by Amy Andrews
James bit down on a disappointed curse. ‘That’s OK,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to be a bother. My X-ray’s fine. Just give me the saw and I’ll remove it myself.’
The nurse exchanged a look with Helen.
‘James,’ Helen said, ‘don’t be ridiculous. Removing it yourself will be too tricky.’
He nodded calmly. ‘Tricky, but not impossible.’
She took pity on him. ‘I’ll do it,’ she sighed. ‘Get up on the table.’ She left to get the plaster saw.
He grinned at her when she arrived back. She switched it on and the air filled with a loud mechanical whine. It looked like a bar mix with a round disc attachment. Helen watched the serrated edges agitate back and forth.
He pulled his shorts leg up close to his groin. ‘Be gentle with me.’
He had said the same thing to her the first day they’d met and she shot him a withering look as she donned clear plastic glasses. She started at his toe and made her way up his leg. The sharp, tiny teeth made slow progress, kicking up fine plaster dust as they went, and it was too noisy for conversation. Which was just as well. Helen resolutely tried to ignore the fact that she was getting closer and closer to a region of him she’d tried not to think about for the last six weeks.
She didn’t let her gaze wander up his leg further than it needed to, concentrating instead only on one patch of white at a time. As she got closer to her goal she realised what James without a cast meant. He would be mobile. Freer. No doubt she’d hardly see him at all now after his enforced respite.
Which was good. Really, it was a good thing. The less time he spent swanning around the house, looking all male and gorgeous, was a bonus. It was bad enough that every corner of the house held reminders of him. A pile of his books lying on the table beside his chair. A pot of percolating coffee every morning. The smell of his spicy aftershave ingrained into the curtains and the carpet and the fabric of the lounge cushions.
James off on his bike would be a good respite for her, too. He was kind of hard to ignore around the house and she was getting far too used to having him around. She found herself looking forward to the evenings as she sat at her desk each day. They ate and laughed and tried to outdo each other on the game shows or just sat in their lounge chairs and read. It was too companionable. Too cosy. It made her want things she couldn’t have. She was pleased that it was coming to an end. Six weeks of enforced intimacy was more than enough.
Helen took off her protective glasses. ‘Nearly there,’ she said. ‘Hang tight.’
James chuckled. Again, where could he go with a half-removed cast?
Helen picked up the spreaders, which looked like a giant pair of scissors with flat noses and long industrial-looking handles. She inserted the blunt blades into the furrow made by the saw and pulled down on the handles. The furrow widened, the plaster cracking a little as it split apart.
She repeated the process all the way back up his leg until the cast had been split wide open. She held onto the sides of the shell as he gingerly removed his leg.
‘Oh, that feels so-o-o good,’ James groaned, rubbing his hands up and down his freed leg. The leg looked ridiculously white compared to his other one, and he couldn’t wait to get some sun on it. He grabbed Helen by the shoulders, pulled her close and laid a kiss on her lips. ‘Thank you.’
He set her away from him again immediately and returned his attention to the leg. Helen hung onto the table as the brief contact with his mouth sent a shock wave through her body. She knew it was gratitude, pure and simple, that there had been no sexual intent, but it had rocked her nonetheless.
She faded out for a second and when she refocused he was scratching his leg.
‘Hell, it feels good to be able to scratch it,’ he muttered. ‘It was always so damn itchy.’
Helen nodded absently. It was a common complaint. Before she could give it any serious thought her hand was on his lower leg, helping him scratch. It wasn’t anything different to what she’d have done for any patient. She could feel the bulky contours of his calf twitch beneath her ministrations. ‘Your muscles don’t seem too wasted,’ she commented.
James almost groaned out loud as her nails scraped against his skin. To be able to finally scratch the area felt wonderful but beneath her nails it was intensely pleasurable. He suddenly knew how a dog felt when the sweet spot behind its ears was hit and it would collapse to the ground in total ecstasy. He just wanted to roll his eyes and pant.
He swallowed. ‘They could do with a little work.’
She frowned and knocked his hand out of the way to scrutinise his quad. She ran her hand over the thigh muscle, feeling its well-defined shape. Most men she knew didn’t have even half the bulk. She could feel it tense as her fingers stroked over its outline.
‘Still not bad for six weeks of no weight-bearing.’ She looked at James and was startled to find his eyes shut and his head thrown back. Her hand stilled on his thigh, its bulk suddenly hot beneath her palm.
His eyes flickered open and she was lanced by the heat and desire in his smouldering turquoise eyes. Her mouth went dry as their gazes locked. She suddenly became very conscious of where her hand was and what she’d been doing. And how very un-nurse-like it was. How very unprofessional.
‘I…I’m sorry,’ she said, her voice husky. ‘I…shouldn’t have…I was just trying to…’
The rasp in her voice went straight to his already aching groin. ‘I liked it,’ he said, his voice soft and a little raspy also. I was hoping you’d go higher.
‘It was…inappropriate,’ she faltered. She removed her hand from his thigh and took a step back.
‘We’re attracted to each other, Helen. This is what happens when you deny it.’ There, he’d said it. They’d both been pretending for too long.
No. She shook her head. ‘It won’t happen again.’
He nodded. He knew she was right. Crossing that line was not an option. ‘I know,’ he whispered.
Helen wanted to turn and run from the look of hunger in his eyes, but it was strangely compelling. She seemed fixed to the spot.
‘Looking good, James,’ a nurse called as she bustled by.
He smiled and waved and watched as Helen emerged from her trance-like state. The unsuspecting nurse had effectively thrown a bucket of cold water over the flames between them.
Helen took another step back. ‘I’ll go and see if Jonathon’s out of Theatre yet,’ she said, and fled.
Helen slept till late on Sunday morning. She’d been awake half the night thinking about the cast incident and wondering where James was. She hadn’t seen him since practically molesting him and had noticed his bike had been missing from the garage on her return home a few hours later. He certainly hadn’t wasted any time.
And why would he have? She’d probably come across as a gauche small-town girl who hadn’t seen a well-built man in her life. So, he was attracted to her but he was also a gypsy at heart and she cringed at how she had pawed his leg and how desperate it must have seemed. She’d probably made him feel trapped. Suffocated.
She’d heard him get in around one a.m. Where had he been? Who had he been with? The questions had roared around in her brain despite knowing that the answers weren’t any of her business. It had been another two hours until she had finally nodded off.
It was tempting to just stay in bed and hope he would go out again but hiding from the problem wasn’t going to make it go away and they still had ten more weeks of being together. She dragged herself out of bed, dressed and steeled herself to clear the air.
A few moments later she found James preparing food in the kitchen. She watched him from the doorway for a while. It seemed strange to see him walking on both legs and stranger still to see him in jeans. They outlined his legs to perfection and she was reminded again how well defined his muscles were.
He seemed to be favouring his broken leg a little. ‘Is it giving you trouble?’ she asked.
James turned around. He hadn’t seen her since yester
day morning and wasn’t prepared for the impact of her ponytail and green-eyed gaze. ‘Morning, sleepyhead.’ He smiled. ‘Thought you country girls were early risers.’
‘Sleeping in isn’t purely the domain of city chicks,’ she said dryly, pushing herself away from the doorframe and heading for the coffee-pot.
She poured herself a cup, conscious of his stare. ‘So is it?’ she asked turning to face him. ‘Giving you trouble?’
He grimaced. ‘No. Not really. I guess after having it so well supported for six weeks I’m still a little wary of putting my whole weight on it.’
Helen nodded. ‘That’s common enough. You’ll conquer that the more you use it to bear weight.’
James nodded. They sipped at their coffees for a little while. Helen felt her heart pick up its tempo as she contemplated her next words until it thumped loudly in her chest. Surely he could hear it?
She stared into her coffee and cleared her throat. ‘About yesterday.’
‘Helen.’
She kept her gaze firmly fixed on the contents of her mug. ‘It was very unprofessional—’
‘Helen, you weren’t removing my cast in your capacity as a nurse. You were doing me a favour.’
‘Still…I shouldn’t have touched you the way I did.’
‘Not even if I wanted you to?’
Helen swallowed and ignored his question and what it did to her breathing. Thinking about him wanting her to touch him was not what she needed right now. ‘What you said yesterday was right. I am attracted to you. But you should know that I’m not going to act on it.’
As James felt his body react to her statement he realised there was a major disadvantage to wearing jeans. Suddenly he yearned to be back in the baggy shorts the cast had forced him to wear. ‘Because?’
‘Because you’ll be gone before too much longer and I’m over being left-behind girl.’
He regarded her seriously. ‘I don’t know how to be staying-put guy.’
Helen nodded. ‘Exactly. That’s why we can’t do this.’
He knew she was right but…he wanted her. ‘And you think it’s possible to deny your body such a strong attraction?’
She shot him a scornful look. ‘I’m an adult, James. Not some hormone-ridden teenager.’
James raised his eyebrows. ‘I don’t think it works like that.’
‘Of course it does,’ she scoffed. ‘We have ultimate control over what we do.’
Something told James that Helen hadn’t had a lot to do with intense physical attraction. He was one of the most controlled people he knew but one look at that damn ponytail and he wanted to rip her clothes off. She had no idea.
‘So,’ he said as he pushed away from the bench and slowly stalked towards her, ‘when we get close like this…’ he stopped in front of her ‘…and all we want to do is fall on each other, you want us to just ignore it?’
She felt suffocated as the breadth of his chest filled her vision and his words ignited a flame that licked her insides. Heat suffused her body. But she looked him square in the face. ‘Yes.’
He stepped closer until their bodies were almost touching. ‘And when our hands accidentally brush and all we can smell is each other and I know if I kiss your neck that your hair is going to brush against my face and you’re going to sigh like you did that night right here on the bench behind me, you want us to ignore that, too?’
Helen could feel his heat as she remembered that night. Remembered how she’d wanted him closer. Wanted him inside her. Her internal muscles clenched as if he had entered her. She gripped the bench hard to stop from melting into a puddle at his feet.
This was a test and he had to know she meant what she said. ‘Of course. All it takes is a little self-control.’ Her voice didn’t sound like her voice but she returned his gaze unwaveringly.
‘Self-control. So working together, living under the same roof, sharing meals and a living area, sleeping with just a wall between us, that’s all OK? Feeling our blood stir, our hearts…’he pressed two fingers lightly against the pulse fluttering frantically in her neck ‘…race when we’re in the same room, you can just ignore it?’
His fingers slid down to the hollow at her throat and she swallowed. With a supreme effort she pulled his fingers away. ‘Yes.’
He smiled. He could see the struggle lighting the amber flecks in her eyes. ‘Prove it.’
Helen rolled her eyes and moved away from him, placing her mug in the sink. Released from the magnetism of his closeness, she heaved in some deep breaths. ‘If you think I’m going to play truth or dare or some other juvenile game then think again.’
He chuckled as he thought about the things he could dare her with. ‘No, nothing like that. All I ask is that you spend the day with me. I’m going out on the bike to the thermal pools. Come with me. Convince me you can get through a whole day without feeling the need to ravish me then I’ll bow to your higher power and we’ll play it your way.’
Helen wanted to spend the day with him like she wanted a hole in the head. Spending a couple of hours snuggled into his back would be temptation enough without further hours in his company. The more time she spent with him the stronger the attraction grew. She needed to limit their time together. Particularly their time alone together.
‘I don’t feel I have anything to prove,’ she said haughtily.
‘Really? You keep telling me it’s not going to happen and yet twice now your body has told me different. Are you sure you can resist the temptation so easily? How do you know until you’ve been properly tested?’
Helen knew he was yanking her chain but to hell with him. She was feeling sufficiently goaded. ‘You could give me the apple itself and I’d still be able to resist. I am in control of me.’
An image of Helen in fig leaves rose in his mind and his jeans became even more uncomfortable. He raised an eyebrow.
Helen knew this wasn’t going to be over until she could prove it to him. ‘What time do we leave?’ she asked, returning his doubtful stare steadily.
‘Just getting the picnic ready. Thirty minutes sound OK?’
She nodded. ‘I’ll get into my leathers and dig out my helmet.’
Leathers? She had leathers? Suddenly the fig leaves were replaced with the image of a leather-clad Helen removing her helmet and shaking her hair loose. Why did fully clothed biker-chick Helen seem more erotic than a scantily clad fig-leaf one?
It had been a while since Helen had been on a bike. Her father had last shot through town two years ago and she’d gone out with him both days. She distinctly remembered the feel of her arms around his waist, hugging into his back and yet feeling that strange blend of disconnectedness she’d always felt in his company. Her love for him as a father figure warring with years of childhood disappointments.
The exhilaration, the freedom both James and her father thrived on hit her almost immediately and she understood their addiction. To a point. It was thrilling. Stimulating. Invigorating. But not to the exclusion of all else. Not to the exclusion of life’s little realities. Or inconveniences. Like a wife and child.
She spent the first ten minutes holding onto James while keeping as much space as possible between them. Her fingers clutched a handful of his leather jacket on either side while she held herself stiffly, trying to maintain some distance. But there wasn’t much room on the back of a bike and it didn’t take long for her body to protest the rather unnatural position she’d adopted.
James wondered how long Helen could keep the stiff posture up for. Aside from everything else she was messing up the aerodynamics. She was supposed to mould herself to his back, fit into his contours, not sit as if he’d suddenly grown spines like the echidna they’d just seen by the roadside.
‘Relax,’ he yelled over the engine noise and the wind rushing like a cyclone around them. ‘Put your arms around me.’
Helen acquiesced, reluctantly at first, settling herself stiffly against him. But as the growling vintage engine ate up the miles she slowly relaxed,
her body easing gradually until her front was in full contact with his back. Her arms crept forward until they were fully encircling his waist. It was easy then to just let all the tension go and melt against him.
James felt the moment she finally succumbed. Her weight pressed against him, her arms tightened around his waist and although he knew it wasn’t possible, he thought he felt her sigh. There was something elemental about being on a bike, the sun beating down and the open road in front of you. And a woman draped around you. He smiled a contented smile.
The last twenty-five kilometres of their journey took them into a mountain range and national park. The bike slowed to negotiate the winding road and bends and the shade of towering trees allowed only dappled sunlight through the canopy. There was a bit of traffic about, too, slowing their way, people no doubt keen to visit the springs also. When they finally pulled up in the car park they’d been travelling for nearly two hours.
‘That was great,’ Helen enthused as she alighted and took her helmet off. She shook her head to unruffle her helmet hair.
James took his time taking his own off. She’d fulfilled all his wildest fantasies with that head shake and he didn’t want his eyes betraying the fact that Eve was already tempting him with the apple.
‘Yep,’ he said, making a show of hanging his helmet over the handlebars. ‘Nothing quite like it.’
Helen looked around. ‘So, do you have a plan in mind for the day?’
James looked down as he removed his gloves, quelling the suggestion her innocent question had raised. He shrugged. ‘You’re the local. Is there one spot better than another?’
Helen shrugged the backpack off her shoulders and handed it to him. ‘There are two major pools but there are literally hundreds of little springs around here so anywhere’s good.’
James took the pack. ‘Lead the way.’
Helen grinned. She was pleased he had goaded her up here. It had been a while since she’d been and she’d forgotten what a truly beautiful spot it was. With the towering eucalypts, plentiful tree ferns and numerous thermal pools it was like a little piece of heaven.