by Skye Jordan
He tossed the blanket over her legs, then sat on the edge of the coffee table and picked up his mug. Julia swiped a finger through the whipped cream, then sucked it off with a hum of pleasure. Noah’s cup stopped halfway to his lips, and his hot denim gaze followed the path of her finger, then held on her lips. A flutter tickled her gut.
She plucked her finger from her mouth. “Let me see your reports.”
His shoulders slumped as he groaned. “But we’re getting along so well.”
She pulled one foot out from beneath her to nudge his knee with her foot through the blanket. “Get.”
He sighed dramatically and set down his mug again to retrieve the envelope from the kitchen, but she could tell the tension between them had evaporated. And without the morning’s stress hovering, they got along great. They had that laid-back camaraderie unique to serious athletes. Julia attributed the bond between athletes to the way they were constantly exposed to groups and teams and camps where everyone had to work together and get along or live in misery. Noah definitely displayed that rare ability to let go of tensions for the sake of sanity. Something she both appreciated and admired.
With his laptop and the envelope, he returned to the table and set the paper reports down beside her. “If I’m going to die, I don’t want to know.” He picked up his mug and added, “Unless I’m not ever going to board again. Then I’d rather you told me I was going to die.”
“Oh, the drama.” She laughed over the rim of her mug. “As if your entire life revolves around five feet of fiberglass.”
“Well…” He shrugged. “It sorta does.”
Before diving into the reports and images, she took a sip of the cocoa to test its temperature. The zing of mint touched her tongue, immediately followed by the gentle burn of alcohol. Another pleasurable hum slid through her, and she took a deeper drink, relishing the bite he’d added.
When she swallowed, the heat tingled down her throat and spread into her chest, she smiled at him. “You little devil. Peppermint schnapps?”
“Makes all the difference, doesn’t it?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Did you add it to yours too?”
“I don’t want to see alcohol again for a month, thanks.”
“Good boy.” She took another deep drink. “Mmmm, so good. Haven’t had this in a really long time.” In fact, she hadn’t had a drink in months. Nor had she eaten anything in about eight hours. And he was heavy-handed with the alcohol.
But with no plans to drive, and her exercise for the day behind her, Julia let herself enjoy the treat for a change. With one hand around her mug, she used the other to sort the reports by date. There were X-rays, an MRI, and notes from his doctors’ visits, and she read over them in order—oldest to newest, the newest being two weeks prior.
By the time she was halfway through the MRI report, she’d finished her cocoa, and felt fifty percent more relaxed. She reached for the discs and handed them to Noah. “Can you pop one of these into your laptop?”
He took them, set down his mug, and opened his laptop. “Want another cup?”
“Love one, but I’d like to get through this first. Might not be able to read after another cup…” she trailed off as she dug deeper into the reports.
She didn’t know how long she’d been reading when he said, “You’re way too quiet, and that frown has me worried. Just tell me how much longer I have and get it over with. I’ve got a lot of stuff to do before I die.”
She smiled without looking up from the MRI report. “Like what?”
Keys clicked on the laptop, followed by a soft metallic whine as the CD was sucked into the machine. “Like…board every double, triple, and quadruple diamond in the world.”
Julia sputtered a laugh and glanced up. “The world? You don’t set your sights high at all.”
“And if I’m going to die anyway, may as well ride Everest. Be a good way to go.”
She lifted her brows, tilted her head in consideration, then nodded. “Probably right.”
“And travel,” he said, his gaze on the screen as he sipped from his cocoa, then licked the whipped cream from his lip. The sight shot a stab of lust between her legs—right where she’d like to feel that tongue. “On my own, I mean. I’ve traveled some for boarding, but I’m always too busy to really see the places I go.”
She put down the reports and gave him her full attention, intrigued. “Where would you go?”
He lifted his head and stared at the wall, gaze distant. “Central America. Africa. I’d like to spend more time in Europe.”
God, he was good-looking with that thoughtful expression. His features were chiseled but softened around the edges. His skin was tan, his jaw strong and square, his nose straight and perfectly balanced for his face. Even the little bump near the bridge added something sexy to the overall effect. And that mouth… He’d taste like chocolate now. Warm, wet chocolate…
“So?” His question dragged her back from the fantasy of tasting him, and he looked at her now with a knowing glint in his eye, as if he too felt the attraction between them. “How much time do I have to schedule all this?”
“According to these”—she glanced down at the reports—“quite some time. Can I see the images?”
He set down his mug and pushed from the table. With a twist, he dropped onto the sofa beside her, shoulder to shoulder, and slid the computer halfway onto her lap, letting the other half rest on his thigh. “Tell me what these things mean.”
His weight dipped the cushions, pulling her into him until the sides of their bodies pressed—shoulders, biceps, hips, thighs. And Julia really, really didn’t need to feel all that heat and muscle so close. Plus, the little buzz zinging through her body made her too relaxed. It had been a long damn time since she’d been exposed to this kind of body so intimately. She was really beginning to crave more.
She forced herself to focus on the scans and paged through the images, explaining what area of his leg and foot they were looking at and pointing out the various anatomical structures. “What’s weird is nothing here looks near as bad as it does now.” She angled toward him. “Scoot back and take off your sock.”
“Only if you’re not going to wig out on me and get all bitchy again. I like you a lot better happy.”
She pointed toward the floor. “Take it off.”
He grinned. “Okay, I sorta like your demanding side too.” He set the laptop on the table, drew his foot up onto the sofa, and pulled off his sock. “I also wish you were talking about more than just my sock.”
“I am. Take off the other one too. I want to compare.”
“Whoa, don’t get crazy on me now.”
When he’d stretched his legs out along the sofa, his feet toward Julia, she sat sideways and pushed his jeans up his shins, then ran her hands over every surface of his lower leg and foot, taking in the variances, probing the ligaments and tendons, testing the muscle. Shaking her head, she reached over to the computer and scrolled through the images, comparing the same locations there to what was currently under her hand. “Two weeks ago, you had barely any swelling. What the hell happened?”
“Last night happened.”
She glanced up and found his elbow on the back of the sofa, his head resting against his hand, a frown darkening his face. “I haven’t had a drink in four months. Then one of my buddies switches my tonic and lime for tonic and vodka. I think, hell, what will a couple of drinks hurt? Before I know it, I’m six drinks in and plastered, by which time nothing matters. Which is how I came by Samantha. Whom I didn’t sleep with, by the way.” His gaze lifted to meet hers deliberately. “Not that it matters to you, but I feel really shitty having you walk in on that this morning, thinking the worst of me. Now, if you’d met me six months ago, yeah, you could think the worst, and it would have been accurate. But not last night. That was a screwup. And this is what I get for it.”
She held up a hand. “Hey, relax. I’m not on the ethics committee. Hell, I’m not even your therapist. You don’t
have to explain anything to me. You’re an attractive, successful, rich, single guy doing what attractive, successful, rich, single guys do. It’s not a crime.”
But it was a reminder of why she shouldn’t be lusting after him. He was exactly the kind of guy who’d dug her last professional grave. And her personal one too. She didn’t need a third strike.
“Anyway, back to your foot, since it’s all about you.” She refocused on his ankle and did a little more touchy-feely work. “You’ve got a shit ton of scar tissue all along your malleolus and through the joint…”
“Shit ton. That’s highly technical language.”
“Three out of the five ligaments that stabilize your ankle are spongy, and you’ve got a couple of thin spots in the retinaculum.”
“English?” he said, then added, “But don’t stop touching me. That feels really good.”
His words kicked off a flurry of tingles low in her body, and her thoughts flipped from medical to personal. She forced them aside.
“That means that while it looks like your bone is healing here”—she pointed to the images—“it feels like your ligaments, tendons, and cartilage are still damaged in various places. Those often take longer to heal than bone. But you also lost a chunk of your talus, and I don’t know all that much about the calcium phosphate screw and cement your orthopedic surgeon used to put your ankle back together, so I don’t know how long that would take to set or regenerate new bone. But all in all, if this swelling is due to a night off the wagon, you’re in better shape than I initially thought.”
“See.” His face lit up in a smile so stunning it stole her breath. “I told you I was making progress.”
She smiled and tempered her voice when she said, “Maybe, but you’re still a very long way from X Game material.”
“Ouch.” His face turned dark just as his phone rang from his back pocket. Noah hung his head on a groaned “Leave me alone.” But he still dragged it from his pocket and answered. “Yeah.”
Julia pulled her hands from his leg, noting the nice taper to his straight toes. When he stood and wandered to the window, Julia also stood and picked up her mug on the way into the kitchen.
Whoa. Her head did a few silly things before it righted. Julia laughed at herself but couldn’t deny this forced relaxation felt good. Without it, she’d be stressing over her lack of a job. Or the reality that she was going to have to downgrade her living situation if she stayed in San Francisco. Or hammering herself for having morals instead of jumping this guy. Now, she just wanted another big mug of hot chocolate. Correction—spiked hot chocolate.
She looked through cabinets until she found the cocoa and liquor. This time, she decided to go with Bailey’s Irish Cream. She mixed her cocoa and milk, popped it in the microwave, and started straightening up, putting all Noah’s toxic food back into his cupboards. She certainly didn’t have the will, interest, or patience to force a man as stubborn as Noah to change his eating habits.
Noah’s business conversation grew complicated with contract lingo and royalty percentages, then heated over timelines and payouts. When he finally wandered in from the family room, Julia was through her second mug of cocoa and had the kitchen halfway reconstructed.
“You’re a complicated man,” she said, echoing his earlier words to her and sliding cans of soup back into the pantry in perfect rows. “I like that. So many athletes can be one-dimensional, you know? Boring.”
He didn’t respond, and when she turned around to search for more soup cans, she found him sniffing her mug.
“Hey,” she said, “that’s mine.”
“Bailey’s? You’re like me last night. One slip, and you’re bouncing off the wagon.” He grinned and set the mug down. “Be careful. Doesn’t feel so good when you hit the ground.”
To acknowledge his dig at her buzzed state, she deliberately picked up the mug, took a deep swallow of yumminess, and grinned at him.
His laugh transitioned into a groan. “I sure could use a good buzz right now. But since the fascist is hovering, I’m going to work out instead. Do you need anything before I head into the gym?”
She leaned her hip into the island and took her mug in both hands. “Nope. I’m perfect.”
He chuckled, reached out, and brushed a wayward strand of hair off her face. “You might be if you weren’t going to pass out in about ten minutes.”
“Oh no. In ten minutes, I’m going to have this place back to the way I found it…minus, of course, the food in your trash cans. But you didn’t need that crap anyway. And I might even get creative with what you’ve got left to make us the least harmful dinner possible. It’ll be tough, but I love testing my limits.”
He shook his head, his grin growing wider. “Man, you’re cute when you’re buzzed.” Desire shadowed his eyes as he heaved a sigh. “And I definitely need a workout.”
That one look of raw lust did things to Julia’s body she hadn’t felt in what seemed like eons. When he turned for the stairs, she scanned his backside, shoulders to calves, and let out a long, slow sigh before downing another healthy swallow of chocolate and Bailey’s. Only after he’d turned out of sight did she whisper, “Yum.”
Then she shook off the growing sizzle of need and refocused on the kitchen, and found the mess didn’t bother her as much now. Maybe she needed to drink more often. She loved this laid-back, easy feeling. And as she started to rearrange the cupboards to replace the food on the counters, even the sight of boxed instant white rice, instant mashed potatoes, and instant pasta only made her shake her head—things that would normally have disgusted her.
But halfway through organizing the first cupboard, her sense of wrongness wouldn’t be denied. Julia had nurtured her share of ignorance during her successful years, when everyone around her was too worried about upsetting her to tell her the truth—about her sponsorships, about her rehab potential, about Duncan. Their silence had caused her far more suffering than the truth ever would have, not to mention the continued hardship. Their silence had changed the course of her entire life.
She would never be part of that silent circle for any other athlete. But neither could she force Noah to see how he was hurting himself.
When Julia had the kitchen back together, she picked up her mug and finished off her third cocoa—this one laced with Kahlua. At the sink, she hand-washed her mug, singing to “Burn It to the Ground,” and set the cup out to dry on a kitchen towel.
When she looked up, she could see the lights of the gym glowing to the left. The space had floor-to-ceiling double-paned and insulated windows facing the pool. Earlier today, that had been her view during her run. That and the lake’s west shore in the distance. Now, Julia had a perfect view of Noah working out—almost as naked as she’d seen him that morning in nothing but gym shorts. Tonight, he had on socks and running shoes.
She sighed, rested her elbows on the counter, and watched him doing sit-ups on the crunch bench. With his ankles held in place, hands clasped behind his head, he lay back on the bench, which reclined toward the floor for full abdominal extension, then pulled himself upright and forward until he was bent in half.
Julia lost track of time as she watched all that taut muscle flex and roll. With her chin in her hand, she ran her thumb over her lower lip, wondering what his mouth would feel like on hers. How would he taste? What kind of kisser would he be?
Those thoughts, in combination with the sight of that sculpted body, made her restless. Fantasies of exploring all those muscles whipped up a fire low in her belly. One that spread to heat her skin and swell her breasts. One that created an ache deep between her legs, an emptiness that needed filling.
What difference would it make if she slept with him? What harm could one night do? He wasn’t her client, and she was leaving tomorrow. Tomorrow, she would return to Sunrise Manor until she found a better opportunity. And at her level, the therapists currently in those jobs guarded them closely.
The realization she’d soon be begging for her old job back an
d dealing with the likes of Dorothy and Paul until her dream job opened up didn’t exactly give Julia the big green light to go after Noah. But it did dim the blaring red light she’d imposed on herself from that first spark of attraction.
“Ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine…” Noah bunched his muscles and pulled himself into the last sit-up of this set, took a minute to catch his breath, then moved to the weight bench nearby. He sat and used a towel to wipe the sweat from his face.
Linkin Park screamed “Castle of Glass,” and Noah closed his eyes, soaking in the escape only good music at one hundred decibels could provide. But behind his closed lids, his mind created images of Julia—her smile, her dark hair, her ass, those beautifully shaped legs…
Sweat slid over his chest and dribbled down the middle of his abdomen, following the valley between his abs. Noah swiped at it and added weight to the bar. It was his only option next to a cold shower or making a snow angel in the powder—naked.
When he turned to lie flat on the bench, the door to the gym opened, and Julia walked in, sipping from a clear bottle. She’d tied her hair up into a messy knot again and stripped down to skintight tank and leggings, leaving little to the imagination, though Noah would still like to get a look at the real thing. No, she didn’t have Samantha’s body. Julia was all toned and tough, a juicy steak to Samantha’s cotton candy. And Noah had definitely been indulging in too much sugar for too
long. He was craving something more substantial.
“Are you drinking straight vodka?” he asked.
She smirked. “Water.”
“Thought for sure you’d be passed out on the couch by now.”
“Maybe soon. I had another hot chocolate.”
“What did you put in it this time?”
“Kahlua, but Bailey’s is still my favorite.”
He laughed. “Are you trying to replace dinner with hot chocolate?”
“I may have found a few things I could throw together if you’re hungry.”
“Maybe later.” Yes, he was starved, but not for food. And he loved the way her heavy-lidded gaze scoured his body. But remembering her earlier prickliness, he doubted he’d be getting any of Julia tonight. Which meant he definitely needed to pump more iron.