The Ghost by Marks V.R

The Ghost by Marks V.R

Author:Marks, V.R. [Marks, V.R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: dpgroup.org, Fluffer Nutter
Amazon: B00M8MZVP2
Publisher: Getaway Reads
Published: 2014-07-28T04:00:00+00:00


Chapter Seven

After several slow laps of the ocean-side properties ranging from stilted houses for rent to elaborate, high-rise resorts, Drew ignored Laura’s advice and chose an expensive place with a private slice of the beach.

She’d called it a waste of money, he considered it an investment. Regardless of their differing opinions, Mr. and Mrs. Ketterly had rushed the front desk in a wave of giddy happiness and been given a romantic suite on an upper floor through the weekend.

After insisting on helping carry things from the car, despite the ankle, now she stood at the balcony rail watching the gentle Atlantic tide roll in. She was a beauty under the conservative pantsuit and Army regulations. His fingers itched to touch the silk of her hair. Holding her body close to his, along with that quick kiss in the parking lot had whetted his appetite for more. Not for any woman, as it should have been, but specifically for her.

He could wonder about the absurdity of that for hours. The woman was a puzzle, a challenge, and he liked both. But she was in pain, had been for too long. “Let me look at your ankle.”

“No thanks,” she replied without turning. “It’s a simple sprain.”

“Which you’ve let go untreated for hours.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder while the breeze played with her hair. “I’ll just get some ice and prop it up for a few minutes.”

Neither of them moved. He blocked the only exit, knew he should be a gentleman, but he wasn’t ready. Wasn’t ready to abandon the delightful picture she made out here. And he did owe her for not turning him in as she should have done.

“We can elevate it right here. Take a seat.” He shifted the chaise so she’d have a better view of the sunset over the ocean while he worked.

“You’ll get the ice?”

“I can.” But he wouldn’t. “Go on and sit down,” he repeated gently. “I learned a few things while I was… away. Just let me take a look.”

She eyed him as she settled into the chaise, stretched out her legs. “What kind of things?”

“Things that can relieve pain and promote healing if you’ll let me try. Comfortable?”

She gave a nod, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze.

He sat on the end of the chaise. Ignoring her attempt to scoot away and make more room, he lifted her injured foot and brought it to rest on his thigh. “Can I take all this off?”

“I’ll do it,” she started to move, but he stopped her.

“Relax, Laura.”

“You shouldn’t use my real name out here,” she scolded, barely above a whisper.

He only smiled, removing her shoe and then the ankle holster, handing both to her. “It’s a common enough name, Mrs. Ketterly.” Shutting his mouth and keeping his gaze on her foot, he tested the range of motion, let her body tell him what hurt most and where. She was right, it was a simple sprain and he was glad for it. A little attention, some rest, and she’d be nearly good as new by tomorrow.



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