Greg’s voice came back to her. “It’s okay. Just rest a few more minutes.”
Unable to do anything else, she watched as he cleaned up the remainder of their shared meal, tossing containers into one of the trash cans and drawing the plastic bag up tight.
Sure enough, the vibrating pad began to warm, the heat working its way into the affected muscle. It didn’t completely relax but the pain wasn’t quite as severe as it had been moments earlier. Maybe she could … Shifting a bit, she gasped as the muscle contracted again.
“Lie still. You’re not going anywhere for a couple of hours.”
A couple of hours? A second ago he’d said to rest for a few minutes.
“Why don’t you go to the hospital and then head home? I’ll be fine in a little while. Promise.”
“Not going to happen, Hannah. The hospital can do without me for one night. I’ve already told them to call me if there’s an emergency.”
Guilt rolled through her. He never skipped his rounds that she knew of. Always did them every night. Even weekends.
And here he was, stuck at the office, babysitting the person who’d told him to get some rest. Having to take care of her. Again. Just like during her treatments.
The thought brought tears to her eyes. She never wanted to go back to those days of fear and pain and that dark hole that had threatened to close over the top of her.
Stop it. You’re not sick. It’s just a muscle cramp.
The pain would soon be gone then she’d be strong and healthy once again. Free to live every day to the fullest. She visualized those words, made them her reality. Added an image of herself with a rounded tummy and pink, glowing cheeks. She was happy. Content.
Pregnant.
She blinked, remembering the procedure she’d undergone just that morning. She also realized her back was feeling better, at least while she was lying still. If she could just stay where she was a few minutes longer …
A half hour later, she found herself again nodding off, the pain finally sliding away. The vibrations stopped and she was aware of the heating pad being lifted off and gentle hands again moving over her back, this time right where it had hurt. She pulled in a deep breath and felt nothing but that contentment she’d reached for a few minutes earlier. “It’s gone.” She whispered the words, afraid the pain would find her again if she spoke any louder.
“I’m sorry. Do you want me to put it back?”
“Put it …?” She realized he was talking about the heating pad. “No, I meant my back feels better. Can you help me sit up?”
“Yes, but we’re going to roll you onto your back first so you won’t have to twist at an awkward angle. I don’t want to give that muscle any reason to flare up again.” He placed his hands on her right shoulder and hip. “Ready?”
His fingers were almost as warm as the heating pad and a tiny shudder went through her. “I’m ready.”
“On three.” He counted slowly and when he reached three, before she could even brace her hands on the floor and help, he’d gently rolled her over.
Moving a tiny bit, she tested her muscles. Nothing felt out of place or sore.
His brown eyes slid over her face. “Everything okay?”
“I think so.”
“Let’s just wait a minute or two.” He nodded toward the reception desk. “I have some carisoprodol, just in case.”
She shifted again, a little more this time, to see if anything acted up. Still nothing. “I think the worst is over. And I’d rather not drive with that kind of medication in my system.”
“I’ll take you home.”
“Muscle relaxants knock me for a loop, and I’m never myself the next day.” She didn’t want to tell him that her year of treatment had conditioned her throat to constrict at the sight of anything that resembled a capsule. “I have to work tomorrow, remember?”
“Stay home.”
She lifted her hand, feeling at a distinct disadvantage lying flat on her back. “Help me up, and then we’ll talk about it.”
Greg stood and then curled his hand around hers. She sensed a slight hesitation on his part before his grip tightened and his arm bent at the elbow as he applied steady pressure. Their connected palms were doing crazy things to her stomach so, in an effort to hurry the process up, she braced her feet and launched herself into a vertical position.
Her momentum carried her straight into his chest where she landed with a thump.
Ack!
Greg wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her against his solid body as she tried to catch her breath.
At least her stupid move hadn’t sent her back into another spasm.
Something she couldn’t say about her heart, which was pumping at an alarming rate. A hundred and twenty beats per minute at least … and rising by the second.
She tried to act nonchalant, as if falling against her employer was something she did on a regular basis. And it was no big deal. She’d hugged him before after all. “Sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have gotten up so fast.”
“I’ll say.” The murmured words ruffled her hair and sent her heart on another race for the finish line. “How’s your back?”
She wiggled the upper part of her body back and forth to feel it out, then realized she’d just done a quick shimmy against his thorax.
Her nipples contracted in reaction, and she blurted out the first thing she could think of: “Can’t feel a thing.”
The hand at her back tightened. “Can’t you?”
Um, yeah. And it wasn’t good. Because she was suddenly aware of every inch of male flesh pressed against her. Muscular chest, firm abs, taut thighs, and …
No, it couldn’t be. She licked her lips, telling herself to pull back now before he realized that she realized that he was …
He was …
Yes. He was.
And if she shifted one millimeter, she’d be rubbing right against his was. Lord, did she want to press just a little bit.
And like that horrible thing that often happened when you told yourself not to do something—like not to eat that whole pint of ice cream in one sitting—your body did the exact opposite.
She pressed.
And the sound of his breath hissing in through his teeth met her ears.
Okay. Now he knew that she knew.
She slowly lifted her head and met eyes that were sizzling with something she hadn’t seen in a very long time in a man. Especially not directed at her.
Desire.
Steaming. Naked. Toe-curling need.
“Greg?” She had no idea why she said his name, but his gaze darkened further.
One hand came up and slid into her hair, his thumb resting along her jaw. “How’s your back?”
“Better.” The words came out in a whisper, because suddenly she knew why he was asking. She emphasized her point. “Much better.”
“Hannah.” His thumb applied gentle pressure to tilt her head up, even as he angled his own down until only a breath of space remained between them. “You know this is a very bad idea.”
“Worse than playing with matches?”
“Much worse.”
It was. But the fascination