headed for the
bathroom. After she filled the basin full of warm water and grabbed a washcloth, she went back
out and set herself up on the bedside table on the left. As she wet the little towel and squeezed
off the excess, water chimed through the silent room.
She hesitated. Dipped the washcloth again. Squeezed.
Come on, now, you opened up his chest and went into him. You can do this. No problem.
Just think of him as the hood of a car, nothing but surface area.
«Okay.» Jane reached out, put the warm cloth to his upper arm, and the patient flinched. All over.
«Too hot?»
«No.»
«Then what's with the grimace?»
«Nothing.»
Under different circumstances she would have pressed, but she had her own problems. His bicep
was damn impressive, his tan skin revealing the very cords of the muscle. The same was true of
his heavy shoulder and the slope leading down to his pectoral. He was in sublime physical
condition, not an ounce of fat on him, lean as a Thoroughbred, muscular as a lion.
When she crossed the pads of his pecs, she paused at the scar on the left one. The circular mark
was embedded in the flesh, as if it had been pounded in.
«Why didn't this heal smoothly?» she asked.
«Salt.» He fidgeted as if encouraging her to get on with the bath. «Seals the wound.»
«So it was deliberate?»
«Yeah.»
She dipped the cloth in the water, wrung it out, and awkwardly leaned over him to reach his
other arm. When she drew the cloth downward, he pulled away. «Don't want you near that hand
of mine. Even if it's gloved.»
«Why is-«
«I'm not talking about it. So don't even ask.»
Okaaaay. «It nearly killed one of my nurses, you know.»
«I'm not surprised.» He glared at the glove. «I'd cut it off if I had the chance.»
«I wouldn't advise that.»
«Of course you wouldn't. You don't know what it's like to live with this nightmare on the end of
your arm-«
«No, I meant I'd have someone else do the cutting if I were you. You're more likely to get the job
done that way.»
There was a beat of silence; then the patient barked out a laugh. «Smart-ass.»
Jane hid the smile that popped up on her face by doing another dip/rinse routine. «Just rendering
a medical opinion.»
As she swept the washcloth down his stomach, laughter rippled through his chest and belly, his
muscles going rock-tight, then releasing. Through the terry cloth she could feel the warmth of his
body and sense the potency in his blood.
And suddenly he wasn't laughing anymore. She heard what sounded like a hiss come out of his
mouth, and his six-pack flexed, his lower body moving under the bedding.
«That knife wound feeling okay?» she asked.
As he made a noise that sounded like an unconvincing yes, she felt bad. She'd been so concerned
about his chest, she hadn't paid much attention to the stabbing issue. Lifting the bandage at his
side, she saw that he was fully healed, nothing but a faint pink line showing where he'd been
injured.
«I'm taking this off.» She peeled the white gauze free, folded it in half, and dropped it into the
wastepaper basket. «You're amazing, you know that? The healing you can do is just… yeah.»
While rerinsing the washcloth, she debated whether she wanted to head farther south. Like, way
south. Like… all the way south. The last thing she needed was more intimate knowledge about
how perfect his body was, but she wanted to finish the job… if only to prove to herself that he
was no different from any of her other patients.
She could do this.
Except when she went to move the covers lower, he grabbed the duvet and held it in place.
«Don't think you're going to want to go there.»
«It's nothing I haven't seen before.» When his lids dropped and he didn't reply, she said in a quiet
voice, «I operated on you, so I'm aware that you're partially castrated. I'm not a date, I'm a doctor.
I promise that I have no opinion about your body other than what it represents to me clinically.»
He winced before he could hide the reaction. «No opinion?»
«Just let me wash you. It's not a big deal.»
«Fine.» That diamond gaze narrowed. «Suit yourself.»
She pulled the sheets away. «There's nothing to be-«
Holy shit… ! The patient was fully erect. Massively erect. Lying straight up his lower belly,
stretching from his groin to above his navel, was a spectacular arousal.
«No big deal, remember?» he drawled.
«Ah…» She cleared her throat. «Well… I'm just going to keep going.»
«Fine with me.»
Trouble was, she couldn't precisely recall what she was supposed to be doing with the washcloth.
And she was staring. She
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