“It’s not often someone takes my breath away,” he whispered. “Hardly ever, actually.”
“Noah—”
He eased forward slowly, giving her ample time to stop him. “I can’t ignore this,” he told her. “I can’t pretend you don’t stir something in me, Callie. And I sure as hell can’t pass this opportunity up.”
Her mouth opened beneath his as he caressed her uninjured cheek. Keeping his touch light, he coaxed her mouth open and slid his tongue in to meet hers.
Another of those soft moans escaped her and Noah found it damn hard to resist the urge to haul her out of that tub and find the nearest flat surface.
Callie pulled back and brought her hand to her lips. “Noah, we can’t do that.”
“Pretty sure we can and did.”
“No, I mean, we can’t do this.” She waved her good hand between them. “You don’t need this complication on top of caring for me, and I can’t afford to be sidetracked by you and your charms and those kisses. You make me all muddled and I can’t think when you touch me.”
He couldn’t help but grin. At least she wasn’t crying or angry over the accident. Apparently he’d found just the thing to distract her. But at what price? Now he was more tortured than ever. But sacrificing himself for her was a no-brainer. He’d do anything to make her smile again, make her whole again.
“Glad I could take your mind off your problems for a moment,” he told her.
Callie eased back into the tub. “Did you kiss me because—”
“No.” He held up a hand. “Kissing you had nothing to do with this accident. I kissed you before and I plan on kissing you again. One has nothing to do with the other. I like kissing you, Callie. And if it helps, I can barely think when your mouth is on mine, so this sexual attraction goes both ways.”
She closed her eyes. “But I just don’t think this is right, Noah. I don’t want you to feel because we’re thrown together like this it means that we should be intimate.”
Noah came to his feet, pointing down to his bulging zipper. “You think this didn’t happen before you came here? I assure you, many times at work I’d have to go to the restroom or my office and close the door and recite the Gettysburg Address to get my mind off you.”
Callie raised her brows as her gaze darted from his erection to his face. “You did not recite the Gettysburg Address— Are you admitting that you’ve wanted me for a while?”
“Yes, I did and yes, I am.”
Callie adjusted her wet towel. “Well, um, that’s… I can’t think right now, Noah. You caught me at a weak moment and I’m on drugs. Is this how you get women into your bed?” she joked.
The band of guilt around Noah’s chest tightened. He turned toward the linen closet and grabbed another towel and sat it on the edge of the garden tub.
“Get dressed and we’ll see about dinner.”
And before he could get too wrapped up in his past or his present, Noah fled the room like a child who was scared of the boogeyman. Because, let’s face it, that boogeyman that kept chasing him was himself. No one else was to blame for the death of Malinda.
Seven
Callie tried, she really did try to put on a bra, but it just wasn’t going to happen. It wasn’t as if her B-cup breasts needed restraints, anyway. She certainly wasn’t some busty Playboy type and she wasn’t saggy, thank God, so fighting with a bra was not only painful, it was also insane.
Okay, so that was the only perk—bad pun intended—of being injured.
Well, unless she counted the bath she’d just somewhat shared with Noah. The bath and the kiss. Mercy, her entire body had heated.
But what on earth had happened afterward? He’d gone pale before he’d grabbed her towel and demanded she dress. She knew he hadn’t gone far, in case she needed him, because she could hear him out in the bedroom talking on the phone. She actually had heard him shout to someone about the price being set to sell and he wasn’t “giving the damn thing away.” Apparently, he was trying to sell his home and not having much luck.
God, what she wouldn’t give for a home like this. Her entire threadbare apartment could fit in the guest suite.
After she carefully got into the button-down shirt Noah had loaned her, she used her good hand to pull on a pair of cotton shorts.
She glanced into the mirror. Her hair hung in long, crimson-colored wet ropes, her face was pale, patched and swollen, she wore a blue dress shirt that was so large the shoulder seams
nearly hung to her elbows, and she had on hot-pink shorts. Yeah, she wasn’t going to be winning any fashion awards with this hot mess.
Realizing she was fighting the proverbial losing battle, Callie grabbed her sling and went into her temporary bedroom. Noah was standing by the window looking out into the yard, his hands fisted at his sides.