Hollywood House Call

by Jules Bennett

  “Noah?”

  He jerked against the door and opened his eyes. “Yes?” he called back.

  “Um, it’s hard to wash my hair with one hand.”

  Oh, Lord. He was going to have to go back in there—where she was naked, wet and needy. Noah took a deep breath and shoved aside the man who had wanted Callie’s sexy body for months now and he slid his doctor persona into place.

  You’re a professional, damn it. Act like one.

  “Need help?” he asked, gritting his teeth.

  “Please.”

  One simple word. It meant so much and he knew she’d put her pride and dignity aside.

  He eased the pocket door open and entered the steamy room.

  “I’ll need another towel,” she explained. “I wanted to cover up so this wouldn’t be any weirder.”

  He glanced her way and sure enough she had draped the large white bath towel across her. It was tucked beneath her armpits and floated down across her tanned thighs.

  He knelt down beside the tub. “Just sit up a tad.”

  Taking the shampoo bottle, he squeezed a generous amount into his palm and lathered his hands together. When he finally started rubbing his fingers through her long, silky strands, she moaned.

  “God, it always feels so good when someone else washes your hair,” she said. “I can scrub and massage all day, but it’s just not the same at all.”

  So had her previous boyfriends done this for her? If she was his, and this was the type of thankful reaction she gave, he’d sure as hell wash her hair every damn night.

  “I actually tipped the shampoo guy at the salon two weeks ago even more than usual because he massaged my scalp longer.”

  Noah felt like an idiot. Maybe she wasn’t talking about past boyfriends at all. Noah would pretend she was just discussing the salon and not potential foreplay with other men.

  “Hang on, I’ll grab something to rinse it with.”

  He came to his feet and shook off the suds into the tub. Beneath the vanity he found a small, plastic pitcher his cleaning lady always used to rinse the shower and tub when she cleaned. He squatted back down and dipped it into the water and began rinsing her hair. Time and time again he dipped and poured. He’d run his hand through her hair to see if he still saw suds, but even when they were long gone, he kept rinsing and running his hand through her long, crimson strands.

  The way they splayed across her damp, bare back was sexy. The way she moaned the entire freaking time he washed her hair was sexy. And the fact she sat inches away from him totally naked was beyond sexy. Torturous was more the word. He’d never imagined if he ever got the chance to see Callie naked she’d be broken and battered and vulnerable. And in this tub alone.

  “Um, Noah?” she peered over her shoulder at him. Water droplets clung to the edge of her thick, dark lashes. “It’s rinsed by now, isn’t it?”

  He squeezed the pitcher in his hand, surprised it didn’t pop out and shoot across the room.

  “Yeah,” he replied, his voice huskier than he would’ve liked. “It’s clean.”

  Her eyes darted to his mouth, and she might as well have touched him below the belt with her bare hand because the effect was the same. He was hard in a second.

  “Thanks,” she told him, her eyes locked onto his. “I can take it from here. But if you could get me a dry towel…”

  A droplet of water slid down her forehead and Noah reached out and thumbed it away. But he didn’t remove his hand. He cupped her cheek and stroked her soft, dewy skin.

  “It’s not often someone takes my breath away,” he whispered. “Hardly ever, actually.”

  “Noah—”

  He eased forward slowly, giving her ample time to stop him. “I can’t ignore this,” he told her. “I can’t pretend you don’t stir something in me, Callie. And I sure as hell can’t pass this opportunity up.”

  Her mouth opened beneath his as he caressed her uninjured cheek. Keeping his touch light, he coaxed her mouth open and slid his tongue in to meet hers.

  Another of those soft moans escaped her and Noah found it damn hard to resist the urge to haul her out of that tub and find the nearest flat surface.

  Callie pulled back and brought her hand to her lips. “Noah, we can’t do that.”

  “Pretty sure we can and did.”

  “No, I mean, we can’t do this.” She waved her good hand between them. “You don’t need this complication on top of caring for me, and I can’t afford to be sidetracked by you and your charms and those kisses. You make me all muddled and I can’t think when you touch me.”

  He couldn’t help but grin. At least she wasn’t crying or angry over the accident. Apparently he’d found just the thing to distract her. But at what price? Now he was more tortured than ever. But sacrificing himself for her was a no-brainer. He’d do anything to make her smile again, make her whole again.

  “Glad I could take your mind off your problems for a moment,” he told her.

  Callie eased back into the tub. “Did you kiss me because—”

  “No.” He held up a hand. “Kissing you had nothing to do with this accident. I kissed you before and I plan on kissing you again. One has nothing to do with the other. I like kissing you, Callie. And if it helps, I can barely think when your mouth is on mine, so this sexual attraction goes both ways.”

  She closed her eyes. “But I just don’t think this is right, Noah. I don’t want you to feel because we’re thrown together like this it means that we should be intimate.”

  Noah came to his feet, pointing down to his bulging zipper. “You think this didn’t happen before you came here? I assure you, many times at work I’d have to go to the restroom or my office and close the door and recite the Gettysburg Address to get my mind off you.”

  Callie raised her brows as her gaze darted from his erection to his face. “You did not recite the Gettysburg Address— Are you admitting that you’ve wanted me for a while?”

  “Yes, I did and yes, I am.”

  Callie adjusted her wet towel. “Well, um, that’s… I can’t think right now, Noah. You caught me at a weak moment and I’m on drugs. Is this how you get women into your bed?” she joked.

  The band of guilt around Noah’s chest tightened. He turned toward the linen closet and grabbed another towel and sat it on the edge of the garden tub.

  “Get dressed and we’ll see about dinner.”

  And before he could get too wrapped up in his past or his present, Noah fled the room like a child who was scared of the boogeyman. Because, let’s face it, that boogeyman that kept chasing him was himself. No one else was to blame for the death of Malinda.

  Seven

  Callie tried, she really did try to put on a bra, but it just wasn’t going to happen. It wasn’t as if her B-cup breasts needed restraints, anyway. She certainly wasn’t some busty Playboy type and she wasn’t saggy, thank God, so fighting with a bra was not only painful, it was also insane.

  Okay, so that was the only perk—bad pun intended—of being injured.

  Well, unless she counted the bath she’d just somewhat shared with Noah. The bath and the kiss. Mercy, her entire body had heated.

  But what on earth had happened afterward? He’d gone pale before he’d grabbed her towel and demanded she dress. She knew he hadn’t gone far, in case she needed him, because she could hear him out in the bedroom talking on the phone. She actually had heard him shout to someone about the price being set to sell and he wasn’t “giving the damn thing away.” Apparently, he was trying to sell his home and not having much luck.

  God, what she wouldn’t give for a home like this. Her entire threadbare apartment could fit in the guest suite.

  After she carefully got into the button-down shirt Noah had loaned her, she used her good hand to pull on a pair of cotton shorts.

  She glanced into the mirror. Her hair hung in long, crimson-colored wet ropes, her face was pale, patched and swollen, she wore a blue dress shirt that was so large the shoulder seams
nearly hung to her elbows, and she had on hot-pink shorts. Yeah, she wasn’t going to be winning any fashion awards with this hot mess.

  Realizing she was fighting the proverbial losing battle, Callie grabbed her sling and went into her temporary bedroom. Noah was standing by the window looking out into the yard, his hands fisted at his sides.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  He turned and for a brief second she saw pain lurking behind those stunning gray eyes. He quickly covered the emotions with a smile. “Great. Need help with that?” he asked, nodding to her sling.

  “Yeah, I didn’t think I could reach and fasten it.”

  He closed the gap between them and moved her hair out of the way to slide the strap around her neck.

  “Sorry,” she told him, tilting her head to get her hair out of the way. “I couldn’t pull it up or comb it. I’m afraid it’s going to be quite a mess until I can use my arm again.”

  Noah stepped back. “I can comb your hair, Callie. I could probably pull it up, too, but I can’t guarantee how good it would look.”

  Callie stared up at him. For some reason the image of a man combing a woman’s hair had always seemed sexy to her. She and Noah had shared an intense moment in the bathroom, so adding hair into the mix wasn’t going to do any more damage to her hormones. She didn’t think she could want this man any more than she already did.

  “If you don’t mind.” She went to her bag and pulled out a wide-toothed comb. “Use this. My hair is pretty tangly.”

  He motioned for her to sit on the bed, and once she was settled, he took a seat behind her. His knees rested on either side of her hips and she tried to block out the fact they were both on the bed, she wasn’t wearing a bra and they’d just had a major intimate moment in the bathroom.

  “It helps if you go in sections,” she told him, trying to reach back and part her hair with her left hand. “Otherwise it’s more of a mess.”

  “I think I can figure this out,” he told her. “Just tell me if I hurt you.”

  Yeah, as if she’d tell him that. She didn’t want to give him a reason to stop or move away. He combed with ease, taking small sections at a time. Normally when Callie combed her hair she gave it several yanks and if the tangle didn’t come free, then the entire knot of hair broke off, but she was surprised and turned on even more at the care Noah was using.

  His body seemed to be all around her. Those strong thighs rubbed against her sides as his knees eased forward, his hands in her hair, occasionally brushing against her neck and her cheek as he combed out the tangles.

  “I heard you on the phone,” she said, trying to ease the sexual tension. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you seemed upset. Anything you want to talk about?”

  His hands stilled in her hair a second before he spoke. “Just something I need to deal with that I’m not sure I’m ready for.”

  “Are you selling your house?” she asked, tracing her fingertip along the damask pattern of the silk comforter.

  “Trying to.”

  “You have somewhere else you’d like to live?”

  “I have another house on the other side of town.” He shifted his weight on the bed and moved to work on the other side of her hair. “I had been renting it out, but I’m thinking of moving back in there. It’s sat empty for a few months.”

  “Why not sell that one and stay here since all of your stuff is here?”

  Noah cleared his throat. “Are you feeling better since your bath?”

  O-kay. Apparently, that was a touchy subject.

  “That wasn’t subtle.” She didn’t mind stepping into his personal space. After what they’d shared during her bath, personal space seemed to have gone by the wayside. “You seem upset and I’d like to help.”

  “I know. There are just some things I’m not comfortable discussing with anyone.”

  There was a story there, but in all honesty, it wasn’t her place to pry.

  “So are you feeling less sore?” he asked again.

  “I’m still sore, but I feel much more relaxed.”

  “That’s good.” He eased off the bed and came to his feet. “Where’s a rubber band?”

  She pointed to her overnight bag. “In there. I have a small travel bag sitting on top. Rubber bands are in that.”

  He unzipped her bag and grinned. “You’re a reader?”

  She glanced over to see him holding a mystery. “I love it,” she told him. “Nothing like escaping your problems and reading about someone else’s.”

  Noah laughed. “Too bad that’s not possible in real life.”

  She wanted to question him but realized that was prying again, so she remained silent and waited for him to come back with a band.

  “How do you want it?” he asked.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she laughed. “Seriously? You tell me it won’t look good and you think I’ll give you specifications? I’m just happy you combed it and it won’t look like a nest.”

  He gathered the sides back and pulled her hair together in the middle at the nape of her neck and wrapped the band around her hair. “I think we’ll do the most basic. By the time these weeks are over I may have you wearing a French twist.”

  “You know what a French twist is?” she asked, surprised.

  “I’m not a moron,” he joked. “Just because I know the term doesn’t mean I know how to do one. But maybe I’ll look up hairstyles since I’ll not only be your doctor, I’ll be your beautician, as well.”

  Callie laughed, came to her feet and stared down at him. “Yeah, if this plastic-surgeon gig doesn’t work out, you can add stylist to your resume. I’ll be a reference for you.”

  He grinned up at her and her heart flipped. She didn’t want to enjoy being here this much, because this was temporary. Not only that, if she liked it, she’d have to think of the reason she was actually staying here, and it wasn’t pleasant.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked as his eyes floated down from her face, landed on her perky nipples and back up.

  Oh, she was hungry, and she had a feeling he wasn’t just referring to food, either.

  She cleared her throat. “I could eat.”

  “Let’s head down to the kitchen and see what we can find.”

  Yeah, getting out of this bedroom was an excellent idea. Her hormones had obviously not taken a hit in the accident, because they were working just fine.

  * * *

  Noah pounded his heavy bag and tried to block out the image of last night when Callie came from the bathroom, skin still dewy, wet hair clinging to her—no, his—shirt, making the material thinner, making those unconfined breasts all the more enticing…

  These next few weeks were going to kill him. Literally flat-out kill him.

  As if his sexual pull for her hadn’t been strong before, now being under the same roof with her was really testing his willpower.

  She’d been here such a short time and already she’d left her mark. Her floral scent filled every room, making him realize having a female in his home was a major milestone.

  Callie was the first woman Noah had brought home since the death of Malinda. He’d been on a few dates, but he’d never brought another woman here. This was the home he’d planned to share with his wife, and bringing other women here just didn’t seem like the right thing to do.

  But Callie’s situation was different and he refused to feel guilty for helping a friend…even if she was a friend he was fighting an attraction to. Fighting and failing.

  The burn in his knuckles with each punch only helped slightly to keep his mind off the fact his house wasn’t selling, the fact that Thelma might or might not be getting the proper meds, and the fact that his new housemate was sexy as hell and walking around wearing his shirt, no bra and shorts that showcased her tanned, toned legs and dainty feet with pink, polished toes. Even the bandage, sling and spattering of purple bruises didn’t diminish her beauty. Oh, all of that dulled the light in her eyes, but he’d find a way to put it back.
r />   His cell rang, cutting off the image of Callie parading barefoot through his home as if she belonged. Yanking off his boxing gloves, he moved to the weight bench and grabbed his phone.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, you busy? You sound winded.”

  Noah took a seat on the bench and rested his elbows on his knees. “Beating the heavy bag. What’s up, Max?”

  “Calling to check on Callie. How’s she doing?”

  Noah sighed. “She’s only been here a day. Her injuries were making her sore yesterday, and this morning when she woke she was pretty stiff.”

  “And you stayed home to play doctor?” Max joked. “Sorry, bad pun. Seriously, dude, are you staying with her today?”

  Noah nodded as if his friend could see. “I actually rescheduled all of this week’s appointments. I wanted to be able to stay with her for a while until I could see how she was getting along.”

  “You can’t keep your eye on her all the time, Noah.” Max hesitated before going on. “You also can’t blame yourself for her condition.”

  “I can do whatever the hell I want,” Noah countered, ready to defend his actions. “I won’t have another woman suffer when I can prevent it.”

  Max sighed. “I won’t argue with you about this again. I just called to see if you’d like to get together for a cookout or something. I want you to meet Abby.”

  “Abby?” Noah laughed. “Weren’t you just dating someone else?”

  “Not dating…”

  “Forget it,” Noah said. “Bring whomever you want, but let me get back to you as to when. I don’t want to make Callie uncomfortable.”

  He had a feeling the last thing she’d want was visitors, especially a woman of Max’s choosing, because if Max was “dating” someone, she more than likely would show up with three things: silicone, implants and a spray tan.

  “You know, why don’t you just come over?” Noah asked. “I’d love to meet your new friend, but maybe not with Callie around. She’s pretty vulnerable right now.”

  “Sure. I understand. Why don’t I come over tomorrow night with some steaks and we can just grill out?”