He’d have to chase her, without pushing her. How in the world would he accomplish that? The thoughts of a chase stimulated other parts of his body. If a chase was what was needed, he was up to the challenge. The chase was on. It might be a slow-action chase, but hey, slow motion wasn’t always a bad thing. It built anticipation. Then he could have kicked himself for his thoughts, as his body took over from the image his brain had projected.
These pants are damned uncomfortable! He wouldn’t be surprised if he had an imprint of his zipper permanently marking his cock by the time this day was through.
Amanda left the two men, still in deep conversation about the placement of the support columns, and headed out. She needed to make her getaway while Zack was distracted by Tom. When he’d placed his hand on her shoulder, she had prayed it would stay there and not slide to her bare arm, where the contact would have given her further problems. Since he hadn’t pushed it, she’d allowed him to leave it there, savoring his warmth.
She jogged across the worn, rotting porch to the stairs, thinking about the feeling of Zack’s hand on her shoulder, and about how much she’d like that touch on other parts of her body. Oh, Lordy! If only she couldn’t read him, it would be perfect!
Her right foot slipped on the top edge of the highest muddy makeshift step, and this time she was unable to catch her balance. Pinwheeling, down she went, ass over tea kettle. That’s what you get, you smart-ass, she told herself while in mid-flight down the remainder of the stairs.
She landed with a grunt at the bottom of the six stairs, on her stomach, having knocked the air out of her lungs. She’d thrown her left arm out to catch herself, and she was pretty sure that had been a very bad idea. She lay there stunned for a few seconds, gasping for air so she could breathe again.
“Owhh!” She blew out a ragged breath that managed to sound like a mix of “ow” and “oh.” She managed, with some difficulty, to lever herself back to a sitting position, and cradled her injured left wrist to her chest. After a few more moments, she realized that there was a sharp stinging sensation coming from below her left knee as well. She reached over with a shaky right hand to clumsily roll up the leg of her jeans.
“Oh, just fucking fantastic,” she muttered to herself with what little breath she had as she gulped air to replace that which had been forcefully removed from her lungs. Blood was welling up and freely running down her leg. I’ll never get the blood out of these jeans, was her random thought.
“Miss Amanda! Are you all right?” Ernie raced up to her and threw himself to a kneeling position in the mud in front of her, kind of like a ball player sliding into a base, she noted distantly.
He was entirely stricken and not sure what to do. Maybe he needed his buddy, Bert, came another stray thought. She almost laughed at his panicked expression, almost. But then was bowled over when a wave of pain radiated from her wrist and up her arm, and hitched back a cry. She began to ask him to help her up and then heard Zack thundering out of the house like the hounds of hell were after him.
“Amanda, don’t move! Stay right there!” From above and behind her came Zack’s order.
What? Like she was going to get up and skip away? Not likely, moron! she ungraciously thought.
In a moment he was at her side, looming over her. She’d be willing to bet he’d literally jumped from the porch and over the stairs in his haste to reach her. She briefly gave him mental kudos for achieving the feat without sustaining the same injuries she had.
“Doctor Grayson, I presume?” she shot back at him mockingly. She’d thought she was doing well with the sarcasm until her breath caught on the last word and silent tears began coursing down her face.
“I think I might have broken my wrist.” She swallowed another moan, trying to rein in her tears. My God, every time the man saw her she was crying like a loon. Great! Just freaking great!
Zack had gotten a sudden wave of alarm from Amanda and then felt her pain and had raced from the rear second floor of the house in a near panic. He didn’t even have to concentrate now to catch vibes from her. They were automatically fed to his consciousness. He now felt whatever she felt in nearly direct proportion, and he knew she was hurt, bad!
Now what? He seemed to ask himself that a lot around her. Semi-amused exasperation warred with worry and, if he were honest, a little bit of panic. He shook his head as he stood over her, trying to determine where to start. She either had the worst luck in the world, or she was possibly the clumsiest person he’d ever met. Not that he minded her needing his help, but he was tired of her hurting herself all the time. Her klutziness, in small amounts, was almost endearing, but this? Good grief! He’d definitely have to make sure he kept current on his medical licensing.
“You’re not getting up, just sit still. I’m going to take a quick look at you.”
Despite her protests he began at her head since he’d noticed her hard hat had flown several feet away in her fall. He ran his fingers gently over her scalp, which she kept telling him was fine. It was. Then he felt along her shoulders and down her arms. When he came to her left wrist she inhaled sharply as he prodded and pressed.
“I’m sorry. I know I’m hurting you. But I need to know exactly where it hurts the worst. Try to stay with me here, okay?”
She nodded and clamped down on her bottom lip with her teeth, biting back another moan as he hit a really sore spot.
“Okay, I’m done with your arm for now. Is your back hurt at all?”
She assured him it was fine, though she also knew she’d pulled a muscle or two. Right now that was nothing compared to her wrist and leg so she didn’t mention it.
He was pretty certain her wrist was broken, but would need an X-ray to confirm. Zack grimaced when he saw her leg. Without a doubt, she was going to need stitches. There was so much blood! She had landed on the edge of a large metal bracket.
“Have you had a tetanus shot recently?”
“I can’t remember!” Her voice was a combination of a whininess and anger. She was panting shallowly, trying to keep herself from sobbing in front of all the guys who now surrounded her.
“Right now all I can think about is my wrist! Get out of my way!”
She gritted her teeth and tried to struggle to her feet by planting her right knee and hand on the ground, ignoring the entire crew, every man of which was offering her a hand to help her rise up. She couldn’t deal with any more input from anyone. She had already unsuccessfully tried to block Zack as he ran his hands over her, and that had not gone well. The only good thing was that his input had been muted by her severe level of pain. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that had happened when she was sick, too. But she decided that she just couldn’t think clearly enough at the moment and put it away to chew over later.
She felt Zack’s hand slide under her knees and behind her. Suddenly she was cradled in his arms and he was striding across the muddy lawn toward the carriage house.
“Put me down!” she exclaimed while thumping him on his shoulder with her good hand. Of course he ignored her and swept her up the stairs and into the small abode. He went straight to the couch to set her down.
“No! I’ll ruin the upholstery!”
Her order came too late, not that he’d have listened anyway. He firmly planted her muddy bottom on one end of the sofa and laid her bloody leg across the length, with her left side to the outside.
“It’s going to take me forever to clean the mess off of this! That’s if I can get it out at all!” she complained. “I mean it, Mr. Grayson! If this needs to be replaced it’s coming out of the company budget, not my pay!” Her voice escalated as he walked away, ignoring her.
“Just shut the hell up, Amanda!” His voice rose over hers and then settled to a more normal volume with his next statement as he clearly struggled to contain his temper.
“I’ll be right back.”
She heard him thoroughly searching through the small bathroom off the living room and he returned a few minutes
later with a variety of supplies.
“Mandy, my dear, what am I going to do with you?”
He joked, trying to lighten her up. But underneath she could hear his concern and exasperation. He squatted down in front of her and laid the lightest of caresses across her cheek with the back of his hand. His eyes caught hers and she got lost in their deep blue depths for a brief moment, temporarily forgetting her pain. They were like cut sparkling jewels, she observed. She watched as he shook his head as if to rid thoughts from it, and got down to the task at hand.
“I want to get that wrist splinted first and then I’ll take a look at the leg.” She gulped, for that sounded like a warning.
She looked to the front of the cottage as Tom pounded up her stairs, banged through the door, ran across the room spraying mud in every direction, and handed Zack two thin pieces of wood. When had Zack asked for those, she wondered? She really didn’t remember him doing anything but asking her questions, but of course she hadn’t been paying a lot of attention to anyone else either.
Poor Tom! He looked like he was going to have a heart attack at any moment. His face was bright red and sweat was dripping off of it. He grabbed his handkerchief from his rear pocket and wiped his brow with it.
“Missy! I’m so sorry!” His apology seemed almost torn from him.
“Tom, I’m okay. Really, I’ll be fine. You know how accident prone I am. It was no one’s fault.”
Amanda tried to reassure the portly man. She watched as Zack took a moment to shoot Tom a look that should have killed him instantly. His face was thunderous in his anger. She’d never seen him this mad. Whatever for?
“This is going to hurt at first, and I’m sorry, but I need to get it immobilized.” Zack’s face gentled as he looked at her, and she could see the contrition on it. He knew he was going to have to hurt her to do this.
Morosely, she told him, “Just do it, Zack. I understand.”
She dropped all pretensions of formality with him. What was the use? She closed her eyes and held her breath as he carefully wrapped a towel around her lower arm and then tied the two pieces of wood to it with strips of an older cloth he’d cut to hold it firmly in place. She let the breath out in a huff, and tears leaked from her eyes as he finished it up.
“I’m sorry, honey. I’m really sorry.” His soft apology came each time he heard her gasp.
“Okay, take a breather for a minute while I take another quick look at your leg.”
He moved down and knelt on the floor in front of her, pulling up the leg of her jeans which had slid back down and was now adhered to the blood that had congealed there. After the first tug, when she winced, he got the scissors and, without asking, began cutting them up the pant leg.
He examined the gash for a few moments then walked away, shaking his head and muttering a few choice curse words, some of which sounded like, “Goddamned fucking idiots.” She couldn’t be sure which idiots he was referring to, apparently there more than a few on his list.
More calmly, he said, “Let me wash my hands, then I’ll clean that out, as much as I can.” Just the thought of that made Amanda cringe.
She nodded. “Take your time.” She meant it.
When he came back he gingerly raised her leg, placed a towel beneath it, and then began by rinsing off the mud and blood, trying to assess the damage, wiping her down as he went.
“You’re definitely going to need a few stitches,” was the grim announcement.
“I kind of expected that.” It was a wheeze, rather than the sarcasm she was shooting for.
“Oh well, what’s one more scar?” Unaware she’d said that out loud she saw Zack flinch with her reference to the car accident.
He cleaned out as much dirt as he could and doused her leg with alcohol, which hurt like hell. She made sure he understood that very clearly with every curse word she threw at him. As he worked she gasped and grabbed at a throw pillow, squeezing for all her worth. When he was done cleaning it, with one hand he pressed a large Telfa pad onto her leg, bearing down on it until he got the bleeding slowed again. With his free hand he wiped the tears from her eyes.
“Almost done, hang in there,” he soothed. Once the bleeding slowed he wrapped gauze snugly around her leg.
“I’m driving you to the nearest hospital, but it’s about an hour away. You gonna make it? Can you stick with me?” He knew that ride was going to be hell for her, over lots of bumps, ruts, and pot holes.
“Ahhh…Zack!” she whined. “Can’t you just take care of it here?”
Amanda was willing to beg, as long as she didn’t have to get in that truck and ride on those horrible mountain passes. She didn’t think she could summon the energy to deal with an hour long trip over backwoods, badly patched roads. She let loose a tearful groan.
“Mandy, you have to have an X-ray for that arm. Obviously, I can’t do that here! Nor do you want me setting your wrist or sewing up your leg without an anesthetic!”
Well, he was damned right about that! Giving in to the inevitable, she grumpily complied, but insisted that she change clothes first.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Zack looked like he was about to erupt he was so irate.
For a moment she was flabbergasted. What in the world was setting him off today? She’d never seen him lose his temper so easily. She knew it would be an inconvenience to take her in, but she didn’t think that was his problem. She wondered who he was most angry with, her or Tom, though she didn’t know what the heck Tom had done to him.
“I won’t go looking like this!” She gestured to her current mud-baby condition. She was going to win this whether Zack thought so or not.
“I’m covered in mud and blood! I also need a pair of shorts because I know they’ll just cut off the rest of these jeans!”
Amanda pointed to her bedroom and demanded he take her in to change. When he obstinately refused, she tried to stand on her own and fell back against the cushions pulling in a hiss of air between clenched teeth.
“You are so damned stubborn!” Zack shook his head in exasperation and reached down to pick her up once more. Swinging her through the doorway he set her gently down on the edge of the bed.
She grimaced as she thought about the mess he’d now made of her bed. She’d have to scrub the place from top to bottom if he kept this up.
“Okay, now get out!” With both hands she imperiously shooed him away toward the door.
“And just how do you plan to change on your own?” he asked her sarcastically.
He leaned his massive frame against the wall with his thumbs hooked in his pockets, waiting for her to come to the same conclusion he obviously had.
That one stumped her and she sat thinking about it for a minute. She was liberally caked with the mud-blood paste. It had soaked through her pants and splattered over her shirt. This is when she could have used Diane’s help. Where was a woman when you needed one? She could call Tom’s wife, Dana, but it would take her a half hour to get there.
“Goddamn it!” Amanda swore in frustration. Then she reached out and smacked Zack’s chest, hard, with her right hand when she saw him smile.
“Imbecile!” she shouted at him, and this time he laughed.
Just because it made her feel better, she swore once more. “Shit! All right, I guess I’ll need you to help. Jesus, this is so embarrassing!” She hung her head again as she was once more filled with humiliation. She should just go on and get used to it though. It seemed to occur quite frequently in his presence.
She directed him to her dresser and asked him to get a clean T-shirt, shorts, and underwear from the drawers. He returned with a baby-blue T-shirt, jean shorts, and possibly the skimpiest pair of blue panties that were in the underwear drawer. She closed her eyes and prayed for control so she wouldn’t kill him. Send a man to do a woman’s job and this is what you get, she thought miserably.
Zack cleared his throat and put on his best doctor persona. “Come on, let’s get those jeans off.” He reached down to u
ndo her pants. She swatted his hand away from the button and zipper and undid them with her one good hand.
“You spend an inordinate amount of time around me taking off my pants,” Amanda retorted unthinkingly.
That sent Zack over the edge and he sat down hard on the floor with deep rich chuckles rolling out of him. God, his smile was sexy! Amanda was caught up in his amusement and before she could stop herself she was laughing with him, caught up in the ridiculousness of her situation. She didn’t laugh for long, though, as another wave of pain hit her.
That sobered them both and he began the literally painstaking task of pulling her pants off her hiney and down over her legs. He got her a towel and covered her more private places as she eased off her own underpants, but she got stuck trying to get the new ones on with one hand and had to allow him to help, and though he kept his eyes firmly on hers and didn’t look down, it was so personal she blushed all over.
Did his hands caress her derrière just a little bit as he helped her pull them up, or was she reading too much into it? The shorts went on a bit more businesslike, and he handled the top as well, though she saw his eyes gravitate to her breasts, the mounds peeking over the upper edges of her white lacey bra. Hell! He was a man! She sighed to herself as another random thought entered her mind, and she wondered when she might get the opportunity to undress him instead. This is so not the time Amanda! She gave herself a mental slap across the face.
Zack grabbed her socks and tennis shoes and put them on her, then carried her out the door and to his truck. He hollered orders at Tom as he lifted her in and buckled her up. Telling him in a thunderous tone that he’d better get his guys to “clean the damn mud off of those fucking steps!” before he got back.
Amanda's Touch [D.A.R.E.ing Women] (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 15