his stomach with his hands under his pillow. The curves of his arms and his upper body were absolutely delicious to look at, not to mention the firm bum and thighs under the sheet. It felt wrong seeing something so intimate and private for someone she didn't really know. It was part of the job, obviously, but it was still disconcerting to be privy to it. Maybe once she'd worked a few years it wouldn't even register with her. And she should not be perving on her clients; it was wrong and unprofessional.
She sat down on one of the bar stools in the kitchen, not wanting to disturb him. As quietly as she could, she drew out a magazine from her bag and placed it on the kitchen island.
Jess still hadn't come home by morning. Apparently she'd hit it off with that rugby type and Shay hadn't seen her since. She'd gone home alone after returning to the pub to check on Jess, but Jess was deep in conversation with this guy and hadn't barely noticed when Shay left.
Flicking the pages of the magazine, she wondered what she was going to do about the guy sleeping behind her. He seemed to love teasing her and she was rising to it. Not to mention that her mouth had gone completely dry when she had to deal with him naked and watching her. So incredibly unprofessional, but he had an amazing body. It unerringly drew her attention and she’d caught herself just standing there admiring it. She had to be better than this. And he'd flashed her. He obviously had no qualms about his nudity and unfortunately the image had stuck in her mind.
She couldn’t quite put her finger on what kind of guy he was. He was obviously a player type, and this was the pad he brought girls back to with its sleek décor and Champagne—whores and conquests was how he thought of them. Maybe he was the player type that all the mini player types all looked up to. Maybe he was the mother of all players, she thought, smiling to herself before getting up and turning the ridiculously over-engineered coffee machine on. It made more noise than she’d anticipated and she heard movement behind her.
"Coffee?" she asked, but he didn't answer.
The machine did make some really lovely coffee, rich and smooth. She dreaded to think how much it cost. He didn't have a lot of stuff, but what he had was top of the line. She made a coffee for him anyway.
He was on his back with his eyes closed by the time she placed it down on the bed side table. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I've been in a car wreck."
"I'll get your medication ready," she said and returned with the bottles she now had lined up on the kitchen island.
The doorbell rang and Shay paused. Turning to Peter, she saw that he wasn't
surprised. He was expecting someone. It was pretty early for a social call. This would be interesting, Shay thought. This was the first person she'd met who Peter knew.
A girl stood on the other side, dressed in a slim grey suit with her dark hair drawn into a pony tail. She was pretty with nicely done make-up.
"Hello," she said. "Is Peter here?" A Kiwi too, which surprised Shay.
For a moment, Shay didn't know what to do. She shouldn't just let this person in. "One moment please," Shay said and stepped back into the apartment, turning to Peter. "There is someone here to see you."
"Let her in."
With a smile, Shay let the girl in and closed the door behind her, retreating behind the kitchen table and watched as the girl approached him. She stopped a few meters from his bed. Peter was still bare from the chest up and his bruises were prominent, as was the covered fixture on his thigh, angularly poking through the sheet.
"Christ, Peter, you look like you were worked over pretty good," the girl said. "I got this for you." Putting her hand in her bag, she pulled out a box. Shay knew immediately what it was.
"Thank you," he said. "How are you?"
"Good."
"You look good. I guess the world of corporate consulting is agreeing with you."
"It's a little different, but I'm learning my way around."
There was a distinct awkwardness between them and Shay wondered if this girl was Peter's ex. Peter reached up and took the box from her and she stepped back, her heels clicking on the marble floor. Awesome shoes that likely cost a fair bit.
The sight before her told Shay that Peter wasn't quite the island he made out. Not that it was making it any easier to figure him out—it only made it more complicated actually. Peter wasn't quite as shallow as he made out.
"How's D’Arth?" Peter asked.
"Fine." The awkward silence returned. "I have to go. Can't be late."
Peter blinked, putting the box down on his stomach. "Thanks for this. I'll pay you back."
"Don't worry about it," she said and smiled tightly.
Her heels clicked again as she walked back to the door. The girl gave Shay a quick nod before leaving, closing the door behind her.
Peter leaned back on the pillows for a while, crossing his arms. This girl meant something to him, but Shay couldn't quite make out what—the whole exchange had the awkwardness of an ex. There was that angry curiosity and familiarity that only came from a break up. They were not two friends commiserating over his bad luck.
She wanted to ask who that was, but it wasn't her place to pry into his personal life. At least there was someone in his life, although awkwardly.
Peter looked down at the box with the flashy picture of a phone on it. The box was matt and almost buttery to the touch when he slid the lid off and took out the sleek black phone nestled inside. Reaching for the emergency phone, he took it apart and retrieved the SIM card inside and placed it in the new smartphone. When he pressed the power button, it lit up with a jingle.
"I'll cook breakfast," Shay said from the kitchen, but he ignored her. Her statement didn't need input and he continued to configure the phone.
It had been strange seeing Alex and the concern in her eyes. She looked good—had obviously upped her wardrobe with the more formal culture of one of the big corporates. She hadn't wanted to be here; he could tell. Guilt and her good nature made her come. He wondered what he would have done if the tables had been turned. She never would have called him in the first place. There was no one that would call him to rescue them.
He'd had her on baited breath for a while and she would have given herself to him if he had been willing to offer her more. He'd refused to, but he'd never been so aware of it with anyone else. It had been a distinct decision on his part. Although that hadn't been completely true. He'd wanted her to … He wasn't entirely sure what he'd wanted. The whole thing had been fraught for some reason, but she'd disappointed him in the end.
It was uncomfortable to think about and he refused to dwell it any longer. Perhaps having her come over had been a mistake.
"You better not be working on that thing," Shay said, placing a plate of bacon and eggs on his bedside table, standing with her hand on her hip.
"And what will you do if I do?"
"I will have to wrestle it off you."
"I would be naked at the time," he grinned. She made a disgusted noise and walked away. She could pretend to be disgusted all she wanted, but he saw when she checked him out. Turning to his side, he propped himself up and faced her, ignoring the breakfast steaming beside him. "So where did you go in your fuck-me boots last night?"
"They were not fuck-me boots."
"They really were. Kind of like 'fuck me like a bastard in a back alley'." He'd shocked her this time. She stood with her mouth open, not know what to say. Teasing Shay McPherson wiped away all the discomfort and awkwardness he felt with Alex's visit. This was familiar ground and it was fun compared to the challenging feelings he seemed to have related to Alex, and whatever it was he'd been looking for from her—things he didn't really want to explore. "Pull anyone? Come on—boots like that can only be for pulling."
"Don't be revolting."
"Prude."
"Fine, have it your way. I'm a total prude."
"Tease more like it."
"Oh, I'm a tease now. Eat your breakfast," she ordered, turning her back on him.
Grabbing his plate, he put it in front of him and started eating, smiling at how easy she was to tease.
Chapter 8
* * *
Shay arrived at Peter's apartment feeling a bit agitated. Today was the day of his surgery. The hospital administration staff had called the previous day to take her through the logistics of where he had to go and when.
He was awake this time, lying on his stomach and staring out the window. Shay rolled her eyes as the sheet showed off his form perfectly. She really needed to get a lid on that reaction.
"You alright?" she asked.
He turned over and faced her. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Shay shrugged and smiled, suspecting Peter would never admit he was less than calm and collected. It was okay to be nervous about surgery she wanted to say, but guessed how he would react to something like that. No weakness was his motto. “Unfortunately you can't eat anything. You ready to go to the bathroom?" His pants were still lying folded on the chair by the bed where she'd but them washed and folded, so he was still naked underneath the sheet. "Perhaps we should dress you first, unless you want to go to hospital in that sheet."
Peter gave her an unimpressed look. It wasn't her that insisted on being naked all the time. Grabbing the pants, she sat down by his legs and lifted the sheet, taking a good look at his wounds while she was at it. They looked good. No sign of infection. He was healing well, without any noticeable complications. Hopefully the surgery would go just as well.
After sliding the pants up his legs under the sheet, she worked the pants over his fixture and his hips. He was warm through the material, but she made sure she didn't touch him. After, she pulled out her manometer and checked his blood pressure like she did three times a day, and everything seemed fine.
Urging him to stand, she helped him hobble over to the bathroom. It would be easier for him to move when the fixture came off. They would replace the fixture with a rod today, one that went down through the broken bone and fixed everything in place.
She waited outside as he did his business then helped him back, putting him in the chair next to his bed. Grabbing one of his golf shirts out of the wardrobe, she tossed it to him. It was strange riffling through his wardrobe with all its male artefacts—his inner sanctum. These were the things he'd collected to represent the person he wanted to be.
She found a pair of tennis shoes as well and helped him put them on. Looking up from where she was crouched, she smiled. "If you're ready, I'll call a cab."
He nodded, but his usual derisiveness wasn't there today. He was a bit nervous about this
, although she couldn't blame him. No one in their right mind wouldn't be nervous. Things went wrong during surgery; it was an inescapable fact.
The cab waited outside and Peter had to awkwardly step into the back of the classic black London cab. The cabbie was unfazed, having likely seen everything making its way into the back of his cab and a mechanised man was probably an everyday occurrence.
"Charing Cross Hospital, please," Shay said as she sat down next to Peter, still holding onto his arm. Noticing that she did, she let go of him. She'd actually developed some protective feelings for him and she wondered if she would for every patient she had. Being new to this, she still had concerns that she wasn't cut out for nursing. She wouldn't know until she was in the thick of it. She actually wanted to work in a hospital, but this job was the first she'd been offered. It wasn't the ideal job, but she felt bad thinking of it that way—accepting the job and Peter's needs because it was the only one offered to her.
The traffic was slow. It was a Tuesday morning and it was still within the rush hour period. Peter was silently watching out the window. He hadn't been outside since he'd come home, but with this surgery, hopefully he would start being a little more mobile.
When they got there, she had to retrieve a wheelchair, feeling uncomfortable about leaving Peter standing on his own. His tight expression showed that he didn't like being there and it garnered her sympathy. She wheeled him into a reception area where they had to register and wait until someone came and showed them up onto one of the wards.
Shay helped him into the bed and sat in the visitors chair waiting while the hospital got on with their business. It was a typical room, white with a window. No one came for a long time and they just waited. "Do you want me to go get you some magazines or something?"
Peter turned to her from where he was staring out into nothingness. His quietness attested to his nervousness if nothing else. He smiled absently and Shay recognised again how gorgeous he was, particularly when he was distracted and his more abrasive personality was absent.
The Gem (D'Arth Book 4) Page 4
