“Yes, it hurts, but honestly, it’s not as bad as I thought it was. I’ll be fine, really.”
“Can you get up if I help you?”
“Of course.” She looked from her ankle to his face, flushed again and lowered her gaze. “I don’t need help, Matt. I’ll be okay.”
Disregarding her objections, he slid one arm around her waist. “On the count of three we’ll get up. I’ll brace you.”
“What? God, no!”
The unexpected outburst had him looking at her in surprise. If the woman blushed any redder, she’d go on fire.
“That painful?” he asked.
“No. Yes. No.”
“You’re going to have to be a little more decisive, love.”
Lori glanced away, biting that lush lower lip again before returning her green-eyed gaze to him while lifting her chin gamely. “I’m too heavy for you to help, Matt.”
His reply was automatic. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“I’m stronger than I look, Lori.”
“You’d need to be.”
Sitting back on his heels, he studied her face. Her insecurities were showing, something he’d never before seen.
Bracing her hands behind her, she started to struggle to get up. “I’m fine, I can do this myself. I - ow!” Her face went even whiter, if that was possible.
Shaking his head, Matt once more slid his arm behind her back. “Come on, love. Up.”
“Matt, I-”
“No arguing. Let’s go.” The authority he interjected in his tone was automatic, one he’d used in other circumstances in his job.
She stared at him for several seconds before looking away and muttering, “It’s your back.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, “it is. And nothing is going to happen to it.”
Using moves he’d used a thousand times or more to brace injured people, Matt had her up on her feet in no time.
Swaying, Lori placed her toes on the ground and whispered, “Thanks. I’m good.”
He fitted himself against her, bracing her with his body. “Now let’s go in.”
“I meant, I’m good to go on my own.” But the step she took had her sucking in her breath.
“Lean on me,” he instructed. “I’ve got you.”
There was no denying that she didn’t, not when he felt her pull away a little.
Time for the stern lecture. “Look, Lori, I’m a qualified ambo. I know what I’m doing. You’re a big girl, I’m a strong bloke, and we can do this together. You landing on the ground again because you’re being stubborn isn’t going to help either of us.”
It did the trick. Her lips tightened and without another word he felt her soft curves come against him, moulding to his harder frame, her warmth immediately seeping through his clothes and into his body.
Christ, she felt good. All soft curves and warm skin. And injured.
Slowly they walked the distance to the veranda, Matt steadying her as she limped up the steps. Once inside, he guided her across to the kitchen table and onto a chair. Drawing up another chair, he slid it under the lower half of her leg before stepping back.
“Where’s Minx?” Lori looked behind him worriedly. Spotting the old ginger cat sitting beside the kitchen bench watching them, she relaxed. “Hey, old girl.”
“Minx is fine.” Matt squatted down beside her leg, feeling gently once more. “Going by the way you were able to put some weight on your foot, I’d say it’s just a bad sprain. I’ll bandage it up for you for support, and you’ll need to elevate and rest it. Along with this.” Straightening, he walked across to the fridge and opened the top freezer door, finding what he was seeking immediately. Returning to her, he carefully laid the bag of frozen corn on her ankle. “Leave it there while I go and get some bandages.”
Nodding, she leaned back in the chair.
“Do you have any bandages here?” he queried. “No problem if not, I have some over at my place.”
“In the pantry there’s a first aid box. I think there’s some in there.”
The pantry was neat and tidy, everything having a place, and the first aid box - a small plastic storage container with a lid - was on the floor. Retrieving it, he set it on the table and searched through the contents. Nestled against one side were a large and small crepe bandage, as well as an elasticised bandage. Taking that out, he placed one hand beneath her calf, lifting her leg so he could nudge the chair further under, leaving her foot sitting out over the edge. Kneeling down, he shifted the packet of corn to the other side of her foot, watching her reaction. “How’s it feeling?”
“Better.” Slowly she lifted her gaze to meet his. “Thank you.”
“No worries.”
She hesitated before saying quietly, “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful out there, I just…” When he did nothing but watch her patiently, she sighed and dropped her gaze to her foot. “Anyway, thank you.”
Studying her, Matt suddenly realised that Lori was wearing a nightgown and dressing gown. A summer nightie, not really suited to the cooler weather. The long-sleeved dressing gown was open down the front as though she’d just thrown it on, and the worn material of the summer nightie gave him tantalising hints of what lay beneath. Only hints, true, but very welcome hints.
Was that a hint of a creamy curve of breast? A hint of a pink nipple pressing against the material? His gaze dropped to her leg. Rounded limbs and soft, smooth skin. Neat little feet, neat little toes with short nails and - whoa, hot pink nail polish. He’d somehow expected light pink nail polish, not hot pink. Unexpected and fascinating. That was a glimpse of her hidden self.
Lifting his gaze, he studied her face. Were those plump lips hinting at a more passionate nature? Did those shy glances hide a little more fire than she presented to the outer world?
Unashamedly trailing his fingers across the top of her ankle, he shifted the corn, using it as a pretence to observe her reaction.
Yep, there it was. His heart leaped. A small shiver went through her and he’d bet it had nothing to do with the frozen corn. Especially when accompanied by a little peep of her tongue as she moistened her lips. To be sure, he let his fingers caress against the top of her foot again as he shifted his other hand to get the bandage off the table.
There was no mistaking the sudden rise of her breasts as she inhaled quickly, nor the slight flutter of her eyelashes as she peeked up.
That look hit him like a hammer blow. Christ, the green of her eyes - surely he wasn’t imagining it? - had a shimmer of heat, as quickly there as it vanished when she glanced away towards where Minx was sitting.
Lori Mackay wasn’t as immune to him as he’d believed. And didn’t that just make his day? Unconsciously his hand tightened around her ankle, only her swift intake of breath bringing him back to the task at hand.
Loosening his grip, he lightly rubbed his hand above her ankle. “Sorry, Lori.”
Pain and pleasure combined in her eyes and that was a hell of a mix. Not the pain so much as that she found pleasure in his touch regardless of the pain. Except as soon as she noticed him watching, she flushed and looked away. He didn’t miss the flash of mortification that flared in her eyes.
Huh.
Trying to understand her reactions, Matt started to gently but firmly bandage her ankle. “Are you working tonight?”
“Hmm?” She looked back at him. “No.”
“Good. You’re going to need a couple of days taking it easy, keeping your foot elevated and icing it.”
“I can’t. Ghost’s cats need feeding.”
“I can do that.”
“Their trays need cleaning at least twice a day and changing once.”
“Got it.”
“They need feeding twice a day.”
“I’ll just break open one big bag of cat biscuits a day.” At her horrified expression, he grinned reassuringly. “Twice a day, and not all cat biscuits. Got it.”
“Look, Matt, I appreciate the offer, but they can be a
handful and-”
“I’ve already been over there this morning and sorted them out, love. I can handle them twice a day.” At her dubious look, he smiled winningly. “Trust me, I’m a paramedic.”
“That doesn’t qualify you for dealing with those cats.”
“What if I was a member of the SAS?”
Amusement glimmered in her eyes. “I’d even fear for them.”
“True.” He returned her smile. “But I assure you, I am up to the task.” When she opened her mouth to object further, he shook his head. “I’m doing it, you’re resting your ankle, and that’s the end of it.”
For the first time he could remember since meeting her, annoyance flared in her eyes, those plump lips tightening. “I appreciate your help, Matt, but don’t presume to order me around.”
Well, hello. His eyebrows rose in surprise. Where had this spitfire been hiding?
As soon as she saw his expression, she bit her lip. “Oh, I-I’m sorry. I sound so ungrateful.” Pulling her leg off the chair, she placed it on the floor and made to stand.
“Lori, stay seated.” One hand reaching out for her, Matt surged to his feet.
Ignoring him, she managed to balance on one foot, the toes of her injured foot just brushing the floor. “Thanks for everything, but I assure you I am fine.”
Hands on hips, he studied her. There was a definite tilt to her chin, a hint of stubbornness, and he knew that he’d only just scratched the surface of Lori Mackay. Shy she might be, but underneath all that quietness was a woman of passion.
He had the chance to test out that newfound knowledge when she stepped forward, wincing as her ankle undoubtedly throbbed like the devil. Without hesitation he stepped forward as well, catching her around the waist and drawing her right up against him. Automatically her hands came up to rest on his shoulders as she eased her foot back up.
Interestingly, her eyes widened at the sudden realisation that she was pressed up against him.
Oh Christ, was she ever pressed up against him. The soft swell of her belly against his muscled stomach, her rounded thighs resting against his harder thighs, her soft, very bountiful breasts snugged against his chest.
Those little nipples pushing against his pecs. The woman wore no bra under her nightgown and he could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin nightie, the curves of her breasts, those demanding little buds pebbling so deliciously into him.
Staring down into her eyes, he saw the heat simmering, felt it sucking him in as surely as those soft lips trembled every so faintly and then, God in Heaven, opened ever so slightly. Just parted, the moistness within beckoning to him, making him lean down, closer and closer, and-
Jerking her head away suddenly, Lori released his shoulders, placing her palms against his chest to push away. “Matt, I - you better go.”
The push and the words combined were enough to bring him to his senses. He might be more than willing to kiss her, but she sure as heck wasn’t prepared to return the gesture.
Maybe she didn’t want to? Maybe he’d misread her?
The sudden fear that he’d mistaken her reactions had him ready to step back and apologise, reluctant to release her but loathe to force himself on her, the words already on his tongue ready to spill free, his mouth opening even as his muscles tensed, readying to step him back, but then his attention was caught by one fleeting little gesture.
Her hands on his shirt tightened momentarily, hanging on, her fingers twining in the flannel cloth, a flash of wistfulness that crossed her face in a lightening move so fast he’d have sworn it was yet another mistake on his part if he hadn’t been aware of the way she hung on to him.
Yeah, she hung on in a move fast, fleeting, swift, over almost before it had begun, but he knew. He knew. Lori Mackay was pushing him away physically, but mentally and sexually, she wanted him. She didn’t want him to let her go.
Even as the knowledge flashed through him, his body responding immediately, he saw her expression. Like everything that had happened, it came and went in a split second, but it was undeniable. Shame. Shame had been in her eyes.
That shame was enough to push down his rising lust, to make him realise there was more going on with her than just a knee-jerk reaction to their closeness.
It all happened so fast that anyone watching would have thought nothing of it, but he knew. He felt the tension in her, knew she’d move away from him as soon as she could, but he wasn’t about to let her retreat, not of her own accord. Not yet.
He wasn’t about to release her.
But he didn’t want her to panic, didn’t want to push the issue if there was an issue to push. And that was the whole problem, he didn’t quite know what to think of her reactions, he needed to be alone to sort them out in his mind, to mull over the puzzle of Lori Mackay.
But first things first, regardless of her reactions he wanted her to know he cared, so he did it in a way that she couldn’t very well refuse unless she openly fought him, which he strongly doubted.
“Come on, love,” he said crisply. “I’ll help you back to your room.”
Her eyes flashed to his. “What?”
Moving smoothly, he slid his arm around her waist once more. “Lean on me and I’ll help you back to bed.”
Flustered, she began the protests he expected. “Matt, no, I can do this myself, I-”
With ease he just moved her forward, steering her through the doorway so that all she could do was limp along beside him, protesting all the way.
“Which room is yours?” he queried as they entered the hall.
“Matt, I-”
“Lori, I’m not leaving you to limp around with a twisted ankle. Now which room?”
“I really don’t think this is appropriate.” Her cheeks were their usual red colour.
“I’m an ambo, love. I’ve been in more bedrooms and seen more states of undress than you can imagine. Now, your room?”
She opened her mouth, closed it, and finally mumbled, “Last room on the right.”
It was only a short distance but he enjoyed every step. He’d be a liar not to admit that to at least himself. The soap she’d used that morning was drifting up off her, making him want to lean down and bury his nose against her neck and inhale deeply of the combined scent of warm Lori and fresh soap.
One day, he promised himself silently. One day soon.
Meanwhile, he had to keep control of his expressions and actions and see her tucked into bed. Almost immediately he had to slam a mental door on the image that thought produced in his mind. Dirty, dirty thoughts that certainly had no place right now.
Her bedroom was larger than he’d thought it would be, holding an old world charm. The double bed had the doona over it but he could see the rumpled area that Lori had thrown back and redrawn up after she’d gotten out. The pillow held the indent of her head. The curtains at the window matched the bedspread, little pink roses on a white background. The furniture was old, no doubt from her grandmother, and there was even a deep armchair in the corner, a white doily on the back of it and a small blanket folded on the seat. A painting of a basket of daisies on one wall, another of a garden scene from a window on the other wall. An old-fashioned Tiffany lamp on the bedside table, a paperback lying beside it. The carpet was soft grey. The dressing table was old, dark, the mirror reflecting the room. On the top stood several perfume bottles and a small silver tray holding a few pieces of jewellery. A small vase held a single rosebud.
It was an old-fashioned room that suited Lori, soft and feminine. He could just imagine her sitting on the end of the big bed, a silky nightgown half off her shapely shoulders as she reclined back on the bed, the gauzy material not hiding her rounded limbs one little bit, her breasts pushing against that bodice as she arched back, that brown hair sliding over her shoulders and her eyes half shut as she regarded him from beneath those thick eyelashes, the green of her irises peeping out hotly and - down boy! Christ!
Mentally cursing his overactive and heated imagination, M
att eased Lori over to the bed, bending down to flip back the doona and sheet. What he wouldn’t give to strip off and join her in that big, comfortable bed.
She’d have a heart-attack if he even tried it right now, that didn’t take much guessing. It was basically a fact.
Right now she was jittery, he could feel it in the tremble of her hand as she turned with him and he eased her down on the bed. Holding the covers, he waited as she swung her legs up and laid down, then he flipped them over her.
Okay, he should have just moved away right then and there, but he couldn’t. God help him, he just couldn’t. Instead, he gazed down at her, his arms braced either side of her as he leaned forward.
Reclining back against the fat pillow, she returned his gaze with wide eyes. Wide, alarmed eyes. And she bit that plump bottom lip.
Holy hell, when had plump lips been so damned sexy?
Drawing in a deep breath, Matt plastered a reassuring smile on his face. “Ghost’s cats will be fine under my care, Lori. I promise to see you if there are any problems. Okay?”
“Okay.” She looked past him to the end of the bed and he followed her gaze to see Minx strolling up the length of the bed to stiffly lower herself against Lori’s side.
Immediately Lori wrapped one arm around her, her gaze softening.
The warmth that welled through Matt at that second was almost overwhelming. He shouldn’t have done it, knew he should have backed away without touching her, but damned if he could. Instead, he leaned down suddenly, closing the gap between them to brush a kiss onto Lori’s forehead before he straightened to stand at her side.
Startled, she looked up at him, looking so damned sweet and innocent in the bed. So sweet and innocent and unknowingly provocative.
“I’ll call in later,” he said. “See how you’re doing.”
Then he left, making his escape before she could spot the boner threatening to tent his jeans, calling back as he did so, “I’ll lock the back door after me.”
Lean on Me (The Mackay Sisters) Page 5