CHAPTER SIXTEEN
KATE PICKED UP her purse and headed for the door, waving at Laisse. The crew at the rehabilitation center had been wonderful. They were doing an excellent job with their patients. And it was interesting to see the different techniques used here.
“You’re coming back tomorrow?” Laisse asked.
“If it’s okay.”
“Of course it is. Maybe we can have lunch together.”
Kate nodded, giving the woman a smile. “I’d love that. Thanks again for everything.”
“Anytime, love.”
She smiled at the ready expression and pushed through the door, turning left to head toward the exit. A hand wrapped around her arm, halting her progress and ripping a squeaked sound of alarm from her throat.
“Hey, what the—?”
Whirling round, her breath caught when she saw Luke standing there. He’d made no attempt to see her for the past three days, and she’d assumed that was how he wanted it.
She took one look at his face and said, “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Have you got a few minutes?”
“Of course. I was just headed back to the hotel. Do you want to come?”
He hesitated then shook his head. “Better if I don’t.”
She knew exactly why. It was dangerous. For both of them. At least Luke was honest enough to admit it. “Is your leg bothering you?”
“Yes. No.” He scrubbed a hand down the back of his neck. “I’m not even sure why I’m here, other than I just had a rough case. It made me think.”
“About?”
“About my past. About my current attitudes.”
Kate wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but he had a reason for seeking her out. She just needed to give him some space to get there. So she nodded. “How can I help?”
“Actually, I need to show you something.”
“All right.” She waited, figuring he was going to pull something out of his pocket or something, but he just stood there. She prodded him. “Do you want to show me here?”
He gave a quick laugh and glanced at the window, where Laisse was watching them with curious eyes. “I think that might get me arrested.”
“Excuse me?” What on earth could he want to show her that was...? Well, she could think of one thing, but he’d already said he didn’t want to go to her hotel room. She assumed that meant he didn’t want to have sex with her. Which was fine by her.
His fingers were working his leg again, something he did regularly.
“Does it have to do with that?” She nodded at it.
He immediately shoved his hand into his pocket. “You asked about the lights several nights ago. And I wanted to show you why I didn’t want them on.”
“You want to show me your leg?”
“Yes.”
Never in a million years would she have guessed that’s what he wanted. “Can you tell me why?”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “I have no idea, really, except the case I mentioned a few minutes ago involved a child with a broken arm. I could tell her mother was hiding something. I think her boyfriend hit both of them and she’s covering for him. All I could think about was that if she would just tell one person the truth, she could break the cycle.”
“How awful. I’m sorry.”
He waved away her sympathy. “Maybe I’m doing the same thing with my leg.” A beat went by. “You’re not going to be here much longer, and you’ve already seen part of it, so I thought... I want to see if I can get past this.”
A sliver of hurt went through her. She was safe. Temporary. Of course she was the logical candidate. She was a physical therapist, used to seeing wounds of all shapes and sizes. She’d be leaving soon, and the implication was that he had no intention of trying to prolong their relationship once she got on that plane.
And she realized she’d actually harbored some kind of twisted hope that he would want to. That he might not be who she feared he was: a playboy, who hopped from one relationship to another.
She should put her plan of steering clear of him into action.
Except if she did so right now and refused his request, he was bound to take it the wrong way, maybe even think she was too disgusted by the thought to agree.
She already knew what she was going to say. Yes. Just like she always did when it came to Luke. “Would you rather do it here than at your house? That’s a long way to drive.”
“I think you’d agree the supply closet doesn’t have the best track record.”
Neither did her hotel room. Or his apartment, for that matter. In fact, no place seemed to be safe.
As if aware of her thoughts, he said, “This isn’t some ploy to get you back in bed.” His quick grin looked pained. “I can think of better ways to do that.”
Oh, he could, could he? “You seem pretty sure of yourself.”
“Am I wrong?”
No, damn him. He wasn’t wrong. And she was afraid that just by agreeing to go to his house, she was going to prove that once and for all. “What about your case?”
“I’ve handed it over to the hospital administrator. If she needs me to give a statement, she’ll call me. I’ve already told her I might be out of the hospital for a while.” He studied her for a few seconds, his lips thinning. “Listen, forget it. I’m sure you have other things to do. Like visit Nick.”
Before she had a chance to open her mouth, he swung away, striding down the hall with that half swagger, half limp that tugged at her heartstrings. She couldn’t bear him to think she was rejecting him, and she couldn’t tell him the real reason...that she was terrified of her growing feelings.
She should just let him go. Instead, she hurried to catch up with him before he had a chance to disappear around the corner. She grabbed at his hand. “I want to.”
He stopped but didn’t look down at her. “You want to what?”
Kate swallowed. “Look at your leg. And anything else you might want me to do.”
* * *
Luke gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay put as Kate propped herself on her elbow, fingers trailing up the bare skin of his damaged leg. The curtains were wide open, and light invaded the room from all angles. There was a bed sheet within reach and habit made him want to yank it over himself, but he didn’t.
She continued what she was doing, carefully following the ragged dips and grooves that marked where the explosive blasts had caught him, where the surgeons’ scalpels had left their own distinctive marks as they’d done their best to make sense of the macerated muscle and sinew left behind.
And where they hadn’t been able to find enough skin to cover the damage, they’d harvested pieces from the back of his uninjured hip. Kate had found each and every injury and had touched it. With her hands. With her mouth.
He’d been blown away. Sensations he couldn’t even define had rocketed through him, tearing away what he thought he knew just as surely as the metal shrapnel had sliced through his leg and hip. What she’d done to him had created an amalgamation of lust and fear. Even now the urge to switch off the lights was almost overpowering.
But it was already too late. He’d let one person see the truth. And see him she had. She’d made love to him beneath the glare of the overhead lights—taking the lead this time. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had done that, although the fault for that lay entirely with him.
He was thoroughly sated—and yet there was a deep well of need within him that wanted more. Wanted her. If the mind-over-matter school of thought really was true, Kate would be flat on her back again in a matter of seconds.
“Tell me about it.” Her quiet voice broke through his thoughts, even as she continued to explore his leg. She was as naked as he was, and he drew a small measure of comfort from that. He could
bet she’d remained that way on purpose, just to make him feel better.
And he did. He leaned over and pressed his lips to her bare shoulder, breathing in her scent. Their combined scents.
It was heady, and he didn’t want to think about why that reached beneath his skin and touched something deep inside him.
He leaned back. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.” Her eyes met his. “How you were injured. What kinds of therapy you had.”
Luke wasn’t sure he wanted to relive those terrifying minutes leading up to his injury. In fact, a lot of the aftermath was fuzzy. But his purpose in dragging her back to his house had been to let someone see the truth. To know that he was capable of exposing it once and for all.
So he took a deep breath. “My commanding officer had received reports of insurgents, along with some possible injuries, so my company was sent on a reconnaissance mission. We were to meet up with British troops at the designated location. We weren’t supposed to engage, just report our findings.”
Her fingers paused and her palm curved over his thigh in an almost possessive gesture that made something twist inside him.
“Where was this?” she asked.
“In Afghanistan, ten years ago.” He lay back against the pillows, threading his fingers behind his head. “We didn’t know we were walking into a trap. I was hit, and Nick saved my life and my leg. That’s about it.”
Her brows went up. “You win the prize for the shortest explanation of an injury ever.”
He laughed. “Just sticking to the facts, ma’am.”
“Hmm.” Her palm slid a few centimeters higher. And it seemed his brain actually did wield some power over his body because things shifted. “Did your surgery happen in the field?”
“No. They stabilized me and then shipped me off to Germany to do the biggest chunk of repairs, and then on to Walter Reed for the rest of it.”
“You received a medical discharge.”
She didn’t even need to ask. His leg told her all that and more. “Yes.”
“Were you a doctor in the military?”
“No, that came afterward.” This subject was a little trickier. “After I heard about what Nick did, how he fought to save my leg, even when other people were telling him it was a lost cause, it made me want to do the same for others. The emergency room is basically a glorified triage unit.”
“And you save lives.”
“Not always.” He remembered that accident victim he and Kate had encountered on their way back from the restaurant. That seemed like a lifetime ago. And he’d had no idea that agreeing to do Nick a favor would end up with Kate lying in his bed, hearing confessions he’d told no one.
“You helped that little girl today.”
He’d filled Kate in on Macy and his suspicions about the boyfriend on the way to his house. “Who knows whether I made any difference at all? She might end up back at the emergency room with another injury in a couple of days. A couple of months.”
Hell, he hoped not. Because he’d sure be tempted to take matters into his own hands at that point.
Although the guy could probably beat the living daylights out of him. Or send him toppling onto his ass with one good shove. But he’d be willing to give it a try. Surely he could get one or two good punches in before the other guy took him down. Then again, maybe the guy wouldn’t bother sticking around. His dad had hightailed it out of the house at the first sign of police involvement. He had only been big and powerful around his wife and child, who’d lived in terror of his temper.
“If the mother knows the hospital is suspicious, maybe she’ll make an effort or kick the guy out.”
“Or maybe she’s just the type of woman who jumps from loser to loser, as if she can’t get enough.” His breath came out in a rough snort. “I just don’t understand not caring enough about your kid to find a good man and stick with him.”
Kate’s teeth came down on her lip, digging hard. A flicker of what looked like pain flashed through her eyes and was gone. But when her hand tried to withdraw from his thigh, he put his over it, holding it in place. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” Even her voice sounded raw, as if he’d touched on something. But what? She’d been raised in a happy, stable home, from all appearances.
“Then why are you suddenly so fidgety?” He had the feeling she was about to run, and he didn’t want her to.
“You said you were good at hiding things. You don’t know the meaning of the word.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I didn’t know who my real father was until my mom died, remember?”
Damn. He hadn’t even thought about that when he’d spouted off his little sob story. He rolled onto his side to face her. “I’m sorry, Kate. But at least Nick’s a good man. So is your adoptive father, from what you’ve said. Your mom didn’t go after losers.”
“Really? I wouldn’t know.”
She’d totally lost him now. Was she saying Nick wasn’t a good man? Or that her mother had indeed gone after losers?
“Was she with someone who hurt her?” The thought of someone lifting his hand and striking Kate made acid pour into his stomach, turning it sour.
“Again, I wouldn’t know. There were so many of them.”
“There were so many what? Men?” His fingers curled around hers, still afraid she was going to bolt at any second.
“Yes.” She nodded, not quite meeting his eyes. “There were evidently lots of them. And I had no idea.”
“But if they all happened before you were born, before she met your dad, I don’t understand why you’re—”
“I’m pretty sure they didn’t just happen before she married my dad.”
Her hand gripped his tightly, as if she needed some extra support.
“She saw other men while she was married?”
“Yes.”
“You said you didn’t find Nick’s letter until after she died, so how do you know she did?” Could her father have accused her mother of something like that? If so, why?
“Because Nick’s letter wasn’t the only one I found in that closet. There were lots of them. Maybe fifty, although I couldn’t bring myself to count them.” She paused for a long moment. “More than half of them were dated after Mom met my dad. And I’d bet every one of those men knew she was married. So, yes, I know exactly the type of woman who would sleep with loser after loser, even when she had a good man at home. Because that woman was my mother.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
YOU’RE NOT GOING to wind up like your mother.
Luke’s words—a reaction to her unintended revelation—still echoed in her head two days after their encounter. Oh, the irony of hearing them while sprawled on the bed of a man she barely knew. And to have them spoken by a man who’d slept with more than his share of women.
But he’d shown her his scars. Ones he’d hidden from everyone else, evidently. And he’d told her his story. The urge had been there to take him in her arms and kiss all that hurt away, but she’d had a sense that he wouldn’t welcome the gesture.
And it was hearing him talk about his fight to regain the use of his leg that had made her realize something terrible. Something that could shatter everything she thought she knew about herself.
She loved him. And it was the last thing she’d ever intended to do. She was here in London for such a short time. Luke’s job was here, while hers was back in Memphis. Along with her dad and the rest of her life. She couldn’t just pick up and move to England, even if he suddenly asked her to.
Not that he ever would. He’d never given her any indication that he felt something more than simple physical attraction where she was concerned. Yes, their time together had been exciting and crazy, and he turned her on like no man ever had. That was nothing t
o build a whole life around, though.
But he showed you his scars.
The argument continued to run circles around anything she put forth to counter it. It refused to be swayed or moved by anything she threw at it. And, boy, did she have a whole arsenal up her sleeve.
She fingered a bouquet of white roses in a cut-glass vase. They had arrived yesterday morning, along with a little note.
Thanks for last night.
L.B.
L.B. Luke Blackman.
She wasn’t exactly sure what he was thanking her for. Sex? For allowing him to drag her home and participate in a very revealing show-and-tell session? Well, the latter hadn’t been much of a hardship. The man was pure chiseled muscle. Yes, his leg and hip were terribly scarred, but those scars didn’t take away from his sizzling masculinity. They simply brought him back down to earth. Close enough that she could touch him. All of him.
And, boy, had she ever. There’d been something heady...almost taboo about the experience. Maybe because she knew not many women—if any—had ever got to experience that degree of intimacy with him. And in all honesty he’d come on so strong during their other lovemaking sessions that she hadn’t been able to catch her breath long enough to care about what she had and hadn’t seen.
She sat down in a chair and gazed at the petals of the flowers in front of her.
Perfect. Just like that night had been.
There had been something intensely personal about her mouth surrounding him. That he hadn’t expected it was obvious. His quick gasp of surprise, followed by a hand shoving deep into her hair and closing around the loose strands—and those razor-edged seconds when she’d wondered if he might use his grip to pull her away—had been followed by a raw groan of acceptance...and need. That memory was seared in her brain.
He’d let her take him. Had handed over the reins and allowed her to pleasure him in whatever way she wanted. And she had. She’d done everything she’d ever dreamed of doing.
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