Photo Opportunity (13 page)

It certainly looked like an erection to her. “Are they what?”

“More visible now?”

“Huh?” It was most definitely an erection. A substantial one at that, given the way the towel just moved.

“The bruises, Morgan, can you see them now?”

“What bruises?” He was hard. That meant he was aroused. And if she was aroused and he was aroused, then—

She heard him chuckle. “A little distracted, are we?”

Bruises.
Damn, they were talking about his bruises.
Focus.
She looked him dead in the eye and lied. “Not distracted, no. Just trying to make a point. I can’t see any bruising.” Well, at least that part was true. “Not on your shoulder or your knee. I’m sorry.” She shrugged. “They’re just not there.”

He said nothing, raising his eyebrow instead. Her gaze hadn’t taken in either knee or shoulder. The lift of his brow told her he knew exactly what she was thinking. But how could he not? Her tongue was still plastered to the floor. “You gonna stand there dripping all over the carpet? Or are you going to get dressed?”

“That depends.” He didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get his clothes on.

“On what?”

“On you.”

“On me?”

“Yes. On you. Do you want me to get dressed?”

Hell, no!
“What kind of a question is that?”

“A logical one. I saw you watching me. You just don’t seem particularly eager for me to put my clothes on. In fact—” again with the infuriating dimple, “—you seem to have developed a certain affinity for my towel.”

It wasn’t the damn towel she had an affinity for. If he could just
lose
the towel, she’d be happy.

No. She wouldn’t.

“Yeah, Dan. What can I say? I’ve fallen for the towel. I’ve always been a sucker for a good towel.”

Daniel looked surprised. “You have? Well, I tell you what. I’m a nice guy and I’d hate to get in the way of you getting what you want. So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m gonna go get dressed and I’m gonna leave you with my towel so the two of you can have a few minutes alone to get acquainted.”

Ever so casually, he pulled the terry cloth from around his waist and handed it to a dumbfounded Amy.

“It’s a little wet,” he said apologetically and shrugged. “Sorry.”

Amy was sure she’d have responded appropriately if she hadn’t been so busy confirming her erection suspicions. The man had the granddaddy of all hard-ons.

“Wet?” she muttered. Forget the towel. The wettest thing in the room right now was her. She wished she had a pair of super-industrial-strength panties, because the longer she stared at Daniel’s cock, the wetter she got.

Well, don’t stare, then.

Easy for you to say.

Lift your eyes upwards, to his face.

I swear, I’m trying. It’s just not working.

Daniel saved her from further self-debate. “I’ll be back in five, Morgan. Enjoy getting to know the towel.”

He turned around and sauntered off to his room, leaving the towel dangling uselessly in her hand.

It took longer than five minutes to get dressed. Daniel feared zipping up a pair of jeans in his state would maim him for life. He pulled on his clothes slowly, his lips twitching every time he pictured Amy’s stunned face. Yep. There was no doubt about it. His good pal was hot and horny and ready to jump him.

And he just walked away.

Had he completely lost his mind? No reasonable man could walk away from a woman who looked at him like that.

But then Daniel wasn’t exactly of sound mind. He hadn’t been since he went down on her. Got a taste of her sweet sex. One lick and his sanity was history. Fucking her was the only thing that would help him regain his common sense.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t fuck her yet. If he did, all his well-laid plans would be ruined.

She wasn’t ready. Not emotionally, anyway. When he did make love to Amy, he wanted her to wake up the next morning without one iota of regret. He wanted her to know it was the best step she could have taken. Yes, she might want to fuck him tonight, but by tomorrow morning she’d be appalled. She’d wake up comparing him to Simon and her father and every other man who had walked out of her life.

There was no question about it. She wasn’t ready, although ever so slowly, she was getting there—and he couldn’t deny he enjoyed tormenting her just a little in the process. His encounter with Lexi may have been unplanned, but it turned into a perfect excuse to torment Amy a little more, stir up her awareness of him.

He bent his knee back and forth a couple of times. A little tender perhaps, but nothing serious. Then he rolled his shoulders. After Amy’s massage and his bath, they should feel loose and relaxed. They didn’t. They were as tightly wound up as the rest of him. Lexi’s cricket bat might not have caused much damage, but the memory of Amy’s touch made him ache.

Damn. Lexi’s cricket bat. She’d attacked him with a frigging lethal weapon. Heck, she’d hit out with such force, he’d still be unconscious if the bat had met its target: the back of his head.

To say he’d been pissed off with his sister was an understatement, but Lexi had redeemed herself. She’d obviously done a great job on Amy. Her call must have been pretty convincing. Amy may have teased him, but she couldn’t hide the fear or the anxiety in her eyes. She’d been more than a little concerned about him.

He’d phone Lexi first thing in the morning to say thank you.

When at last he felt ready to do up his pants, he headed into the lounge and suppressed a smile when he saw the towel neatly folded on a chair. He’d toyed with her enough for now. For the rest of the night he’d keep their relationship platonic. He’d be so damn platonic he’d make a priest look like a porn star.

“Whatcha watching?”

“Not much. Just seeing what’s on.”

Was it his imagination or was she deliberately not looking at him? “Anything interesting?” He helped himself to some more food and sat next to her on the couch.

“Not really.” Definitely avoiding eye contact. There was that strained quality to her voice too.

“Want some sushi?”

“No, thanks. Had enough.” Did she squirm?

“So…” He was determined to get her to relax again. “How’s work going?” Her shoulders were so tight he could practically see knots forming.

“Not bad.” She studiously kept her eyes on the TV.

Getting her to relax was harder than he thought. Amy was embarrassed. A reddish blush stained her cheeks. “Been busy?”

For a couple of moments she looked indecisive. Her eyes darted to the front door and back as she gnawed on her lower lip. “Very. For some reason we’ve had a rush of new patients and there’s hardly been time to breathe.”

“Anything interesting?”

She took a deep breath and turned to face him. Resolve steeled her expression. She was going to play this cool. “One case. They’re not my patients, though. Maggie referred them to one of the other counselors. I’m just too busy.”

Daniel watched her play nervously with a lock of hair. She wound it around her finger, tugged it down and let it loose, then wound it around her finger again. “Tell me about them.”

“They’re a professional couple with an unusual request.”

“They want to get a child genetically cloned?”

“Not quite.” Amy laughed. It was a tense laugh, but a laugh nevertheless. “They want to have a baby but can’t do it alone.”

“Why not?”

“They’re both women.”

“That would make it a bit difficult,” Daniel agreed with a smile. “Have you had gay couples in before?”

“A few. They get a bit tricky because of the legal and social ramifications.”

“Like what?”

“Like who’ll carry the baby and what rights does the other partner have? Are they going to use a known or an anonymous sperm donor?” Her voice became animated, like it always did when she spoke about her work. “Will the donor take on any paternal duties? Is he HIV free? It can, and usually does, get rather complicated.”

“Isn’t there any way of simplifying it?”

“Well, they could do it themselves with a willing and known donor. Success rates are much lower though. Then there’s still all the parenting issues.”

“How will they decide?”

“Through a lot of counseling and information.”

“Wish you were seeing them?” Amy would have loved the challenge. She was that sort of person.

For the first time since he walked back into the room, she seemed to relax. “Yeah. It’s a little frustrating not being able to take on every case. The counselor they’re using is good and if there are any problems, she’ll ask for assistance.” She changed the subject. “What about you? Ready for tomorrow?”

“Sure am.” Although job offers had poured in after his exhibition, he rejected them all and took the last few weeks off. The shoot at POWS was gut-wrenching and he needed time out to regroup.

Tomorrow he was starting work again. A woman’s glossy had asked him to do a fashion shoot. He anticipated a week there would be a good entrance back into the field.

“I’ll miss the sleep-ins and surfing though, ’specially now that the weather’s a bit warmer. Did I tell you what the shoot is?” he asked. “It’s the Oz Designers’ Spring Collection. I’ll be completely in the know about the upcoming fashions. Ask me anything you want to know about dressing for sunshine.” He paused then said with authority, “I’ve been told orange is the new black.” He was told no such thing, but at least his comment had the desired effect. Amy laughed.

“What about skirt length?” she asked. “Mini, midi or long?”

He looked at her and shook his head. “Skirts are so last year, daahling. Anyone who’s anyone in the industry knows that. The best dressed people are wearing pants this spring.” He waited a second then added, “Orange pants.”

Amy snorted. “Lucky you’re filming the models and not dressing them.”

A couple of months ago she would have made some comment about undressing them as well. It was way too good an opportunity to miss. She would have procured great joy from taking the piss out of him. A couple of months ago she’d have been right. There would’ve been a lot of undressing of models going on.

But not anymore.

“How are you feeling? Has the time off work helped you?”

Daniel smiled to himself. She couldn’t hide that side of her—Amy the caregiver, the nurturer. No matter what he’d put her through, she still worried about him and the effect being at the hospital had on him.

If it were anyone else, he would have brushed off the question and changed the topic. “A little,” he answered honestly. “For a while there, I couldn’t distance myself from some of the kids. I identified too strongly with them. It hurt.” It still did. His stomach twisted every time he thought of the ward.

“I guess whenever you were in a room with one of them you relived the times you sat with your sister while she was sick.” Her voice was gentle, yet probing.

“I did. Especially with Vicky. She reminded me so much of Sarah.”

“How?” Her eyes remained trained on his face.

“Her attitude to her illness. She was so positive the whole time. She knows there’s a chance she could—” his voice cracked and he swallowed, “—she could die. Yet she was so brave and so funny. She never gave up hope, even when she was so sick she couldn’t talk without throwing up.” A muscle twitched in his jaw.

“She has a younger brother, Theodore. She worries about him and what he’s going through. Every time she mentioned him, I thought about Sarah. Sarah always asked how Lex and I were doing. She worried about us even though she was the one going through the treatment.” He closed his eyes and shook his head as painful memories poured through. “I thought about the days when she felt so bad she didn’t even want to see us. And—” he paused and frowned, “—and then I remembered how rejected I felt. Christ, how selfish is that? Sarah was sick and I sat there feeling rejected?”

“Oh Danny.” Amy grabbed his hand. “You were a child. A scared, anxious child.”

“I was a demanding brat. I insisted my parents pay us as much attention as they gave Sarah and then got pissed off when they didn’t. I didn’t understand at the time that they couldn’t.” Hell, he hadn’t expected to reveal any of this. Yet the need to get it all off his chest was overwhelming. He had to talk to someone and who better than Amy?

“You were twelve.” Her voice was so soft, so understanding. “How could you possibly appreciate all the dynamics that were going on? All you knew was that your sister was sick and your parents were focused more on her than on either you or Lexi. Add to that your own feelings about Sarah’s illness. It’s a lot for a boy to cope with.”

“Sometimes,” Daniel admitted, surprised by his own candidness, “I didn’t try to cope with it at all. I just pretended nothing was wrong. I’d go to school and live this fantasy where everyone was healthy. The days were much easier that way. I even remembered how to laugh again. Then I’d get home and find Mum crying, or my aunt waiting to watch us while my parents were at the hospital, and just as quickly I remembered there was nothing normal about our family after all.”