Michael's Discovery - By Sherryl Woods Page 0,14
he said as he awkwardly tried to manipulate the chair into the foyer. “I had to go out. I thought I’d be back before you got here, but everything took longer than I expected.”
Kelly stared at him. “You went out?” she said blankly. Where? How? She resisted the urge to ask questions he would no doubt find intrusive, if not downright insulting.
“To the store,” he said, holding up two small plastic bags crammed with groceries. He looked astonishingly pleased with himself.
“How did you manage?” she asked. “Did you call a taxi?”
“Of course not. The store’s only a few blocks away.”
Her incredulity grew. “You went in your wheelchair?”
“I sure as hell didn’t walk,” he retorted, his good mood evaporating.
Kelly immediately felt guilty for spoiling his moment of triumph. “Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting it. It’s terrific that you were able to manage on your own.”
His scowl stayed firmly in place. “You’re not out of a job just yet, if that’s what’s worrying you.”
“No, of course not. You caught me off guard, that’s all.” She gestured toward the apartment. “And I was worried when you didn’t answer the door.”
“Well, I’m here now, and that clock of yours is no doubt ticking, so let’s get started.”
Filled with regret about the tension she’d managed to cause, she merely nodded and stepped aside. “Go on in. I’ll be right behind you.”
He wheeled past without comment. Kelly leaned against the wall for a second and drew in a deep breath. Why was it that she couldn’t manage to have one single encounter with this man without some sort of misunderstanding? She’d never had problems making herself clear before, but Michael managed to keep her off-kilter and tongue-tied. When she finally did speak, everything kept coming out wrong. Sure, he was understandably prickly, but she seemed to have a special knack for setting him off.
Determined not to let it happen again, she squared her shoulders and carried her equipment inside. While Michael was putting his groceries away, she got set up.
A few minutes later he came into the living room wearing a pair of boxers, a T-shirt and a frown. He gestured toward the massage table.
“Are we starting with that again?”
Kelly nodded.
He struggled awkwardly from the chair to the table, then stretched out facedown. Kelly put some of her aromatic oil on his injured leg and began to massage, trying to ignore the body heat the man put out. If she were ever stranded outdoors in a blizzard, Michael was definitely the man she’d want with her. He emitted heat like a blast furnace.
His muscles were also knotted with tension, probably due in part to her. She smoothed her hands over his powerful thigh and down the length of his calf until she finally felt the tension begin to ease.
The massage probably went on longer than necessary because she enjoyed touching him so much, enjoyed the fact that for once they weren’t at odds, enjoyed even more the soft sigh of pleasure that eased through him.
It was the sigh, though, that snapped her back to reality and reminded her that the massage was not about her enjoyment, or even his. It was therapy, a prelude to some of the stretching exercises she’d scheduled for today. Kelly had a feeling that one reason she’d put off getting to those was the knowledge that Michael was going to be indignant that she wasn’t assigning him anything more strenuous.
“Okay, that’s it,” she forced herself to say finally.
Michael sat up slowly and regarded her with confusion. “For the day? We’re finished?”
She smiled at his obvious dismay. “Not just yet. I have some stretching exercises for you to try. It’ll help with getting those torn muscles and ligaments back into shape.”
As she’d expected, he frowned.
“Stretching?” he asked disdainfully. “Come on, Kelly, can’t we move beyond that?”
She regarded him evenly. “You straighten that injured leg out and do ten leg lifts and we’ll reevaluate my plan.”
“Piece of cake,” he boasted.
“Okay, then, let’s see it,” she said, her arms folded across her chest as she stood back and waited.
She wasn’t the least bit surprised when he couldn’t get his leg to straighten completely. Nor when his first attempt to lift it in the air had sweat beading on his brow. He was wincing in obvious pain as he finally managed to raise the leg a scant three or four inches.
“Okay, you win,” he grumbled, scowling fiercely. “But nobody likes a know-it-all woman, you know.”
“I don’t need you to like me,” she said cheerfully. “I