Here I Am (Arabesque) - By Rochelle Alers Page 0,36
to think of anything but what she wanted to experience again with the man sitting in the wheelchair. Ciara was at odds with herself, because whenever she helped Brandt with his grooming, her touch was impersonal. Nude, he was her patient. Clothed, she wanted to make love to him.
Brandt felt a lump rising in his throat, not permitting him to swallow or speak. He’d tried imagining and fantasizing what his nurse would look like under her unflattering outfits, and he hadn’t come remotely close. Seeing her without the glasses made him aware of the exotic shape of her soft brown eyes. His gaze lingered on her mouth—a sweet, sexy mouth he wanted to taste over and over until gorged.
His gaze moved down to the black dress that fit her slender, curvy body as if it had been tailored expressly for her. It was when he stared at her long, shapely legs and slender feet in the black stilettos that he was glad to be sitting, because he doubted whether his knees would’ve held him upright. Not only was Ciara hot. She was downright sexy!
“What I wouldn’t give to be able to stand and walk right now.” His desire for her had slipped out un-bidden.
Ciara came closer, smiling. “Don’t rush it, sport. You’ll be walking before you know it.”
The lump in his throat fell to his stomach like a stone. She didn’t know how much he wanted to be able to get out of his wheelchair, wanted to pick her up and carry her to his bed, wanted to be inside her and make love to her until he passed out from ecstasy or exhaustion—whichever came first.
“You look so beautiful.”
Ciara felt a rush of heat in her face from the compliment. “Thank you.”
Brandt winked at her. “There’s no need to thank me for something I have nothing to do with. I just got a call from the lobby. My parents and sister are on their way up.”
She gestured to the door. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”
Opening the door, Brandt permitted Ciara to precede him, then followed. There was something to be said for ladies first, because it gave him the opportunity to stare at her long legs in the sexy heels. She slowed her pace, falling back to walk alongside of him in the wide hallway.
“Are you all right?”
He gave her sideling glance. “Yes. Why?”
“You’re breathing heavier.”
Brandt stopped. “You can hear my breathing?”
Ciara patted his shoulder. His light blue cotton golf shirt was an exact match for his luminous eyes. “It’s my eyes that are less than perfect, not my hearing. My mother used to tease me, saying I must be part bat because of my acute hearing. Now what’s up with the increase in respiration?”
“Maybe I’m looking forward to hanging out with my family.” Ciara gave him a look that said she didn’t believe him. He’d told only half the truth. He was looking forward to seeing his siblings again—his sister in particular. The real reason for the increase in his heart rate was he’d found his body unwilling to follow the dictates of his brain when it came to his sexy nurse.
It had become his custom since he was drafted into the NFL not to become too involved with women from early August until January. Those five months were what he called his dating merry-go-round—he would see a woman, and take her to dinner or a social event, but would not necessarily sleep with her. His focus was staying in top condition and being mentally prepared for every game. It was now mid-August, and although he wasn’t physically playing the game, his head was stuck in the off-season.
A soft chime indicated the elevator had arrived. Brandt maneuvered through the living and great rooms to see Fraser, Leona and Clarissa exiting the car. A flash of humor crossed his face. His sister looked as if she’d gained a few pounds, but it was still not enough for her not to appear emaciated.
He extended his arms. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
Clarissa Wainwright leaned over and pressed a kiss to her brother’s cheek. “Your girlfriend is beautiful,” she whispered in his ear.
Brandt smothered a laugh. Clarissa was under the assumption that Ciara was his girlfriend. Nothing was further from the truth even though a part of him had wanted it to be true. “I’d like to introduce my nurse and hostess for this evening.” Reaching for Ciara’s hand, he cradled it in his larger one. “This is my dad, Fraser Wainwright, and