Chapter 4
Chris looked at the slim gold watch on her wrist and groaned. Five-ten. She was late. She was tired. She was cranky. And she certainly didn’t have time for breakfast. She slung the gray sports bag over her shoulder and shuffled down the dark stairs. Ordinarily, Aunt Edna would be up making breakfast, but she’d overslept today, too. Chris shrugged into her vest and reached for the door-knob.
A large hand closed over her small one. “Making a hasty retreat?”
Chris turned and found herself squashed between the door and Ken. He smiled good morning and kissed her softly, as if she were a delicate treasure. He was right, she thought, he was a terrific kisser. She halfheartedly reminded herself that she was grouchy and didn’t want to be kissed…or talked to…or smiled at. She tried to look stern. “What are you doing up so early?”
“I want to watch you teach ice skating.”
Chris wrinkled her nose. “It’s five-ten. It’s dark out. The birds aren’t even up yet. Go back to bed.”
“Are you kidding? I even took a shower to do this.”
“Well, I don’t feel like having an audience today. I’m tired and grumpy…and I don’t want to be bothered by you.”
“Hmmmm, couldn’t you sleep last night?” His tone was mockingly innocent and maddeningly triumphant.
She tilted her nose up defiantly. “I slept fine after I had my cocoa.”
“I’m glad cocoa has such a soothing effect on you.” He nuzzled her hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. “I didn’t have any cocoa to soothe my frustration. I lay awake all night, thinking about you.”
Chris wound her arms around his neck and murmured in contentment. “Poor Ken.”
He chuckled softly and kissed her neck. “You’re so responsive. So nice to love.”
And dumb. And weak. And sappy. Had that been her voice murmuring “Poor Ken”? “Ugh! Get away from me.” Chris pushed him away, stamping her foot in frustration. “What is it about you that turns me into mush?”
Ken sucked in his breath as her boot accidentally came down on his bare foot. He stood absolutely still for a second, his right hand holding her arm in a viselike grip. He expelled his breath and closed his eyes. The expletive that escaped between his clenched teeth caused Chris to raise her eyebrows.
“You’d better not let Aunt Edna hear you say that. She’ll let you have it with the wooden spoon.”
He relaxed his hand, smoothed the fingerprints from the sleeve of her warm-up suit, and regarded her with calm fury. “You broke my toe.”
Chris looked down at the bloody gash and already swelling toe. “Why don’t you have shoes on?” she wailed.
“Because I can’t get shoes on by myself. Because you broke my damn arm. Because I haven’t had a chance to buy loafers, yet.”
Chris bit her lip. “Maybe it’s not broken?”
“I’m sure it’s broken. I’m getting good at recognizing broken bones.”
“Maybe we should put some ice on it.”
“I don’t want ice,” he ground out. “I want to go to the hospital.” He lowered himself gingerly onto a stair and held out a sock. “Just help me put this damn sock on…and this damn shoe. And then you can drive me to the damn hospital.”
Chris glared at him and tugged the sock onto his healthy foot. She slipped his running shoe on and tied the laces. “I don’t see what you’re so damn mad about. It isn’t as if it’s entirely my fault.”
“Not entirely your fault?” he sputtered. “Lady, you’re a fruitcake. I suppose you think I saw your boot coming down, and I slipped my toe underneath it on purpose.”
“You know perfectly well what I mean. You…you take advantage of me.”
“Well, you’re not going to have to worry about it anymore. I can’t afford to break any more body parts. At this rate, I’ll be a paraplegic by Friday. And God forbid what might happen if I ever got you into bed! A man would have to be crazy to take his clothes off anywhere near you.”
Chris grit her teeth and held his other sock out to him. “Do you want me to put this on you?”
“Don’t touch my foot!” he shouted. “Just get me a towel so I don’t bleed all over my truck.”
By the time she returned with the towel, he’d already hobbled out to the curb.
Chris stopped for a light and nervously cracked her knuckles. It had been a long, silent ride to the hospital. Ken slouched in the seat next to her, staring stonily straight ahead, his arms crossed in front of him. He hadn’t said a word since they’d left the house, and Chris was afraid to begin conversation. What on earth do you say to a man after you’ve broken his toe? And his arm. Glorioski, Mr. Callahan, I’m really sorry! Chris felt tears burning behind her eyes. Thank goodness for the darkness, she breathed. This is awful enough, I don’t need to have him see me crying. I don’t even know why I’m feeling such anguish over this whole silly episode. She blinked back the tears and decided it must be hormones. The man was hell on hormones.
She heard him rustle in the seat beside her, and knew with a sinking heart that he was watching her. His fingertips brushed across her cheek.
“What’s this for?”
Chris ignored the question. She turned into the hospital lot and cut the motor. “Would you rather I come in with you? Or should I wait here?”
“I’d rather you tell me why you’re crying.”
Chris stared miserably down at her warm-up jacket.
He reached over with his good arm and hauled her across the seat, onto his lap.
“Be careful! Your arm! Your toe!”
He kissed the tears on her cheek and nestled her into the crook of his arm. “Honey, when I’ve got you on my lap I can’t even feel my arm or my toe.”
Chris closed her eyes and buried her flushed face into his shoulder.
His lips feathered lingering kisses in her orange curls. “You like me, don’t you?” he said in a husky whisper that sent her heart tumbling in her chest.
She couldn’t speak. She was overwhelmed with a rush of conflicting emotions. She did like him. Even more horrible, she might be falling in love with him. How else to explain the lump that was becoming a permanent fixture in her throat? How else to explain the sense of dread-of impending doom-of unwanted, fingertip-tingling excitement? She nodded her head yes, and pressed her cheek against his chest.
“And you’re sorry you broke my toe?”
She nodded again.
“Is there anything else?”
Chris sighed. There were about a million other things, but none she wanted to say out loud. And nothing she could coherently explain when he was kissing her hair. Warm waves of desire were washing away sensible thought. She concluded that if she stayed in his arms for another thirty seconds she would lose all control and attack him, and they’d probably be arrested for doing X-rated things in a hospital parking lot. She took a deep breath and pushed herself from his lap. “I suppose I do like you, a little,” Chris admitted. “And I’m sorry about your toe, but I think we should keep this living arrangement strictly business.”
“Why?”
Chris squeezed her finely arched eyebrows together into a frown. “Because I’m not too happy about having a man in my house. And I definitely don’t want one in my life. I like my life just the way it is…was…before yesterday.”
He regarded her with open amusement. “What a load of baloney.”
“Unh!” she grunted. “You are the most exasperating man.” She threw her hands into the air in frustration. “Go get your blasted toe fixed.”
Ken looked at the stretch of cold macadam between the truck and the reception room. He looked down at his blue-and-purple bare foot partially wrapped in an apricot hand towel.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I wasn’t thinking.” She started the truck and drove to the emergency entrance where he got out and hobbled inside.
Chris parked and joined him at the front desk, where he was filling out a form. An inquisitive nurse leaned over
