“Lie down,” she directed.
“I thought you said I couldn’t sleep in my clothes.”
“You won’t be.” She put a hand against his chest and gave him a soft push so that he lay back against the pillows. Then she lifted his legs onto the bed and took off the orthopedic boot, his single shoe and his sock. Then she started to unbuckle his belt.
He suddenly took a much greater interest in the proceedings.
“Don’t,” Sophy said briskly, “think this is going anywhere.”
With the disinterested efficiency of a hospital nurse, she made quick work of the belt buckle, the button and the zip.
“Lift,” she commanded. And he barely had time to react before she was dragging his khakis over his hips and down his legs. She gave the duvet a shake and spread it over him, then stepped back. “There,” she said, sounding satisfied. “I’ll get you a glass of water. You can take one of those pills Sam sent, then you can get some sleep.”
She disappeared briefly into the bathroom and returned with a glass of water and the requisite pill, which she handed to him.
“What’s it for?”
“Pain.”
“You didn’t think to give it to me before I climbed three flights of stairs?”
“You could have asked for it,” she told him. “If I’d offered, you’d have said no, wouldn’t you?”
He frowned and didn’t reply because, damn it, she was probably right.
Sophy grinned at him. “I thought so. You wanted to impress on me how tough you were. Besides, it might have made you dopey and I thought you would probably need all your strength to get up here.”
“I could’ve slept on the couch,” he pointed out grumpily.
“But your bed is much more comfortable.”
He raised a brow. “You know that, do you?”
Sophy’s cheeks reddened. “I’m speaking generically,” she told him primly. “Beds are generally thought to be more comfortable than couches.”
“Ah.” He shifted his shoulders against the pillow. It was true. He shut his eyes and felt like he didn’t quite want to open them again.
“Go to sleep,” Sophy said, and for once made it sound more like a suggestion than a command. “Good night.”
She started toward the door.
“Sophy.”
She turned. “What?”
“Don’t I get a kiss good-night?”
He was just trying to provoke her. Sophy knew that.
Because she had stood there and watched as he’d battled his way up the stairs, not going away to let him do it alone. Because she’d kept her distance and her equilibrium—barely—while taking his shirt and trousers off. Because she had almost escaped with her sanity intact.
But George wasn’t going to let that happen.
“What?” she countered. “And raise your blood pressure? Sam wouldn’t approve.”
If anything was designed to raise his blood pressure, apparently mention of Sam was it.
The faint teasing grin instantly evaporated. George’s bandaged head dropped back against the pillows and he stared at the ceiling.
“And God knows, we wouldn’t want to do that,” he said bitterly.
She stared at him surprised. Sam wouldn’t approve. But she meant Sam in his neurologist suit. That Sam would not want his patient overdoing things. A kiss might not exactly qualify as “hot sex,” but after three flights of stairs, who knew what George’s blood pressure might be.
George, however, didn’t seem to be thinking of Sam the neurologist, but of Sam the hypothetical womanizer.
Now it was Sophy’s turn to frown. “What is it with you and Sam?” she demanded.
He turned his head slightly to look at her. “Me and Sam? Not a damn thing.”
“Then what are you suggesting?”
“Nothing. I’m not suggesting anything.”
But clearly he was. And just as clearly he wasn’t going to talk about it. Sophy shook her head. “Fine. Be that way.”
Then, because she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d rattled her, she said, “And for what it’s worth, here’s your good-night kiss.”
Crossing the room quickly, before she could have second thoughts, she bent down, dropped a nanosecond-long kiss on George’s lips, then stepped back, smiling and, she dared to hope, unscathed.
“Good night, George,” she said firmly, turned and flicked out the light.
“Not much of a kiss,” he said.
She kept on going, refusing to be baited further as she tried not to notice that her lips were tingling ever so slightly.
“Sweet dreams, Sophy.” His voice drifted after her as she headed down the hall to the stairs,
Shut up, George, she thought silently, scrubbing her fingers against her mouth, assuring herself that whatever she was feeling had nothing to do with kissing him.
It was just because … because …
Well, she didn’t know. She couldn’t think what else might have caused it, and fortunately she didn’t have to because just then her mobile phone rang.
It was a local number, but one she didn’t recognize. “Hello?”
“Sophy? It’s Tallie. I couldn’t reach George on his cell phone. So I called the hospital and they said his wife had taken him home.” His sister sounded surprised to say the least.
“It wasn’t my idea,” Sophy protested. Then she explained what the doctor had told them. “He wouldn’t let George go unless someone came with him. So George hired me.”
“Hired you?”
“Well, that’s what he called it,” Sophy said. “Don’t worry, I’m not letting him pay me. I owe him, so I’m returning the favor and paying him back.”
“I’m sure George doesn’t think of it that way.”
Sophy was hard-pressed to articulate what George thought. All he did was confuse her—and try to run her life.
“At least you’re staying! That’s wonderful. We’ll have you over. Of course Lily will be coming. When?”
It was a given that she would be staying long enough for her daughter to come as well, Sophy noted.
“On Saturday,” she said. “My cousin is bringing her.”
“Great. We’ll have you over. Elias can grill. Or if George can’t do that much yet, we’ll bring food and come by your place.”
“His place,” Sophy corrected. “He’s still pretty battered,” she felt compelled to say. “He needs calm and quiet right now.”
“We’ll wait until you say you’re ready then,” Tallie decided. “This is such good news,” she went on eagerly. “Wait till the folks hear.”
“No!” Sophy said quickly and more forcefully than she should