How did he respond? “Thank you” was the only thing that came to mind. Her praise boosted his ego because she’d never given any indication before she’d noticed him personally.
“I need a shower,” she said.
Maggie with water trailing down her body was something Court didn’t need to be contemplating. His pace increased. He needed to be concerned about getting Maggie to her bungalow and her foot tended. Becoming attached to the charming bit of womanhood in his arms he refused to do.
The heat, being dehydrated, an adrenaline rush with the help of pain pills had made the formidable Maggie quite sweet. The malleable Maggie held too much appeal.
She wiggled closer, running her fingers deeper into his hair. “Thank you,” she said in a low whisper, her lips brushing the skin of his neck.
A stab of lust shot through him. He drew in a quick breath. He’d never wanted any woman more than he wanted this sexy bit of mystery.
CHAPTER THREE
MAGGIE woke to the vague memory of Court placing her on the bed. There had been a desperate longing to pull him closer, to sleep.
A rustling noise caught her attention. Neetie sat at the end of her bed.
He grinned. “Mister Doctor say I in charge. You not move until he get back.”
“Is that right?”
The bob of Neetie’s head almost made her laugh but her own head pounded and her ankle throbbed. She didn’t want to do anything to make either worse. Still, she needed a bath. There hadn’t been a dry thread on her when Court had helped her out of the container.
Maggie moved to put her feet on the floor.
“No!” Neetie jumped up. “Missy Maggie. You stay. I get in trouble. Mister Doctor say watch. Not get up.”
The screen door banged and heavy footsteps came down the short hallway. Her attention zipped to the doorway. Court entered, carrying a small bag of ice and an ace bandage.
“Hey, there. How’re you feeling?”
“Fine.” It was a lie but she was sticking with it. Like a light had been flicked on, she remembered how she’d gotten there. Embarrassment added heat to her face. Her gaze left his to focus on a spot at the end of her bed. She gave herself a mental kick for the way she’d acted while in his arms.
“Uh, Neetie, you can go now,” Court told the boy without really looking at him.
At Neetie’s crestfallen look, she smiled her reassurance. Why wouldn’t Court show the boy any real attention? Couldn’t he see that Neetie was desperate for some male attention?
Neetie left but with none of the usual childhood exuberance in his walk.
Maggie wanted to beg Neetie to stay. She needed a buffer between her and Court. Being his entire focus made her nervous, out of control. She was never nervous, and never let herself be out of control.
“I don’t need anyone to take care of me.” She moved to sit up but lay back again.
“I’m sure you don’t but you’re going to get it anyway. We should get this ice on your foot or you won’t be able to walk on it tomorrow. Bet you have a headache too.”
She disliked a man who was always right. “You’re making too much of it. What I need is to be left alone and to get a bath.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed.
Court stepped closer but didn’t touch her. Maggie stood and put weight on the foot. She gave thanks it didn’t ache too much. She straightened, doing her best to pretend it didn’t hurt at all. She wanted Court to leave, and he wouldn’t if she let on anything different. She’d seen him care for patients, and right now he considered her one. He was a good doctor even if he seemed to dodge caring for the children.
“You can go now.” She started toward her closet-size bath.
“I wouldn’t count on it.” He watched her like a hawk, his body language saying he’d move quickly if she needed him. “You get a shower and then we’ll get your foot organized.”
“Leave the ice, and I’ll see about it.” Maggie closed the door between them. Maybe he’d get the message and be gone when she came out.
She took her shower without any mishaps but she’d forgotten to get any clean clothes. Wrapping a towel loosely about her, her foot starting to throb, she opened the door a crack. Surely Court had understood her dismissal.
“Forget something?” He leaned against the cinder-block wall. Hooked to the end of his crooked index finger hung one of her paper-thin nightgowns.
“How dare you? You went through my clothes.”
His lips broadened into a full-fledged smile. “You left me no choice. It was that or you’d come out naked.” His voice dropped lower and his attention moved downward, then up again. “I wouldn’t have objected but it’s time you got off your foot. I was trying to expedite things.”
Maggie released a disgusted puff of air.
“I promise it won’t happen again,” he said with a glint in his eye that preventing her from believing him. Maggie snatched her gown off his finger. “You can leave now.” She tried to slam the door in his face but the flimsy plywood didn’t provide the effect she had hoped for.
Court’s deep baritone chuckle said the effort had been noticed. “You’re starting to sound like a broken record.”
“It would be nice if someone would listen,” she murmured as she pulled on her gown.
She came out of the bath, sighing in relief not to see Court. At least he’d finally done something she asked. Taking the few steps to her bed was more difficult than she’d imagined. Her ankle hurt like the devil.
But she had to take care of her hair. That was one demand her dad had made that she couldn’t let go of. “You must keep your hair out of your face.” She’d dry it the best she could with the towel then comb it out.
Maggie pulled the comb through a section of hair. She’d been relieved when Neetie and then Court had shown up. For a while, she’d feared she’d gotten herself into a situation she wasn’t going to recover from easily. It had been uncomfortable to hear Court reprimand her about being in the container alone but she knew he was right.
“Hey, can’t the hairdo wait? You need to get your foot up,” Court said as he slid something across her bedside table. He took the comb from her. “Foot up. Ice pack on.”
She curled her upper lip. “You’re back?” It came out more like a groan than a real complaint. Why wouldn’t he just leave her alone?
He lifted her leg.
“What’re you doing?”
“If you’re not going to see about your foot, I will.”
She scooted back. He put her foot on a pillow and placed the ice bag across the ankle.
“You couldn’t walk to the mess hall for dinner so I had no choice but to see that you got some food.”
“Thanks. That’s very gracious of you,” she said reluctantly. “Leave it and I’ll eat in a little while.” She looked at the plate covered with a napkin on a cookie sheet, and her mouth quirked in question.
“I know but the guys were busy and didn’t have time to find me a tray. I saw the pan and thought it would work.”
She couldn’t squelch her mirth. The Boston socialite serving dinner on a cookie sheet in an African hut. It had to be a first. “If I eat, will you leave?” She pushed herself into a sitting position, making sure to cover her chest with the sheet. Court set a plate on the table, laid the pan across her lap and placed her drink close at hand. Maggie lifted the napkin to find chicken, vegetables and a nice-size piece of cake. He pulled a straight chair close, angling it so he faced her.
“What’re you doing now?”
He picked up the plate and sat. “I’m hungry. I might as well join you because I’d have to come back and get your dishes anyway.” He forked corn into his mouth like he often took his meals in a woman’s bedroom.
Was arguing with him worth the breath? He would do as he pleased, no matter what she said. That much she had learned about him.
“I can hear you thinking. Eat.”
Despite what Maggie had imagined, they had a comfortable meal, even though neit
her spoke. When she’d finished he took her plate. Exhausted, she slid down into the bed. Her eyelids drooped. It had been her experience that if she disappointed men enough, they didn’t bother to stay around long enough to have a chance to take care of her.