by Sarina Bowen
Callie tried not to stare at the tattoos emerging from under the sleeves of his skin-tight T-shirt, and snaking down his well-muscled forearms. He really rocked the bad-boy look. Not that she’d know anything about bad boys. She cleared her throat. “I’ve been great. And I wanted to thank you for recommending me for this job. I’m flattered.”
Hank grinned. “Good. Because I want to flatter you.”
Those teasing brown eyes were lit up and focused on her. Callie didn’t know what to do with that sort of attention. “Um, there are a lot of people getting therapy who wouldn’t be if your family hadn’t stepped up.”
Hank shrugged. “You’ll have to thank my parents. I’m not that thoughtful of a guy. All I did was tell my folks that I wouldn’t try FES if it meant relocating to Baltimore.”
“Either way, I’ve read 5,000 pages about Functional Electrical Stimulation this month.”
“Damn, girl. My apologies.”
“That’s okay, Hank. I have to say, after my nerdathon with the medical journals, FES does sound promising. It isn’t an overnight miracle cure, of course. But the long-term benefits look very appealing.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing to sneeze at. But somehow I’ve just agreed to spend seven hours a week at the hospital, a place I’d do anything to escape. So tell me, doctor, how do you stand it?”
He still wore a smile, but it no longer reached his eyes. Callie dragged a chair over from against the wall and sat down. “Well, they pay me to come here. That helps.”
“I’ll give you that.”
“To be honest, I don’t feel like I’m at the hospital, lately. This is a therapy program, not a sick ward. Honestly, it’s really fun to talk to healthy people for a change. They all have wheels like yours. But mostly, they’re just getting on with life. I don’t have to badger anyone about their meds, or call in a specialist.”
Hank was quiet for a minute, his head tilted thoughtfully to the side, a muscle jumping in his masculine jaw. Callie could see him trying to decide whether or not to share whatever was on his mind. Then the most beautiful smile began tugging at his lips, traveling all the way to his eyes. “Well, if I have to come back to this place three times a week, I wanted to be sure to improve the scenery.”
Callie felt her face heating. She would just have to teach herself not to be rattled by it. “So I guess you like our new paint colors, then? And the motivational posters?”
His eyes danced with humor. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I meant. I’m feeling very motivated.”
“Excellent.” She looked down at the chart in her hands, in order to have somewhere neutral to put her eyes. “Then we’ll see you next week. Tiny’s going to whip you into shape.”
“I like to do my own whipping.”
Callie rolled her eyes at him. “I’ll bet.”
Hank chuckled, then popped a wheelie in his chair. “Later, Dr. Callie.”
“Later,” she echoed as he went out the door. Don’t stare, she reminded herself, dragging her eyes away. The flirting always rattled her. The minute that chocolate gaze landed on her, she got a little light-headed. But that was just Hank’s way. He flirted his way out of trouble. And she was just going to have to learn to control her reaction to him.
CHAPTER SIX
The following Monday, Hank had his first two therapy sessions. First up was a stint in the FES room, where he was hooked by electrodes to a stationary bike, the wires instructing his legs to pedal. It was unsettling, if not uncomfortable. Hank jammed his ear buds in his ears, turning up the volume of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and drowning out any irrational feelings of hope. After FES, Hank had a half-hour break. He bought OJ from a vending machine outside the locker room, and changed into his swim trunks. Of all the therapies on the roster, aquatherapy sounded like the most trouble and the least fun.
Unfortunately, meeting the aqua trainer did not change his opinion.
“Righty-O! We’re going to work on hip mobility today!” The chirpy aqua trainer slapped one fist into the palm of his hand and urged Hank to get into the pool.
Righty-O? Hank was not feeling the love. He did not want to get into the pool, especially with this clown. “We are, huh?” was his growled response. He knew he sounded like a belligerent bull. It’s just that every time this idiot smiled, he couldn’t think of any reason he should cooperate.
“Come on, then!” the trainer tried again. “Let’s get wet!” He was a skinny dude with floppy blond hair and red swim trunks. He looked like an overexcited lifeguard, and with a voice so eager that it made Hank’s teeth hurt just to hear it.
Hank took another pull from his juice. “Suppose we don’t and say we did?” He wasn’t in the mood to swim, or to be hitched like a mule to an underwater treadmill. He didn’t even think he could summon the will to go through the motions.
Bay Watch dude sighed. “If you blow off this hour of therapy, you’ll just have to reschedule it.”
Who agreed to this crap, anyway? Oh, right. That would be him. He’d let his mother bully him into it. Everyone thought the Lazarus family was so generous, but Hank saw his parents’ actions for what they really were—manipulation. Forty-nine other people’s treatment depended on whether Hank got into the pool or not.
Damn. His legs might be useless, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed donating his body to science.
“Good morning!”
Hank turned automatically toward the merry voice coming in through the pool door. And when he did, he was rewarded with a unique view of the lovely Doctor Callie. Today she was uncharacteristically dressed in a pair of bright pink running shorts and a close-fitting athletic top. Even better, her face was flushed in exactly the way he imagined she’d look after she’d been…
Hank gritted his teeth. Wasn’t he just all about the self-torture today?
“Good morning,” the chirpy trainer replied to his pretty boss. “Are you here to work out with us?”
“No, but I’ve just been Functionally Electrically Stimulated,” Callie announced.
“Oh, baby,” Hank said. He felt his mood lift, as it always did when she walked into the room.
She came closer and gave his upper arm a playful slap. “Mind out of the gutter, Hazardous.”
He grinned. “You let them hook you up to the Frankenmachine?”
“Well, sure. I’m not going to write a study paper about a therapy that I’m not willing to try. And it didn’t hurt. It was just a little creepy watching my legs push the bike pedals without any help from me.”
“Welcome to my world,” Hank said, finishing his juice. It was creepy. But he had to admit that the FES bike had been a decent cardio workout. “Shouldn’t you two be in that pool by now?” Callie asked, eying the aqua trainer.
“Nothing would make me happier,” Mr. Chirpy replied.
Hank grunted. “Shit, you don’t waste any time throwing me under the bus.”
“Yeah, because this is definitely my fault,” the little prick shot back.
“Guys? Is something the matter?” Callie asked, looking between them.
Hank shook his head. “Just don’t feel like being strong-armed. That’s all.”
“Hang on,” Callie crossed her arms over her generous bust, which only served to improve his view of her cleavage. “Who do you think is strong-arming you, Hank? You’re here on your own accord.”
As if. “Right. Then I’ll leave on my own accord.” The grumpy-ass statements would just not stop rolling out of his mouth.
“And that doesn’t leave us in the lurch at all.” Callie tipped her head toward the trainer. “Jerry, would you give us the room?”
After Mr. Chirpy left, Hank looked up at Callie, feeling sheepish. “What?”
“You tell me.”
“I’m just not feeling it today. This bullshit won’t change me.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because it won’t, okay? Aquatherapy is not going to make me walk.”
“You could be right. But why would you as
sume there’d be no benefit at all?”
There was no way to make her understand, and arguing only made him sound like a whiner. “Life jerks me around, Callie. Today, I’m just sick of it.”
“I don’t jerk you around. You’re going to build muscle and reduce spasticity. You’re an athlete, Hank. You of all people should understand the value of a marginal change. The difference between a podium finish and fifteenth place.”
God, she was too smart for her own good. Everything she said made sense, except for one word. Was, he wanted to correct her. He was an athlete. Past tense.
Thinking about all this shit just made him tired. “In the meantime, you want me to put on my happy face and perform like a hamster on its wheel. In the waiting room, you’ve even got those photos on the wall—the ones with the slogans about will and determination.”
Callie smiled slowly. “Those are pretty awful, aren’t they? My favorite is the picture of the baby walking. The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.”
Hank snorted. “Not the one with the eagle? Dare to soar?”
“Nobody expects you to flap across the Grand Canyon, Hank. But I do need you to get in the damn pool. If you were so set against participating, why did you rope me in?”
Fair question. Hank realized that he had two choices. He could argue with Callie, which would only make him feel worse. Or he could capitulate.
It was an easy choice.
He yanked his T-shirt over his head and jammed it into the bag that hung behind the seat of his chair. When he turned to Callie again, her eyes were wide. If he wasn’t mistaken, a certain pretty doctor was having a wee bit of trouble keeping her eyes off the ink on his chest.
That was a happy thought. He wasn’t dead yet.
Hank pressed his body up out of his chair, twisted his torso and lowered himself onto the pool deck with as much grace as he could manage. “You mean, why did I rope you into this study? Here—come sit.”
Callie toed off her sneakers and socks. “Look, I’m happy to get the promotion. Don’t get me wrong.” She tested the edge of the pool deck for dryness. Then she sat down next to him, her feet in the water.
“You must think I’m the biggest pain in the ass,” he said, leaning back on his hands. He saw her eyes dart down to his abs and then back up again. As he watched, she took a careful breath and focused her gaze on his face.
He bit back a smile. “My family convinced me that the study was a good idea, but some days I just don’t feel like being somebody’s lab rat.” He tipped his head to look at her. “But you never make me feel that way, Callie. You always talk to me and not the chair. The first time you ever walked into my hospital room, I noticed that.” It was all true, but he needed to shut up now, that was for damned sure.
Hank leaned forward and felt the water with his hand, even though his feet were already in it. But his feet weren’t as helpful as they used to be. “Warm, isn’t it?” Then, without waiting for an answer, he tucked his chin and ducked forward, rolling face-first into the water.
When he broke the surface again, Callie was shaking her head at him, a smile on her face. “The sign says no diving,” she pointed out cattily.
He rolled onto his back. “I never was one to follow rules.”
“You know why they post No Diving signs, right?” She reached forward, put the tips of her fingers below the surface and splashed water in his direction.
He chuckled. “We wouldn’t want anyone to break his back.” At this bit of trenches humor, Callie only smiled wider. God, she had a beautiful smile, and her eyes danced whenever she teased him.
Hank rolled again and began to tread water. It was hard work without the use of his legs. But he’d be damned if he was going to wear one of the float belts like they wanted him to. Those were for pussies. With something like a breaststroke, he swam forward toward the pool wall. “Callie?”
“Yes?”
Instead of answering, he reached up for her hands and pulled. With a shriek of surprise, Callie plunged into the warm water beside him.
She came up sputtering. “Asshole!” was the first thing she said.
He laughed, treading water in front of her. “That’s not very professional language.”
“Well…jeez.” She splashed him again, then found her footing on the pool floor. She was standing neck deep in the water.
Hank was still treading water, and probably not making it look easy. Callie held out her hands to him. It was probably a simple reflex on her part, but he would take what he could get. He grasped her forearms gently, letting his natural buoyancy do the rest of the work. “But how was it fair that I had to get into the pool and you didn’t?”
“You’re wearing a bathing suit, for starters.” Her voice dropped and her eyes grew huge, as if she had just become very conscious of how close together they were now.
“That’s a minor detail,” he whispered. Callie’s wide-eyed gaze reminded him of a skittish kitten, and he didn’t want to scare her off.
“Thank God I have work clothes in my office,” she said, giving her lips a nervous lick.
“Thank God,” he echoed. And then the temptation was just too great. He bent his elbows, which caused his body to float toward her. Closing the distance between them, he gave her a single, slow kiss. Her breath hitched in surprise, but her lips were moist and sweet.
For a fraction of a second, he hesitated, waiting for her rejection. But…fuck it. How many months had it been since he’d kissed a beautiful woman? And when was the last time he’d met someone as great as Callie? Maybe never. He was just going to assume that he hadn’t read the signs wrong. And if it blew up in his face, he’d deal with that later.
“Mmm,” he hummed against her lips. He kissed her again, lingering this time, his lips a slow sweep against hers. Just when he became convinced that she wouldn’t respond, he felt her mouth soften under his, her face slanting to get closer. With a quiet little gasp, she opened up to him. He pulled her nearer to his body, deepening the kiss. The morning’s frustrations fell away, until there was nothing but the gentle slide of her cautious tongue against his, and the warm water lapping against his body. Heaven.
Unfortunately, Callie’s brain seemed to flicker back online before he was ready to let her go. She stiffened slightly and began to pull away. He nipped her bottom lip before she could escape, and received a breathy little groan in response.
Even so, she ended the kiss. “Someone will see,” she whispered.
“Sorry,” he breathed. “But I really like you, Callie.” He stretched forward until his mouth was beside her ear. “I’m sorry I got you all wet. Although I’d like to get you even wetter.”
Her response was the deepest blush he’d ever seen on a girl. “God, you’re going to get me fired.” She pushed his arms back to a respectable distance.
But he felt no real remorse. Kissing Callie had felt so damn good. Though he had to let her go, since she’d asked. So Hank swam over to the side of the pool and hoisted himself out. Twisting his torso, he managed to get his butt onto the pool deck. “Let me get you a towel,” he said. “It’s the least I can do.” He maneuvered himself back into his wheelchair, twisting once again to get his ass into the seat. Then he wheeled over to the towels stacked in the corner, grabbing three.
Callie gratefully accepted two of them. “My office door is only fifty feet from here. I wonder how many coworkers I’ll run into on the way?” She climbed out of the pool and wrapped a towel around her midsection.
“That’s me on a good day,” Hank said.
“What do you mean?” Callie squeezed water from the ends of her hair, and Hank tried not to stare at the way the thin nylon of her running shorts had pasted itself to her body.
He shouldn’t have brought it up, because now he had to answer the question. “Everywhere I go, I’m the guy who looks wrong. Wheels instead of feet…”
Callie frowned, and he could see her marshaling some kind of argument against that logic, but he didn’t w
ant their conversation to go there.
“Listen, lady. I want to see more of you. If you’ll let me.”
That shut her up, and quick. First he was rewarded with a smile, but almost immediately she began to look sad. “I don’t know if I can do that. The ethics are messy.”
“You’re not my doctor, Callie.”
“That’s true, but…” The door opened then, and her eyes went wide. And they weren’t even near one another. The girl was going to be seriously uptight about this. He had his work cut out for him.
“What happened?” chirped the aqua trainer guy. Shit. Hank had managed to forget that man existed for a good ten minutes.
“She fell in,” Hank said.
Callie’s laugh was like music. “I fell in when you pulled me in.”
The trainer had a laugh like a hyena, but at least Callie didn’t look embarrassed anymore.
“Dude, can you grab her clothes?” Hank asked, to get rid of him. “They’re in her office.”
“The duffel on my chair,” Callie added quickly. “I’ll owe you one.”
“Not a problem,” the trainer said, hoofing it out of the room on his perfectly white sneakers.
“I mean it,” Hank said as the door swung shut. “Let me make you dinner.”
She looked over her shoulder toward the doors, with that nervous-kitten look on her face again. “We’ll talk about it another time,” she said.
“Sure,” he agreed, even though her brush-off wasn’t the best sign. But he’d figure something out, some way to catch her off guard. If he could figure out a way to spend time with her somewhere other than the hospital, that would help.
At least now he had something fun to think about while he swam with Mr. Chirpy.
* * *
The next day, after a therapy session, Hank wheeled toward his locker. There was a half sheet of paper taped there, and as he approached, it appeared to be another one of those cheesy motivational posters. It had the same black border and dramatic text. “MOTIVATION,” it read, underneath a photo of a rock climber high on a mountain peak, the sun setting brilliantly behind him. Below that, in smaller text, he read: “If a picture and a perky saying are all it takes to cheer you, then you probably have an easy job. The kind that will be outsourced to India.”