Six-Week Marriage Miracle. Jessica Matthews

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СКАЧАТЬ as long as a deadbolt guarded their privacy, they’d been happy.

      Unfortunately, they didn’t have a locked door and Gabe had become a celebrity, which meant privacy was impossible. Although those details didn’t present an insurmountable problem, making love at this point implied that their personal life was fine and dandy.

      And it wasn’t.

      “Not a good idea,” she pointed out.

      “Why not?”

      “You mean, other than that you’re barely able to stand?”

      “Yeah.”

      “This place will be like Grand Central Station before long,” she reminded him. “Everyone wants to drop by and give you a personal welcome.”

      “They can wait. Besides, people will understand if we have a quiet, intimate reunion. They’re probably expecting it, which means no one will interrupt us unless there’s a fire.”

      The sad fact was he was probably right. Most people knew they were separated, but no one, other than Jane, knew the D-word had been floated between them. Everyone loved a happy ending, which meant everyone would speculate—if not hope—that Gabe’s return would be the turning point in their relationship. Perhaps under other circumstances, it would have been, but their differences were more deep-seated than a conversation or a few promises could fix.

      “They can expect all they want, but it isn’t going to happen.”

      His sigh was audible. “I suppose not, but I really would like you to wash my back. I can’t reach.”

      Instantly, she felt ashamed for not realizing how his bruised ribs and stiff shoulder made his request completely valid. Irritated at herself for jumping to the wrong conclusion, she shoved the curtain aside to see her dripping husband struggling to touch those hard-to-reach places.

      “Turn around,” she ordered, determined to handle her task with clinical detachment. Yet, as she ignored the spray of water on her scrub suit to run a soapy washcloth down his spine and over the lean muscles of his back before moving around to his front, her concern over what he’d endured grew. This wasn’t the body of the man she’d last seen a month ago. Oh, the birthmark in the small of his back was the same, as was the general shape of his torso, but while he’d once reminded her of a lean mountain lion with rock-hard muscles and sinew, now he resembled a starving wolf.

      “If you keep that up,” he said dryly, “our private reunion will be extremely one-sided.”

      Realizing she’d come dangerously close to an area of his body where she hadn’t intended to go, she froze.

      “Although,” he added softly, “there’s always later.”

      The promise in his voice sent an unexpected tingle through her body but, then, a mere glance, a simple touch, or a softly spoken word from Gabe had always carried enough power to melt her into a puddle. What truly surprised her was how she could respond so easily in spite of the issues that had driven them apart. Was she so starved for attention and affection that when he showered her with both, she would greedily accept it?

      Disliking what her response suggested, she dropped the washcloth over the handrail. “Rinse off. I’ll be waiting.” Suddenly realizing what she’d said, she clarified. “Outside. I’ll be waiting outside.”

      As he laughed, she flung the curtain closed and counted to twenty so Gabe could finish and she could recover her composure.

      “Time’s up,” she called.

      He didn’t respond.

      “Gabe?” she repeated. “Your time is up.”

      Still no answer.

      “Gabe?” Although she hadn’t heard a thump or other worrisome noise, his silence raised her concern. She flung back the curtain once again to find him leaning against the tiled wall, his eyes closed, his dark hair dripping.

      “I knew it,” she scolded as she cranked the taps until the water stopped. “You’ve stayed in here too long. You’re about to fall on your face.”

      “Maybe, but being clean would be worth it.”

      CHAPTER THREE

      GABE hated feeling weak. For a man whose body had never failed him before, it was a humbling experience to be at less than peak condition. However, if his injuries convinced Leah to give him another chance, he wouldn’t complain too loudly.

      Although, in spite of his aches and pains, he’d been relieved to discover one part of his body still worked quite well. If he hadn’t stopped her from toweling him off like a child, he would have needed a second shower—an ice-cold one.

      “I don’t suppose I can wear a scrub suit instead of that,” he said, eyeing the hospital gown she held out.

      “We’d never be able to take care of your leg if you were wearing trousers.”

      “I could wear a pair of athletic shorts.”

      “You could,” she agreed, “but a pair isn’t available at the moment. You’re stuck with this for now.”

      “You could cut off the legs and turn the pants into shorts,” he coaxed.

      “If you were going to stay a few days, I would, but I suspect you’re not, so I won’t. Now, stop arguing.” She tied the string at the back of his neck then guided him to the nearby bed.

      He sank gratefully onto the mattress before he rubbed his face. “Did you bring a razor?”

      “Not this trip. Count your blessings for the toothbrush I found. Would you like to sit or lie down?”

      “Sit.”

      She immediately adjusted the bed to accommodate his wishes then pulled the sheet over his good leg, leaving his injured extremity uncovered while she fluffed his pillows. “We’ll tackle the beard later. You’ve done enough for the moment.”

      He hated to admit she was right, but although his spirit was willing, his flesh was weak. He’d been functioning on adrenalin for too long. Now that he’d enjoyed a hot shower, although a much shorter one than he would have liked, he’d crash soon. With any luck, after a rejuvenating nap, his IV would have run its course and he could convince Leah to drive him home, where he’d deal with the proverbial elephant in the room.

      “Maybe,” he conceded, fighting to keep his eyes open. “But the beard has to go. It itches.”

      “We’ll get to it,” she promised, “but first things first.” She reattached his IV tubing to the port just above his wrist before he recognized his surroundings.

      Suspicion flared. Patients weren’t shown to a regular room if they were leaving the hospital in a few hours. “What am I doing here?”

      “Jeff ordered IV fluids and antibiotics. Remember?”

      “I know that,” he snapped. “Why am I here, instead of back in СКАЧАТЬ