Dr. Dangerous

He seemed unaffected by Brooke’s perusal, and she prayed her mouth was shut. “Where’s the washer?” she asked, when what she really wanted to know was where her good sense had fled.

He pointed to a louvered door to his right. “In there.”

“Okay, then. Let’s see if I can figure this out.” Securing the pile of towels under her chin, she opened the door and stuffed the load into the washer. After tossing a scoop of detergent in, she stared at the knobs for a few minutes.

“Mind if I throw a few more things in with those?”

The hair on Brooke’s neck came to attention when she realized he was standing immediately behind her. She sensed his heat, smelled his cologne and finally got up the nerve to look at him over her shoulder. “What do you have in mind?”

He pointed to a laundry basket sitting atop the dryer. “My underwear and a few pair of socks.”

She surveyed the pile of briefs in the basket. Not surprising. He seemed like a brief kind of guy. “I have room for a few. Nothing worse than being down to your last pair.”

“I ran out two days ago.”

That thought conjured up all sorts of questions she didn’t dare ask. She didn’t have to.

“I’m going native,” he said. “That’s what we used to call it in college when we ran out of Jockey shorts. In case you’re wondering.”

She had been wondering, and going “native” seemed an appropriate description. Right now she was having some fairly primitive thoughts about the man behind her. “Do you want me to teach you how to use the washer?” Her voice came out highpitched and shaky.

“Nope. I can handle the washer. I manage fine with my left hand.”

Then why hadn’t he? Maybe he was playing on her sympathy, knowing she’d feel sorry for him and engage in some menial tasks. Then again, maybe he truly didn’t have the energy.

After tossing a few pair of underwear into the washer with the towels, Brooke turned to find Jared Granger seated at the table. He’d actually retrieved a basin and filled it with water while she’d been taking care of the laundry. So he wasn’t helpless after all. But he was gorgeous sitting there with his bare chiseled chest and tousled blond hair. A woman could sure get a thrill running her hands over all that sinewy muscle.

Brooke slapped the thoughts out of her brain. For goodness’ sake, it wasn’t like she hadn’t seen a half-naked man before. Just not any who had the kind of sensual aura that made women take a second look. A third look…

What was it about him that made her feel all soggy inside? Why did she respond to his questionable comments when she had learned long ago not to react to anything with sexual undercurrents where patients were concerned? Where any man was concerned, for that matter.

Right now she didn’t care to dissect her reaction to Jared Granger. Right now she only had to help the man shave. And Lord help her, she hoped she survived it.

Three

The woman had great hands, and she had them on him.

With a cheerful smile, Brooke lathered Jared’s jaw with shaving cream, patting his cheeks like a kid having a fine time playing in the mud. But the way his body was reacting, she might as well have her great hands farther south.

Nope, he wasn’t dead. At least not all of him. Jared realized that the moment she’d started cutting away his beard. There was something innately intimate about a woman doing this to him. About Brooke Lewis doing this to him, he corrected. Who would’ve thought that something as elemental as getting a shave would be such a turn-on?

He shifted in his seat on that thought.

“Hold still,” she said. “I don’t want this all over me.”

Jared met Brooke’s gaze to find she was concentrating on getting the shaving cream in all the right places. Hell, at this rate, she’d be here until dawn. And he’d be a raving lunatic because, at the moment, her breasts were about level with his mouth. If he moved just a hair forward, he could plant his foamed-up face right into her knit-covered cleavage.

“Do you want to try it?”

Oh, yeah, he did. Thankfully she moved away before he could give everything over to impulse.

“I think you’ve done enough playing with the lotion,” he said. And it was playing on his nerve endings in a not too bad way, as well as other places.

She put the can of cream down on the table beside her and picked up the razor. “I meant do you want to try using this.”

“I already have. I nicked myself about fifty times the last time I gave it the old collegiate try.”

“Okay. Let’s see if we can figure this out.” After placing the razor back on the table, she removed the towel she’d draped over his chest, shook out the hair clippings onto a newspaper she’d placed on the floor, then bent forward again to reknot it at his neck. All the while, Jared considered what it would be like to grab her around the waist, pull her between his parted legs and plant a kiss on that sassy mouth of hers.

He damned his near loss of control. What was it about Brooke Lewis that had his imagination running helter-skelter? Because she’d treated him as though she understood his dilemma? Because she was a woman and readily available? He only wished that were the case. It was more complicated than that. She was more complicated than that.

“Okay, let’s get started.” Moving behind him, she grabbed up the razor and handed it over his shoulder.

“Let’s see what you can do with this.”

He curled the offending object, his recent nemesis, in his left fingers and stared into the mirror she’d set up on the table. He managed to shave his left cheek okay, and his jaw with only a slight nick. But when it came to his upper lip, no go. If he tried to use his right hand to manipulate his nose, his stiff fingers got in the way.

When he did give it a shot, the razor dropped onto his lap. They both reached for it at the same time.

“I’ve got it,” he said, rougher than he’d intended. But her hand was just inches away from dangerous territory. And one bad thing about going native—tough to hide your sins. His fingers weren’t the only thing that was stiff.

She cleared her throat. “I see what you mean about this being hard.”

That was the understatement of the millennium. “Yeah, it’s hard, all right.”

She moved to his side, a soft blush staining her fair cheeks. “So I’ll just help you this time, and hopefully you’ll get some more use out of those fingers in the near future. Then you can go back to doing it yourself.”

That wasn’t at all what he had in mind. “Ah, now, that’s no fun. Why would I want to do it myself when you could do a much better job?”

Her dark eyes narrowed. “Do I look like a slave to you?”

No, but she sure looked great with her hair curling around her face and her full lips trying hard not to smile. “Seems to me, Ms. Lewis, that since I’m in the chair with a cracked leg and a sorry hand, and you’re holding the razor, that pretty much makes me a slave to your whims.”

“Put your knees together,” she said.

Man, she had noticed. “Why?”

“So I can get to you better”

She was already getting to him. Really getting to him. After he complied, she stood in front of him again, this time straddling his legs stretched out before him, thankfully avoiding his cast. If she tripped, she’d end up on top of him, and God only knew what he would do then. Nothing that would be appropriate.

She tilted his head back to shave his neck up to his chin. “And what whims do you think I might be entertaining, Dr. Granger?”

“Cutting my throat?” He’d be cutting his own throat if he didn’t watch what he said from here on out. She might just turn tail and run.

This time she smiled as she swished the razor in the basin then brought it back to his chin. “I doubt I could do that with this thing, but you’ve just given me an idea. I planned to bring an electric razor when I came back. Instead, I’ll bring a straight razor. How’s that?”

“No need to use force. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do my damnedest to comply.” And whatever she needed, he’d willingly give it to her, even if it took all night.

Her blush deepened as if she’d read his mind. It made her all the more pretty. All the more tempting. “Right now just be still. We’re almost done here, then I need to go.”

Jared didn’t want to be still. He couldn’t be still. Not with her so close that he could experience her heat, smell her clean woman’s scent mixed with the smell of his shaving cream. Not when she had her long fingers framing his face while the steady brush of the razor over his beard kept time with his pounding pulse. Not when he had a bird’s-eye view of her white knit shirt pulled tight, revealing the outline of her bra and high round breasts.

“Okay, all done.” She stepped away from him and dropped the razor into the basin, then stood studying her handiwork. “Wow, you almost look civilized.”

Jared didn’t feel the least bit civilized. In fact, he felt untamed, wild with some deep-seated need to pull her into his lap, take the can of shaving cream and make good use of it in other, more interesting endeavors. Take that hellacious lab coat off her shoulders and see exactly what was underneath.

“Great,” he said to keep from groaning. “I’m glad I got through that relatively unscathed.” Relatively was the key word in this instance.

She braced one hand on her hip and tossed her curls away from her face with the other hand. “Admit it, Dr. Granger. I did a great job.”

He ran a hand over his jaw. “Yeah, you did a great job.”

“Thanks.” She grinned.

And Jared’s heart nearly came to a complete stop. Suddenly he didn’t want her to leave. He wanted her to stay, if only to enjoy her company and nothing more. But he wouldn’t ask that of her. Not tonight.

She picked up her bag while he struggled to get up from the chair. His butt was numb from sitting so long. Not that he’d run any races lately. But he had walked around the acreage some, when he wasn’t stretched out on the sofa watching sports on TV.

He followed her out the door and once on the porch, she turned to him. “I expect that when I return on Monday, I’ll find you’ve been doing your home therapy more often.”

He braced his crutch under his arm and gave her a less-than-enthusiastic left-handed salute. “You bet, captain.”

“And when I come back, I’m hoping that maybe you’ll have called your housekeeper to come clean some of the mess.”

“I’ll think about it. If you’ll do me another favor.”

She leaned one shoulder against the wall and sighed. “What is it this time? Clean your oven?”

He couldn’t contain his smile. “Nothing like that. Next time you come here, wear your street clothes. You’re in the country, and this is my home, not the hospital.”

She studied him a long moment. “Yeah, you’re absolutely right. This isn’t the hospital. I’ll be sure to wear jeans. How’s that?”

“Suits me fine.” He could just imagine Brooke in jeans, and that thought almost unraveled his slender thread of control.

She checked her watch. “It’s late. I better get going.”

He hadn’t even noticed the time. She’d made the hours pass quickly with her easy conversation and acerbic wit. And he still didn’t want her to go.

“You know, I should’ve had you come earlier so you wouldn’t be driving home in the dark,” he said to buy a few more minutes. “Why don’t you come at five next time?

“Okay. I’ll rearrange my schedule.”

He rested against the wall, facing her. “Do you want me to ride back into town with you?”

“Then how would you get back?”

“I wouldn’t have to come back. I could spend the night on your sofa.” Now why the hell had he said that?

She gave him a disparaging look. “Yeah, right. My sister is between apartments right now. She’s on my sofa.”

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