Page 32 of Some Like It Deadly
“Yes.” He slid her a sideways glance. “What kind of movies do you like?”
“You can find out tomorrow when I pick.” Because admitting her love for action movies with military themes might be a bit too revealing.
“Tease.” But he grinned.
“Shut up and play the movie.”Before I make an even bigger mistake than I already have.She wasn’t supposed to be involved. Caring compromised her objectivity. But she suspected that it was too late. Settling back against the sofa, she tried to concentrate on the pizza and the movie. The quiet only served to heighten her awareness of the man next to her.
I’m already compromised…
Saturday morning dawned far too early,but her shoulder’s brutal ache dragged her out of sleep. Breathing through the throb, she took her time stretching each of her muscles. Richard had set her prescription bottles on the table next to the guest bed and, though he’d lingered, she’d managed to shoo him out of the room so she could get some sleep.
But the reluctance to send him away had become a palpable cramp in her stomach. Easing up, she flexed her right arm and damn if the bruised tissue didn’t hurt worse than it had the day before. Adrenaline and shock were distant memories—stiffness was her worst enemy. Swinging her legs over, she bit down ona groan as pain stretched fire across her too tight muscles and skin.
A one-two knock announced Richard before he opened the door. “Hey, I was just coming by to see if you were awake and wanted some coffee.” He’d crossed from the door to the bed and crouched in front of her in the time it took her to blow out a long hard breath. “You’re hurting.”
“It’s a little sore,” she admitted, but she kept flexing her hand, slowly and forcing the muscles to stretch a bit more each time. She couldn’t afford to be too stiff and unfortunately, the best medicine was movement—no matter how unpleasant.
“You didn’t take the pills the doctor gave you, did you?” Exasperation rode his words.
“No.” She focused on him, dressed casually in a T-shirt and shorts. His attorney façade was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she was treated to long, lean muscles and dark, tanned skin with the lightest sprinkle of crisp hairs decorating his arms and down his legs. His very male presence definitely upset the equilibrium she struggled to maintain. “I don’t like to be muddle headed.”
Rather than chastise her, he rubbed his palm along her leg. She’d slept in a tank top and shorts and she’d never been so aware of the thinness of the cotton before. “How about I cut them in half? You can take smaller doses and gauge how foggy they make you feel?” Her surprise at the offer must have shown, because he gave her leg a gentle squeeze. “Worst part of my recovery? The pain meds. Made it hard to think, but painalsomakes it hard to think. So I found that if I lowered the doses some, it helped alleviate the pain and I didn’t feel like I’d come down with a case of stupid.”
The corners of her mouth curved. Richard would not like to have his brain impaired. He may have made for a cute drunk, but she’d never doubted his mental acumen, not even then. Both alcohol and pain medication dulled reactions, but if her currentstruggle was any indicator, her reactions were already suffering. “Okay,” she agreed. “Half the dose.”
“Good girl.” He patted her leg and her skin continued to tingle from his touch as he shifted to open the bottle and look at the prescription advice. Fortunately, they’d given her tablets. “I’ll go cut these in half and get you some coffee.”
“I can come down.” Her synapses continued to fire in short, heady little bursts from his nearness and she curled her fingers into her palm to keep from testing the softness of the hair on his forearm. “You’re all dressed.” More than that, he had on shoes and a hint of aftershave.
“Woke up early,” he admitted. “And I checked in on you, but—” he held up a hand when she raised her brows, “—I stayed by the door. Once I was up, I was up. Need a hand getting dressed?”
Ignoring the playful leer, she shook her head. “I can do it. What I’d really like is a shower, but they said twenty-four hours until I can change the bandage.”
He leaned in and his breath tickled the side of her neck as he inhaled deeply. The sudden nearness and intimacy sent a pulse of need arcing from her breasts to her toes and back to pool in her middle.Strong, clean, masculine earthiness filled her nostrils and she wanted to drown in it.I am so screwed.
Drawing back, he gave her a lazy grin. “You smell sweet to me, so your shower can wait.” The knowing look in his eyes said he hadn’t missed an ounce of her reaction. “I’ll wait for you in the hall.”
She didn’t move until the door clicked shut behind him. Glancing down, she stared at the hard points of her nipples clearly outlined by her thin tank top. “Sports bra,” she muttered. “I need to sleep in one here.”
Five minutes later, she changed her mind—the bra strap cut right across the slice on her shoulder and increased the pressure. Swearing, she rummaged around in her duffel until she foundanother tank top and layered the two. It wasn’t much, but fortunately she’d never been gifted in the boob department.
Trading her sleep shorts for a pair of capris, she skipped shoes altogether. The last thing she wanted to ask Richard for was helping her tie the damn things. Cradling her arm to her chest, she paused in the bathroom to run a comb through her hair. Braiding it was out of the question and when she tried to lift her bad arm to put it in a ponytail, black spots danced in front of her eyes.
Leaving it down sent the wrong message, but her abdomen clenched in anticipation of his reaction. He’d been totally ignoring everything else in their contract save for the first part—Richard must be impossible.Tossing the comb down, she brushed her teeth and made a cursory wash of her face.
As promised, Richard waited in the hall. They went down together and she found a wide variety of donuts, muffins, bagels and fresh fruit along with coffee waiting in the kitchen. Eyeing the plethora of food, she chuckled.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I got a little of everything,” he admitted.
“And assumed that I can eat enough for a football team?” But she picked out a blackberry muffin and bit into it. It was still warm and tasted a little like heaven. Swallowing the bite, she eyed him. “You didn’t go out and get these did you?”
“No, I sent one of Armand’s goon squad to pick them up.” He poured her a cup of coffee and slid the mug over before pulling out a cutting board and going to work on her pills.
“Richard?” They needed to address his attitude about security. “They’re not bad guys. They just want to keep you safe.”
He set one of the half pills on her plate and added the antibiotics next to it. “Individually, I’m sure they’re fine. That said, I don’t like being watched or under twenty-four-hour observation. They check out anyone who walks up to me, theyknow every detail of my day, and I can’t breathe without them dogging every step. There’s safe and there is living in a bubble.” Irritation grated under his words and bitterness twisted his lips. “I had enough of that when the FBI watched us for three years, and interrogated everyone from my teachers to my friends to my neighbors.”
“That had to suck,” she said quietly and tried to ignore the guilt curdling in her stomach.
