He lowered his gaze to the floor and massaged the back of his neck, giving himself time to reconstruct his shattered composure. He was glad he’d put on shorts and tank top. He was going to need all the help he could get to keep his cool.
He had to force himself to look up when she reached him. If it was any comfort, she looked as nervous as he felt. She’d tied her hair back with a pale pink scarf, and wore no makeup, save for a dash of color on her lips. The effect made her look much younger than the twenty-nine years she’d stated on the report.
He was just seven years older than her, but right then the gap seemed much wider. It helped. A little. “I’m glad to see you’re on time,” he said, his uneasiness making his voice sound harsh.
She lifted her chin. “I’m always on time.”
Her cool voice made him think of a creek trickling through the forest on a hot summer afternoon. Unnerved by his poetic thoughts, he turned away from her and waved his hand at the mat. “Okay, let’s get started.”
He made her stand on the very edge of the mat, as far away from him as possible, as he went through the usual routine of explaining some of the easier ways she could defend herself. She seemed uncomfortable at his demonstration of poking fingers into an assailant’s eyes or throat, and looked sick when he told her that if she thrust the heel of her hand hard enough up under an attacker’s nose she could drive the bone through his brain.
That one usually got to the more squeamish students, but Megan seemed to recover fast enough to ask questions. In fact, by the time he’d finished his initial briefing of what the lessons would entail, she seemed anxious and eager to get on with them.
A glance at the clock told him he still had thirty minutes. Half an hour of pure torture, if his body was any indication of what to expect.
“Before we start the first moves,” he announced, hoping his dry throat wouldn’t affect his voice, “we’ll do a warm-up session to relax your muscles.”
“My muscles are perfectly relaxed,” Megan announced, doing a swift knee-bend to prove it. “I work out every morning.”
Her muscles might be perfectly relaxed, Tyler thought grimly, but his were as tight as a drum. “I don’t care what you do in the mornings. When you’re in my class you do warm-ups. I don’t need a pulled muscle on my conscience.”
Her magnificent eyes sparkled with resentment. “I’m not likely to pull a muscle, but if you insist—”
“I do insist.”
She looked put out, but followed him through the warm-up routine, making it all look so effortless his normally active body felt sluggish.
When he couldn’t put it off any longer, he braced himself for the hands-on procedures. “The first thing you have to remember when attempting to use a defensive move is to act with aggression. Yell, scream or swear, but make as much noise as possible. It will unnerve your opponent.” He took a stance, jabbed at the air and let out a bellow that made Megan jump backward off the mat.
Pleased that he’d got his point across, he braced himself. “Now come and take a shot at me.”
She blinked, took a hesitant step forward, then stopped. “I beg your pardon?”
He pounded his chest. “Here. Come and hit me here. Use as much force as you can.”
She gave her head a slight shake, poised herself on her toes, then rushed at him with a yell that would have scared Geronimo. He was so taken with her effort that he almost forgot to sidestep. Pivoting on his heel, he caught her raised arm, pulled her forward, tucked his shoulder into her armpit and bent double, flipping her neatly over his shoulder.
At least, it was supposed to be neatly. The sudden shock of her lithe body slithering over his made him check for an instant, enough to make him lose the momentum. He had to grab her to prevent her from falling awkwardly.
Luckily she didn’t seem to notice as she sprawled safely and somehow elegantly onto the mat. “Wow!” she said, sitting up. “That was great. It looks so easy. Can I do that?”
Tyler was still trying to get his wits back after suffering the exquisite agony of grasping her slim waist with both hands. “Only if you pay attention to what I tell you,” he barked hoarsely.
She looked taken aback at his tone, and he pulled in a deep breath. Get it under control, Jackson, he warned himself. This was serious stuff. He needed his concentration.
He forced himself to speak more naturally. “What I did was use your momentum to pull you off balance. I pulled you in the direction you were already going, and the rest was leverage. It’s not as easy as it looks. Here.”
He grabbed her arm, frowning in the effort to think of her as a cloth dummy instead of a warm, vibrant, sweet-smelling woman.
The next ten minutes were pure hell. The more moves he showed her, and the more contact he had with her firm body, the more irritable he became. He was furious with himself, furious at his weakness, and even more furious at her for having the power to do this to him. In an effort to disguise his problem, he rapped out his orders, sounding like a sergeant major with a bad hangover.
Megan was having just as much trouble paying attention. From the moment she’d seen him standing on the mat, legs braced apart in black gym shorts and a large portion of his chest bared by a blue tank top, she’d had trouble concentrating.
Every time he came near her she jumped, and whenever he put his hands on her, she just about curled up inside. To make matters worse, he kept snapping out orders at her, making her even more nervous.
In fact her nerves were strung up so tight she just knew if he didn’t quit yelling at her like that she’d explode, and tell him to forget the darn lessons. She should report him for being the worst instructor she’d ever encountered. Period.
He’d shown her how to grab his arm and pull him forward, but when it came to getting her shoulder beneath him to flip him over, she kept forgetting to bend over at the right time.
She was getting tired, and her muscles were sore. She just couldn’t wait until the lesson was over so she could go home and soak in the tub.
“All right,” Tyler said, mopping his brow with the back of his hand, “we’ll try it one more time then call it quits for tonight.”
Wondering if he’d read her mind, she gathered up the last of her energy. This time she’d do it. Just once she’d like to see him flat on his back with her foot in his neck. She faced him, muscles tensed, ready for the attack.
He scowled at her, in his role of attacker. “Remember to yell.”
He started toward her and she yelled, raising her hands to reach for his outstretched arm.
“Grab and pull,” he shouted. “Get under, under, bend, bend...no bend!”
She bent. This time, for the first time, his feet left the floor. For one glorious moment she felt his weight shifting over her shoulder. In her delight she started to straighten up, then gasped as her arm twisted awkwardly under his weight. She hadn’t quite got the hang of it yet, she realized in alarm.
He crashed to the mat on his back, dragging her with him. She cried out as his full weight landed on her forearm. He rolled off her in an instant, but the pain brought tears to her eyes. She sank onto the mat, cradling her arm against her body.
“Damn! I told you to bend.” Tyler knelt in front of her. “Let me look.”
She tried to lift her arm to show him, but it hurt to move it.
“Try wiggling your fingers,” he ordered, his voice softening in sympathy.
She felt like crying as she gingerly moved her fingers. It hurt like the blazes, but they worked.
Gently, he reached for her arm and ran his warm fingers up and down it. “I don’t think it’s broken,” he said gruffly, “but I’m taking you to the hospital to get it checked out.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary—”
“Don’t argue with me. You’re going and that’s the end of it.”
She clamped her mouth shut.
She kept it shut all the way to the hospital, even though she was aware of the worried glances he kept sen
ding her. She’d had trouble getting into her jeans, and he’d had to help her. It had been embarrassing to say the least. Right then she couldn’t think of anything she wanted to say to him.
Tyler did all the talking when they arrived at the check-in desk in Emergency. He’d pulled on a pair of black sweatpants over his shorts, and looked more like a high-school coach than a cop. Megan noticed the skeptical way the nurse looked at him when he explained who he was.
She had to sign the form with her left hand, something she hadn’t done since she was in grade school. Her effort looked unreadable, but the friendly nurse assured her it was just fine.
Told to wait in the lounge, she took a seat near the window, overlooking the parking lot. It gave her something on which to concentrate her attention.
Tyler sat down opposite her, his face creased in a worried frown. “How’s it feel?” he asked her, when she looked at him.
“Not bad,” she lied. “I’m sure it will be just fine.”
He looked guilty. “This is bad. I’ve never had a student injured before.”
“It was my fault. I didn’t bend properly.”
“No, it was mine. I should have made sure you were following my instructions.”
She shook her head at him. “No, really. Your instructions were fine. It was my fault. I forgot to stay down until you were all the way over and—”
“I’m the instructor. I’m supposed to be able to prevent you from hurting yourself.”
She sat back, knowing it was useless to argue. He was determined to take the blame. She felt miserable. She was tired, hungry, in pain and felt like a prize idiot. If she hadn’t been so distracted by Tyler Jackson’s great muscles, if she hadn’t been so conscious of his steely-blue eyes, she’d have paid more attention and this wouldn’t have happened.
It would have to be her right arm, she thought in disgust. This was not turning out to be her week. First she’d had her purse stolen, which so far hadn’t turned up, and now she’d wrecked her arm in her very first lesson in self-defense. What else could possibly go wrong?
“Megan Summers?”
She looked up to see a young nurse standing at the door, beckoning to her.
Tyler got to his feet.
Megan got up, too. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she told him.
“I’m going with you. Here, give me your purse. I’ll carry it for you.”
“I can carry it myself. I’ll be fine.”
“I want to be sure of that.”
She looked up at him, ready to argue. One look at his face told her she’d be wasting her breath. Still hanging on to her purse, she followed the nurse into the cubicle with Tyler hot on her heels.
The nurse made her sit on the bed and pulled the curtain around her. Tyler hovered in the small space, looking painfully uncomfortable. Megan wondered what he’d do if she had to disrobe. Getting out of a leotard with one arm would prove to be real challenging.
She tried to think of something to say that would release the tension, but all she could think of was that she wanted him to leave. She didn’t think that would help much.
Fortunately she wasn’t kept waiting too long before a man who looked too young to be a doctor whisked the curtain aside. “Well, what have we here?” he asked, giving Tyler a quick up and down scrutiny. “I’m Dr. Hartford. Are you the husband?”
“Friend,” Tyler said briefly.
The doctor glanced at Megan. “All right for him to stay?”
“As long as I don’t have to take anything off.” She avoided looking at Tyler, but she heard his slight cough.
“I don’t think that’s going to be necessary.” The doctor took hold of her arm in a firm grasp and gently raised it. “Does that hurt?”
She shook her head.
He probed all the way down her arm with strong fingers. “All right, grasp my hand as if you’re going to shake it.”
She slowly closed her fingers around his. The second she tried to grip his hand major pain tore through her arm all the way up to her shoulder. She let out a small yelp.
“Ah.” Dr. Hartford closed his fingers around her wrist and gave it a gentle twist. “Hurt?”
“Yes!”
She’d forced the word through gritted teeth, and she saw Tyler’s shoulders hunch.
Dr. Hartford pulled her arm straight out in front of her. “Press your hand back,” he ordered.
She tried, but nothing happened. Except for a whitehot heat slashing up her arm, that was. “I can’t,” she said, looking anxiously up at him. “Is it broken?”
The doctor shook his head. “No, but you’ve done some pretty good damage to your arm. Tom ligaments and, I suspect, a strained muscle. That will take a few days to heal.”
“Will I be able to use it?” She looked down at the useless hand in her lap. “Look, I can wiggle my fingers.”
“But it hurts to do that, right?”
She gave a miserable nod. “Right.”
“Then don’t do that.” Dr. Hartford winked at Tyler, who didn’t seem to get the joke.
Megan wasn’t particularly amused, either.
“It’s going to hurt for a while,” the doctor said, giving her an encouraging smile. “We’ll give you something to help with that. We’ll also wrap the arm and put it in a sling to make things a little more comfortable. Don’t try to use it under any circumstances. You’ll only aggravate the problem, and if you do, you could end up doing some permanent damage.” He handed her a business card. Make an appointment with my office to see me in a week. You should be feeling a lot better by then.”
He nodded at Tyler, who said gruffly, “Thanks, Doc.”
“Thank you,” Megan echoed, her mind already grappling with the major problems her injury was about to cause.
“See you next week,” Dr. Hartford said cheerfully. “The nurse will be back in a minute to wrap that arm. Take care.” He disappeared through the curtain, leaving Megan alone with Tyler.
For a long moment neither of them spoke, then Tyler said quietly, “I’m sorry. I really messed things up for you.”
She shook her head, her mind still on her problems. “I’ll manage.”
“What about your work?”
She shrugged. “I’ll take a couple of weeks off.”
“You’re going to need some help. What about your mother? Can she take care of you?”
She looked up at him. “Look, please don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. It’s only one arm. I’ve got another one.”
“It’s your right arm. You’re right-handed, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“You haven’t begun to realize how awkward that’s going to be for you. You can’t drive, cut up your food, tie shoelaces, dress yourself, cook your meals or shop for groceries.”
She didn’t like the insinuation that she was entirely helpless. “Lots of people manage with one arm. What about all those people who lose an arm, or are born without one?”
“They’ve had years of therapy to learn how to get by. You’re facing a crash course...alone.”
He had a point. She tried to visualize herself fastening her bra with one arm. Taking the top off the toothpaste. Opening a can of soda. She let out a long sigh of frustration.
“So, what about your mother?” Tyler looked at his watch. “I could give her a call for you.”
“No.” Megan chewed on her lip. “My mother lives clear across town. She’s a real estate agent, and relies on her commission to support herself and my kid brother. I can’t take her away from her work for two weeks. She could lose customers that way.”
“Couldn’t you stay with her?”
“She lives in a two-bedroom apartment. Besides, she doesn’t have time to take care of me. She’s too busy with her own job.”
Tyler started to say something else, but just then the nurse arrived to wrap her arm.
“You can shower,” the nurse said, when she’d fitted the injured arm into a sling and tied it around Megan’s neck, “but you wi
ll have to rewrap it afterward. Make sure it’s good and tight for support.”
Megan nodded. “Can I go now?”
“Sure, you can.” The nurse handed her a piece of paper. “Get this filled in the pharmacy on the way out, and whatever you do, don’t try to use that arm.”
“I won’t.” Megan thanked her and slid off the bed.
The nurse smiled at them both, whisked back the curtain and hurried off to take care of someone else.
“You don’t have any friends who can help out?” Tyler asked, as he walked with her down the long, brightly lit hallway.
“None who don’t have full-time jobs,” Megan said gloomily. “I guess I’ll have to ask my mother to step in. Much as I hate to do that.”
Tyler cleared his throat. “I do have one suggestion.”
She glanced up at him, but he was staring straight ahead, his jaw set at a grim angle. “What’s that?”
“I could take care of you.”
She almost laughed out loud. “You? I don’t think so. But thanks.”
His light blue eyes were full of indignation when he looked at her. “I’m quite capable of taking care of you. I have some leave due to me. I never take it, so it’s adding up. I could put it to good use helping out until your arm is healed.” He nodded at an arrow that pointed the way to the pharmacy. “It’s down here.”
She followed him, finding it hard to believe he was serious. Arriving at the counter, she handed over the prescription to a young man, who told her it would be about ten minutes.
She sat down in one of the comfortable armchairs and watched Tyler lower himself into the other. “That’s very nice of you to offer,” she said, still not quite sure if he was joking, “but really, I’ll be fine. I’m sure my mother will be happy to have me stay there.”
“Where will you sleep?”
“Gary can sleep on the couch. He’s used to roughing it. He’ll be okay.”
“No. It was my fault you were injured. As your instructor I was responsible for seeing that you didn’t get hurt. I should be the one to take care of you.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “I’m not going to sue, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
The Marriage Beat Page 3