“Are you in pain?”
“A little.”
He pushed open her bedroom door and led her inside. “Here. Sit on the chair and let me help you take off your jacket.”
“Thanks.” She did as he said.
“Your sweater’s got dried blood down the back of it,” he said, after he’d eased her out of the padded material. “I don’t know how you’re going to get it over your head without causing pain.” A small pause. “I’ll have to help you off with it.”
She gulped. “You will?”
“Yes.” His voice was nothing but neutral.
She tried to appear nonchalant, too. “Trust me to wear a tight-necked sweater today,” she joked, feeling dizzy again but not from her injuries. It was the thought of him undressing her, even though it made sense to do it this way. She didn’t think she’d be able to get the sweater off without him. She had a long-sleeved T-shirt underneath to cover herself, but that had a wide neck and she could easily take it off herself.
“Right. This won’t take long.” His voice sounded tight and she wondered … “Keep still now.”
He slid her arms out of the sleeves, then she felt him touch the hem of her sweater, and almost like it was in slow motion he started to lift it upward. She could feel him move close … closer still as he inched it up higher and higher …. She could feel his breath change as he neared her breasts, though not once did he touch her in any intimate way.
“Okay, careful now,” he said, as he reached her nape, his voice huskier. “This will be a little tricky.” He moved closer …. “There. That’s it. Now let me ease it over your head.” He moved around to the front of her and eased the knit material gently up over her head, and suddenly it was off and she was sitting there, her gaze level with his belt buckle. And then she raised her eyes to his, saw him looking down at her, and she dropped her eyes to where her T-shirt had ridden up and was revealing her breasts cupped in her lacy blue bra.
She lifted her head again and their eyes locked together. Something dark flared in his, and in retaliation her breathing became practically nonexistent as she remembered their kiss. Until that moment back there on the mountain none of this had been purely about them.
Things had changed.
Now it was.
All at once he twisted jerkily toward the small table and placed the sweater on it, saying over his shoulder, “I’ll leave you to do the rest, but I’ll be back soon to check on you.” His voice sounded rough as he headed for the door. “You should get into bed.”
She realized he was trying to be a gentleman and keep it all under control because she was injured, but what if she wasn’t injured? Would he take her?
The thought was moot, she told herself, swallowing hard and concentrating on what he’d said. “I’m not staying up here all day, Blake. I can sit on the couch downstairs and do some work.” It didn’t feel right to go to bed in the middle of the day. Not unless …
He stopped at the door, his eyes firm. “I won’t let you work, but you can lie on the couch.”
“Good of you,” she joked, trying to ease the tension in the room.
He didn’t smile. He had a hard flush on his face. “I think so,” he muttered, then left her to it, shutting the door behind him and giving her some privacy.
Swallowing, she had to move or he might come back and decide to help her undress the rest of her clothes. And that wouldn’t be such a bad thing on her part, but clearly he didn’t want to right now. She appreciated that he was thinking of her, even as her body craved to be a part of his.
First, she went into her bathroom, groaning when she saw a streak of blood on her cheek and the mess of her hair. Carefully she lifted the T-shirt over her head. Unable to stop herself, she stared at her lace-clad breasts, her cheeks reddening as she thought of Blake seeing the invitation of her body like this.
Filling the sink with warm water, she grabbed a washcloth and cleaned as much of the blood out of her hair as possible, then very gently combed it into place over the cut. She was pleased with the result. If she didn’t know better, and if her head hadn’t been sore, it would be hard to believe she’d just had an accident.
But if she was going to be an invalid today, she may as well be comfortable. She changed into denim jeans and a long-sleeve blouse that buttoned up so she didn’t have to lift it over her head. Blake tapped on the door as she stepped into a pair of slides.
“Come in,” she called out, half-surprised he’d knocked, considering he’d appeared to have taken charge of her welfare.
He pushed open the door then stood there, inspecting her from the face up. “You look much better.”
“I feel better. Thanks.”
Then his gaze traveled downward and a curious look passed over his face. “I don’t remember seeing you in jeans before.”
One glance from him and she could feel how much the jeans hugged her figure. Her stomach fluttered. “I usually only wear them at home.” If they were staying at a hotel, Pine Lodge included, she wore stylish clothes even when going casual. She considered dressing right a part of her job.
“You should wear them more often,” he said, his eyes blank but his voice tight again. He stepped back. “Come on. There’s a couch waiting for you downstairs.”
She avoided his gaze as she walked forward, then went past him in the doorway, but she could feel his presence like a soft touch.
Thankfully soon she was lying on the couch with cushions behind her back and a throw over her body. Did she want a book to read, he asked. A movie on the DVD player? A magazine?
“Perhaps some magazines,” she said, though she didn’t actually feel like doing anything but lying there and being with Blake. “You don’t have to do this,” she said as he went to get them from the rack.
He came back with a selection, his mouth set. “I told you. It’s my fault you were injured in the first place. I shouldn’t have taken you with me.”
“But you were only wanting to show me the bungalow location before I left Aspen,” she said in a flood of words, then saw his mouth tighten further. She understood. She didn’t want to be reminded that she was leaving soon either. “Anyway, what’s done is done. I don’t blame you but if you want to make it up to me, then I’d love a hot drink. A hot chocolate would be nice. With marshmallows.”
“No.”
She blinked. “Why not?”
“Because you shouldn’t be drinking or eating for a few hours. It could make things worse.”
She realized he was right, but, “I’m really thirsty, Blake, and I’m feeling fine now. How about some peppermint tea? That shouldn’t hurt.” She watched him consider that.
He nodded grudgingly. “Only a very weak one, then.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
He set off for the kitchen and she could hear him moving about in there. Her family used to cosset her like this at times, and she had to admit she liked being taken care of by Blake.
He soon returned with her hot drink, then he moved to the table in the corner where they’d set up the office. For a time it remained quiet as she flipped through the magazines and sipped at her tea. Then she began feeling sleepy. Eventually she