Body Heat (Simply 4)

He ignored the voice in his head reminding him that he’d been seconds away from relinquishing control and turning the kiss from sensual to sinful, from easing her onto the couch and satisfying the basic yearning he’d had since laying eyes on the sexy waitress. Neither would or could happen, of course, or she’d know exactly how in shape his shoulder was. The games he’d coax her into playing as she attempted to seduce him into therapy would have to suffice.

She obviously recognized his intent and hoped for some breathing room that would come with waiting for the doctor’s response. Too bad for her peace of mind; the paperwork was in the other room. He’d had it for weeks. He just hadn’t used it because a close friend had been helping him privately. “Sorry, but you don’t get that kind of space, hon.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Does it offend you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, it turns me on.”

Jake turned wide eyes her way.

She let out a laugh. “Sorry. I just can’t let you think you’ll always have the upper hand.”

He inhaled slow and deep, forcing himself not to concentrate on what she had just said. Not to contemplate the possibilities of her actually being aroused. Right now. By him. “I have the referral and paperwork in the other room,” he told her.

As he’d expected, that dimmed the wattage on her smile. “I need to get myself settled.”

“How long?”

“Not very,” she admitted. “Rina’s offer was so amazing, I spent last week organizing.”

“Can I help you move your things?”

Her gaze fell to his shoulder. “If you can manage that, you don’t need me.”

She was dead wrong. He definitely needed her. He just couldn’t afford to. “I’m certain you have some kind of use for me.”

She laughed. “I’m not going to touch that one.”

The sound settled inside him, making him feel more alive than he had since he’d both lost his best friend and injured his shoulder.

“Jimmy—you know, the owner of the café—can help me move in.”

Jake nodded, ignoring the unwelcome and unfamiliar stab of jealousy he felt at hearing another man’s name on her lips. He changed the subject to one more interesting. “I suppose Rina mentioned there’s a private gym, a pool on the roof, as well as that whirlpool?” he asked.

“The subject came up, yes. Although if you’d like to look into doing therapy at the hospital, we could use the facilities there.”

“I was referring to you using the pool and whirlpool in your free time. Not for therapy.”

“Oh, that’s right. You haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

He grinned. “Exactly right.”

She rolled her eyes. “Care to tell me why not?”

He averted his gaze.

“Guess not.”

He wondered if he imagined the disappointment that flashed across her features when he didn’t confide in her, and refused to dwell on why her feelings bothered him. “I’m curious. What exactly was the deal you made with Rina?”

She shrugged as if the answer were basic. “Private physical therapy.”

“When, Brianne?” He drew out her name, liking the feel of it on his lips. “How often?” He figured Rina would have pinned her down for two to three days a week, and told himself he needed to know the schedule she expected him to follow should he agree to therapy. But a part of Jake wanted to hear that she’d committed to more.

“I work rehab at the hospital during the day, so your therapy would be in the evenings.”

His evenings lately had been routine—dinner, television and bed—and he suddenly envisioned a wealth of sensual opportunities with a woman who interested his mind as well as his body, then mentally decked himself because he needed his nights free in case he got a tip on Ramirez. “How many nights a week?”