Not much, it seemed. But as she lay uncomfortably in the hospital bed her thoughts returned again and again to the prospect of being cared for by the man she needed to stay away from. How would she manage? She could barely move yet. He’d be uncomfortably close. Temptingly close.
Although she knew what mustn’t happen between them, it was tempered by warm and guilty thankfulness she didn’t have to leave him yet...that maybe...no, it wasn’t possible. Of course it wasn’t. He was Jan’s, not hers.
Still, her brain whirled with private fantasies. Then she castigated herself for thinking such things and apologized silently to her beloved sister.
She made enough progress to be released from hospital two days later. Her parents flew home. And Christian arrived to take her back to recuperate in the huge house on the Roseneath cliff-top. The tables had been very neatly turned.
How strange. A few days ago he came up with every possible reason to get rid of me. Now it seems he’s moved heaven and earth to ensure I stay.
Her battered brain wasn’t up to solving conundrums like that.
Climbing from the hospital wheelchair into the plush leather-upholstered back seat of his Mercedes was hugely more difficult than she’d expected. The crutches they’d supplied put too much strain on her injured shoulders. Everything hurt—and in the end, Christian gritted his teeth and took over. He picked her up in his arms, and, apologizing for the pain he must be causing, set her down gently in the car.
Fiona didn’t feel a lot of pain.
Heat, yes. She felt she was somewhere as tropically hot and humid as Singapore instead of temperate breezy Wellington.
She felt his incredible strength for sure. Long strong arms, and shoulders bunched with hard muscle had lifted her and lowered her without effort.
She felt too close—definitely way too close!
She also felt she’d like to sneak a little kiss onto his beautiful stern mouth while it was so near to her own.
It’s the drugs. It must be the drugs.
She was on drugs, wasn’t she?
Painkillers, of course. But they didn’t usually affect her like this. So it had to be the anesthetic. People sometimes had very funny reactions to anesthetics, didn’t they? But had she been anesthetized? Well no, perhaps not. She’d knocked herself out cold with no need for chemical intervention.
Ummm...
No better explanation than out-and-out lust occurred to her.
CHAPTER SIX
To her dismay, she had to concede a couple of days had weakened her resolve rather than strengthening it. Sitting behind him, propped on pillows and covered with a soft mohair blanket, she watched Christian in the rear-view mirror until his eyes meshed with hers. She flicked her gaze away, embarrassed to be caught inspecting him.
He drove his big silver Mercedes at an uncharacteristic crawl, being careful not to jar her bruised body.
“Okay?” he asked, gliding slowly around a corner.
“Fine.” She sneaked another peek at his mouth. A wide mouth with sharply defined edges. Just below a long straight nose. Just above a very determined chin.
A mouth that needed rescuing from its recent rather grim and sorrowful expression. She had plenty of ideas on how to do that but she wasn’t the right person to do it, no matter how much she might yearn to be.
“I’ve never been so well looked after in my life,” she added, feeling something else was called for.
He grunted, and she stifled a smile.
“You’re going straight to bed,” he added, catching her eye in the mirror again.
“I’ve had enough bed lately. Couldn’t I lie down on the window-seat with lots of cushions? Enjoy the view? Feel like part of the real world again?”
“I’m putting you to bed,” he said implacably. He gave her the fierce dark-eyed ‘don’t-mess-with-me’ stare he’d tried a few days ago when he was insisting she left. It hadn’t worked then, but Fiona didn’t have the energy to fight him now. She supposed she’d have to concede defeat, at least for today.
He was putting her to bed?
The words crackled through her hazy brain as he drew up outside the house. She had a sudden vivid picture of him lifting her in his arms and laying her on cool sheets before he sank down beside her, black-coffee eyes holding hers.
More muscles... more heat... more ‘way too close’.
If only!
She saw the security gates were once-again functioning as their arrival activated the sensor. But the garage front remained a mess, and tradesmen had started on the huge clean-up job.
Christian parked as close to the house entrance as possible. She gazed in dismay at the destruction.
“How bad were your cars?”
“Better than I feared. Some new windscreens. Broken windows. There’s panel and paint damage to those in the front row. The ones right at the back fared better. We got them all out before the roof came down. I’ve already had my best men do a rush-job on the Merc. Could have been a hell of a lot worse.”