Hollywood House Call
He walked to the open bathroom door and sucked in a breath. Callie stood with her back to him wearing only thin satin panties and her T-shirt, which she was trying to wrestle up her body.
When she cried out in pain, he stepped forward. “Callie, stop.”
She jerked around, her eyes wide. “What are you doing in here?”
“I heard the water and thought you’d need help.” He willed his eyes to stay on her face and not travel down the path of her toned, tanned legs or to the triangle of pink satin between her thighs. “What the hell are you doing trying to have a bath alone?”
“I thought if I soaked for a while it might help the soreness.”
He leaned over and turned the faucets off so he didn’t have to keep talking over the water. “It will, but you can’t do this on your own, remember? That was the whole reason for having someone care for you.”
She eyed the tub, then him. “There’s no way you’re going to help me take a bath.”
The image nearly killed him.
“I need to at least help you out of that shirt and underwear.”
He resisted the urge to swipe his damp hands down his jeans. He was a doctor, for crying out loud. He’d seen more naked women than Hugh Hefner, and here he was in his guest suite afraid to see Callie in nothing but a tan. But no matter the near-naked women he’d seen in his office, none of them had been Callie. None of them conjured up emotions, feelings…hormones…the way Callie did.
“Don’t make this uncomfortable, Noah.” She tried to pull the hem down lower, hiding her flat stomach and the flash of a jewel in her belly button. “I can take a bath. It may be hard, but I won’t overdo it.”
“Nothing has to be hard. That’s the whole reason you’re here.”
God, this was infuriating. He stepped forward and reached for the hem of the shirt, but Callie stepped back.
“Noah, I can’t do this.” Her bottom lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears that nearly dropped him to his knees because he couldn’t handle seeing her so hurt. “I’m a horrifying sight, I have bruises all over me and I’m stuck here until I can be alone. Added to that, I can’t let go of the memory of us kissing and it’s really making staying here, being so close to you, difficult. Please, I’m begging you, let me have what little pride I have left.”
Shocked at her declaration, he remained silent. The woman was blunt, truthful, and he admired the hell out of her.
“You can stay in the bedroom. I’ll close this door and if I need something I promise to yell.” Her chin tilted up as she blinked away the tears. “Can we agree to that?”
Damn, he admired her stubbornness. He had to admit that if the tables were reversed, he’d be pissed to have his independence taken away.
Noah nodded. “I’ll be right outside that door, Callie. Be careful not to get the bandage on your face wet or move your arm too much. You can bend at the elbow, but don’t lift the entire arm up.”
Callie smiled through her watery eyes. “I’ll be careful.”
Hesitating only a moment, Noah reluctantly left the room and shut the door. With just that piece of wood between them, he leaned against it and closed his eyes.
Callie was so much like Malinda. So strong-willed, so independent and stubborn. Why was he attracted to that type?
And that was just their personality. He didn’t even want to think how their physical attributes were similar. Same long, dark red hair, same milky skin tone.
He could admit to himself that when he’d hired Callie, her looks were just another reason. After all, Malinda had only been gone six months and this was just one more way he could hold on to her.
But the longer Callie worked for him, the more he could see the differences between the two women. Callie laughed more, smiled when she spoke and tr
uly had a gift for making a room brighter simply by walking into it.
Noah listened, waiting for her to call for him, praying she did all the while praying she didn’t. He’d go in there in a second if she needed him, but first he’d have to turn on doctor mode. If he went in there as a man—a man attracted to a woman—he’d be a complete jerk and forget about her injured body and take his fill of looking at her, touching her and quite possibly kissing her breathless as he had the other day. God, he wanted his mouth on her again.
And didn’t that make him all kinds of a fool for having these thoughts about an injured, vulnerable woman?
He heard the water slosh and his mind filled with the erotic image of her settling into the oversize garden tub.
“Turn the jets on,” he yelled through the door. “That will help ease the soreness.”
As if he needed another image of her relaxing, now he pictured her with her hair spilling down around her, her head tipped back against the porcelain as the jets brought thousands of bubbles up to the surface.