New Year Escapes. Leslie Kelly

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СКАЧАТЬ and down the flights of stairs in his house. Tonight he counted every single blasted one of them.

      There were twenty per floor. It felt like a hell of a lot more. The crutches didn’t help, which he already knew from his experience outside. And going down to his office hadn’t been a problem. He’d eased his way down by sliding carefully on the bannister. Not that he intended to tell Sophy that!

      She stayed behind him the whole way, wordlessly watching while he made the laborious climb. She never said a word, but he could sense her eyes on him.

      “Don’t feel you have to wait. Go right on up,” he said through his teeth.

      “No hurry,” she replied. “I don’t mind.”

      He did, but he wasn’t telling her that, either. So he just kept on going, aware as he did so that sweat was breaking out on the back of his neck and the palms of his hands. He hoped Sophy didn’t notice.

      He thought she might have, though, because when they got to the second floor, she said, “Would it help if you leaned on me?”

      “No, it would not.” Then, realizing he’d snapped, he gritted his teeth and added, “Thank you,” as lightly as he could.

      Not that he wouldn’t like to put an arm—hell, both arms!—around Sophy, but not now. Not this way. Not under these circumstances. He used the railing for support as he hobbled down the hall toward the next flight of the twenty thousand steps that would take him to his bedroom.

      “Maybe you should just spend the night here.” Sophy hovered behind him, sounding worried. “You could have this bed and—”

      “You offering to share it with me?”

      “No.”

      “Didn’t think so. I’m fine.” He wasn’t going to admit he couldn’t make it because, damn it, he could make it. He took the first step. Only nineteen thousand more to go.

      In the end it probably didn’t take him as long as he thought it had. All George knew was that his bed had never looked so good.

      Sophy had darted around him as he’d reached the door to his room, going in ahead of him and turning down the duvet and plumping the pillows. By the time she’d finished and stepped back, he was able to ease himself down onto the mattress, all the while trying not to make it look as welcome as it was.

      “Shirt,” Sophy said before he could lie down.

      He stared up at her and blinked. She was holding out a hand expectantly.

      “You can’t sleep in your clothes,” she said patiently.

      Of course he could. He’d done it often enough after working far into the night. But Sophy was having none of it. She knelt between his legs and unbuttoned his shirt as if he were four years old. Then she stood again and gently eased it off his shoulder, making sure she didn’t hurt it any more than he’d already done hauling himself up three flights of stairs.

      “Lie down,” she directed.

      “I thought you said I couldn’t sleep in my clothes.”

      “You won’t be.” She put a hand against his chest and gave him a soft push so that he lay back against the pillows. Then she lifted his legs onto the bed and took off the orthopedic boot, his single shoe and his sock. Then she started to unbuckle his belt.

      He suddenly took a much greater interest in the proceedings.

      “Don’t,” Sophy said briskly, “think this is going anywhere.”

      With the disinterested efficiency of a hospital nurse, she made quick work of the belt buckle, the button and the zip.

      “Lift,” she commanded. And he barely had time to react before she was dragging his khakis over his hips and down his legs. She gave the duvet a shake and spread it over him, then stepped back. “There,” she said, sounding satisfied. “I’ll get you a glass of water. You can take one of those pills Sam sent, then you can get some sleep.”

      She disappeared briefly into the bathroom and returned with a glass of water and the requisite pill, which she handed to him.

      “What’s it for?”

      “Pain.”

      “You didn’t think to give it to me before I climbed three flights of stairs?”

      “You could have asked for it,” she told him. “If I’d offered, you’d have said no, wouldn’t you?”

      He frowned and didn’t reply because, damn it, she was probably right.

      Sophy grinned at him. “I thought so. You wanted to impress on me how tough you were. Besides, it might have made you dopey and I thought you would probably need all your strength to get up here.”

      “I could’ve slept on the couch,” he pointed out grumpily.

      “But your bed is much more comfortable.”

      He raised a brow. “You know that, do you?”

      Sophy’s cheeks reddened. “I’m speaking generically,” she told him primly. “Beds are generally thought to be more comfortable than couches.”

      “Ah.” He shifted his shoulders against the pillow. It was true. He shut his eyes and felt like he didn’t quite want to open them again.

      “Go to sleep,” Sophy said, and for once made it sound more like a suggestion than a command. “Good night.”

      She started toward the door.

      “Sophy.”

      She turned. “What?”

      “Don’t I get a kiss good-night?”

      He was just trying to provoke her. Sophy knew that.

      Because she had stood there and watched as he’d battled his way up the stairs, not going away to let him do it alone. Because she’d kept her distance and her equilibrium—barely—while taking his shirt and trousers off. Because she had almost escaped with her sanity intact.

      But George wasn’t going to let that happen.

      “What?” she countered. “And raise your blood pressure? Sam wouldn’t approve.”

      If anything was designed to raise his blood pressure, apparently mention of Sam was it.

      The faint teasing grin instantly evaporated. George’s bandaged head dropped back against the pillows and he stared at the ceiling.

      “And God knows, we wouldn’t want to do that,” he said bitterly.

      She stared at him surprised. Sam wouldn’t approve. But she meant Sam in his neurologist suit. That Sam would not want his patient overdoing things. A kiss might not exactly qualify as “hot sex,” but after three flights of stairs, who knew what George’s blood pressure might be.

      George, however, didn’t seem to СКАЧАТЬ