Six-Week Marriage Miracle. Jessica Matthews
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Название: Six-Week Marriage Miracle
Автор: Jessica Matthews
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: Mills & Boon Medical
isbn: 9781472059932
isbn:
If that were only true.
“I’d get done faster if you scrubbed my back for me,” he added.
He sounded so hopeful and so like the old Gabe—the Gabe before their lives had drifted apart—that she flashed back to those happier times when they had shared a shower. The memory of the subsequent lovemaking burst into her head, but it was more than simple recall. She replayed how it had felt—from the sensation of his rough skin against hers, the tickle of his breath and his lips on sensitive areas, his clean, sandalwood scent teasing her nose.
His suggestion was so very tempting … especially when she reflected on their stolen moments during the early days of their relationship. In his position as a surgical resident and hers as a newly minted ED nurse, 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.”
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