She drove back slowly towards where she had seen the flicker of red. Her green eyes searched the side of the road. Nothing but red dirt and brown bush greeted her. She’d almost given up when she saw him. A figure lying just off the edge of the road.
‘Hell!’ She braked and sprang out of the car, giving the highway only a cursory glance as she crossed it to get to him.
James could see a woman’s legs as she strode towards him. She was in long baggy navy shorts that fell to just above her well-defined knees. They were nice legs. Tanned. Smooth. In fact, they were the best damn set of legs he’d ever seen. He’d never been so happy to see a set of legs ever in his life.
If he hadn’t been in so much pain he would have laughed. James Remington, gypsy loner, who prided himself on being beholden to no one, was so grateful to this set of legs he’d have traded his bike for them. He shut his eyes and rubbed his St Christopher medallion thankfully.
Helen threw herself down in the dirt beside him. Was this her locum? He looked younger than she’d expected. ‘Are you OK?’ she demanded, clutching at his jacket.
James opened his eyes and found himself staring into her worried green gaze. Her eyes looked like cool chips of jade. Amber flecks added a touch of heat. It was the only time a demanding woman hadn’t scared the hell out of him. In fact, had he not been practically incapacitated with pain, he would have kissed her.
‘I am now.’ He struggled to sit up.
‘No, don’t move,’ Helen said, pushing him back against the ground. ‘Are you James Remington?’ she asked as she ran her hands methodically over his body, searching for injuries. Her hands moved dispassionately through his thick wavy hair, feeling for any irregularities or head injuries. Down his neck. Along his collar bones to his shoulders.
He wasn’t surprised that she knew who he was. Maybe he should have been but the pain was all-encompassing. As her hands moved lower to feel his chest, push around his rib cage and palpate his abdomen he absently realised he would normally have cracked a joke by now. The pain was obviously altering his persona.
He was pretty suave with the ladies but he’d never had one become so intimately acquainted with his body so quickly. She had a nice face and a distracting prim ponytail that swished from side to side as she assessed his injuries.
‘Yes, I am,’ he said as her hands gripped his hip bones and she applied pressure down through them, glancing at him with a cocked eyebrow in a silent query. He shook his head.
‘We’ve been worried about you,’ she said. ‘What happened?’ Helen felt methodically down his left leg from groin to toes.
As her fingers brushed his inner thigh James felt his body react despite the pain in his other leg. ‘Came off my bike. Cows on the road.’ He grimaced.
‘Ah. Elsie’s,’ she said absently as she concentrated on his other leg, starting again in his right groin. ‘You been out here all night?’
‘Yup. Look, I’m fine,’ James said, batting her hand away. ‘It’s just my right leg. The tibia’s broken.’
Helen sat back on her haunches and surveyed the crude but effective splint. She didn’t want to disturb it if she didn’t have to. ‘Is it closed or open?’
‘Closed,’ he confirmed. He’d cut open his jeans to investigate the damage by torchlight last night.
‘Were you knocked out?’
‘No. Conscious the whole time.’
She nodded, grateful to discover that he didn’t appear to be too injured at all and trying not to dwell on the fact that their desperately needed locum was now totally useless to them. Helen made a mental note to get onto the agency as soon as she could to organise a replacement.
‘Well, we’d better get you to Skye. Do you think between us we can manage to get you into my car? It’ll be quicker than calling the ambulance.’
James ran assessing eyes over her. He doubted she’d be much help at all, there wasn’t much to her. But he was strong and at the moment he’d go with any option that got him to medical attention as fast as possible. ‘Sure.’
Helen nodded and left him to bring her car closer. She performed another U-turn and pulled it up as close to James as possible. She opened the back door.
‘You might as well lie along the back seat.’
Helen hoped she’d sounded more confident than she felt. Looking down at him, she wondered how they were going to manage it. There was a lot of him. He was a tall, beefy guy, his build evident despite his recumbent posture.
She remembered the things she had resolutely ignored during her assessment of him. The bulk of his chest, the span of his biceps and the thickness of his quads beneath her hands. He was all man. Still, his musculature had hinted that he took good care of himself. She hoped so. She hoped he was strong enough to lift his bulk because at a petite five two he dwarfed her.
James looked behind him and shuffled his bottom until he was lined up with the open door. ‘I can lift myself in if you can support my leg.’
Helen nodded. She knelt to position her hands beneath his splint. She felt him tense and glanced up at him. She noticed the blueness of his eyes for the first time. They were breathtaking. A magnificent turquoise fringed by long sooty lashes. Was it fair for a man to have such beautiful eyes?
She blinked. ‘Does it hurt?’
He nodded.
Even through his overnight growth of stubble she noticed the tautness around his mouth and realised what it was costing him to sit stoically.
‘It’s going to hurt more,’ she said softly, knowing there was no way they could accomplish the next manoeuvres without causing more pain.
He nodded again. ‘I know.’
‘We could wait for Tom. He carries morphine in the ambulance.’
He shook his head and she watched as his thick wavy hair with its occasional grey streaks bounced with the movement and fell across his forehead.
‘No. Let’s just get it over with.’
She nodded. ‘Ready?’
James placed his hands on the car behind him, bent his left leg again and pushed down through his triceps, lifting his bottom off the ground. A pain tore through his fracture site and he grunted and screwed up his face as he placed his rear in the footwell. He shut his eyes and bit his tongue to stop from groaning out loud at the agony seizing his leg.
‘You OK?’ Helen asked, supporting his leg gently as she noted the sweat beading his brow and his laboured breathing.
James nodded. He felt nausea wash through his system as the pain gnawed away unabated. He had to keep going. If he stopped now he’d never get himself in the car and the pain would kill him. He placed one hand up on the seat and repeated the movement again, lifting his buttocks onto the padded material.
James muttered an expletive and then looked at Helen with apologetic eyes. ‘Sorry,’ he panted.
Helen grinned. ‘Quite all right. I think a swear word is entirely appropriate, given the circumstances.’
‘Hardly appropriate in front of a lady.’ He grimaced.
Helen looked around her and threw a glance over her shoulder before turning back to face him. ‘No ladies here.’
He gave a hearty chuckle and then broke off as pain lanced through his leg and he clutched at the splint. ‘Don’t make me laugh,’ he groaned.
‘Whatever the doctor orders.’ She grinned.
She held his leg while he shuffled back in the seat and helped him manoeuvre into a position of comfort. Well, of less pain anyway. He dwarfed the back seat. It was impossible for him to recline. Instead, he sat in a semi-supported