More of that rumbly voice of his wrapped around her with more comfort than any luxury spread. She missed those late-night exchanges in the dark and couldn’t resist continuing the conversation. “Did you used to say that with your daughter?”
“When I was around, which wasn’t often.”
“So make up for it now. You’ve got time on your hands and a full disability paycheck to cover expenses.”
She sat up and hugged her knees. And yes, she couldn’t deny how much more wonderful it would be to have his arms around her instead. So why was she risking putting more space between them by venturing into the dangerous terrain of giving him parenting advice when she knew it could put them at odds? But his strained relationship with his daughter seemed too important to tiptoe around.
His feet flexed and stretched rhythmically under the covers.
Why, she wondered for a moment, then realized his legs must be bothering him. He must have pushed himself pumping those weights in the dining area. He pushed himself with everything. She’d noticed all the little repairs around her house…the door that didn’t squeak anymore. The faucet no longer dripping. A nail on the stairs that didn’t protrude.
Every time she took a shower or did anything out of his sight, she found something else fixed in her home. The man never rested and apparently his healing body was paying the price.
He hitched another pillow under his head. “You’re full of advice.”
“Unwelcome advice by the sound of your voice.” Her chin fell to rest on her knees.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bite your head off.”
No wonder he flexed his feet—to stretch out his calf muscles. He couldn’t sleep because of the pain racked up from helping her. She’d meant to help him by freeing him from the rehab center he’d so obviously resented.
Guilt prickled over her. Maybe he’d been better off there with the more assertive care. She’d been so caught up in her car hunting and then her financial mortification—not to mention the whole stalker creepiness—she’d selfishly forgotten that Rick needed to take care of himself. “Are you feeling okay?”
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.