“I know I don’t have to stay,” he answered gently. “But I want to. Do you honestly want me to leave?”
She should say yes. She didn’t like being taken care of, as he well knew. If she asked, he would leave and she would be alone. Wishing he were still there. “No,” she whispered reluctantly. “I don’t want you to leave. Not…if you really want to stay for a while.”
He kissed her, not quite as gently as before, though she sensed that he was exerting quite a bit of restraint to hold back even that much. “Thank you,” he told her, his voice rough. “I’ll go make that soup now.”
She closed her eyes wearily, listening to him moving around in the other room, his deep voice speaking softly to Babs. And she was suddenly fiercely glad that he was there, that her cross mood hadn’t driven him away. Still very much aware of his presence, she allowed herself to drift into sleep.
JEFF SWALLOWED the last bite of the sandwich he’d made to go with his soup and reached for his canned cola, his eyes never leaving Autumn’s face. She was sleeping restlessly, obviously in pain despite the pills he’d insisted she take. She’d be more comfortable in bed, he decided, setting the can on a coaster and rising to carry his soup bowl into the kitchen. She was liable to bite his head off if she woke up and found him tucking her in, but the thought didn’t particularly disturb him. He grinned, thinking of her obvious surprise that her irritability hadn’t sent him running earlier. How many men had she frightened away with her fiery temper? And didn’t she know by now that he wasn’t intimidated by it?
So cautious, he thought, kneeling at her side again and pressing the lightest of kisses to her moist forehead. So wary. So terribly afraid of getting involved or admitting that she might occasionally need someone. Someday, he vowed as he slipped his arms beneath her to lift her, she was going to freely admit that she needed someone. Him.
She didn’t rouse when he carried her into the bedroom. He couldn’t help comparing this time to the first night he’d made love to her, when she’d snuggled into his shoulder—after making sure that he knew she was doing so by her choice—and given herself up to passion. He felt his body hardening in reaction to the breathtaking memories and regretfully shook his head. There would be no such pleasure on this night. But he intended to sleep beside her, anyway. There was no way he was leaving her alone tonight.
He rummaged in her dresser drawers, looking for something more comfortable for sleeping than the shirt and jeans she was wearing. His brow lifted with interest when he came across a slinky black satin-and-lace nightgown among the more practical T-shirts. Not Autumn’s usual style, he thought, an unexpected surge of jealousy rippling through him for the second time that evening. He hadn’t liked having Autumn’s door opened by Webb, but he absolutely hated the idea of Autumn’s wearing this filmy garment for anyone but him. Then his eye caught the tag hanging from the back of the nightgown and he relaxed. She’d never worn it.
Smiling broadly, he folded the gown back into the drawer and pulled out an oversized white T-shirt. She would wear the black gown for him soon, but he wanted her fully conscious when he took it off her, he thought cockily.
He undressed her with great care, conscious of the tenderness that almost overwhelmed him at taking care of her. He was comfortable, as many men were not, with the gentle, nurturing side of himself, the side that had led him into pediatric medicine and showed itself every day in his work. But there was a difference in these feelings for Autumn. This was a tenderness mixed with respect, admiration, amusement, passion. Love. He’d never been in love before. He’d been waiting for Autumn, he thought whimsically, unable to resist looking at her for a moment before covering her lovely body with the soft T-shirt.
He tucked her under the covers, arranging her injured arm across her stomach. He winced at the angry red swelling around the stitches, his insides knotting as he pictured the accident. She could so easily have been killed or seriously injured. He didn’t like the idea of her working in such a risky field. Construction workers were so often killed in falls or other work-related accidents. He wished…
No. Jeff sat quietly on the side of the bed, looking down at the woman he loved. She enjoyed her job, the challenges of working with her hands, just as he enjoyed his vocation. If she’d originally chosen to be an electrician as a form of rebellion against traditional roles, she’d stayed with it because she liked it. And he wouldn’t make the mistake of trying to change her. There would be no faster way to lose her.
Besides, as he’d assured her repeatedly, he didn’t want to change her. He loved her. If only he could make her believe him.
She didn’t even stir when he kissed her. “I love you,” he murmured, willing the words into her dreams. And then he stood, clearing his throat of emotion. “Well, Babs,” he addressed the tiny poodle looking expectantly up at him from the floor. “Want to watch some TV?”
10
AUTUMN STIRRED, frowned and slowly opened her eyes. She had no idea what time it was. For that matter, she had no idea how she’d ended up in her bed when she distinctly remembered falling asleep on the couch.
She moved her injured arm and winced. Jeff. Lifting her head, she could hear the muted sound of the television coming from the other room. He hadn’t left.
She dropped her head back down and moaned. God, she felt like an idiot. Sure, accidents like that happened every day, but not usually to her—not since she’d been a daredevil tomboy tumbling from one scrape into another. She was always so careful, determined that no one could accuse her of being unqualified for her job.
Her mouth tasted awful. She was hungry. And she needed to use the bathroom. She forced herself upright, flinching at the protest from jarred, sore muscles. She blinked when she realized that she was wearing only a white sleep shirt over her bikini panties. Jeff had undressed her, she realized, oddly embarrassed that he’d seen her so vulnerable without her knowledge. Her next thought was a self-reproachful question. How could she have slept through that?
A few minutes later she stood in the doorway to the bedroom and looked at the man sprawled comfortably on her couch watching TV with her dog curled on his knee. She’d run a brush through her hair in the bathroom, but she hadn’t wanted to attempt putting on her robe over the sore, swollen arm. She couldn’t help being a bit self-conscious standing in front of him in the thin, midthigh-length cotton shirt, even though she knew he’d recently seen her in much less. As she had him.
“How’re you feeling?” he asked, watching her closely as she crossed the room to sit beside him.
“Better, I guess,” she admitted. “My head doesn’t hurt as badly now. I just feel so stupid.”
He ran his knuckles lightly down her cheek. “Don’t, Autumn. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes.” He held out the hand he’d touched her with, displaying a thin white scar across the palm—a scar she’d noticed with curiosity but had never gotten around to asking him about. “I did that cleaning a fish after a fishing trip with Julian last summer. Julian yelled at me the whole time he was sewing me up. My patients all made fun of me for having to take care of them with a bandage on my hand because I’d cut myself with a knife. Pam told me I couldn’t be trusted with anything sharp and threatened to take my medical bag away from me.”
Autumn chuckled despite herself. “Gave you a hard time, did they?”
“Did they ever. Will the guys at work tease you when you go back?”
She grimaced. “My friends will. Those few who don’t believe a woman should be an electrician will use this as evidence of their sexist arguments.”
“You didn’t hurt yourself because you’re a woman,” Jeff stated flatly. “You hurt yourself because you were
momentarily careless. I doubt there’s one of them who hasn’t done something similar at one time or another.”
Autumn tilted her head and smiled at him. “Somehow I wasn’t expecting this from you.”
“Oh?” He looked surprised. “What were you expecting?”