Come Lie With Me - Linda Howard [46]
He sagged against the bars, panting, and Dione quickly brought the wheelchair over to him. He levered himself into it; he seldom needed her help moving himself around now, since he was so much stronger. She switched the whirlpool on and turned around to find that he’d been staring at her bottom as she bent over. Wondering how much she’d exposed in the unaccustomed dress, she flushed pink.
He gave her a wicked little smile, then grasped the pulley and swung himself over the pool, letting himself down expertly in the water. He sighed in relief as the pulsing water eased his tired, strained muscles.
“I didn’t expect you to be gone all day,” he said, closing his eyes wearily.
“I only shop once a year.” She lied without compunction. “When I shop, it’s an endurance event.”
“Who won, you or Serena?” he asked, smiling as he lay there, his eyes still closed.
“I think Serena did,” she groaned, stretching her tight muscles. “Shopping uses an entirely different set of muscles than weight lifting does.”
He opened one eye a slit and surveyed her. “Why not join me?” he invited. “As the old saying goes, ‘Come on in, the water’s fine.’”
It was tempting. She looked at the swirling water, then shook her head regretfully as she thought of the many things that she needed to do. She didn’t have time to relax in a whirlpool.
“Not tonight. By the way,” she added, changing the subject, “how did you talk Alberta into helping you with your exercises?”
“A mixture of charm and coercion,” he replied, grinning a little. His gaze slipped over the bodice of her dress; then he closed his eyes again and gave himself up to the bliss of the whirlpool.
Dione moved around the room, putting everything in place and preparing for the massage she’d give him when he left the whirlpool, but her actions were purely automatic. Their conversation had been casual, even trivial, but she sensed an entirely different mood under the cover of their words. He was looking at her, he was seeing her, as a woman, not a therapist. She was both frightened and exhilarated at her success, because she’d expected it to take much longer before she got his attention. The intent way he stared at her was sending messages that she wasn’t trained to interpret. As a therapist, she knew instinctively what her patient needed; as a woman, she was completely in the dark. She wasn’t even completely certain that he wasn’t staring at her with derision.
“All right, that’s enough,” he said huskily, breaking her train of thought. “I hope Alberta’s not going to hold a grudge against me, because I’m hungry. Do you think she’ll feed me?”
“Serena and I will let you have our scraps,” Dione offered generously, earning a wryly appreciative glance from him.
A few minutes later he lay on his stomach on the table with a towel draped over his hips, sighing in contentment as her strong fingers worked their magic on his flesh. He propped his chin on his folded arms, the look on his face both absent and absorbed, a man concentrating on his inner plans. “How long before I’ll be able to walk?” he asked.
Dione continued manipulating his legs as she considered the answer. “Do you mean until you take your first steps, or walk without aid?”
“The first steps.”
“I’ll take a stab and say six weeks, though that’s only a rough guess,” she warned him. “Don’t hold me to it. You could do it in four or five, or it could be two months. It really depends on how well I’ve planned your therapy program. If you push too hard and injure yourself, then it’ll take longer.”
“When will the pain ease?”
“When your muscles are accustomed to your weight and the mechanics of movement. Are your legs still numb?”
“Hell, no,” he growled feelingly. “I can tell when you’re touching me now. But after those cramps last night, I’m not certain I want to feel.”
“The price to pay,” she taunted gently, and slapped him on the bottom. “Time to turn over.”
“I like that dress,” he said when he was lying on