by Lily Harlem
“It won’t get any better than it is,” he said, running his hand over his right kneecap.
“I’m sure there’s some room for improvement. Let’s have a look.” I squatted down so I was face-level with his right knee, the one he was rubbing. “I take it it’s this one?”
“Yep.” He moved his hand and I cupped my palm over his patella. It was big and wide and warm. With my other hand, I pressed on the hard bone of his shin.
“Push against me.” I exerted pressure and he resisted. “Does that hurt?”
“Nah, but it would if I pressed harder then twisted.”
“Where?”
There was a pause, then, “Everywhere.” He pushed my hand away. “So forget it.”
I glanced up. It was as though a blanket had come down over his face, a heavy, impenetrable wall that he wasn’t going to let me see beyond. I knew when to let an issue go. Though it was a shame; I could have helped.
“Okay,” I said, standing. “But if you change your mind about treatment let me know. It will have to be either today or tomorrow, because that’s all I’m here for.”
“You and me both. I can’t wait to get home.” He rubbed his hand over his tattoo, as if testing the feeling in his upper arm. “I miss it. I like having my own stuff around me.”
“Home to?”
He tutted. “Orlando.”
Oh yeah, he’d said something about Orlando earlier.
“Of course, er, right then, these needles should have done their job in another ten minutes and then, once they’re out, we’ll do some physio. I would have preferred to do hydrotherapy, but the pool here is closed for maintenance today.”
“What therapy?”
“Water treatment. The resistance is great for helping regain movement and for providing support in the process. Do you have a local swimming pool you can use when you get back to Orlando? If I show you what exercises to do it really would be great for your recovery.”
“If having a pool in my backyard is local then, yeah.” He pulled that face again, the one that implied I was being dim. He was really starting to irritate me. If he wasn’t careful, I might have to add more needles and flick them, hard.
Dragging in a calming breath, I nodded, counted to ten. “I’ll just check another couple of patients and be right back. Ring the nurse call-bell if you need anything.”
Quickly I left the room. His sour mood was wrapping around me as if it were a sticky web, and the last thing I wanted was to be in a grump when I had so much to do.
Working on autopilot, I went through a couple of exercises with a hip-replacement patient who was ready for discharge, then scooted around my other patients, telling them I’d be back to see them at various points during my working day.
Ten minutes later, I was in Raven’s room again. He was exactly where I’d left him, hunched on the side of the bed, staring through the gap in the curtains. The brooding atmosphere radiating from him was almost palpable.
“Here I am,” I said in a falsely bright voice. “Let’s take these out then.”
No reply.
That suited me just fine.
It took only a few seconds to take the needles out and drop them in the sharps bin. Once again I warmed my hands by rubbing them together. “I’m going to touch you now,” I said as I always did before laying my hands on a patient’s body from behind.
Silence.
My palm absorbed heat from the solid curve of his shoulder, but it wasn’t as intense as before and I curled my hand over his other shoulder to compare. “How is it feeling?” I asked quietly.
I heard him swallow. “Better.”
“Has your pain score dropped from a two?”
There was a long pause. “Yeah, maybe a one now.”
A bubble of triumph swelled within me. “Great, just what I hoped and certainly some of the heat has gone.” I lifted my hands from his wide frame and moved away from the bed. “Are you up to standing?”
He gave a humph and stood.
Damn, the man was tall. I knew he would be, but against my five feet three, his beyond six seemed even more pronounced.
He turned to face me and I couldn’t help but let my gaze slide down what was a truly magnificent body. If he could just keep his huffs and grunts inside, he would have been a fine specimen of a man—roped with muscle, bronzed like a warrior’s shield and darkly exotic with his long, shiny hair, angled features and dramatic tattoo.
Stop it, woman. Not only is he a total grump, you’re at work. He’s your patient.
I took hold of his lower arm and looked up into his sulky face. “Let your forearm lay heavy in my hands, that way I do the lifting and not you. We’ll just do passive exercises today and I’ll show you the others tomorrow.”
Silence. Just a tightening of his lips and a small nod.
His breaths breezed steadily over my cheek and I averted my gaze so I could watch the movements of his shoulder rather than looking into such a hooded expression.
Very gently I lifted and rotated his arm so that his shoulder joint received a soft work through all the angles it needed to. His limb was heavy but I suspected he was still supporting some of it and not completely relaxing into my hold. I wished he was. It would have been a better workout if he’d let me put in the effort rather than him.
“Do you want the sling back on?” I asked when I’d finished.
“Should I?”
“Yes, probably a good idea.”
“You know best.”
I reached it from the bed and walked back up to him. Normally standing next to a patient who was wearing only his boxers wouldn’t have affected me, not in the slightest. It was something I did every day. But there was something about touching this athlete, aligning the material over his arm, then sliding around him to move aside his hair and fasten a knot, that sent tingles up my spine. Once again I berated myself. I had a job to do, joints to exercise, techniques to show him. If his health was really causing problems with his career, I needed to give him a good assessment and the best advice I could for his onward recovery.
I only hoped the female side of me understood that, because I wasn’t known for staying in control when handsome men were around.
“Can I get back on the bed?” he asked, his sullen tone shaking me from my dreamy state.
“Sure, go ahead.”
He maneuvered himself onto the mattress. I reached for the sheet to help him but he snatched at it one-handedly and tugged it up.
“Shut the door when you leave,” he said in a rasping, exasperated voice.
Okay, so maybe resisting a rude, obnoxious pig wasn’t so hard after all.
Chapter Two
Raven’s hunky visitor grinned at me as I stepped into the side room the next day.
“My, my, have you worked wonders on misery guts,” he said with an approving nod.
“Shut the fuck up, Pretty,” Raven ground out from the bed. His arm was still in a sling and an empty breakfast tray sat in front of him.
I tried to control a flirty little smile as the heart-stoppingly beautiful blond man stood and placed his hands on his denim-clad hips. He wore a white t-shirt with a small snake logo over his right pectoral muscle. The sleeves were tight on his wide biceps and the jeans hugged his groin in a fascinating, bulging kind of way.
I quickly shifted my attention to Raven. “How are you feeling?” I asked, barely controlling a sashay in my step as I moved toward my patient’s charts.
“I’ll be better in forty-eight hours when I can sleep in my own bed.”
“Ah, but didn’t you just say how much you’d miss your lovely, needle-wielding physical therapist once you got back to Orlando?” Blond God said.
Yeah, right.
“No, I said, if the pain returned then I’d have to find an acupuncturist back home.”
“The pain has completely gone?” I asked, glancing up from the nurse’s night report.
Raven shrugged and that in itself told me everything I needed to know.
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“Yeah, I guess,” he said.
I grinned. “That’s great news, sometimes a dramatic difference can be seen after only one session, but usually it is three of four before nerves settle and balance is restored.”
“Can I take this thing off then?” He plucked at the sling with his other hand.
“For a while is fine, but for a few days wear it as much as you can, give that tear a bit longer to heal. We don’t want you going back to square one, even if it was only a very small rip.”
He sighed and shut his eyes. Rested his head back on the pillow and did that thing with his mouth that made his lips narrow into a dead-straight line.
I did my best to ignore the irritation I clearly induced in Raven and the attraction I felt for the other man. Tilting my chin, I put on my most professional air of authority. “I’ll give your anti-inflammatory medication another thirty minutes to work and then I’ll be back to go through those hydrotherapy exercises you can do when you get home.”
“Hydrotherapy, that sounds great.” Raven’s visitor stood and moved toward me, his gaze roaming down my body as if it were a hot caress, then traveling up and settling on my face.
I glanced between him and Raven and backed out of the room. The atmosphere was bipolar. Frosty and knife-sharp one second, sexy and warm the next. Neither my mind nor my nerves could cope.
Halfway down the corridor, I felt a sudden pressure around my upper arm. Turning, I once again came face-to-face with what was possibly the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. I dropped my line of sight to the logo on his t-shirt. Beneath the snake were the words Orlando Vipers.
“Don’t rush off,” he said, not releasing my arm. “I’ve a proposition for you. Do you have time for coffee?”
I tried to move my wrist, to check my watch, but couldn’t. He was still gripping me with big, insistent fingers.
Noticing his hold, he released me, shoved his thumb through a belt loop on his jeans and let his hand hang relaxed, right against that enticing bulge.
Coffee? Proposition? Bulge? I am no way near relaxed.
“Well, I suppose it’s nearly my break time,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Great.” His face lit to a full-wattage smile. It was dazzling, enough to make my knees go weak. Anyone would have thought I’d just told him I’d secured world peace and was going to let him take the credit.
“I’m Todd Carty, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m a forward for the Vipers.”
“Fiona Wrigley. Nice to meet you.”
Five minutes later we sat in the hospital canteen with two strong coffees between us.
“Raven and I have been friends for a long time,” Todd said, tipping sugar into his coffee. “You haven’t seen the best side of him. He’s a great guy underneath all that caveman crap.”
“I’m sure he is,” I said, smiling and loving the way Todd smiled back, once again flashing his perfect white teeth. “No one is their best in hospital, I understand that.”
“He’s having a rough time. I don’t know if he told you, but he’s only been back on the ice a few weeks after a leg injury. I had to persuade him to come to the UK with the Vipers, he wanted to stay home and just keep his fitness up before the start of the season. But I thought the tour and the warm-ups would do him a favor, get him to the top of his game again. Because he’s good, you know, in fact more than good. He’s one of the best, which is why Fergal paid a damn fortune for him, record price for a defenseman last season.”
I nodded, my mind vaguely skimming through what Todd was saying as I studied the way his mouth moved around each word.
“So I feel bad that he’s gone and got himself injured, you know, like it was my fault ’cause I persuaded him to come in the first place.”
“Accidents happen. They’re no one’s fault. That’s why they’re called accidents.”
He took a sip of coffee. “Yeah, I guess, but I can’t help feeling guilty.” He paused. “Which is where you come in.”
“It is?”
“Yeah.” He placed down his drink and leaned forward. “I’ve just spoken to Fergal—”
“Sorry, who is Fergal again?”
“The owner, of the Vipers.”
“Ah, okay.”
“And I told him what a wonderful job you did with Raven’s shoulder yesterday. How you stopped him cursing and complaining for the rest of the day after you’d performed your magic. Hell, Raven even cracked a smile in the evening when I came back to sit and watch TV with him.”
“Well it wasn’t magic, it was just a bit of acupuncture and—”
“It was completely magical. And if you can do that with his shoulder, perhaps you could help his leg, too. He’s not admitting it, but I know it’s still painful and he’s not going to get back to the top of his game until it’s better.”
Nodding, I said, “Yes, it is still painful for him, but he didn’t want me to go near it when I tried to help.”
Todd widened his eyes. “Ah, so he admitted it was still a problem?”
“Well, yes, but—”
He leaned back and folded his arms. “That’s my point. He’s so intent on getting on the ice again, being the best defenseman on the team, in the country, that he’s willing to ignore his discomfort. But of course, in the long run, that’s not going to help him at all.”
“No, it won’t. Injuries need to be fully recovered before they’re subjected to the stress of a contact sport like hockey.”
“Exactly, which, Fiona Wrigley, physical therapist extraordinaire, brings me to my point. How would you like a working holiday in Orlando?”
It felt as though I’d been thrown into the air. My brain was flailing for comprehension, my stomach somersaulting.
Go to Orlando?
“I-I… But…”
Todd reached out and covered my hand with his. “Your expertise could be just what Raven needs. Plus, I get the feeling you won’t take any shit from him, and that’s also something he needs.”
A whispering tingle ran up my arm and settled in my chest. His touch was firing up nerves that had been asleep for some time. “Well, no, not when it comes to treatment. I’m very passionate about what can help my patients.”
“I’m sure you’re very passionate about many things.” He rubbed his thumb over the top of my hand and gave a crooked smile, the sparkle in his eyes speaking a thousand words, the heat in his stare stoking a flickering flame of lust burning in my belly.
Bloody hell, he’s flirting with me.
“Well, I, yes, I guess I am,” I managed.
He nibbled on his bottom lip as if suppressing a smile. He was enjoying the fact he had me ruffled.
“So,” he went on, grinning uninhibitedly now. “If you’re able to take leave from the hospital, three or four weeks, that would be great. Fergal would be prepared to speak to your superiors if need be, perhaps offer a retention fee.”
“That won’t be necessary. I work for an agency, scheduling shifts on a day-to- day basis. My time is my own.”
He nodded slowly and raised his eyebrows. “Nice way to live.”
“Yes, it suits me. I like to travel. See places, meet people, learn new skills.”
“So travel to Orlando. All expenses will be paid. First-class round-trip flights, accommodation, plus a very generous wage.”
I withdrew my hand from beneath his. Sipped my coffee and glanced out the window. It was raining, the sky a heavy gray dishcloth hanging over Cardiff. Orlando, Florida, the sunshine state. I had to admit it was very appealing. A light tan would suit me, as would a change of scenery.
Suddenly something else popped into my mind. It was an advert I’d seen for a reflexology conference in Miami at the end of the month. It was being given by a professor whose work I admired very much but had yet to meet in person. Perhaps if I agreed to Todd’s plan, I could make my way there. Pick Professor Nordstrom’s brains on some issues that were bothering me about a spinal cord patient I’d seen a while ago.
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“Well, you haven’t said no,” Todd said. “I guess that’s a good sign.”
“Mmm, I’m tempted.” I turned back to him. “There’s a conference in Miami this month that I’d like to attend.”
“Perfect, I bet Fergal will even throw in the registration fee if I tell him it was a deciding factor to get you onboard with the fix-Raven plan.”
“Fergal sounds like a rich guy.”
“He is.”
I looked out the window again. Drips were streaking down the other side of the pane. The rooftops below the fifth-floor canteen appeared distorted through the haphazard lines of raindrops.
“Say yes, Fiona. What have you got to lose?” Todd asked in a rumbling persuasive voice.
“Leaving tomorrow?” I asked.
“Yep, Raven is flying back midafternoon from Gatwick. You would go with him. The Vipers have one last game to play in the UK and then I’ll be in Orlando by the end of the week.”
“But what about a ticket for tomorrow’s flight? It might be full.”
“Nope, two tickets were booked. Fergal would have hired a nurse to go with him.”
I suppressed a shocked laugh. “He doesn’t need a nurse.”
“I agree, but it’s fortuitous that there’s a spare seat. As though you heading to Orlando was meant to be.” He gave me that dazzling smile of his again.
“Mmm.” A nine-hour flight sitting next to Mr. Snappy didn’t appeal in the slightest. Neither did treating him every day over the next few weeks. But the challenge of helping his leg recover enough to be subjected to hockey again was like bait. I’d had several ideas already. Skimmed sport therapy articles when I’d got home the evening before.
Todd reached forward and took my hand again. “If you’re worried you’ll be lonely, then don’t be. When I get back I’d love to show you the sights, take you to dinner, maybe to a game. What do you say?”
That smile again and that big hand heating mine. Oh, and those euphoric words that promised time with a devastatingly attractive and sinfully seductive hockey player.
Okay, the decision has made itself. Grouchy patient or not.
“It sounds like a great opportunity. I’ve never been to Orlando, many parts of the US, but not there.”