Oh, hell, no! “Going somewhere?”
“Planning on it.”
“The only place you are going is back to bed.” Rory folded her arms against her chest. “You need a full-time nurse, McCaskill.”
If she moved in then she could stop him from making stupid decisions. But would she be able to stop herself from making stupid decisions, like sleeping with him?
“I don’t need a nurse, I need a morphine drip,” Mac responded, finally opening his eyes and squinting at her.
“Would you care to explain why you are all dressed up when you should be in bed, resting that injury?” Rory demanded, annoyed. This was what she’d been worried about. Mac thought that he was a superhero, that the usual consequences of surgery and injury didn’t apply to him.
Despite the fact that he was a very intelligent man, the wheel was turning but the hamster seemed to be dead.
“Don’t give me grief, Rory,” Mac said, sounding exhausted. “Trust me, there is no place I’d rather be than in bed but something came up.”
“A wine auction? A ball? A poker game?” Rory asked, her eyebrows lifting. Mac was very active on the Vancouver social scene and he was, with the women who spun in and out of his life, invited to all the social events.
Mac, despite his pain, managed to send her an annoyed glance. “Myra Hasselback, current owner of the Mavericks, is holding an end-of-season cocktail party for the sponsors, management and staff. I can’t miss it. As Captain, I am expected to be there.”
“But...” Rory looked from him to his arm and back again. “Does she know that you are hurt?”
Mac’s smile was grim. “Oh, she knows, but she doesn’t know how bad it is. Kade told her it’s a slight sprain, nothing for her to worry about. She told Kade to tell me she was looking forward to seeing me tonight. Besides, she knows I would move heaven and earth to be at the cocktail party. It’s a tradition that was important to Vernon.” Mac sat up slowly. “She’d suspect something if I wasn’t there.”
“Judging by your pale face and pain-filled eyes she’s going to suspect something anyway.” Rory sighed her frustration. “What do the other two Maverick-teers have to say on the subject?”
“They wanted me to fake a stomach bug or an allergic reaction to medication.”
“Not a bad idea. Why not go with that?”
Mac looked uncomfortable. “I suppose I could but I don’t want to give her an excuse to arrive on my doorstep after the party is over to check on me.”
“She’s done that before?” Rory asked.
Mac looked uncomfortable, and not from the pain. “Yeah, once or twice.”
Rory turned his words over, recalling the thirty-year difference between Myra and her dead husband. Ah, the widow wanted naked comforting.
Rory wanted to ask if he’d slept with Myra but she mentally slapped her hand across her mouth. She had no right to ask that but... But nothing. She had no right to know.
“Anyway, about the party, I need to be there. The speculation will be endless if I don’t attend. It would raise a lot of questions, questions I do not want to answer.” Mac looked stubborn. “No, it’s better for me to act like everything is normal as far as I possibly can. So, will you please help me finish getting dressed?”
“I’m not happy about this, Mac.”
“I know. I’m not either.”
But he’d go, Rory realized. He needed rest and time for that injury to heal but he would do what he always did. If this was his intended pace, they were in for some serious problems.
Rory walked across his bedroom to stand in front of the huge windows and watched a container ship navigate the sound. But her thoughts weren’t on the gorgeous view, they were on that stubborn man who didn’t know the meaning of the words slow down, take it easy. To heal, Mac needed rest and lots of it. It was that simple, that imperative.
That difficult.
Dammit, she was going to have to move in here. His arm, his career, the Mavericks were at risk and she was balking because he had the ability to melt the elastic on her panties. She was better, stronger, a great deal more professional than that.
She was a smart, independent, focused woman who could say no to what wasn’t good for her. Who could, who would, keep their relationship strictly professional.
“Don’t even think about it. You are not now, or ever, going to move in.”
Dammit! Had he started reading her mind now? When? How? “But you suggested it earlier.”
“I changed my mind. It would be a terrible idea. Moving on, are you going to help me or not?” Mac demanded, sounding irritable.