The Thunderbolt - Lori Wilde Page 0,21
to keep from moaning her pleasure.
Oh! When would he finish this exquisite torture?
At last his fingers curled around the top of her stocking, and he inched it down, past her thighs, over her knees, then carefully eased it off her ankle. He repeated the process with the second stocking.
He rolled the stockings into tidy balls and dropped them on the floor beside CeeCee’s shoes. Afterward, he took a third pillow and slid it under her right foot.
“Try to keep your ankle elevated. I’ll bring an ice pack along with the tea. Although by the size of that ankle, we might already be too late to reduce the swelling. Do you have frozen veggies in your freezer?
Lacy nodded, too overcome by the tender way he cared for her to even speak.
Don’t take it personally, Lacy. He’s a doctor. He’s supposed to take care of people. That’s what he does.
Bennett disappeared into her tiny kitchen, and she heard him opening cabinet doors, running water, turning on the microwave. She leaned back against the pillows, gritting her teeth against her aching ankle. Now that he wasn’t coaching her through visualization techniques and his comforting presence was several feet away, the pain attacked with a vengeance.
“Do you take milk or sugar?” he asked.
“Plain is fine, thanks.”
There came the sound of her sliding glass door opening.
“Hey,” Bennett said, “you’ve got a balcony.”
“Yes,” she called. “It’s what attracted me to this apartment.”
“And you’ve got an herb garden out here. Rosemary, dill, thyme.”
“How did you know what they are?” she asked, pleased and thrilled that he was so knowledgeable about plants. Lacy often dreamed of the day when she would have her own plot of land and could raise a real garden.
The microwave dinged, and a second later Bennett came into the room with a cup of hot water and a tea bag in one hand, a makeshift ice pack fashioned from frozen corn wrapped in a kitchen towel in the other hand.
“My grandmother,” he replied in answer to her earlier question. “She had a green thumb. Some of the happiest days of my life were spent puttering in the garden with her. Of course she had me convinced I was the world’s greatest weed puller.”
“Aww. I love that image of you helping your gran in the garden.”
He handed her the cup of hot water, then took a seat beside her on the sofa. Carefully, he applied the ice pack to her swollen ankle.
He looked downright boyish with that wide smile and his hair falling across his forehead. Lacy had a hankering to reach over and gently brush the errant lock aside. Instead, she focused on dunking the tea bag into the steaming water.
“I bet you were the world’s greatest weed puller.” She could see him now. Dark-haired and small, smiling at his grandmother, a handful of crabgrass clutched in his chubby palm. She caught her breath at the notion that someday she might have a miniature Bennett of her own, helping her in their garden.
“I smelled tomato plants when I was on the patio, but I didn’t see them. Where are they?” he asked. “There’s no mistaking that distinctive aroma.”
“Along the outside rail.” His interest in her garden tugged at her heartstrings. How could her feelings for him be wrong? A man who loved plants as much as she did? He had to be her thunderbolt.
“What kind of tomatoes?” He gently rotated her ankle. Lacy barely realized he was engaging her in conversation about the tomatoes so he could keep her mind occupied while he examined her ankle.
“Cherry and porter. My favorites.”
“Mine, too.”
“No kidding?”
“They’re both so sweet.” He paused, then added in a murmur, “just like you.”
Their eyes met.
Oh, heavens, she thought. He’s too wonderful. I’m going to ruin this somehow.
“When do you have the time to garden? I mean between nursing and your active night life.”
Lacy gulped and shrugged. She wanted to tell him the truth. That she didn’t go out often. That if it weren’t for CeeCee and Janet, all her spare time would be spent either at the hospital or puttering around her apartment.
Instead, she said, “The plants don’t take up much time.”
“Still,” he insisted. “Most of the driven career women I’ve known don’t have much time for anything else. I haven’t quite figured you out.”
He thought she was driven? Hmm. Lacy didn’t think of herself that way, but maybe she was. “What do you mean?”
He waved a hand at her skimpy dress. “You look like a sultry siren, and heaven knows you