Chapter 8 Kate #2
Flexing her right hand, she tested her mobility and the sting traveled all the way down to her fingers. She had a couple of days to get it back, but for now, this would have to do.
“You should put the sling back on,” Richard chided as he returned, three pizza boxes in hand. He stacked them onto the coffee table. “What do you want to drink?”
“Water is fine.” She didn’t need any alcohol, not on top of the anesthetic or if she ended up having to take one of those damn pain pills to placate Richard.
The fact that she wanted to erase the worry in his eyes worried her.
The deeper she went down this rabbit hole, the more it would hurt to extract herself.
He returned from the kitchen with plates, paper towels and two bottles of water. Setting it out, he turned and scooped her up before settling back onto the sofa with her in his lap.
“Richard, this violates the twelve-inch rule,” she reminded him and tried to ignore just how nice it was to be in his lap with his body curved around hers. She’d never craved protection before, but damn if he didn’t make it nice.
“Shh, I’m being impossible.” His arms tightened around her. “And I need a minute to make sure you’re all right.” Touched by the rough emotion in his voice, she leaned into him and brushed her fingers down his cheek.
“I am all right. It’s really a scratch.”
“It could have been a lot worse.” He studied her and the deep brown of his eyes seemed to have darkened to black.
“But it wasn’t.” She needed to soothe away his worry. “I’m fine. See? You can feel me. You’re holding me and I’m okay.”
“You know it’s okay if you’re not, right?” He tucked a finger under her chin and nudged her gaze up. “I get that you didn’t cry because you’re used to being the strong one, but it is okay if you were scared. Hell, I was terrified.”
Most men would never admit that and her already tremendous respect for him inched up a notch.
“I didn’t have time to be afraid,” she confessed.
Ready to kick herself for allowing the distraction and giving that shooter the opportunity, yes.
Afraid? No. But a lick of fear against her spine made a lie out of those words.
She hadn’t been afraid for herself at all—but the shooter hadn’t wanted to kill her.
Choking the thought off, she focused on him. “But I do need something.”
“Anything.” He brushed his fingers through her hair. She hadn’t put it back up after the hospital, only taking the time at her apartment to comb it out.
“Food?” Distract him, get the worry out of his eyes and ease the guilt she could read in his troubled expression—that was her goal. “I’m starving.”
Her stomach cooperated with the mission, growling as if to punctuate the demand, and his cheeks creased with a wide smile.
“Food I can do.” He let her go with some reluctance and set her down on the sofa next to him as though she were made of fine porcelain.
After loading up the plates with pizza and opening her water bottle for her, he dragged a pillow over to set it on her lap like a makeshift table.
Violently aware of his gaze on her as she took a bite, she nodded to the television. “Movie?”
“It’s late.” He frowned. “You should get some rest.”
“Are you ready to sleep?” Pushing aside her fatigue, she knew without asking he’d have trouble. He wore his concern like a hair coat and it would torture him if she didn’t find a way for him to relax.
“No…any preference?” He twisted and found the remotes, flicking the television on, but muting it while he pulled up the guide.
“Find something you like,” she suggested. God, she played with fire and would likely go straight to hell at this rate. “We’re supposed to be getting to know each other, right?”
The slash of a grin softened the hard line of his jaw and the tension in his shoulders eased a fraction. “You have to promise not to laugh.”
More curious than anything, she nodded. “Done.” She took a bite of her pizza and watched as he switched the television over to a selection of films and in the list of most recently watched were legal films. She raised her eyebrows. He selected A Time to Kill.
“You watch movies about lawyers.” She didn’t laugh, but she had to bite the inside of her lip hard.
“Yes.” He slid her a sideways glance. “What kind of movies do you like?”
“You can find out tomorrow when I pick.” Because admitting her love for action movies with military themes might be a bit too revealing.
“Tease.” But he grinned.
“Shut up and play the movie.” Before I make an even bigger mistake than I already have.
She wasn’t supposed to be involved. Caring compromised her objectivity.
But she suspected that it was too late. Settling back against the sofa, she tried to concentrate on the pizza and the movie.
The quiet only served to heighten her awareness of the man next to her.
I’m already compromised…
Saturday morning dawned far too early, but her shoulder’s brutal ache dragged her out of sleep.
Breathing through the throb, she took her time stretching each of her muscles.
Richard had set her prescription bottles on the table next to the guest bed and, though he’d lingered, she’d managed to shoo him out of the room so she could get some sleep.
But the reluctance to send him away had become a palpable cramp in her stomach.
Easing up, she flexed her right arm and damn if the bruised tissue didn’t hurt worse than it had the day before.
Adrenaline and shock were distant memories—stiffness was her worst enemy.
Swinging her legs over, she bit down on a groan as pain stretched fire across her too tight muscles and skin.
A one-two knock announced Richard before he opened the door. “Hey, I was just coming by to see if you were awake and wanted some coffee.” He’d crossed from the door to the bed and crouched in front of her in the time it took her to blow out a long hard breath. “You’re hurting.”
“It’s a little sore,” she admitted, but she kept flexing her hand, slowly and forcing the muscles to stretch a bit more each time. She couldn’t afford to be too stiff and unfortunately, the best medicine was movement—no matter how unpleasant.
“You didn’t take the pills the doctor gave you, did you?” Exasperation rode his words.
“No.” She focused on him, dressed casually in a T-shirt and shorts.
His attorney facade was nowhere to be seen.
Instead, she was treated to long, lean muscles and dark, tanned skin with the lightest sprinkle of crisp hairs decorating his arms and down his legs.
His very male presence definitely upset the equilibrium she struggled to maintain. “I don’t like to be muddle headed.”
Rather than chastise her, he rubbed his palm along her leg.
She’d slept in a tank top and shorts and she’d never been so aware of the thinness of the cotton before.
“How about I cut them in half? You can take smaller doses and gauge how foggy they make you feel?” Her surprise at the offer must have shown, because he gave her leg a gentle squeeze.
“Worst part of my recovery? The pain meds. Made it hard to think, but pain also makes it hard to think. So I found that if I lowered the doses some, it helped alleviate the pain and I didn’t feel like I’d come down with a case of stupid. ”
The corners of her mouth curved. Richard would not like to have his brain impaired.
He may have made for a cute drunk, but she’d never doubted his mental acumen, not even then.
Both alcohol and pain medication dulled reactions, but if her current struggle was any indicator, her reactions were already suffering. “Okay,” she agreed. “Half the dose.”
“Good girl.” He patted her leg and her skin continued to tingle from his touch as he shifted to open the bottle and look at the prescription advice. Fortunately, they’d given her tablets. “I’ll go cut these in half and get you some coffee.”
“I can come down.” Her synapses continued to fire in short, heady little bursts from his nearness and she curled her fingers into her palm to keep from testing the softness of the hair on his forearm. “You’re all dressed.” More than that, he had on shoes and a hint of aftershave.
“Woke up early,” he admitted. “And I checked in on you, but—” he held up a hand when she raised her brows, “—I stayed by the door. Once I was up, I was up. Need a hand getting dressed?”
Ignoring the playful leer, she shook her head. “I can do it. What I’d really like is a shower, but they said twenty-four hours until I can change the bandage.”
He leaned in and his breath tickled the side of her neck as he inhaled deeply.
The sudden nearness and intimacy sent a pulse of need arcing from her breasts to her toes and back to pool in her middle.
Strong, clean, masculine earthiness filled her nostrils and she wanted to drown in it. I am so screwed.
Drawing back, he gave her a lazy grin. “You smell sweet to me, so your shower can wait.” The knowing look in his eyes said he hadn’t missed an ounce of her reaction. “I’ll wait for you in the hall.”
She didn’t move until the door clicked shut behind him. Glancing down, she stared at the hard points of her nipples clearly outlined by her thin tank top. “Sports bra,” she muttered. “I need to sleep in one here.”
Five minutes later, she changed her mind—the bra strap cut right across the slice on her shoulder and increased the pressure.
Swearing, she rummaged around in her duffel until she found another tank top and layered the two.
It wasn’t much, but fortunately she’d never been gifted in the boob department.