Bittersweet

by Noelle Adams

  There had been a fairly simple explanation after all.

  He appeared to be in a lot of pain, however, so she managed to restrain her relieved reaction.

  “I’m sorry. That must be miserable. What made it go out?”

  “I did something in my workout yesterday, I think.” Adam’s voice was still stretched, maybe from pain but probably from his intense frustration at being forced into such a helpless position. “There’s nothing they can do. I have medication, but otherwise I need to just wait it out.”

  Zoe frowned. “Well, you could have told me. I was worried about you.”

  Adam frowned back at her. “I told you I was fine. There was nothing to worry about.”

  She would have responded, but Logan wriggled out of her grip. He ran clumsily over to the couch and jabbered out an enthusiastic series of sounds.

  “Hi, Logan,” Adam said, his expression changing as he looked at the boy. “If you want something to play with, there’s a puzzle box on the table over there that might be fun.”

  Logan evidently understood enough of Adam’s words and gestures to run over to the table. Zoe followed him and found an antique puzzle box made of zebra wood. When she experimented with the latch, the whole thing fell apart into large pieces of various shapes. She realized the puzzle was in trying to put them back together into a box.

  Logan would have no idea how to put them together, but he would have fun playing with them anyway.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, glancing back at Adam. “It looks like an antique.”

  “He can’t hurt it.”

  So Zoe put the pieces on the floor for an excited Logan, who immediately started stacking them on top of each other.

  With her son thus amused, Zoe pulled a chair over toward the sofa, ignoring Adam’s annoyed look. “So your back is pretty bad?”

  “It’s ridiculous. I can’t even move without help.”

  Zoe could well imagine how incredibly frustrating someone as self-sufficient as Adam would find it. “When did the doctor say it would get better?”

  “He didn’t know. Back problems are evidently very unpredictable. And often untreatable.” Adam wasn’t looking at her directly but rather over her shoulder toward where Logan was playing. “I got a second opinion, and he told me the same thing. Rest and let it recover.”

  He spoke the words as if he wanted to strangle something…or someone.

  “I’m sorry,” Zoe said, reaching over to pat his shoulder. She was a little hurt when he flinched away, but she didn’t let herself take it personally. Adam in this helpless state was not his normal self. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “No. You might as well go home. I can’t do anything but lie here.”

  Zoe studied his pale, damp face. He looked terrible, and her heart went out to him. “Surely there’s something that can make you more comfortable. What about heat or an ice pack or something?”

  Adam gave a half-shrug, but even that minor gesture seemed to pain him.

  “Have you tried it?” she demanded, getting a sneaking suspicion that Adam was so unused to being ill and so resistant to the reality of being powerless that he wouldn’t let himself indulge in even little things that might take the edge off.

  Adam just rolled his eyes.

  Zoe stood up. “Do you want to try heat or ice first?” she asked briskly, knowing if she acted too sympathetic he would revolt.

  After a pause during which he appeared to be restraining a number of snide responses, he finally said, “Heat, I guess.”

  “Be good with Uncle Adam, Logan,” Zoe said, walking toward the door of the room. “Mommy will be right back.”

  Logan babbled a response, busily laying out puzzle pieces in a long, lopsided row.

  Zoe wandered down the hall and was relieved when Carson appeared again. “Can I get a heat pad or something for his back?” she asked.

  “Of course. Come with me, Mrs. Peterson.”

  Zoe followed him into the kitchen. “Do you know what happened to hurt his back?” she asked, as Carson put a large heating pack in the stainless steel microwave.

  “He did something to it during a workout, I believe.”

  “But how did it get so bad so quickly? Did he pull something?”

  “I’m not certain, ma’am. I believe he had an extensive workout very early on Sunday morning. Perhaps he injured it then. After he worked out again on Sunday afternoon, he was in such pain he couldn’t do anything but lie in bed. He's been that way ever since.”

  Zoe thought about it. If Adam had been working out early yesterday morning, he must not have even gone to bed after he’d left her place.

  She couldn’t imagine what had prompted him to be so foolish as to work out for hours after babysitting and staying up all night with her.

  “Is he taking medication?”

  “Yes, ma’am. The doctor prescribed a strong narcotic pain reliever, since this sort of pain is so severe. But it doesn’t seem to help for very long.”

  “He looked terrible when I came in. I hate that he’s in such pain all the time.”

  Carson opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again.

  “What is it?” she prompted.

  “He is in a lot of pain, but he was doing better before you arrived. He was lying on his bed. But, when he heard you were coming up, he insisted that I help him into the office. The move was very painful on him, which is why he looks as bad as he does now.”

  When the words processed, she snarled. “That damned idiot! Why would I care if he was in bed?”

  Carson removed the heating pad from the microwave and handed it to Zoe. She could have sworn that he was struggling not to smile. “Mr. Peterson’s pride occasionally spurs him to unwarranted actions. He’s much like his grandfather in that.”

  She muttered under her breath, “Unwarranted. That’s for sure. Stupid, proud…” Then, with a smile for the man in front of her, she added, “Thanks for this. Do you have an ice pack too? I’m not sure which will help him more, but we might try alternating at first.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Just let me know what you need.”

  “Thank you.”

  Zoe returned to the office to find Logan happily talking—either to himself or to Adam—as he played with the puzzle. Adam was still lying on the couch. He didn’t look quite so pale as he’d looked when she first arrived, which was a relief to Zoe.

  “Can you turn over onto your side?” she asked, taking the heating pad over to him.

  “I’d rather not.”

  She felt a pang of sympathy if he was in so much pain that turning over would hurt so much. “All right. We’ll try to get this under you. Is it your lower back?”

  Upon getting an affirmation from him, she leaned over and—after he was able to lift his torso with great effort about an inch off the couch—she edge the heating pad in place beneath him.

  She watched him as he closed his eyes and breathed heavily, something strong and tender rising up in her chest. No matter how much his stubborn pride made her want to hit him, she still wanted to stroke him. Make him feel better.

  Josh had always been a terrible patient when he was ill—grumpy and rather pitiful—but he’d never been so outrageously proud and so unwilling to show weakness of any kind.

  She was afraid her expression might have reflected her feelings when Adam opened one eye and glared at her suspiciously.

  “You are ridiculous,” she said tartly, so he wouldn’t think she’d been pitying him.

  Adam’s eyes widened in indignation.

  “If you’d called me earlier, I could have helped you before.”

  “There was nothing you could do.”

  “I could make it less depressing in this room.” She got up and went to open the blinds, letting sunshine stream in. Then she went to the stereo and turned it on. It was set to classical music, and she decided that was soothing and pleasant. “I guess you can’t read anything, since you can’t prop up. Do you want me to read the newspaper t
o you?”

  Adam began to object but then, for some reason, changed his mind. With a resigned sigh, he said, “Why not?”

  Pleased with this acquiescence, she read for a long time to Adam, who gradually began to look more relaxed and comfortable. Logan eventually got bored with the puzzle box and came over to sit on Zoe’s lap and pretend to read with her.

  Soon, he fell asleep.

  “It’s his nap time,” Zoe murmured, putting down the newspaper and cradling her sleeping son. “I’ll find somewhere for him to sleep.”

  She carried Logan out of the room and found a guest room with two twin beds. She didn’t want to leave him on one of the beds, since he might roll off, but she pulled a mattress onto the floor. After she’d settled him, she went back into the office to find the couch empty.

  Startled and concerned, she wandered around the apartment looking for where Adam had disappeared to. She was about to call out when she ended up in what was clearly the master bedroom.

  Adam was limping out of the bathroom, heavily supported by Carson.

  “What are you doing here?” Adam gritted out, evidently in a lot of pain.

  “You disappeared and I couldn’t find you. Why don’t you get back in bed? It has to be more comfortable than the couch.”

  Carson nodded and started back toward the bed, ignoring the beginnings of an objection from Adam.

  Adam couldn’t argue much because walking was evidently so difficult for him.

  It was very disturbing—seeing him in so much pain and in so much need of help. She was used to always seeing him in complete control of himself and the rest of his world.

  Zoe remained silent until he’d gotten in bed. It had taken a long time and even watching it was painful for Zoe.

  Adam was sweating, breathing heavily, and bone white when he was finally in place on top of the covers.

  So concerned she felt like whimpering, Zoe asked hoarsely, “Is it time for more medication yet?”

  Carson glanced at his watch. “Close enough.”

  “You can leave whenever you want, Zoe,” Adam muttered while the other man got out pills from prescription bottles for him.

  Zoe ignored this, since she knew the words were prompted only by his resistance toward anyone seeing him in this condition. “Isn’t there anything else we can do?” she asked Carson.

  “The doctor left this muscle rub and said it might help a little, but Mr. Peterson hasn’t used it yet.”

  Zoe grabbed the tube of muscle rub. “Can you help him off with his shirt?” she asked Carson. Then she turned to Adam. “After you take your pills, let’s try this.”

  Adam mumbled an obvious objection. He was still in too much pain to communicate with his typical authority and quick wit.

  “Don’t be stubborn.”

  Since both Zoe and Carson obviously wanted this to happen, Adam’s arguments were futile. Zoe watched, feeling kind of odd, as Carson helped Adam off with his t-shirt.

  Adam’s chest was strong, toned, and masculine, but she felt a little self-conscious about looking at him very pointedly, so she glanced away and tried to give him his privacy as Carson helped him turn over onto his back.

  “Thank you,” Zoe said to Carson, as the man started to leave the room.

  “You’re welcome, Mrs. Peterson. Just let me know if you need anything else.”

  The room was silent after Carson left. Zoe took the muscle rub and walked over to the side of the bed.

  Adam’s head was facing away from her.

  “Are you mad?” she asked.

  “No, but I wish you hadn’t gone to all this trouble.”

  “It's no trouble. You’re just not used to accepting help. But you’ve helped me all these months. Why can’t I help you a little bit too?”

  Adam didn’t answer, and she took that as his consent. So she squeezed out some of the minty-smelling muscle rub onto her hand. It was prescription ointment, but smelled a lot like the stuff you bought in the drug store.

  “It’s going to be cold,” she warned, rubbing it between her hands and then smoothing it onto the skin of Adam’s back.

  His flesh was smooth and firm under her palms. She rubbed the ointment into his skin, trying to massage his muscles as she did so.

  After a minute, she heard Adam release a textured sigh that did something odd to her stomach.

  “Is this all right?” she asked, trying to sound natural although she felt very unnatural massaging a shirtless Adam in his bedroom.

  But he was in pain, and she wanted to help.

  “Yes,” he said hoarsely, “Thank you.”

  Since he seemed to be relaxing more, she squeezed out more muscle rub and renewed her massage. His shoulders were broad and powerful. His back tapered gracefully. His sweat pants were riding low on his lean hips. And, despite his prostrate position, he still exuded masculinity. He could feel it in the muscles of his back, the shape of his shoulder blades and the ridges of his spine as she rubbed him with firm strokes.

  He hadn’t moved, not an inch, but she could see that his eyes were closed now.

  “Is it helping at all?” she asked, her voice more unsteady than she expected. For some reason, she felt jittery and tense.

  This was such an unfamiliar situation, and it felt intimate in a way she’d never been with Adam.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  The thick texture of his voice increased the jittery feeling. Part of her wanted to stop, but part of her didn’t. At all.

  Her hands tingled from the muscle rub, and her blood started to pound inexplicably as Adam’s breathing grew uneven and hoarse. She tried to massage the length of his back, focusing some on his shoulders even though they weren’t the part in pain. He’d been tense everywhere, but he seemed to be releasing some of that tension now.

  After a few minutes, she squeezed out one more palm of ointment and rubbed it on his lower back, since that was the part that was giving him the most pain. Her fingers brushed his bare waist, and she could see the line of his ass beneath the cotton of his pants. She massaged him as best she could, and she heard Adam let out a long, low sound of response. Almost a moan.

  Zoe’s intimate muscles clenched at the thick sound, and she suddenly realized the nature of her reaction.

  She was aroused—by the intimacy of the act, by the beautiful physicality of Adam’s body, and by his visceral response to her touch.

  Barely managing not to jerk away, she slowly removed her hands from his body. She was shaking a little bit, the pressure of her arousal deep and pulsing between her legs.

  What the hell was wrong with her? Talk about inappropriate responses. Poor Adam was suffering, and she was lusting after his helpless body.

  “Did that help?” she asked, her voice a little stretched but otherwise mostly natural.

  Adam didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were closed and his body was motionless. Then he rasped, “Yes. Thank you.”

  “I’ll let you rest a little,” she said, capping the muscle rub and gently laying it on the nightstand. “I’m going to check on Logan.”

  She didn’t immediately go to check on Logan. She found a hallway bathroom and locked the door, staring at herself in the mirror above the sink. She was panting, her cheeks were flushed, and something wild was evident in her eyes.

  She was so aroused her body ached with it.

  Maybe it was natural. She hadn’t had sex in a really long time, and Adam was an attractive man. The situation just now was more intimate than any situation they’d been in together before. Not sexual, but intimate. Zoe’s body had just crossed some wires.

  Maybe it was natural, but it couldn’t be indulged.

  She’d have to be careful about touching Adam again. She couldn't feel this way about him anymore.

  Nine

  Zoe stared around at the large, airy living room with something like awe.

  The hardwood floors were a dark walnut, the old-fashioned windows were huge and sunny, and gorgeous, original molding lined
the walls and the large fireplace. The room was nicely staged with simple, elegant furniture, art, and rugs.

  As she gazed around, Zoe felt an ache in her chest. She wanted it. She wanted it. The depth of her longing disoriented her. Almost frightened her.

  Hiding her reaction, she said, “It’s beautiful.”

  She smiled over her shoulder at Adam, who stood behind her, holding Logan, who had demanded “Up!” as soon as they’d gotten out of the car.

  “The owners lived here for more than fifty years until the husband died a couple of months ago,” Adam said, coming to stand beside her and looking oddly incongruous in his dark business suit with Logan on his hip. “They did a great job preserving the historic features but not so much that it feels like a museum. They made excellent choices in upgrades.”

  Just from the sight of the entry hall and main living area, Zoe was well-prepared to believe that assessment. She walked over to one of the windows and looked out. It faced a park rather than a row of buildings, which was an incredible feature in an urban townhouse.

  She then walked over to admire the intricate carving of the fireplace mantle. Running her figures over the wood, she murmured, “It’s just lovely.”

  “The mantle is original, as are the baseboards and crown molding. They managed to preserve it even when they opened up this room. It used to be divided into three separate rooms.” Adam’s tone was business-like, but he watched her face carefully, probably trying to gauge her reaction.

  For the last two months, she’d been looking around at houses, trying to find a new place to live. She loved the loft, but it was very impractical—having only one bedroom. Pretty soon, Logan would need his own room. He was only fifteen months now, but it was already starting to feel a little awkward for him to be sleeping in the same room with her.

  Adam, of course, had offered to help with the house hunt. Through one of his contacts, he’d discovered this townhouse. It wasn’t even officially on the market yet, since one of the bathrooms was still being renovated. It was north of downtown, but still in the city. The location wasn’t as convenient as her loft, but the neighborhood was safe and pleasant, and it wasn't that far for her to get downtown for work.