Chapter 9 #2
‘No, I …’ He glanced away. ‘No medical treatment. I needed to … to help someone else. Their needs were greater than mine.’
She waited, allowing him time to gather himself, the memories were clearly still raw. ‘And it’s been painful to walk ever since?’
He rubbed his arms, like he was cold. ‘Some days it’s worse than others. It’s mostly stairs I struggle with.’
‘May I?’ When he nodded his agreement, she went over and placed her hands on his hips. ‘Is it a sharp jabbing pain, or a dull ache?’
‘A dull ache.’ There was such anguish in his voice she wondered if he was talking about his hip, or his heart. Whatever had happened that night, it had certainly left a scar.
She gently compared the joints. ‘Worse when you weight-bear?’
He nodded.
She moved around to his back and lifted his shirt. ‘Was this incident the start of your claustrophobia issues too?’
He didn’t immediately answer. ‘Is that relevant?’
She rested her fingers at the top of his spine, checking the feel of each vertebrae as she moved downwards. ‘Studies have shown a link between physical and emotional trauma. They often feed off each other. Depression can exacerbate physical pain.’
‘I’m not depressed.’
‘And yet you have an acute injury you haven’t sought medical help for.’
‘I’ve been busy. It doesn’t mean I’m depressed.’
She felt the muscle in his left buttock spasm as she ran her thumb over the area. ‘Do you take pain medication?’
‘Sometimes.’
The rigidity of his supporting muscles indicated he was using other muscles to carry the weakness in his hip. ‘Daily? Weekly?’
‘You don’t need to lecture me about not getting treatment, okay? I had my reasons.’
‘I’m sure you did.’ She moved to his side, unruffled by his testiness, pain made people grumpy.
‘And I’m sure they were valid reasons, but continuing to live in pain while relying on drugs to get through the day isn’t ideal.
You may find your claustrophobia issues subside once the pain reduces, so to refuse help might be classed as—’
‘Stupid?’
She met his gaze. ‘Not in your best interests.’
‘Very diplomatic.’
She stepped away from him. ‘I appreciate we haven’t got off to the best start, but the physio in me struggles to watch someone suffering when I know treatment would help.
The question is, are you going to continue being stubborn and deny yourself the opportunity of feeling better, or are you going to accept my offer of treatment? ’
He closed his eyes. ‘How much will it cost?’
‘No charge.’
His eyes shot open. ‘I have to pay you.’
‘Oh, you’ll pay,’ she said, pinning him with a look. ‘Just not with money.’
One eyebrow raised. ‘Should I be alarmed?’
‘As the author Adam Kay put it, This is Going to Hurt.’ She stunned him with one of her beaming smiles. ‘Besides, the sooner you’re healed, the sooner I can persuade you to swap offices with me.’ She held out her hand. ‘Lift your right knee to the height of my hand, please.’
He lifted his knee. ‘Is that why you’re doing this?’
In truth, she had no idea why she was doing this, her logic was severely skewered. All she knew was that she wanted to ease this man’s suffering.
‘Like I said, you helped Sofia, so I’m helping you.’ It was the only reasoning she had, so she was clinging hold of it. ‘It’s what civilised human beings do. Lower your knee and transfer your weight to the right hip.’
She slid her hand over the joint and around to his buttock. When she glanced up she realised he was staring at her, the lenses in his glasses misting over slightly from the heat in the room. She supposed it was rather odd to have a strange woman gripping your arse.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’
‘I can’t work you out. One moment you’re bitching at me, the next you’re incredibly nice. Which is the real you?’
‘Can’t I be both? Part vixen, part angel?’
His gaze dropped to her mouth. ‘You’re no angel.’
It was probably down to the non-medical space, why else would the hairs on her arms be lifting?
‘Why is it men feel the need to pigeonhole women into types? A smart man would realise that people, regardless of gender, are complex creatures made up of many facets. I have layers, not all of them nice. Straighten up for me and lift your left knee.’
He did as instructed.
She checked the angle of his hip. ‘Can you go any higher?’
He lifted his leg a fraction, grimacing as he did so.
‘Stop there. I don’t want you pushing into pain.’ She met his worried gaze. ‘Not yet, anyway.’
‘There’s that expression again. It unnerves me.’
‘I can’t think why?’ She attempted an innocent look. ‘Besides, how would you like it if I made an assumption about you based on our interactions so far? Would that be a fair assessment of your character?’
‘No.’ He lowered his eyes. ‘I’m not at my best right now.’
‘Exactly. So I’ll withhold my opinion until I know you better.
’ She tapped his knee. ‘Lower your leg and drop your weight to the left side.’ The stiffness in his hip was visible.
She pointed to his trouser fly. ‘It would help if you unbuttoned. You can leave them on, just ease the waistband down a bit.’
He kept his eyes locked on hers as he slowly unzipped his fly. ‘Enough?’ It was his turn to play games.
‘Plenty,’ she said, disguising her lumpy swallow as she slid her hands into the top of his trousers.
His skin was very warm and smooth. ‘So, who is Daniel J Jackson? I know you’re a solicitor, and you’re originally from the US, and you’ve lived in the UK for eighteen years, but what else? What lies behind the suit?’
‘You tell me. You’re the one undressing me.’
‘Oh, please,’ she scoffed. ‘Believe me, if I was undressing you, you’d know about it.
’ She regretted her choice of response when his eyes widened with surprise—and if she wasn’t mistaken, a touch of heat.
‘I meant figuratively,’ she said, digging her thumb into his pelvis and killing any hint of desire.
‘There’s not much to tell,’ he said, grimacing through the pain as she assessed the extent of scar tissue.
‘I don’t believe that. Everyone has layers.’
‘Not me. I’m pretty basic,’ he said, clenching his jaw. ‘What are your layers?’
Sensing he needed a distraction from the pain, she indulged him. Nothing too personal, just enough to convince him she wasn’t the enemy. ‘Well, I’m part English, part Colombian, so I’m a complex mixture of demure containment and fiery exuberance. You’ve met both versions, I believe.’
‘I think I read about you in a book once.’ He lifted an eyebrow. ‘It was called Jekyll and Hyde.’
‘Funny.’ Except it wasn’t. Felix’s criticisms about the flaws in her ‘split personality’ still niggled.
She dropped to her knees, her hands still on his hips.
The look on his face was priceless. ‘Err … what are you doing?’
She glanced up, her expression pure innocence. ‘What do you think I’m doing?’
‘I think you’re being deliberately provocative.’
‘As if I’d do such a thing. I’m a professional, I’ll have you know. How else can I assess the alignment of your hips unless I’m at eye-level?’ She trailed her hands down his legs, feeling each quad muscle twitch as she passed over it.
‘You were telling me about your layers,’ he said, his voice strangulated. His head was angled upwards, his eyes were staring at the ceiling, and his hands were bunched into fists. He reminded her of Dr Bruce Banner as he tried desperately not to turn into The Hulk.
‘Well, I alternate between wanting a raucous night out to craving a quiet night in. I love spicy food, but I equally adore egg and chips, and I go stir crazy if I don’t regularly exercise. I believe in the certainty of science, but the escapism of creativity.’
‘Like dressing up in weird costumes?’ He laced his hands into his hair, gripping hard, until he realised his trousers were about to fall down and frantically grabbed for the waistband.
Ignoring a flash of baby-blue underwear, she stood up. ‘It’s a family thing.’
He pulled his trousers up. ‘Your whole family dresses up?’
‘It’s something we’ve always done.’ She smiled at the memory of her mum seated at the sewing machine, humming along to music as she finished their costumes, working late into the night.
He frowned at her. ‘Why?’
‘Probably to avoid reality,’ she said with a shrug.
‘You’ve heard the saying, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.
Well, in our version we dress up in elaborate costumes and become make-believe characters, who conquer the world, have adventures, and experience loads of fun.
… Bend over and rest your hands on your knees, please. ’
He blinked in surprise. ‘Is that necessary?’
‘I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t.’
‘Can I zip up my pants first?’
‘Not yet.’
Letting out a frustrated sigh, he bent forwards. ‘What are you trying to escape? Did you have a troubled childhood or something? Did your parents argue all the time?’
‘Crikey, no.’ She stood behind him and checked his coccyx.
‘I had an amazing childhood, it was heaps of fun. And my parents never argued … well, they did sometimes, but it never latest long. Arguing inevitably ended up with them heading for the bedroom. We learnt never to disturb a closed door, my parents had a very passionate relationship.’
‘I envy you.’ He stood up with a groan. ‘Sorry, that was really insensitive. I know your mum died … I just meant not all couples have what they had.’
‘It’s okay, I know what you meant. Do you have any pain in your groin?’
He looked genuinely horrified. ‘Please don’t examine my groin.’
She wanted to assure him any physical reaction to her touching him was perfectly normal. She treated hormonal teenagers, for crying out loud. Somehow she didn’t think this would appease him. ‘Is it okay if I examine your glutes?’
He bit his lip. ‘If you must. Can I stay upright?’
‘Yes.’ She moved around to his back. ‘What about your parents, what are they like?’
His shoulders stiffened. ‘Deceased.’
‘Both of them?’ She was stunned into silence for a moment. ‘Goodness, I’m sorry.’
‘It was a long time ago.’
She placed her hands on his lower back and checked his symmetry, her animosity dissolving with each new fact she discovered about him. Knowing how much she missed her mum, the idea of losing both parents was unimaginable. ‘Do you have any other family?’
‘A brother.’ He held onto the front of his trousers, as if fearful they were about to fall down again. ‘So, if you had such a great childhood, why did you need to escape reality?’
‘Sick sister,’ she said, running her hands down his glutes. ‘It’s why we moved to the UK, so Luisa could get the treatment she needed.’
The muscles in his backside clenched tighter. ‘Is she better now?’
Elena shook away an image of her sister lying in her hospital bed hooked up to various machines and drips.
‘It’s a permanent condition, so she’ll never be totally okay.
There are good days, mixed in with a load of really bad ones …
which is why we make the most of every day and do stuff like dressing up.
It helps.’ She pressed her thumb into the muscles either side. ‘Any pain when I do this?’
‘No.’ He stepped away, keeping his back to her. ‘Can I zip up my pants now, please?’
‘Yes, you may. Want the verdict?’
Fastening his top button, he turned to face her. ‘Hit me with it.’
‘I’d like to refer you for scans to be certain, but I’m pretty sure you’ve damaged the ligament at the head of your femur which attaches to the hip socket.
I can give you exercises to improve flexibility, but there’s a significant build-up of scar tissue around the area, which is hampering your movement and exacerbating the pain. ’
‘Is that something that can be treated?’
‘Yes, but I warn you, it’ll be painful. We basically have to re-injure the hip by breaking down the damaged tissue. You need to prepare yourself for a few painful massages and stretches while the injury heals and regains its elasticity. Your hip will be quite sore for a while.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Great.’
‘Short-term pain, long-term gain, as I say to my patients. This is the best way of reversing the damage.’ She headed over to the chair and picked up her bag, her impression of Daniel Jackson having altered over the last half hour.
She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that.
‘But scans first to confirm my diagnosis. Any questions?’
He looked a little shellshocked. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Good, call me if you think of anything.’ She placed her business card on his desk, before heading over to unlock the door. ‘Oh, and your fly is still undone,’ she said, hitting him with a smile as she exited his office, calm as you like, totally unfazed and in control.
Who was she kidding?
There was nothing calm about the thoughts filling her mind. Her hormones were doing backflips.
Daniel J Jackson was most certainly a ‘suit’.
He was also hot as hell.