When Hearts Collide - By James, Kendra Page 0,43
the nape of his neck. As a concession to the weather warm, he was bare-chested. Her gaze traveled down the matte of short wavy chest hairs until the cotton top-sheet concealed them.
Her imagination, though, didn’t stop at the sheet’s border, but traveled farther south, awakening a sensuality Molly had repressed for far too long, sparking an internal kiln until the room felt as hot and arid as an Arabian desert.
As if he too felt the heat, Pearce let out a strident sigh, and Molly was drawn back to his face. A solitary lock curled in the middle of his forehead, almost covering his left eye. Her hand stretched out to touch it. It was halfway there before she realized what she was doing and jerked her hand back.
She had almost touched him. She might have wakened him. What would he say if he knew his nurse was staring at him while he slept, having urges to stroke his hair, his body? This was her patient. Oh, but how she wished he weren’t.
Glancing at the antibiotic, she sighed with relief—empty. She disconnected the bag and dropped it in the garbage. The intimacy of the darkened room was doing strange things to her hormones. Thank heavens Pearce would be finished with the intravenous antibiotics in a couple of days and could go on oral ones. Sadly, it would mean the end of her nightly forays into his room. It might also put an end her mind’s uncontrolled wandering. But if it was a good thing, then why did she feel such a sense of loss?
Molly tiptoed out of the room as silently as she’d come in. The upside of oral antibiotics would be that she’d get a full night’s sleep. Unless Gracie woke her with one of her nightmare. But they seemed to be less frequent, and as soon as Molly held her for a few minutes, Gracie settled back into a peaceful sleep. Molly stifled a yawn as she slipped under the bedcovers. Her last conscious thought was of running her hands through silky black curls.
Pearce lingered at the window. A smile came to his lips as he watched Gracie and Molly playing tag on the lawn. She had such a way with the child and had drawn her out of her shell. He thought of her caring for his daughter—comforting her when she scraped her knee, reading her bedtime stories, giggling together over some game they were playing, coercing a smile out of her when she pouted. Molly would make a wonderful mother. He sidestepped the thought that she’d make Gracie a wonderful mother.
Molly came toward the house and Pearce had a sudden desire to get out of the confines of the wheelchair. He wanted to feel fresh air against his skin again, smell the outdoors, be in nature. Pearce called to her.
She approached the window, standing beside him where she could still keep an eye on Gracie. “Yes, Pearce?” She kept her smile professional.
“I don’t think I’ve told you often enough how grateful I am. I’m so glad you agreed to look after Gracie until I’m better. You’re amazing with her.” Pearce winked at her. “Despite being coerced into it.”
“It’s been an education. I’ve learned to do ponytails, braids, barrettes that stay in, and detangle hair without removing half her scalp. I’ve learned no gum before bed, and just a dollop of honey on the peanut butter.”
“Gracie has really taken to you.”
“She’s a wonderful child.”
His eyes misted over. “Yes, she is.” His hand reached out for her wrist, holding her there. “Molly?” He pulled her closer.
She saw the shimmer of passion, and the question it posed. Despite the desire burning in her own heart, it was a question she could not answer. She turned away. “Please, don’t. I can’t, you’re my patient.” Molly tried to pull away from his grip.
“Molly. Don’t push me away.”
“It wouldn’t be right.”
“This isn’t the hospital. I’m almost better. I won’t be your patient much longer.”
“But you are now.”
“I want you, Molly. I need you.”
She looked down, immediately aware of his cast-adjusted jeans, and the erection they loosely veiled. Jerking her gaze away, she pretended not to have noticed. Focus on professional matters. Pearce is your patient, and it’s your job to remember that, even if he can’t.
“You’ll be better soon, and I’ll be on my way.” She kept her tone terse.
Besides, I don’t want my heart broken by a man who can’t love me. You can never give me the love I want.