He shrugged. “Pushed a little hard. No big deal. I’ll be fine in the morning.”
She flexed her own healthy toes under and thought of all the times she’d come home from the hospital after radiation, sick as a dog with no one to hold her after she emptied her stomach. “I’m being a bad babysitter then, if you’ve pushed yourself too hard. I really didn’t mean for you to do so much for me.”
“I’m an adult. I know my limits. You’re not responsible for me.”
No, she wasn’t, and he wasn’t responsible for her. They were two loners here together, both of them damaged and wounded, alone to heal, alone for the holidays, for some reason unable to resist taking care of each other now.
Unable to resist each other. Period.
Maybe it was the holiday sentimentality. Maybe it was logic or the memories of how amazingly they’d come together before with such compelling combustion. Regardless, time to quit fighting the inevitable.
She flung aside her comforter and swung her feet to the floor. “I’m supposed to be taking the place of your nurse. That’s why they let you out of the place, because you were in my care.”
Conscious of her pajamas, even if they were simply running shorts and a T-shirt with no bra, she made her way across the room and sat gingerly on the edge of his bed.
Rick went still. Overly so. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
His words carried a wealth of meaning beyond the simple massage of aching muscles. By sitting on the bed with him, she knew she would be crossing a line.
She rested her hands on the bedspread over his feet, committing herself to the cause by pushing the boundary a little more. Even with covers between him and her, still the jolt of awareness made her shivery all over. “I want to massage your legs for you, if you’ll let me. I want to be here.”
In bed with him.
Rick went completely immobile under her touch. He reached out to halt her hand in place so she touched him through the covers, but couldn’t venture further. “I like what you’re doing a helluva lot, Nola, but we both know it would be wiser for me to climb into a Jacuzzi tub instead.”
Wiser? Who cared about wisdom when it was guts she’d been lacking lately? She needed to take a chance. Gamble with life—her heart—the way that fully healthy people did.
“I have one in the main house if you would prefer.” Still she didn’t move away.
Neither did he, fingers gentle and warm on her skin. “I want to know what you prefer and I guess I need to hear why. No pity.”
She took that as consent to continue. Talk about serious tummy flutter. Time to make the move and climb in bed with a man again after five years.
“I can assure you that pity has nothing to do with what I’m feeling right now.” She sat on the edge, convenient, since her legs weren’t all that steady. Just a few inches of shared mattress, but so damn intimate it thickened the blood in her veins.
He released his hold on her hand and trailed a broad fingertip up her arm. Before she knew it, her hands were moving, too. Covers still shielded him from her touch. Not that it mattered. Her hands still tingled from the heat of want. Nola squeezed, gently at first, watching his face for signs of pain, seeing none, then working with firmer pressure.>And then? The next silver chain… Far more intricate.
He had a child with his ex-wife. Nola pressed a hand to her stomach, less clenched but totally churning. She’d come to peace—at least somewhat—with the fact that she wouldn’t have children. Her insides had been so fried from the radiation. She could have had eggs frozen and stored…she’d considered it, and finally been too emotional to make any more decisions.
She’d been certain she wouldn’t marry again. Even facing life had been more than she could envision and if—a big if, that scared her to even consider—if she lived, a career was all she could consider.
So here she stood, with her career rock solid and a hot man in her house, a man who attracted her big-time. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to make a move for something she obviously wanted.
Sheesh. She’d faced combat in Iraq. Even been taken prisoner by an arms dealer during a mission gone rogue in South America. Still, here she was running from a man she’d already had wild monkey sex with, just because he might give her a warm wonderful kiss tasting of butter and blessed promise.
“Lauren?” His voice drifted from the other room. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”
Nola hooked her shaking fingers in her back pockets. The kid deal definitely freaked her out. He was a father. That put him in a new light, one that scared her. Why, she didn’t know since she didn’t want long-term.
Good golly, what a mess she made.
He cupped his hand over the phone. “Nola, could we put our conversation on hold for a few? It’s my daughter, Lauren.”
Uh-oh. She hadn’t realized she still stood in the kitchen doorway and he must want privacy. She’d thought she’d left. Yipes. This guy robbed her of awareness of her surroundings, a spooky thought for an independent woman who prided herself on her self-control.
From the sofa, Rick stared at Nola in the doorway and wondered who she’d thought he was speaking to. He didn’t have time to think that one through at the moment. His daughter’s tone set off alarms in his head.
Either way, Nola was hotfooting it into the kitchen as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough and Lauren was waiting on the other end of the line.