The Rebel Doc Who Stole Her Heart
“What’re you doing? You can’t get in the tub with those bandages on.”
“I wasn’t going to get in the tub. I sponged off the best I could and I was just going to wet my hair so I could wash it. But I decided that wasn’t such a good idea. Could you help me?”
Michelle smiled. He sounded pitiful. “Why didn’t you ask me sooner?”
“I don’t know. Somehow it doesn’t sound too macho to ask a woman to wash your hair.”
She laughed genuinely this time. “Turn the water off.”
He did as he was told then looked at her questioningly.
“Put your pants back on. Customers don’t get a wash and dry in my beauty shop dressed in a towel. Meet me in the kitchen.”
* * *
Ty dropped the towel to the floor and struggled into his scrub pants again. Barefoot, he padded to the kitchen. It hurt just to walk but he knew he’d feel better if he was at least clean. Michelle stood by the sink with towels and a bottle of shampoo at hand.
“So did you work your way through school in a beauty shop?” he asked.
“No, but my mother used to wash my hair like this all the time. You have enough that it needs to be done this way.”
“Are you complaining about the length of my hair?” he asked in as indignant a tone as he could muster.
“No. I’ve never seen more beautiful hair.”
Her sharp intake of breath told him she hadn’t meant to say that. He grinned. Thankfully that didn’t cause any pain. “Why, thank you, ma’am. I always hated it. Too curly, like a girl’s.”
“I know more than one girl who wished she had hair like yours.” Michelle suddenly turned businesslike and folded up a towel lengthways and placed it on the counter in front of the sink. She turned on the faucet.
“Now you’re starting to embarrass me. Let’s get on with this.” He glanced at her. Had she said she didn’t think that was possible?
After testing the water with her hand, Michelle said, “Lean over the sink. Put your chest against the counter.” She pulled out the hand sprayer. “You might want to close your eyes.”
He leaned forward from the waist and felt every muscle in his body. He moaned.
“I’m sorry. You must be very sore. I’ll make this as quick as I can.”
Warm water hit his head and Michelle’s fingers ran along his scalp, fanning out and moving through his hair.
“Turn your head the other way,” Michelle said in a soft voice that sounded as wonderful as the spray felt.
When the water stopped he groaned.
“Are you in pain?”
“No. Not if I don’t move. I moaned because that felt so good.”
She laughed quietly. “I used to complain too when Mother turned off the water.”
He started to stand.
She placed a hand between his shoulder blades. “Stay where you are.”
The heat of it was like a brand on his skin. Her fingertips trailed away.
He looked at the sink drain and waited. The top of what had to be the shampoo popped then there was a squirting sound.
“Here.” She handed him a small towel. “I don’t want to get any soap in your eyes so hold it over your face.”
Seconds later her fingers begin tunneling through his hair. Slowly her fingertips massaged their way across his scalp. She applied pressure and he sighed with pleasure as she worked her way up and over the crown of his head. Coming back down, she took extra time at the base of his neck in an almost erotic movement of her fingers.
“Mmm, that feels good.”
She giggled lightly and scrubbed with more force, using the ends of her fingers.
Ty closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation, forgetting about any pain. The pressure ended. “Hey, don’t stop now. That feels so great.”
She chuckled. He moved as if to stand and she said, “Be still or you’ll get soap everywhere.”
A second later spray, warmer than before, hit the top of his head and flowed downwards.
Michelle’s fingers returned to moving gently through his hair as she removed the suds. Far too soon, she turned off the water. “Stay still. I’m not done yet.”
A towel flapped over his head and she began to gently rub his hair dry. She was as thorough and precise at hair washing as she was in the OR.
He shifted and looked her direction. One of her breasts was within an inch of his lips. His mouth went dry.
“Stop moving.”
Had she caught him?
“Turn your head.”
Disappointment filled him at losing such a delightful view. Adulation replaced his regret when both breasts were pressed firmly against his shoulder as she leaned over to get to the top of his head. Grateful to be on the receiving end of all this attention, Ty hated to see it end. He’d had no idea how pleasurable it was to have someone wash his hair. Especially if it was Michelle.
“You can straighten up now.”
Ty did so but far too stiffly. Did he look as pitiful as he felt? He shook his head, throwing fine droplets of water around him.
“Hey, you’re getting me wet,” she squealed.
Ty looked at Michelle and smiled. His gaze dropped. Her shirt was plastered against her body, leaving nothing to his imagination. “It looks like you’re wet already.”
She looked down. Instantly she brought the towel in her hand up to cover her chest. “I’ll go and change.”
“You don’t have to on my account,” he called as she headed down the hall.
* * *
Michelle closed the door of her bedroom and leaned back against it. Had she lost her mind?
First she’d installed Ty in her home. Then she’d let him insist she sleep beside him and then she’d felt sorry for him and washed his hair. What was going to be next? Would he wiggle his finger and she would jump into bed with him?
She’d crossed that large black line of control she’d had over her life. Ty had ridden in and her brain had turned to mush. Grabbing a dry shirt out of her chest of drawers, she dragged off the wet one she wore and pulled on a dry one.
The glow in Ty’s eyes had created an unfamiliar heat deep in her that felt so right. It had started a fire in her center that flowed out, ripple after ripple and made her feel alive. The man had a way of unlocking emotions she’d put away. Had her wanting things better left alone.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and went back into the kitchen. Ty was no longer there. Retracing her steps down the hall, she found the door to his room wide open. Ty lay on the bed sound asleep. What little activity he’d done had worn him out. He looked like a small boy, lying on his stomach, his face relaxed. It was a handsome face, all slants and planes. A golden tan covered his back. He was a man who spent time outdoors. The desire t
o touch him almost overwhelmed her. She wanted to caress that expanse of skin. Instead, she pulled the blanket she’d used during the night over him.
A lock of Ty’s still damp hair had fallen over his forehead. Against her better judgment, but unable to resist, she pushed it back into place.
He shifted in his sleep, moaning as he did. Her heart went out to him. She wanted to take his aches away. He was so beat up that he couldn’t even get into a hot bath to ease the soreness. Moving again, Ty wrapped his arms around a pillow and pulled it to his chest.
Michelle couldn’t remember ever being jealous of an inanimate object before. She wished she could curl up next to his gorgeous body. But she couldn’t.
* * *
Ty found Michelle sitting in the corner of the sofa in her living area. This room was off the kitchen but he’d not been in it before. Decorated in cheerful hues, like the rest of her place, the room also had a cozier feel. Quilted throws hung off the backs of the chairs and the lighting came from lamps instead of the harsher overhead lighting. Books lined one wall and the TV took a less prominent spot in the corner. She had it turned on and was watching an action movie that was about five years old. Even in her movie choices she continued to surprise him.
The sun was setting. Her face glowed in the last of the light filtering in from the window on the far wall. It was the type of light that a photographer dreamt of having when taking a picture of a subject. Michelle looked angelic. Ty couldn’t help but admire her. She was pure beauty.
Michelle must have felt his eyes on her because she looked over the back of the sofa at him.
“Hey.” He came further into the room.
“Hey, yourself. How are you feeling?” She twisted further towards him.
“Much better.”
“Good.”
He moved around the sofa. “Will you help me with this?” He held out his scrub shirt. “I can’t seem to get it on by myself.”
She stood and took it from him. Gathering the material up around the neck, she said, “Lean over.”
He did so and she slipped the material over his head. Lifting his arms, she helped slide the shirt on and down. Her heat warmed him but not once did she touch him. He had no doubt that had been intentional. What was she scared of? There was something there between them, didn’t she feel it too?