They chatted during the stretches, the treadmill work, the electrical stimulation, and the ice. Cara had to shove away the urge to compare her to the cool and aloof Vivian Lowery.
When the door opened and the desk staff called out the greeting, she froze, her hand on Lindsay’s arm. By the time Kieran stuck his head around the corner, her stomach had tied itself in knots.
“Hey ladies, you ’bout done?”
Of course he’d come to get his mother. She wasn’t supposed to drive yet.
“Oh, I don’t know, hon,” Lindsay said, shifting on the table. “I love it here. I may never leave.”
Rendered speechless, Cara took him in from the way his deep-red hair had grown out, to the broad expanse of his shoulders, down his lean torso and long legs. She shook her head, trying to clear it of the urge to leap at him, rip his clothes off, and get at that body that she knew so well.
“Um, dear, you’re gonna bruise me.” Lindsay touched the fingers Cara had wrapped around her arm.
“Oh, I’m so, so sorry.” She jumped away, horrified and embarrassed. Kieran lingered on his mother’s other side, with that tilted-head I-love-to-watch-you-sleep gaze.
Lindsay glanced over at her son. “Y’all go on, leave me alone in my misery.” She patted the ice pack and fluttered her fingers at them. Cara spluttered and made a few excuses about needing to monitor the patient.
“If I have to, I will push you right out the door with my bad leg and then you’ll be in real trouble. Go on out of here.”
Cara’s heart constricted in a way that it never, ever did when Kent smiled at her. Her stomach flipped over and she suddenly wanted to lie down and take a nap.
Kieran followed her into her tiny cubicle and flopped down in a chair. He took up the whole space, in the way only really tall men ever did. Pretending to study her computer screen, she ignored him as best she could.
“So, uh, can I buy you a coffee, or something? Glass of wine?”
She kept her gaze averted, unwilling to let him know he might get away with being so flippant.
“No thanks, jerk.” She stuck her clunky shoe-clad feet on the desk between them.
He mirrored her on the other side, his grin only getting wider.
“Stop that,” she said, staring at him.
“Stop what?” he asked, sending a fresh jolt of lust down her spine. When he put his arms behind his head, leaning farther back he winced. “Ow.”
“Still sore from the accident?” She rose and squeezed around the desk, getting a full breath of his soapy smell. “Let me see.”
“Oh no you don’t. I can’t afford you anymore. My insurance has declared ‘no more PT for you, K. Love.’”
“Consider it a donation. Hurry up before my boss catches me.”
He shrugged and pulled his shirt off before she told him not to. His left shoulder was an awful mess, still mottled with colorful bruises. “Wow. That’s ugly.” Distracting her attention from the sight of his torso she manipulated his arm, showed him some exercises he should do then picked his shirt up off the floor.
“Why did you break up with me?”
The backs of her legs bumped against her chair so she sat, hard. Kieran faced her with shirt in hand, elbows on knees, staring directly into her soul.
“I...um...Don’t ask me that now. It’s been too long done.”
“I’m sorry. Curious I guess. Now that I’m single again.”
“I heard. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.”
She pressed her palm over her flat stomach and took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”
He blinked. “Oh, so, wow. Congratulations to you and, um what’s-his-name.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“So.” He stood, and the sight of him tugging his shirt down over his bare chest made her skin crawl and her fingers curl into fists on her thighs. “Guess I should get Lindsay home now.”
“Yeah, you should.” She stayed seated, trying not to kiss him. Her lips hurt she wanted to do that so very badly. He took the single step between the chair and the doorway to the therapy room. “Wait,” she said, getting to her feet.
Moving in something like slow motion to her lust-addled, hormone-saturated brain he pulled her to him, making her go way up on her tiptoes as he slammed the door shut with his foot. His lips were firm, and she opened her mouth to him, gripping at his hair, his shoulders, snaking her fingers under his shirt, reaching down to unzip his shorts.
“Whoa, whoa, honey....” He broke away and held onto her wrists, peering down at her in a way that utterly infuriated her. “Stop it. I mean it.” She blinked, acknowledging she’d been within seconds of committing yet more sin with this man.