The Housekeeper's Awakening. Sharon Kendrick
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thing you’ll be teaching me how to cut up my meat using a knife and fork. Or maybe even start spoon-feeding me.’
For Carly, it was the final straw. Coming on top of the insecurity she was feeling at having to stand in front of him, shivering half to death in an unflattering swimsuit, and the fact that she had been shoehorned into a role she didn’t want, something inside her flipped. She turned and glared at him. ‘Do you have to be quite so bad-tempered, when I’m only trying to help you?’
There was a pause as their eyes clashed in a fierce and silent battle. She felt herself tense to find herself caught in that intense black spotlight and she wondered what snapped insult he was about to come out with next. And then, unexpectedly, he sighed.
‘I know you are,’ he said. ‘It’s only frustration which is making me so unbearable. The aftermath of this damned accident has gone on for weeks and sometimes it feels as if it’s never going to end.’
‘Yes.’ She chewed on her bottom lip. ‘I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.’
He raised his brows. ‘Unless you’re about to tell me that I am pretty unbearable generally?’
Quickly, she glanced down at his bare feet, thinking how pale and perfect his toenails looked against the dark olive of his skin. ‘That isn’t for me to say.’
‘No instant denial, then, Carly?’ he mocked. ‘Leading me to conclude that I am unbearable?’
She lifted her head then and met the mocking challenge in his eyes. ‘You aren’t exactly known for your sweet and even temper,’ she said, and to her surprise he actually laughed as he lowered his powerful body into the pool.
‘No, I suppose I’m not. Come on, Carly—aren’t you coming in?’ he questioned, hitting the surface of the water with the flat of his hand so that an iridescent little plume of spray went showering upwards and fell in tiny droplets which gleamed against his dark skin. ‘Mary always did.’
I’ll bet she did, thought Carly as she slipped into the water beside him. Yet wasn’t she doing exactly what Mary had been guilty of doing? She was having some very inappropriate thoughts about her boss, only she was also being a bit of a hypocrite, because hadn’t she disapproved of the physiotherapist’s behaviour?
She waded further into the water and shivered as the cool water reached her tummy. Goosebumps iced over her skin and she felt the tips of her breasts hardening again, just as they’d done earlier.
In an attempt to conceal it, she leaned back against the tiled wall and splashed water over her arms. ‘You’re supposed to do ten lengths.’
‘I know I am, but I’m planning to do twenty.’
‘Do you think that’s wise?’
He gave her a hard smile. ‘Let’s find out, shall we?’
She watched as he struck out, making no concessions towards his injuries as he cleaved through the water like a golden-dark arrow. He swam with the same energy and determination which he applied to everything in life, but after twelve lengths she could see that he had grown pale and his mouth was tight with tension.
‘Stop now,’ she said, as he came up for air, his black hair plastered to his head like a seal. ‘For heaven’s sake—slow down, Luis. You’re not in some kind of race.’
But he was stubborn, of course he was, and for him life was a race. She wasn’t surprised when he shook his head and continued but when he’d finished, he was exhausted. Hauling his body out of the water, he propped his elbows onto the edge of the pool and rested his head on them, saying nothing until he had regained his breath.
At last he looked up at her, his eyes gleaming blackly from between wet, matted lashes. ‘How was that?’
‘You know exactly how it was. You did twenty lengths—double that recommended by the physiotherapist. You want praise for disobeying her instructions?’
‘Sí. I demand praise. Heaps of it piled high onto my head. So why don’t you wipe that disapproving look off your face for once, and tell me how good I am?’ His mouth curved into a provocative smile. ‘You know you want to.’
Carly stiffened as something unfamiliar prickled over her skin. Was he flirting with her? She stared at him, her eyes blinking. Surely not. Unless flirting was almost like a reflex action for him, a bit like a goldfish gasping for air if somebody tipped its bowl onto the floor. It’s just sweet-talk and it doesn’t mean anything, she told herself fiercely. So don’t act as if it does. ‘You probably overextended yourself, but, yes, you were good,’ she agreed grudgingly. ‘Actually, you were very good.’
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