He wasn't there when she got back and for a moment she was stumped, until she heard the toilet flush. His body was stooped over when he emerged and Shay rushed over to him, guiding him back to bed. "I hate being crippled."
"No one likes it. But you will get better. Maybe not tomorrow, but the day after." She put the pizza on the bed. "Eat. It will make you stronger." It had grown dark outside while she'd been out and the lights across the city shone like jewels. "This view really is stunning." Grabbing a slice of pizza, she watched the cars travel along the road on the other side of the black river.
"How long will you stay in London?" he asked.
"A couple of years maybe."
"And then what?"
"I don't know," Shay shrugged. "Not really planning anything at this point." She sat down on the bed and grabbed another slice.
"You have no plan for your life whatsoever?"
"I'm going to be a nurse."
"Not going to train to be a doctor?"
"No, I like nursing."
"Doctors make more."
"Doctors stress more, too."
The pizza was good. Cheese pulled away from it when Shay took a bite. It wasn't cheap, but the ingredients were high quality. They only managed to eat half of it. "Ice cream?" Shay asked.
"You're going to make me fat if you keep feeding me like this."
"I'm sure you'd never let that happen.” She really couldn't imagine Peter letting himself go—become less than perfect. "Want to watch a movie?"
"Don't you have some club you need to be at?"
"Not tonight."
Grabbing the remote, Peter turned on the large TV on the wall across from the foot of the bed. He clicked through the guide. "The Maltese Falcon. Have you seen it?"
Shay had never heard of it, and no wonder, it was ancient—black and white even. "I've never really watched these old movies." The only one she'd seen was that Christmassy one that was on every year.
"A different era," Peter said. "This is noir. Do you know what that is?"
"No."
"Mystery, darker."
Shay watched as what was some kind of detective strode into a room and spoke really fast. "Are these the movies you like to watch?"
"Sometimes. I don't normally watch a lot of TV."
"Can't see you as a going to the movies kind of guy."
"I've been to a few premiers."
"Really? With a red carpet and everything?"
"Yep."
"How do you get invited to those?"
"I work in advertising. We give massive sums of money for product placements, so we're usually get invited to the premiers. Only way to see a movie really."
Shay laughed. "Does everything have to be over-the-top the best with you?"
"What's the point of doing it any other way? If you have the means, you might as well do it properly."
"The world really is your playground, isn't it?"
"All work and no play makes Peter a dull boy." Suddenly he reached out and stroked down the corner of her lip. Shay felt the touch down to her bones, like traveling over a sudden dip in the road. "You have a crumb." Peter watched her, seemingly knowing exactly the reaction in caused in her. Somehow it ruined the mood for her, bringing up the whole attraction thing, which was just one massive distraction. She wished she didn't find him attractive, but how could she not? Peter was hot. There were girls who would kill to spend time with a guy like him—rich, successful, confidents and eminently stylish. But she was a nurse and he was from a different world from hers.
Turning her attention back to the movie, she tried to dismiss all those thoughts—the thoughts of how good Peter looked relaxing in bed. How he knew exactly the reaction touching her would draw.
The movie was in some action sequence, a car chase. They still talked funny, but she supposed that made it a little more interesting.
When she looked over again, Peter had fallen asleep. His face was turned to her and he looked peaceful. Taking a moment to study him, she noted his features. He was just so damned beautiful. She could all too easily imagine herself leaning over and kissing him—something she swore she would never do. Not only was it unprofessional, but she also objected to Peter on some level—his shallowness maybe. When this was all over, she would likely never forget him, imagining him up in this steel tower whenever she passed this way—in a world she'd never know again. Not that she was sorry, or anything—this wasn't her kind of place, but it was interesting to have a peek into it from a distance.
The chattering of the movie continued, but Shay’s eyes closed and the chatter incorporated into a dream. She hadn't meant to, but she'd fallen asleep, too.
Chapter 11
* * *
Someone was talking about mergers. Huh? And there was that familiar, spicy scent that was so nice. Peter, the answer came to her. Oh no. Something was off. Shay opened her eyes, finding Peter sitting up on his pillows watching the business news, his body stretched out under a sheet. The sun was shining. Crap, Shay thought.
"Females don't normally wake up in my bed with their clothes on," Peter said, eating a slice of leftover pizza. "They don't stay either, so this really is a first."
"No one has been in the bed before?"
Peter chuckled. "Oh, believe me, this bed is well worn, but no one stays."
"I feel dubiously honoured," she said, getting up. "Sorry, I fell asleep." It might have been an accident, but she still felt extremely awkward. See, this is why she'd never get with someone like Peter. Even just sleeping here, she felt like she was doing the walk of shame and she hadn't even done anything. "I need to go home, have a shower."
"Just shower here."
"Because that wouldn't be creepy at all," she said, feeling disappointed with herself.
"I promise I won't walk in on you in the shower." At least Peter was on form, which was a good sign. He was definitely in a better mood. "Although you've seen me naked; it would only be fair not to return the gesture."
"I'm going home."
"I'm kidding. I promise. Cross my heart. Just have a shower. It makes no sense to travel all the way home in rush hour to then turn back and travel all the way back here again."
He did have a point, although at home, she could change her clothes, but it would take her close to an hour and a half to compete the whole journey. It would actually go quicker if she had a bike. She might have to look into that. This was her punishment, she supposed, for being lazy and falling asleep—getting too comfortable lying in the client's bed. She cringed. It sounded so awful put that way. She should have dragged herself out and made her way home through the dubious streets of Elephant and Castle after dark.
Closing the door behind her, she grabbed one of the white rolled up towels stacked in the bathroom. As expected, it was impossibly fluffy. She undressed, feeling very exposed doing so in his apartment. It felt like crossing a line.
The shower was glorious, warm and powerful, and Shay closed her eyes. She could well imagine the look Jess would give her tonight, probably not believing a word of Shay's protestation that it had been perfectly innocent, while smelling of his shampoo and utterly awesome-smelling soap. It felt like she was being enveloped by him and his world, and it was wrong on so many levels.
Hot water ran down her body and she tried very hard not to feel the sensuality of it. It was something she couldn't even open the door to at the moment. She had to be professional—a nurse with a job to do.
She dried herself off as quickly as she could, dressing militarily and drying her hair with the towel.
"Let's check your wounds," she said when she emerged from the bathroom. "Your pressure, too." Retrieving her medical bag, she sat down at his side. He was still wearing his suit pants, which really weren't conducive to a medical examination. Somehow, during the night or morning, he'd taken his shirt off, and a perfectly formed male chest wasn't conducive to medical examinations either. Professional, she told herself, she had to be professional.
"You going to rip my clot
hes off again?"
"Your suits may look good, but they're not ideal for this."
Peter leaned back. "Bending hurts."
Shay smiled tightly as she reached under the sheet. She knew he wasn't wearing underwear under those pants, because they would press right on his wound. Boxers would have been okay, but he didn't have any of those, only these sleek Italian numbers that Shay didn't even want to think about what they looked like on. "You, up for a walk," she stated. "Doctor’s orders."
Peter looked less than enthusiastic. "I suppose I need to."
She checked the wounds and replaced the dressing. Everything seemed okay. His blood pressure was good, the wounds looked clean. "You're healing perfectly," she said with a smile. "Should we put you in some jeans today? It's like dressing a big Ken doll."
"Except I'm anatomically correct, but you can still play with me if you like."
"I suppose I walked right into that one.” She moved over to his wardrobe, finding the pair of jeans that were draped over a hanger. She also grabbed one of his sports shirts.
He was sitting with his legs over the side when she got back, the sheet draped over his privates. Crouching down, she helped him get the jeans on his lower legs and up his thighs, but he would have to finish dressing standing, which he did awkwardly. Shay turned her gaze away. "I should get you some boxers," she said.
"I hate boxers."
"Just while you're healing, they would be good."
"You worried about my modesty?"
"Please, you haven't got any modesty."
Peter chuckled and she heard the zipper, knowing she could safely turn back now. He grabbed the shirt off her and she went for his shoes.
It was a slow walk to the lift and Peter had his arm draped over her shoulder. They looked like a couple out for a very leisurely walk. The security man got up and opened the door for them when they got down to the lobby.
"We'll just walk over to the river," Shay said. "Do you need to sit?"
"In a minute."
They walked around the building, over towards the walkway along the river, where they found a seat. "Do you want a coffee?" There was a place across the road.
Peter handed her his card again. "I'm watching you," he said teasingly.
"And I'm gonna go all out. I might even have whipped cream with sprinkles and everything."
"Have whatever you want. Even if you want a pair of shoes, I won't mind. You probably deserve it putting up with me."
"I'll stick to my boots, thanks," she said as she walked across the road. She wasn't wearing them now, and she hadn't realised they elicited any particular reaction until Peter commented on them. But it was nice that he acknowledged he was a bit of a handful.
Shay waited for the coffees and watched Peter out the window. He looked quite normal sitting there in jeans and a t-shirt. Oh, what was she doing? He was not normal, and she really needed to stop trying to see him in that light. Seriously, she'd probably picked up a STD just sleeping in his bed.
She gave him his cup when she returned and they sat for a while sipping the hot, creamy liquid.
"It doesn't bother me, having you around," he said after a while.
"Uh, thanks, I guess. You do pay me to." She wasn't exactly sure what he was saying.
"Normally, people annoy me."
"I couldn't have guessed," she said sarcastically. "You like having me around because you can tease the hell out of me and I fall for it."
"I've noticed that, have you? It is surprisingly easy, just mention anything related to sex and you glow bright red. See?" he said, pointing to her face.
There was really nothing she could say; it was true. She wasn't normally a prude; it was something that had developed very recently—maybe because it was a concept she was trying really hard not to think about. Maybe she just sucked at being a nurse, because she was pretty sure other nurses weren't forcing themselves not to think about sleeping with their patient. Now she glowed even brighter, she realised. And he just loved rubbing her face in it. "You're a bad man."
"Oh, my god, the scenarios in my head."
Again she flushed furiously. "Okay, enough," she said firmly, but she couldn't stop the embarrassed chuckle. "Get up. We're walking."
"Slave driver. If nursing doesn’t work out for you, you have the makings of a dominatrix."
"Well, I’ll practice on you. Get up. "
"Yes, mistress."
They walked along the river for a bit, at a very slow pace, still with his arm around her for support.
"So what will you do after this is over and I go back to work?"
"Take on a new assignment, I suppose."
"So this is what you do, help people recover from accidents."
"That's normally what nurses do, help people to recover."
Peter was quiet for a bit and Shay tried not to think about the feel of his body next to hers. Everyone who saw them would think they were a couple, and it kind of amazed her to think anyone would assume that.
"Have you truly never had a girlfriend?"
"I did for like two weeks in school, but it ended badly."
"Must have really put you off."
"The little harlot wanted me to take her with me when we played another school in cricket. As if I wanted to be encumbered with a whining girlfriend when playing with my team"
"You played cricket?"
"I played anything going really."
"All about competition with you, isn't it?"
"Isn't everything about competition?"
"Not everything."
"What's not about competition?"
Shay had to think. "Love." It was the only thing she could think off. Children and love. Not something immediately on her mind, but someday, that's what she wanted.
Peter stopped. "Love is a myth, perpetuated by weak people."
Shay didn't rise to the comment although she suspected she was supposed to. Peter would think so. "I suppose love doesn't exist in your world."
"Love is an excuse for getting what you want—nice house, nice clothes. Girls 'love' to get what they want."
"Like shoes. When you offered me those shoes, were you actually making love to me?" Peter faltered. She'd actually got him with that one. "How sweet. I never knew."
He narrowed his eyes. "No, but when we get upstairs I can show you good and hard."
"Oh, sweetie, you're not allowed to—doctor's orders."
Peter harrumphed. Score for Shay, she thought with a smile. He wasn't the only one who could dish it out.
Chapter 12
* * *
Peter was irritated. There was nothing on TV and he was sick of watching pointless shows. Although he could hobble to the bathroom quite nicely now, he still couldn't really go anywhere without Shay's support. It still felt debilitating having to depend on someone and she left come five o'clock. But tonight his wounds were itchy and he felt like he couldn't sit still. He was bored. Old movies weren't doing it for him, and it was another week until he could have a woman over.
A firm non-believer in social media, he'd still rifled through the drivel in the on-line world, ignoring the friend requests that had been sitting in his inbox for a long time. The people Peter wanted to impress weren't on social media and he wasn't interested in seeing photos of people's children, or their sun-burnt faces on some insipid holiday.
He'd already searched through all the car websites and he had his next purchase narrowed down to three, but he wouldn't make a decision until he'd test driven them, which had to wait.
If he could, he would pace in his boredom. He was starting to hate his apartment. Maybe he would have to move if he was later going to be reminded of how debilitating this had all been.
He would go skiing right now, he decided, if he wasn't crippled. Just a short ride to Heathrow where he could buy a ticket to wherever the snow was good right now—Canada maybe. Instead, he was stuck in bed, while the world passed by without him.
Scrolling through his phone, he checked
his email again, but there was nothing interesting there. His accounts were all being handled by Roxley, a colleague who was a hard worker, but fundamentally didn't have what it took to close and deliver the deal. He was suitable enough to act as a caretaker though.
With annoyance, he closed his eyes and imagined himself playing racquet ball, rushing around the court, smashing the ball. It wasn't as popular as it had once been, but Peter still enjoyed playing it. It was competition in its purest sense and he thrived on it. And then there was Shay, who didn't do competition, happy to just exist in mediocrity. How could she not want more? Even Alex, had backed down from it, and Peter just didn't understand. But then he'd just gone from front-runner to way down the pack, running towards the back, all due to a simple car accident. It was unjust and undeserved. He had always believed that people got where they were by working for it and he'd given it everything, but one careless turn of the wheel by some drunk arsehole had undone much of his hard work. Fortunately it wasn't permanent; he would be absolutely homicidal if it were.
If he was at work, he would rip into some intern. A bit of confrontation sorted the men from the boys, or women from the girls. He'd been the subject of it himself as he'd made his way through the ranks and it had made him tougher. If someone couldn't get through some simple adversity, then they were better off taking a job as the manager of their local supermarket or school administrative office.
Grumbling, he turned on to his back and stared up at the ceiling, willing his leg and spine to heal. Perhaps there were some supplements he could take to speed up the process.
Picking up his phone again, he dialled Shay. She could get him some things to strengthen him, maybe even some protein so he could start building his muscles up again. Lying in bed for weeks wasn't doing his physique any good.
The ring tone went on and on. Finally, she picked up and he heard her breathe right into the mic. "Hello?" There was music in the background. Shay was obviously out somewhere.
"Shay, it's Peter. I need you to do something for me."
Shay didn't answer. He heard her talking to someone, away from the mic. "Hold on," she said and he heard swooshing sounds. "Hey," she said. "Who is this?"
The Gem (D'Arth Book 4) Page 6