A Hunka Hunka Nursing Love (Women's Fiction) (10 page)

Valerie stopped in the middle of a leg lift, sat up, and gazed directly into Keith’s turquoise eyes. “She agreed to let you come once a week for a whole month?”

“Yep.” He casually leaned back against Valerie’s bedroom dresser, acting as if he hadn’t just moved heaven, Earth, and Jupiter, too.

“You are stu
pen
dous.” Then she remembered the mule with whom they were dealing. “Although I probably shouldn’t give you that million-dollar bonus until she actually lets you back in the house.”

“Keep exercising,” he said, flicking an index finger up and down. “She’ll
beg
me to come back in.”

Valerie eased back down and resumed her workout. “My, my. Aren’t we cocksure today?”

He blushed just enough to make Valerie second-guess her word choice. “I’m just saying it went well. I even got her to dance with me.”

She stopped again. “
Get
out.”

“Seriously. We put Fred and Ginger to shame.”

“Wow.” Valerie couldn’t contain a little smile of admiration as she continued exercising. “She loves to dance, but I don’t think she has in years.” She chuckled. “You should have seen her at my wedding. She and my dad put all of my friends to shame.”

“Are you . . . divorced?”

She glanced at his expression, but she couldn’t read anything in it. “Just recently. But we were separated for more than a year. Why do you ask?”

He shrugged. “Just curious.”

“How about you?”

“Me? Divorced. Almost four years now.”

She launched into her next exercise without any prompting, then reminded herself not to rush. She wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. “Any kids?”

He shook his head. “No.” His eyes met hers, and she saw a sadness she could empathize with all too well. “You don’t have any kids either, do you?”

“No.” She debated how much information to volunteer, then decided she had no reason to hold back. “It wasn’t for lack of trying, though. I very much wanted to have kids. It just wasn’t in the cards for us.”

He crossed his arms and rubbed his chin. “My wife was actually pregnant when we got married, but then she miscarried.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

He did a half-shrug. “Perhaps it was just as well. She ended up moving back to Colombia, that’s where she’s from, so joint custody would have been very difficult.”

“Colombia? How interesting.”

“Oh, she was interesting all right. Lina was nonstop everything. If I wanted to run for five miles, she wanted to run ten. If I wanted to party for a couple of hours, she wanted to party all night. She made a great ER nurse, but living with her . . .” He shook his head and expelled a puff. “Even as athletic as I am, she wore me out.”

“So you met at work?”

“Yeah. Chicago General. Where’d you meet your husband?”

“College.” She finished the exercise. “Can I take a break?”

“Sure.”

She took a sip of water and sat back against the pillows on her bed. “Yeah, we met during my second year at U of I, and then we got married about four years later. We were married for twenty years.” She hated how that sounded, as if she still couldn’t get it right even after twenty years. But each time she said it, it got a little easier. Kind of like slapping the same spot over and over until it was numb. But she didn’t want to bore him with that saga. “So would you like to hear about my latest business headache?”

His eyebrows rose. “Uh, sure. Is it okay if I sit?” He pointed to the chair that held his canvas bag.

“Oh, absolutely.”

As he got himself situated in the chair, she admired his lithe physique. Lord, what fantasies that brought to mind. She forced herself back into the present by telling him about the missed advertising opportunity on chicagolandmoms.com. He listened almost as well as a woman, nodding and making sympathetic noises at appropriate times. She wondered if that was the result of growing up with three sisters. Whatever the reason, his active listening skills would earn him extra points with the old ladies. “So now we have to figure out another way to reach moms online.”

“Hmm.” He appeared to be lost in thought, but his right leg bounced like that of a hyperactive child. “You know, your best bet might be those ads that pop up based on what the person types into the search engine.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve seen those. But how do they work?”

His leg stopped and his hands went into action as he explained. “You can specify what combination of words will cause your ad to appear. Say a mom types in ‘preschool Chicago northern suburbs,’ your ad will pop up at the top of the page, even before the search results.”

This guy continued to amaze her. “How do you know about this?”

“Oh, my sister Kelly works in advertising. Believe me, I’ve heard enough about marketing strategy to start my own agency.”

“That sounds even better than our original plan.” She grabbed her laptop. “I’m going to tell Pam to get right on it.”

“Wait a minute, young lady.” He stood, lifted the computer from her lap, and returned it to where it had been on the bedspread. “You’ve still got some exercises to do.”

Was he mocking her with that “young lady” comment? She could play that game. She stuck her lower lip out. “Oh, poop.”

His smile displayed bright teeth, one of which was slightly chipped. “The sooner you get done, the sooner you can get back to work.”

Being so close to him made her yearn to do something, but it sure as heck wasn’t work. Still, she dutifully finished her usual routine.

“Now I want to go over some of your day-to-day movements, like going up and down stairs,” he said. “I need to see how well you’re getting around.”

The master bedroom was on the main floor of the house, so she hadn’t needed to negotiate stairs much. They walked through the living room to the foot of the stairs that led to the second floor. She immediately stepped up with both crutches under her arms. “Okay, up with the good—”

“Wait a minute.” He eased her back down. “When you have access to a railing, you want to use it. So take the crutch on the railing side”—he took the crutch out of her right hand—“move it to your other hand and hold it perpendicular to the other crutch, so it makes sort of a plus sign.”

She struggled to hold both the crutch handle and the aluminum rod of the other crutch in her left hand. “That’s a lot to hold in one hand.”

“If you can juggle two businesses, I think you can handle two crutches in one hand.”

Smart aleck. “And if I had two good legs, I’d kick you.”

He kept his voice pleasant. “
Now
it’s time for ‘up with the good.’”

At least she’d remembered that much from her hospital training—to lead with the uninjured leg when going up the stairs. She made her way up fairly easily, with him following and cheering her on like a sportscaster.

“Ladies and gentleman, look at her go! What form, what style! And to think, just three weeks ago, she’d never been on a crutch in her life.”

She reached the top of the stairs, paused a second to catch her breath, and turned around to face him. “Do they teach you that crap in physical therapy school?”

“Nope. My play-by-play is all original. I will have to charge you extra for it though.”

“Does your employer get a cut?”

“No, she’s not that mercenary.”

“Try me.”

He slapped his hands together. “Okay, time for the return trip.”

“Already? We just got here.”

He snapped his fingers. “Come on, now. Down with the bad.”

“Speak for yourself.” She positioned herself with her left hand on the railing and the crutches in her right.

“Now you lead with the crutch, then the injured leg and then the good leg. One step at a time.” He went down the stairs backward to monitor her progress. “You’re doing great.”

“No Howard Cosell this time?”

“Oh, now you
want
my play-by-play?”

“About as much as I want another broken le—” She placed the crutch too close to the edge of the last stair, and when she put her weight on it, the crutch slipped and she flew forward.

He stumbled only slightly as he broke her fall and righted her. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she said on an exhalation as her blood pressure soared. Then she realized how wonderful it felt to have his strong hands supporting her, like a safety net. But his touch also delivered intense surges of desire. She remained on the last stair, which brought her nose-to-nose with him. She looked into his gentle eyes, and initially, she saw only concern. Then his eyes glanced down at her lips, and involuntarily, her gaze slid to his mouth. When their eyes reconnected, wisdom, reserve, and good sense held her back. But her fingers tingled with the pleasure of touching his arms, and they moved up to grasp his shoulders.

He seemed frozen, neither pulling away nor inching forward. She tilted her head to the right and moved it a fraction closer to his. She searched his eyes for some sign of whether he wanted her to proceed. What she saw was a color that reminded her of Lake Michigan dazzling in the sunlight. But did she see apprehension as well? She didn’t want to put him in an untenable situation. But Lord, how she wanted . . .
Oh, why not? What was it Pam said? ‘Y
our happiness is more important than that business.’
So go for it!
But what if . . .
Yeah, and what if you don’t? Live. Live!

A primal lust drove her mouth to bond with his, and he responded with a ferocity that both shocked and thrilled her. Their lips melded as their tongues probed and twisted, and a frenzy of craving ached throughout her body. The rigid tension in his torso drew her toward him, and she knew if she leaned into it, she would be lost, gone, enraptured . . .

She inched back and took a breath. Shock and disappointment registered on his face as his mouth hung ajar.

“I . . .” She pushed back some hair that threatened to block her vision. “I’m not sure what I’m doing. I
wanted
to do that, but . . .” Sweat prickled on her forehead.

“That’s okay.” He smiled awkwardly. “I’m not sure, either. I mean, you’re my boss. And the contract—”

“I know. There’s a lot to think about.” The fatigue of standing settled into her good leg. “I better sit down.”

“Oh, yes.” He retrieved her crutches, and she made her way back into her bedroom. Neither of them spoke until she got situated in bed.

“Well, I better get to my next appointment.” He hustled his laptop and other supplies into his bag.

“Yes, of course.” She tried to make eye contact with him.

He picked up on her cue and stopped to look at her before leaving.

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow, okay?” she said.

“Okay.”

She thought she saw a touch of relief on his face, but confusion as well.

“Get some rest,” he said.

She saluted. “Yes, sir.”

They exchanged warm little smiles, and then he left.

Sliding her fingers into her hair, she grabbed hold of it at the scalp. What had she done? She dropped her hands and took a deep breath. She
loved
that kiss. He enjoyed it, too; she had no doubt. But was it passion, or did he feel obligated to return her advance to save his job?

She groaned and butted her head with the heel of her hand. She never should have put him in that position. Tomorrow, she would apologize profusely and assure him his job remained secure.

Damn, damn,
damn
! She knew Pam meant well when she said to ‘Go for it.’ But Valerie should have considered
all
of the ramifications, not just for herself, but for Keith as well. The way she practically jumped his bones left him no way out. But hadn’t
he
been the first one to glance at the lips? She had taken that as a signal. Did she misread his intent? Was she that out of touch with the nuances of seduction?

She sighed. Only time would tell. But one thing she knew for certain: As crazy and unethical as it may have been, she wished she hadn’t stopped.

Keith raised his voice a little higher than he wanted to because Scott couldn’t hear him over the restaurant’s lunch crowd. “I said, ‘Have you ever had one of the old ladies cop a feel?’”

Scott, who was an occupational therapist for Triple-H, scratched one of his coppery eyebrows and chuckled. “Yeah, once. Ethel Schnipper. Honest to God, that was her name. I was helping her plant some flowers, and I was down on my hands and knees, covering some stuff up”—he motioned with his hands as if he were creating a mound—“and she patted me on the ass and said, ‘Nice job, Scotty boy.’” He laughed heartily, and a tiny piece of French fry flew from his mouth.

“So it didn’t bother you?”

“No, not really. Why, what happened to you?”

“Oh . . .” Keith waved his fork dismissively, feeling a bit foolish at that point. “This one woman copped a feel.”

“Front or back?”

“Both, actually.”

Scott covered his mouth with the back of his hand in an apparent effort to suppress a chortle he couldn’t contain. “Caught you off guard, huh?”

“Yeah, sort of. But I couldn’t help wondering afterward, if I were a female nurse, wouldn’t I be yelling sexual harassment?”

“Yeah, I suppose. But I figure it’s like being a cocktail waitress. You know you’re gonna get some pinches, but the tips are worth it.”

“Hmm.” Keith nodded. Scott had a point. There wasn’t any real harm done, and Keith definitely liked the pay at Triple-H.

Scott wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Hey, dude, I’ve gotta run.” He threw a few bills on the table. “This should more than cover my check. I’ll see you around.”

“Okay. Take it easy.”

After Scott left, Keith wondered why he’d gotten so uptight about Mrs. Wittenwyler’s moves in the first place. She was just a lonely old lady. So what if touching him gave her a little thrill?

But he still didn’t like it. He’d been cautious about keeping his distance since that first visit, and it hadn’t happened again. Maybe he was being hypersensitive about sexual harassment. Not surprising, since his sisters had drilled that kind of stuff into him.