Gift Wrapped Dad. Sandra Steffen
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moved your leg!” she said from her position on the floor.
Featherlike laugh lines crinkled around his eyes, and a wondrous smile pulled at his mouth. Her instinctive reaction to him was powerful, nearly as powerful as the silent communication that passed between them. The shock of it ran through her body. Their gazes locked, and their breathing came in unison.
He reached for both her hands, slowly drawing her up toward him. Steadying herself against his chest, she spread her fingers wide across the expanse of strong muscles. His hand grazed her face, his fingers sliding into the hair near her ear. His eyes were half closed, his expression dreamily intimate. She breathed between parted lips, her eyelashes fluttering down the instant his lips touched hers.
The touch of his mouth on hers brought back so many feelings that tears moistened her eyelashes and a knot rose to her throat. He pulled her closer, his thighs straddling her, his arms wrapped snugly around her back, making her body respond in an achingly familiar way. For a moment, time stood still, and there was nothing in the world but this instant with this man.
Gradually, some thread of rationality filtered through her fragmented thoughts. Will was sitting in a hospital chair in a hospital room. Good heavens, he was her patient.
Krista jumped to her feet and spun around, pacing to the far side of the room. “That can’t happen again,” she cried, amazed to hear the huskiness in her own voice.
“I think it could.”
His deep, husky voice took her back to the old days, when kisses like the one they’d just shared had happened every day. Her memories calmed her in ways she hadn’t expected. This wasn’t the end of the world. Sure, she’d kissed a patient, but it hadn’t been just any patient. This was a man she’d once loved, a man who could still ignite her desire in three seconds or less.
Taking a deep breath, she tried again. “Let me rephrase my statement. That won’t happen again.”
“That isn’t going to be nearly as much fun.”
His simple reply brought her head up. The kiss they’d shared had been a natural, spontaneous reaction, just as the movement of Will’s foot had been a natural reaction to being tickled.
“You may be right,” she said, hating the way her voice caught on the last word. “But you’re my patient. And I don’t kiss patients.”
“Do you mean I’m the first patient you’ve ever kissed?”
“The first. And the last. I’m not like your Miss July. I’m not a package deal. I’ll be your physical therapist, but this time, our relationship will remain strictly professional.”
He seemed to digest her words, his gaze trailing down her body as he said, “That isn’t going to be easy. When you touch me, I find myself wanting to touch you back.”
His honesty was wreaking havoc with her senses. She hoped he didn’t notice the quaver in her voice as she said, “I have to touch you. I have to help you get those muscles to move. You can touch me back, Will. As long as you remain friendly and professional.”
He was looking at his left leg, which allowed her a moment to study him unobserved. He was wearing baggy gray sweatpants and a New York Titans T-shirt. She knew his legs were weak from his spinal injury, but they didn’t look it. His upper body was powerfully muscular, his chest and shoulders broad. A vein ran up his forearm, only to disappear inside the sleeve of his shirt.
The bruising to his spinal column had been traumatic, but Will hadn’t sat around sulking. A person didn’t acquire this kind of muscle tone that way. Yesterday he’d told her he’d come to her because she was the only person who could make him reach for the stars. Now Krista realized that wasn’t true. With or without her, he’d always reached for the stars.
The Will she’d known back in college had been on the wild side, but even then he’d been completely motivated. He’d run track to increase his speed and stamina and practiced his swing, his throw and his slide. He’d never been the kind of man who enjoyed inactivity. This type of injury was terrifying to everyone, but to a man like Will, it must have been ten times worse. Krista eyed his crutches and leg braces lying next to his chair, her admiration growing. He hadn’t taken it sitting down, at least not for long.
Trying for a friendly yet professional tone of voice, she said, “We used to touch each other a lot, and old habits die hard. But I’m your physical therapist now, and you’re my patient. I think we need to establish some ground rules, things that are safe, and things that are off limits. Kissing me is off limits.”
He started to speak, but she interrupted. “Don’t look so stricken. I’ve sworn off all men, not just you.”
With that, she strode to the wall and grasped the handles on a lightweight wheelchair. “Come on,” she said, pushing the chair toward him. “Let’s take a ride down to the patient exercise room. You still have an hour of time left this morning. Let’s put it to good use.”
Will eyed the gray chair dazedly. He was aware that it was there, but his mind couldn’t seem to get past the fact that Krista had just told him she’d sworn off men. All men.
He’d known his share of women, but he’d never met anyone who was more sensuous than Krista. Back in college, she’d been as ravenous as he was. Sometimes, she’d been embarrassed about her earthy murmurs and sighs, her automatic reactions and responses to their lovemaking. He used to love to kiss her embarrassment away, to make her forget the inhibitions instilled in her by that prissy family of hers, to take her to the brink of completion, then watch her soar. He never would have imagined that a healthy, vibrant, sexy woman like Krista would swear off men. Not in a million years. But then, he never would have imagined nearly dying in a car accident three months ago, either, or perhaps never being able to walk again.
Eyeing the wheelchair, he said, “I spent the worst two months of my life trying to get out of one of those contraptions and now you want me to get back in?”
She shrugged in an offhand way and said, “I thought you were here to learn to walk again, but if you want to take the time to get into your leg braces so that you don’t have to ride in a wheelchair, suit yourself.”
He stared at her for a silence-filled moment, then grasped the chair’s armrest. “I hate it when you’re right.”
“I know,” she said as she leaned down to set the brake.
Her breast brushed against his forearm, the hair on his arm standing up at the brief contact. Slowly, his eyes moved upward, coming to rest on her face. Since Krista wasn’t very tall, it wasn’t a far climb, but it sure was a pleasant one. Will sucked in a quick breath as the intensity of her gaze hit him between the eyes. He’d reacted to her this way before, lots of times. He hadn’t seen or talked to her in eight years, but he hadn’t forgotten her. He was honest enough to know that he’d experienced some of the best sex of his life when Krista had been in his arms. Fleetingly, he wondered how he’d ever managed to leave her all those years ago.
Thoughts crystallized in his mind as he recalled a comment she’d made when he’d first seen her yesterday. I don’t remember receiving any letters from you eight years ago.
She’d only been twenty-one years old back then, but she’d loved him the way a woman loves a man. He’d loved her, too, he supposed. But he’d been a young twenty-two, his sights set on the major leagues, not on the woman with an unfailing spirit and unfathomable brown eyes.
Will grasped the other armrest and levered himself into the wheelchair. She bent to release the brake, her clean scent filling his nostrils. Before she straightened, he asked, “Did you swear off men because of me, Krista?”
The chair’s brake let go just as her breath pierced the silence in the room. For a moment she remained at eye level. Her eyebrows were arched and her voice was clipped as she said, “Don’t flatter yourself, Will.”
She straightened, pulling the chair back with more force than might have been necessary. Will let out a loud whoop