Wounded Heart by Lindsay McKenna

Author:Lindsay McKenna
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2015-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 6

Dan was the last patient of Cait’s day. The gym was empty. He knew that she was staying late to work him into her schedule so she could continue to get that knee of his to bend. Last week, she’d been true to her word—she’d driven him to her house and made him dinner.

He hadn’t gotten up the courage to ask her how she felt toward him. In the end, Dan felt like the world’s biggest coward. He could face a Taliban firefight, but he couldn’t face her. He was afraid of what Cait’s answer might be and it stopped him cold. He’d had all week to feel his way through his fear. He’d never let it stop him before and he’d finally, grimly, made the decision he was going to do something to show her exactly how he felt about her. It was time.

As Cait helped him stand, placing his left arm around her shoulders, he hobbled badly, leaning heavily on her to get to the torture chair, as he called it. Once there, he released her and slowly sank down into it. There was a thick blue plastic pad all around the chair. He’d fallen out of it once already. Others did, too, when stubborn joints were asked to flex more than they wanted to. Maybe the damned chair should have a seat belt on it, Dan thought with wry humor.

He watched as Cait came around to his right thigh. This was a favorite part for him, her hands on that angry-looking scar across his thigh. It was red and purple, the leather-like skin stretched and shiny. A thing of beauty it wasn’t, but he relaxed, allowing his arms to hang at his sides. She crouched down, her small, cool hands lightly positioned at the top of his thigh, above the surgery scar. He wore loose, almost knee-length swim trunks and just her touching him like she was doing right now aroused him.

“Mmm, this is not feeling as tight,” she murmured, pleased as she gently slid her hands on either side of the scar. “Does it feel a little more relaxed to you, Dan?”

“Hmm?”

Her hands halted on his thigh and she gave him a flat look. “Don’t drift off.”

“How can I help it?” he teased. “You touch me and I think I’m in heaven, Cait.”

“Well,” she grumbled good-naturedly, “in a minute you’re going to feel like you’re in hell.”

He managed a crooked grin, holding her shining green gaze. Today, her hair was in a long ponytail down between her shoulder blades. Those blue scrubs she was required to wear hid her assets from his eyes, unfortunately. “I always feel better when you’re touching me, sweetheart.” He’d decided to keep calling her that when it felt right, get her used to his personal attention.

Cait colored, feeling heat rush to her cheeks as she continued to assess the muscles of his thigh around the wound site. “You never called me that before you got wounded,” she challenged, holding his amused gaze.

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