He closed his eyes for a moment."I almost lost the most important thing in my life." His eyes opened and burned into her soul. "Hell, I probably have lost you. The only way I'll get some semblance of relief from the guilt I feel is to make sure you return to the way you were before you got tangled up in my bullshit. I want to see that beautiful, intelligent, confident and talented woman again, no fractures, sprains, or stitches. Healthy. Happy. Whole."
Janna gave him a wry smile. "That's a lot to take onto yourself. Are you sure you'll last a month? Cooking my meals? Doing my laundry? Carting my broken body around the house?" She tried for a less-than-serious tone, but she really wanted the answers to her questions.
Brice was a millionaire bachelor. One who might have never cooked or cleaned in his life. How long would he really last in a menial labor position?
"I did alright tonight, didn't I?" His half-smile was back. "I found this recipe on the internet, and it wasn't very difficult. The chicken is a little dry, but overall--"
"Brice, I'm serious. A month of recipes is a long time."
His smile disappeared as his mouth tightened into a straight line. "I'm serious too. Give me a chance."
Janna sighed again, putting down her fork finally and leaning back in her chair. "I think it's a mistake, but I'm willing to let you dig your own grave this time, Mr. Masterson. Besides, I don't think you'll last the week."
"Would you be willing to wager on it, Miss Puchina? You've already put me to the test once and lost. Are you willing to risk it again?"
"Oh no, I'm not falling for that one again." She caught his gaze. His eyes were hungry, dark with emotion. She swallowed, heat rising in her cheeks. "Nevertheless, all of this is contingent upon one thing."
"Name it."
"You respect my boundaries. If this is all an elaborate ploy to get me back, it won't work. So I'd appreciate it if we could keep things strictly professional."
Brice nodded, although the heat was still there in his eyes. "Miss Puchina, I am the consummate professional."
* * *
It was late, and Brice insisted on carrying Janna up to her room. "The doctor ordered you to keep your leg immobile and to not put your weight on it. That's the only way it will heal fast enough for your boot to come off in a month." Although Janna grumbled, he stood his ground. Besides, how could he resist carrying that beautiful body around? He'd take any chance he could get to touch her.
He moved into her room and set her down on the bed, her crutch beside her. He then pulled out a comfortable nightgown from the dresser where he'd placed her things earlier. "Do you need anything before I go?"
Janna looked around and shook her head. "One question though. Where will you be sleeping?"
Brice smiled, attempting to put her at ease. "I'm taking the guest room down the hall. It doesn't have the same magnificent views, but I should be able to hear you if you call for me during the night."
"Okay," she said softly.
Brice's heart ached in his chest, just as his hands ached to touch her. To cup her lovely face. To run his fingers through her vibrant hair. To skim his hands across her smooth skin. To-- No. He had to stop thinking like that. She didn't want him to touch her, not like that, and he had to respect her wishes. So he contented himself with placing a chaste kiss on her forehead.
"Goodnight sweetheart," he said, then turned and left, leaving the door cracked behind him. He felt exhausted as he moved down the hall toward the guest room. He'd been going non-stop since he'd heard that Janna had slipped her guards, and had barely caught a few hours sleep in the last couple days.
He'd been running on adrenalin, worried only about finding Janna, keeping her safe, then making sure she had the best care he could provide. And now, now he finally knew she was safe, that she wasn't going to push him away, at least not for a month. He could breathe again at last.
Brice entered the guest room. It was smaller than the other room, which not only had a much better view but a much larger bed. Still, as he stripped off his clothing and laid down on the double bed, he felt it was too big without her sharing it.
* * *
The morning sun shone through the windows, hitting his face head on and forcing him to open his eyes. Brice groaned, wishing he'd remembered to close the curtains before falling asleep last night. Glancing at his watch on the bedside table, he groaned again. It was 7:30.
Brice got up and headed into the adjoining bathroom, turning on the shower and starting to brush his teeth. As he stood under the hot spray, the cobwebs cleared from his mind and he smiled to himself. Day One of rehabilitating Janna. Another chance to show her that he wasn't the spoiled asshole she considered him.
After showering, he dressed quickly and then made his way down the stairs. He started some coffee brewing, then opened the fridge. Although its contents were meager, he'd picked up enough supplies to last him through today. He grabbed out a packet of bacon and the eggs. Putting the bacon in the skillet to fry, he started cracking eggs into a bowl.
It wasn't as easy as it looked when he'd watch the internet video about cooking breakfast yesterday. He ended up cracking the whole dozen, then spent the next ten minutes picking out the pieces of the shell he'd dropped in the bowl by accident. Meanwhile, the bacon began to smoke and crackle, so he jumped over to the stove and tried flipping it with a fork. The grease sizzled and popped, and he leaped backward as it spattered all over his shirt.
"Shit," he grumbled, finally getting all the pieces turned over, even as little red burns appeared on his hands. Smoke was rapidly filling the room, so he ran over to open the windows. He then took a whisk to the bowl of eggs, pouring a generous helping of milk into the mixture, then grinding in some fresh salt and pepper.
Keeping a leery eye on the bacon, he pulled out another pan and plopped a dab of butter onto its center. When the melted butter had coated it, he poured the scrambled egg mixture into the pan. Just as he finished, he noticed the bacon was turning a nasty black color. He hurried to pull the slices out before they became entirely carbon, but most were already beyond saving. With the last of the bacon out of the skillet, he turned to the sink, twisted the hot water knob, and stuck the skillet under the spray.
Big mistake. The grease reacted with the water, flaring up and causing him to drop the pan in surprise. Brice jumped backward as the mixture sizzled, then tried to turn off the tap without burning himself further. Then it was back to the stove in time to flip the eggs, which had already turned an unappetizing brown.
"Double shit!" he growled as he slid the off-colored eggs onto a plate and turned off the stovetop. His attention was diverted by a voice calling him.
Brice jogged into the hallway to the bottom of the stairs. Janna stood at the top of the stairs in her nightgown, peering down at him, her crutch clutched in one hand, a bemused smile on her face. "Are you burning down the house?"
"Not quite." He hurried up the stairs. "Ready to come down?"
"Yes," she said, but flinched backward when he bent down to pick her up. "I'd like to try to go down on my own, with the crutch."
"Are you sure? It's only been a day--"
"I'm sure." A small frown marred her features. "No time like the present."
Brice hid his scowl as he patiently walked with her down the stairs. He could tell the effort was costing her, and she was sweating by the time she made it to the bottom.
"Excellent job," he said when she reached the first floor, then swept her into his arms before she could protest. "A little bit at a time, remember?" He carried her into the dining room and set her in her chair. "I'll be right back with breakfast."
Before long their plates were filled, and he sat across from Janna, who was picking through the bacon, looking for something edible.
"Look, I'm sorry about breakfast," he said, attempting a smile to disguise his unease. "At least the toast isn't burnt."
She gave him a glance that showed she wasn't impressed. Picking up her fork, she tried a bite of the brown egg concocti
on. In another moment she was discretely spitting the bite into her napkin.
Brice sighed inwardly. So far, off to a bad start. "Let's just forget this mess," he said, pushing his plate away from him. "I've got to run into town and pick up supplies anyway. I'll grab something for breakfast then."
Janna nodded, looking away from him and toward the bank of windows and the sea beyond. She was strangely quiet this morning.
Brice was worried. He didn't know what she was thinking. That was part of her appeal, but sometimes it could be anxiety-inducing.
"What would you like to do while I'm running errands? I can settle you into your studio if you'd like to paint...?"
Janna exhaled, still watching the waves beyond the windows. "No," she said, after a moment. "I think I'd like to soak in the tub for a while."
"Your wish is my command." Brice stood and crossed to where she was sitting. Before she could stand, he was picking her up and heading toward the stairs.
"Wait!" Janna cried when they reached the bottom of the stairs. "Let me walk for myself."
"Not a chance," he responded. "The doctor's orders are, and I quote, 'The patient is to keep her leg immobile, and not to put any weight or strain on it. Above all, rest is required.'"
"'And I quote?" Her face was screwed up into something between a smile and a scowl.
"That's right." He made his way into the bathroom and set her down on the chaise. He moved to the tub, turning on the taps and pouring in some scented oil. Then he returned to her and began removing the air cast boot. "The instructions say to remove the boot and sock for bathing, and not to soak your foot in a hot tub. So once we get you settled in, I'll slide a towel under your leg, and your wrist as well, so you can keep them out of the water."
"'Once we get me settled in?" Her voice was hard, brittle.
He fought to keep the frown off his face, to keep the mood light. "Yes, we." He moved to unfasten her sling but kept the wrist brace in place. All that was left was her pajamas. He reached for the top button, and she slapped his hand away.
"I can do that," she said. "Why don't you let me get myself settled in? I don't need assistance.
Brice leaned back on his heels before her as she sat on the chaise. "No offense, but that's bullshit."
Her mouth dropped open, then a scowl appeared. Before she could argue, he continued. "You can't get yourself in the tub without putting weight on your leg and your wrist. I'm going to pick you up, put you in the water, and then settle your leg and arm comfortably. And you're not going to argue with me."
"Is that right?" Her voice was soft, menacing, her eyes narrowed.
"Yes, it is." He stood and turned off the taps, then put his hands on his hips. "You wouldn't be throwing such an immature fit with a real caregiver, so don't try it with me. Besides, I've seen it all already."
"That's different. Then, I wanted you to see it. Right now, I'm not sure I want to be naked in a room with a guy who thinks I'm immature because I don't want him to ogle me in my helpless state."
Brice couldn't help but laugh. It was a ridiculous situation. "I'm not going to debate the issue with you. You're going to take off those pajamas, or I'll take them off for you."
He watched her shining blue eyes carefully. There was definitely anger present in them, but he thought they held maybe a hint of heat of a different kind. An answering desire shot through his limbs, but he held himself in check. When she didn't move, he bent in again and started unbuttoning her pajama top.
She stared at him, and he stared back, not moving his eyes to look down at her body, no matter how badly he wanted to see her smooth, pink skin again. When the last button was undone, he slid the shirt off her shoulders. He noticed that her breathing was heavier, that her pulse was faster. Grabbing the waistband of her pajama pants he gently tugged them down, lifting her slightly to ease them over her hips. Finally, she sat before him totally undressed.
"Hold on," he said softly as he lifted her, then carried her to the tub. He struggled to place her gently in the claw foot tub, and she aided him the best she could. After he'd been sure to keep her arm and leg on the side of the tub, he pulled two fluffy towels from the closet and folded each, then carefully slid them under her injured limbs. When his eyes returned to her face, he found her expression impassive, and her eyes closed.
Brice moved over to the sink and ran the warm water, then soaked a washcloth and folded it. He turned back to the tub and settled the cloth over her eyes, ignoring her small gasp of surprise.
"My trip into town shouldn't take longer than an hour. Chase is out back, but I'll tell him to come in and watch some TV in the guest room so that you can call for him if you need anything before I get back."
"Chase is here?" she asked faintly, a hint of confusion in her voice.
"Yeah. I had him bring the SUV, and he'll be taking the Aston Martin back to the mansion. I figured the SUV would be more comfortable when I take you to doctor's appointments."
"Mmm," she said in acknowledgment, and Brice smiled, glad she was relaxing. Janna had a stubborn streak sometimes, and he knew the next month would be awash with challenges, with mini-arguments. At least for the moment, things were calm.
* * *
Before long Brice was speeding down the coastal highway, toward the small town of Yachats. The grocery store wasn't large, but he thought it would have everything he needed. As the miles passed, he wondered if he'd really be able to pull this caretaker thing off. Janna had been right to question him yesterday. He'd never cooked his own meals, or done laundry. There were always housekeepers, maids, and nannies to do the day-to-day labor. He'd lived in a cocoon created by money, one that meant he'd never had to worry about mundane household details.
His thoughts were distracted momentarily as he passed a small seaside motel. In the parking lot, he noticed very distinctive automobile. It was a red Lotus Elise, and for a moment his heart skipped a beat. He'd bought a car like that for Evetta when she'd mentioned how she'd always wanted to have one. At the time it was the only of its kind in the state of Oregon.
Times change, he thought. Someone else must have bought one. Still, thoughts of his ex-brought down his mood, and it was with a cloudy mind that he parked and entered the supermarket.
* * *
Janna thought the tub felt heavenly, even if it was awkward, keeping an arm and a leg out of the water. She let her cares drift away as she sank into the warm water. Before long she was sinking into sleep as well.
Her dream was an unexpected one, one that built on the attraction she'd felt when Brice had so carefully undressed her. She couldn't help it. Even if she no longer wanted to be his girlfriend, her body wouldn't stop wanting him.
"Kiss me," she heard her dream-self say, and felt warm lips against hers. The kiss deepened, his tongue sliding into her receptive mouth. Suddenly his hands were all over her body, rubbing, touching, soothing themselves along her skin, setting her on fire. Then his lips took the place of his hands, and Janna let out a moan.
She twitched awake suddenly, an embarrassed flush creeping up her skin even though she was alone. Dreams like these were dangerous. Her conscious mind warned that she shouldn't be thinking about Brice in such a way, not anymore. Unfortunately, her body still refused to listen. Her hand, as if it had a mind of its own, began to slide downward, mirroring Brice's movements in her dream. It danced across her breasts, stopping to squeeze one, then tweak the nipple.
Moaning gently, she moved her hand lower until it sank beneath the fragrant water. It found her womanly core, and she shuddered. She was awash in sensation, seeing his handsome face, his striking green eyes, in her mind's eye. Her movements quickened as her desire ramped up to the next level. Panting softly she imagined him inside of her, and without warning her climax was upon her.
Before she could recover, there was a knock at the bathroom door. "Janna?" Brice's voice called from the other side. "Are you all right? I thought I heard something."
Janna bolted upright, throwing the
now cool cloth off her forehead and into the water. "Um, I'm fine," she said, hoping her voice sounded normal.
"Are you ready to get out?"
"In a moment," she replied. "I...uh...just want to wash my hair." And I need time to come down from that powerful orgasm.
"I'll help," he said and opened the door.
Janna gasped, then covered her chest in embarrassment and frustration. Seems like Brice was serious about his 24-7 caretaker role.
Brice was staring down at her. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she answered, not meeting his eyes. "Could you hand me the shampoo?" He turned his back to rifle through a cupboard, and she slid down, as far as her elevated limbs would allow, dunking her head under the water.
When she surfaced, Brice was there with the shampoo bottle and a smile. "Allow me." He squirted the shampoo into his hand and began working it into her wet hair. His hands felt good, soothing, and she closed her eyes, relishing the sensation.
Too soon his hands left her. "Ready for a rinse?"
Without answering she dunked her head again, and she felt his hands in her hair, under the water, gently working out the shampoo. When she resurfaced, he pushed her hair off her forehead, and she opened her eyes and stared up at him.
"Do you want any help with the soap?" he asked, then handed her an aromatic bar and a clean washcloth.
"No," she said too quickly, her voice high and tight.
He gave her a knowing smile, then nodded. "I'll be just outside. Holler when you're ready to get out."
When the door was closed behind him, Janna let out a long exhale. She wasn't sure if she could take a whole month of such luxurious treatment at the hands of a man she still desired, still loved. It wasn't going to be easy.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Over the next few days, Brice and Janna settled into a routine. Brice cooked all the meals, with irregular results, and he also took care of the other household chores. He helped Janna bathe, carried her from room to room, and made sure she kept her leg elevated whenever possible. He also did the laundry, cleaned the house, and did all the shopping.
Worth the Risk: (A Contemporary Bad Boy Romance) Page 48