Just One Night Together (Flatiron Five Fitness #3) - Deborah Cooke Page 0,10

She’d let him in. She’d chosen to trust him.

And Damon, as a man who understood the rare gift of trust, wasn’t going to betray it.

He respected vulnerability, especially when it was unusual for the person in question. She’d taken a chance, because she wanted to learn. Damon wasn’t going to poison that.

He admired it too much.

Damon was putting the empty water bottle on the counter—because he knew she’d recycle—when he saw the picture on the fridge. It was straight and perfectly centered, the only item on the fridge door.

The photograph featured a group of smiling people against a vivid blue sky. The bright sunlight and the silhouette of the hills behind them was all too familiar. They were in fatigues, young and healthy, perched on and around an armed personnel carrier that could only be in one place. Damon’s heart clenched tightly and he could almost taste the endless dust. They weren’t yet tanned or beaten down by the constant danger. There were red crosses on all of their gear.

Would he find Haley in the shot if he looked closer?

Or was it a friend in the photo? A lover?

Alive or dead?

It took a lot to avert his gaze when his curiosity was so strong.

He reminded himself that he had no right to be curious.

“No place like home,” she said, as if she felt the silence had stretched too long. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, thanks.” He glanced her way and saw that she was taut with uncertainty. He could put her at ease. He’d known nurses like her in Afghanistan. They survived on facts. “What do you know about massage?”

“That it’s been shown to reduce anxiety and stress, particularly for patients who’ve had cardiac surgery, and that it can decrease pain in a high percentage of patients with chronic or degenerative illnesses.” She might have been reciting a passage from a textbook or reading a research paper aloud.

“No academic citations?” he teased.

Haley straightened. “I can give them to you, if you like. The Mayo Clinic has done some studies and published results.” She turned to her bookshelf. “I have several references here...”

Damon stopped her with a fingertip on her shoulder. “I was teasing. You’re so serious.”

“Healing is serious.” She looked at him, then glanced away quickly. “Pain is serious.”

“Massage isn’t supposed to be work, though. If it’s going to be a job for you, then we don’t need to do this.”

“But I want to know. I want to help.” She took a deep breath. “That’s why I do what I do. It’s why I’m a nurse. I want to make a difference in patient care.”

Damon couldn’t help thinking about that picture on the fridge. Had she been unable to help once? Was that what drove her? “There are lots of patients other than my mom.”

“But she really responds to your massage. It’s amazing. I want to understand that so I can use the technique with other patients. It seems most sensible to start with an example that’s already working.” She swallowed. “That’s why I want to learn from you. You clearly know what you’re doing.”

She raised her gaze to his, her eyes wide. He wanted to gather her close and reassure her, but knew that move would have the opposite effect. Haley was used to fending for herself.

Damon really wanted to know why.

“You want to learn from someone who knows more than you?” he asked.

“Learn from the best,” she countered. “I’ve never seen results like your mom’s, and I’ve been looking.” She pursed her lips, thinking. “It’s possible that there’s an emotional component, because you’re her son, and that it might not be possible for anyone else to replicate the effect.”

Damon nodded. “I think you’re right in a way. I’m using more than the physical motions of massage.”

“Really?” Her eyes were bright with curiosity.

“Let’s start with what you do know.” Damon turned his back on her. He crossed his arms in front of himself and tugged his T-shirt over his head. He felt her looking and heard her sharp inhalation, but reminded himself that this wasn’t sexual. He didn’t have a sister, but he tried to think of Haley as one.

It didn’t work. He thought of her hair and wanted to see how it looked when it was free of that ponytail. He wanted to feel it would twine around his fingers. He thought of how curvy she was and how those breasts would feel pressed against him. He could guess how soft her skin was, and he wanted to