Temptation (Bad Angels)

by Inara Scott

  “You’re not budging?” she finally said.

  “Nope. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can,” he said firmly as the car pulled up. “Call me before then if you need anything.”

  Chapter Two

  Zoe shifted her position on the emergency room bed, refusing to open her eyes even though sleep was the furthest thing from her mind. At least with her eyes closed, she didn’t have to make eye contact with Connor.

  Luckily, they’d hit the ER at a quiet moment. By the time Connor had arrived, a nurse was calling Zoe back to an exam room. After that, the wait to see the doctor hadn’t been long, and then she’d been trucked off for X-rays before returning to the room where Connor waited.

  All of which had helped to distract her. But what she really needed was to be home, not stuck in a tiny room wearing nothing more than a hospital gown, her best beige basics, and a pair of pink knee socks because she hadn’t done laundry for two weeks.

  He wasn’t very chatty. That hadn’t changed. Connor was the kind of guy you had to draw out. The kind of guy who was comfortable with silence and whose presence somehow managed to make you comfortable with it, too.

  Frankly, the perfect kind of guy to sit next to you in a hospital when your head hurt and making small talk was the last thing you wanted to do.

  Unfortunately, all that quiet gave her plenty of time to ponder why she was now aware of him in a way she never had been before. It wasn’t that she’d never noticed he was attractive. In the three years she’d known him, he’d always had that Clark Kent, “I wear glasses and plaid shirts but I’m really sexy as hell” sort of presence about him. He was absentminded and uncomfortable in groups, but even if he managed to screw up his dates fairly regularly, he’d never had any trouble getting them. Probably because rich, successful guys with killer bodies and quiet smiles didn’t exactly grow on trees.

  In her defense, he did look different this morning. For one thing, he was wearing contacts, revealing smoky gray-blue eyes she’d definitely never noticed before. And then there were his biceps, normally hidden by his clothes. They were downright dangerous to a girl in a weakened state.

  Not to mention his chest. The one that had momentarily rendered her speechless—a state she rarely experienced. Because, damn it, Connor Ashton had a six-pack, and now that she’d seen it, how could she be expected to unsee it?

  Zoe gave herself a mental shake. She was really going off the deep end.

  This was all probably just a head injury–induced hallucination, and tomorrow she would go back to thinking of him as her slightly nerdy, hapless friend Connor.

  Her eyes opened with relief at the sound of a knock on the door. A moment later, Dr. Checker, the doctor she’d seen for a few minutes earlier that morning, walked in.

  Connor stood as the doctor entered the room. She was several inches shorter than Zoe, an older woman with thick black hair streaked with white, and he towered over her. “I forgot how large you are. You should sit back down. I’ll never be able to see over you.” She shot Zoe a quick look. “You’re okay with him staying while we talk?”

  Zoe gave the doctor a wry smile. “If he sits down.”

  Connor gave them an apologetic look as he sat back down. “Sorry.”

  Dr. Checker flipped a switch on a light board and stuck a series of X-rays in place. The display was close enough to the bed that Zoe didn’t have to move, which she appreciated immensely, because every time she did move, her head and her hand seemed to throb extra hard.

  “Now, we didn’t do a CT scan because you aren’t showing any signs of a severe concussion, but we do need to watch for symptoms.” She pinned Zoe with a piercing look. “Has anything changed since I saw you last? Any nausea or vomiting? Any changes in your pain?”

  “No,” Zoe said. “I mean, other than that my arm hurts like crazy.”

  The doctor was unimpressed. “Not surprising.” She turned back to the light board. “We did check for injury to your neck, and I’m happy to report there’s nothing there I’m concerned about. However, you do have a hairline fracture in your radius, and it is possible that you have a mild concussion—you’ll need to keep a close eye on that for the next twenty-four hours or so to make sure your symptoms don’t worsen. But all in all, you’ve escaped from what could have been a serious accident with relatively minor injuries.”

  “They don’t feel minor,” Zoe said, feeling every inch of that hairline fracture as her wrist throbbed painfully.

  “You had a head-on collision with a streetlight,” the doctor chided. “Given that you might as well have not been wearing a helmet at all, I’d say you were pretty lucky. Now, the bad news is that your headache could linger for several days. The good news is that your nose isn’t broken, so the swelling there should go down by tomorrow. You’ll need to visit orthopedics in a day or so or so to get your wrist casted, but the fracture is slight enough that I don’t think you’ll have to spend more than a few weeks in a cast. So, barring anything that develops over the next couple of days, you should be able to bounce back relatively quickly.”

  “I should count my blessings, you’re saying?”

  Easier said than done, when it felt like you’d dropped an anvil on your face.

  “That’s it,” the doctor replied. She gave them a quick nod. “Now, any questions?”

  Connor spoke up from his chair. “I assume she should take a little time off? While we’re watching for the concussion?”

  Zoe blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I expect you’re about five minutes from reading your latest emails,” he said pointedly. “And twenty from replying to them.”

  Zoe stared at her hands, which were, in fact, itching to grab her phone. “I have a very demanding client.”

  “A concussion is nothing to play around with,” Connor said. “Besides, even your demanding client takes weekends off.”

  The doctor cleared her throat, then gave Zoe a serious look. “Sorry, but he’s right. I need you to take off the next twenty-four hours, minimum. No work. Stay off the computer and phone. No email. No reading, no TV—nothing. We want your brain to recover quickly, all right?”

  Zoe drew back in horror. “No phone? No email? What are you talking about?”

  “Look, you injured your wrist, and we’re giving it a rest, right? Same thing goes for your brain. Standard concussion protocol. If you want to lengthen your recovery, go ahead and try to be a superwoman. If you want to get better quickly, close down shop for a little while. Turn off all the inputs to your brain. Make sure you didn’t do any more serious damage before you start trying to take on the world.”

  “I don’t exactly have the kind of job that you can just ignore,” Zoe said, trying not to think about all the work she had planned to do this afternoon.

  Because Zoe’s law firm handled most of the legal work for Livend, and Livend was freakishly successful, Zoe and her partners, Luke and Rafe, were normally very, very busy. Unfortunately, Zoe’s usual side of things—the patent and engineering work—had slowed down lately. As they’d matured, Livend had started shifting to bigger deals with more established companies. It was work she could do, but her specialty was dealing with new start-ups, helping them identify and protect their intellectual property. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up taking the crap work that others didn’t want to do, simply because she was the one with the most time available.

  What she really needed was someone big. Someone that could put her on the map. Livend was Luke’s client, and everyone knew it. She needed a client like that, and she wasn’t going to rest until she had it.

  “I’m the last person to tell my patients to do nothing, but if I could write a prescription for you, it would be to spend the day in bed at home. Or even better, at someone else’s home, where you won’t be tempted to get up and do laundry or clean the dishes. Lie low, check out the back of your eyelids, and tell your demanding client to back off for a little while. You can go back to work in a few days.”
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br />   The idea of taking a few days off was one of the funnier things Zoe had ever heard. But clearly, the doctor was not going to budge. She decided for now, at least, she’d acquiesce.

  “Okay, fine. No work. Back of the eyelids. I assume sleep is acceptable?”

  Dr. Checker nodded. “Absolutely. Just make sure someone checks on you every four to six hours for the next twenty-four hours or so. We want to make sure you aren’t showing any signs of a serious concussion before we let you back at your regular life. Do you have someone to keep an eye on you if I release you?”

  Well, that was a hell of an embarrassing question.

  Because the truth was, she didn’t.

  She had no family in town. No close friends she could ask to check on her. Luke and Rafe were great guys, but she wouldn’t ask them to wake her up in the middle of the night to check her for concussion symptoms. She had no boyfriend, no lover…hell, her last date had been over a month ago.

  On the other hand, she did have her phone, which was sort of like a friend.

  And then there was the little device that sat on her counter and told her the weather and made jokes when she asked. That was like a friend, too, right?

  Zoe nodded and mentally crossed her fingers. “Of course.”

  “And who might that be?” The doctor cocked her head and studied Zoe, as if she could see right through her facade.

  Zoe pursed her lips. She considered saying, “My friend Alexa,” but then she imagined the doctor asking if she meant the Amazon home assistant.

  That would be beyond embarrassing.

  “Zoe?” the doctor prodded.

  She opened her mouth, but blatant lying wasn’t really her thing. And now that the doctor had her pinned, she couldn’t come up with a name to save her life.

  “Me, of course.” Connor spoke confidently from the other side of the room. “She’ll be coming home with me.”

  Chapter Three

  Going home with him?

  “Good.” Dr. Checker nodded as she headed out the door. “I’ll send the nurse in with some instructions and paperwork, and you can get checked out.”

  Obviously, there was no way she was going to stay at Connor’s apartment. Or let him wake her up every four hours during the night. Assuming he’d even been serious in the first place. She was just grateful to be getting out of the damn hospital with her dignity intact.

  She gave him her brightest smile. “Thank you for covering for me. That was really nice of you. I mean, this whole thing has been really nice. And I really appreciate you waiting with me. But you can take off. I’ll be fine. I was thinking I’d just set an alarm every few hours.”

  “Sure,” he agreed. “That seems like an awesome plan. I mean, you might end up with a serious head injury, or a brain hemorrhage that results in permanent damage, but you do what you think is best.” He held out the black turtleneck and belted wool jacket she’d been wearing, along with her skinny jeans. “You want to just slip these back on?”

  Zoe drew back at his calm voice. Normally, she was a pretty good judge of sarcasm, but the pain in her arm must have replaced all her sense, because she couldn’t quite tell if he was being serious or not.

  He didn’t really want her to come home with him, did he?

  Gingerly, she inched down the bed and slipped her feet over the edge. Slowly, she righted herself with her good hand and sat up, trying to ignore the throbbing in her head that followed. Connor studied her with cool detachment.

  “Feeling all right?” he asked politely.

  “Just give me a second.” She took a deep breath. Unsteadily, she leaned forward and started to slide her feet to the ground. It took an enormous amount of effort, but she finally rose to standing, swaying slightly on her feet.

  “Shall I… Zoe?” Connor tossed away her pants and shirt and lunged forward as she took a hesitant step and immediately began to topple over. He caught her around the waist. Her good arm swung up to grab his neck and she hissed with pain as she leaned into him, inadvertently putting pressure on her broken wrist.

  “I’m okay,” she said, gulping for air, striving to force some amount of stability into her wobbly knees. “Really. It had just been a while since I stood up. My foot’s asleep, that’s all. I’ll be fine.”

  “Of course.” He held her steady, his hands warm and strong around her waist. “You seem great.”

  He was so close, when she looked up at him she got lost in the ocean-like depths of his eyes. She braced herself with her hand on his shoulder, and something about the moment was so strange and intense—so not real life—she couldn’t quite bring herself to move. And he didn’t seem inclined to do so, either.

  She even imagined him lowering his head, his lips coming closer to hers.

  “Zoe?” His voice took a moment to register. In a sudden rush, she realized he wasn’t bending down to kiss her but was instead probably wondering why she’d gone catatonic in his arms. He cleared his throat. “Maybe you should sit back down?”

  “Right,” she said huskily. “That sounds like a good idea.”

  Unlike kissing, which was clearly a very bad idea.

  Evidently she did have a concussion. A serious one. One that had knocked all the sense from her brain.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t let you go until you’re ready.”

  Unsure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, she forced herself to shuffle back until her rear end hit the side of the bed. “Thanks. You can let go now. I’ve got it.”

  He didn’t pull away at first, just slowly opened his hands, releasing his hold but maintaining his position until she’d stabilized herself against the bed. Pins and needles rushed into her foot as it slowly came back to life. She laughed shakily. “I guess maybe I wasn’t as ready as I thought.”

  “You just need to take it slow.” Connor retrieved her clothes from where he’d thrown them on the chair by the door and offered them to her. “Do you need help?”

  She studied the garments and considered her next move. The hospital gown was tied in the back, and underneath she had on only her bra and briefs. And because today was determined to get worse, she realized there was absolutely no way she was getting into the turtleneck.

  The jeans she might be able to handle, but not without a lot of help.

  Intimate help.

  “I don’t…” To her utter mortification, tears began to fill her eyes. “I don’t know what to wear home. I don’t think I can get my shirt on. Not with my arm like this.”

  Without a pause, Connor shrugged off his sweatshirt and held it out to her. “Here. You can slip this over your head. Pretend it’s a dress.”

  She blinked rapidly to clear her eyes. With a half-hearted laugh, she waved her good hand toward his chest. “You really like taking off your clothes, don’t you? How is it I never knew this about you before?”

  He shot her a quick, wry smile. “Never seemed like the right time to tell you.”

  “You were waiting until we were in a hospital room together?”

  “Something like that.”

  There was the faintest glimmer of something more in his eyes, something that suggested another place entirely. But it was gone before Zoe’s overwrought brain could tell if she’d imagined it. She moved the sling higher on her chest and held it against the neckline of her gown, then gestured toward the ties at the back of her neck. “Well, I guess if you’re the expert, let’s give this a shot. Maybe you could untie me and help me slip on that sweatshirt?”

  “Of course.”

  His hands were gentle as he moved her hair out of the way and then pulled the string to untie the gown. While she held the top in place, he slipped his sweatshirt over her head. The fabric was warm and smelled like him, and Zoe paused to close her eyes and drink it in.

  “You okay?” he asked, concern in his voice.

  She forced open her eyes as she pushed her good arm into its sleeve, and then pulled the green gown out of the bottom of the sweatshirt. “Oh, yeah. Doing great.” />
  She stayed on the hospital bed as Connor retrieved her jeans. They both paused for a moment to eye the garment.

  “You want me to…um…help with this?” he asked.

  His voice sounded a little unsteady.

  “If you could just get help me get started, I think I can probably take over from there.”

  Connor carefully bunched up each leg in his hands before bending over to slide them, one by one, over her ankles. Zoe reached over, but she couldn’t get the material up past her calf with only one hand.

  “Er, maybe a little more?”

  Connor tugged the snug jeans higher on her leg. His fingers left goose bumps behind them, and she bit her lip to keep from shivering when he touched the tender skin behind the back of her knee.

  Friend. He’s just a friend. Nothing more than a friend.

  The silent mantra didn’t seem to be working. Goose bumps followed his hands, and a shiver went all the way to her belly.

  “I think I can get it from here,” she said when he reached the back of her knee. Grabbing the waistband in her good hand, she wiggled the pants up to her hips. When she’d gotten as far as she could while sitting, she slid off the table and onto her feet, waiting this time for the rush of blood in her toes to indicate that she was ready to stand.

  Connor stepped back a foot, but Zoe had the feeling he was staying close enough to catch her if she fell. His gaze, though, seemed to be determinedly staying above her waist.

  She manhandled the jeans over her butt, stopping when she realized there was no way she was going to get them buttoned by herself.

  She gave his stern visage a quick glance, imagined him buttoning her snug jeans, and just as quickly decided she could survive the way she was. Luckily, the sweatshirt covered the open fly. Kind of like the last time she’d eaten a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and then wandered around her apartment with her pants undone for the rest of the night.