"So what's your gripe?"
"Was I griping?"
"It sounded like griping."
"I don't care if you keep a harem in here to coddle and cuddle you. Just clear out all the broads when it's time for your therapy."
"One broad hardly constitutes a harem."
"One or fifty, during the sessions you're going to work like hell so we can get this over with and I can go home. You start walking, and I'm outta here. In the meantime, as long as Snow White doesn't stand in my way again, we'll get along fine."
"Snow White?"
"Never mind."
"Who am I, the prince?"
"You're Dopey."
"Well, it's easy to see who you are. You're Grumpy."
In character she said, "Your muscles and joints are stiff."
"Ouch! Stop that."
"Not a word about the pain, Cavanaugh. It's your own fault. You brought it on yourself by lying around doing nothing for two days. Now we have to regain the range of motion you'd reached before you decided to become a sluggard."
They had little to say to one another after that. Lilah didn't reduce the amount of his exercises, even though he had lost ground after two days of virtual inactivity.
"You can push harder than that, Adam." They were nearing the end of the session when she broke the silence with that sharp rebuke. Usually they joked their way through the most painful exercises, swapping insults and sexual innuendos. The silence was getting on her nerves. She felt it was necessary to reestablish a little of the camaraderie they had enjoyed before The Kiss, Lucretia's untimely arrival, and her realization that what she felt for Adam was more than professional concern. "I said push."
"I am, dammit." His teeth were already bared and his face was beaded with sweat.
"Harder."
"I can't."
"Yes, you can. Come on." He made a second effort. "Better. Good. A little harder, Adam. Higher."
"When a woman tells me to push harder and higher, I'm usually doing something much more fun."
Their eyes came together like magnets. Beneath the impact of his stare Lilah became as out of breath as he. She relaxed her resisting arms and lowered his foot to the table. "Compared to that, this isn't much fun, is it? Sorry that I can't give you a better time."
He held her stare, then gave a dismissive shrug. "It's not your fault I fell into that chasm."
Whenever he spoke of the accident, his expression became bleak and self-flagellating. Lilah was always moved to pity, knowing that he still grieved over the loss of his friends. "You've worked hard this afternoon and are due a reward."
"A massage?" he asked hopefully.
"With lotion."
"Great."
"Slip off your shorts and roll over."
He had trained himself to do that and did it very well. She complimented him as she draped him with a sheet. Feeling proud of himself, he stacked his hands beneath his cheek and watched her as she went into the bathroom. "You shocked Lucretia, you know."
"How?" She brought a damp cloth from the bathroom and began sponging his arms, legs, and back with it. After she'd blotted his skin dry, she coated her hands with unscented body lotion and began massaging it into the backs of his calves. He groaned with pleasure. His eyes closed. "Concentrate on relaxing the muscles now," she told him in a hypnotic voice. "Think about the muscles relaxing. What did Lucretia say about me?" She slipped that into the conversation casually, hoping he wouldn't pick up on her avid curiosity.
"She expected my physical therapist to have a beefy figure, blunt fingers, cropped hair. Starchy white uniform. Rubber-soled shoes. She didn't expect long legs in gym shorts, a mop of blond hair, and red toenails."
"If I'm allowed a vote, I definitely prefer the latter description over the former." She was working on the backs of his thighs and buttocks now. His sighs became deeper, more frequent, more sexual.
"Lilah, do you believe in reincarnation?"
"I'm not sure. Why?"
"Because I think I just figured out what you were in your former life."
"Oh, what?"
"I'm not sure you want to know."
She leaned down and poked his shoulder. His eyes opened. "Does my former occupation have anything to do with sins of the flesh?"
His eyes moved over her hair, which was covering his shoulder with abundant unruliness. "Strictly with sins of the flesh."
"Then I'm glad I was there."
"You're shameless," he mumbled, laughing and closing his eyes again.
Lilah liked the way his eyelashes curled against his cheeks. In fact, she liked everything about his face. She secretly admired it as her hands smoothed lotion over his back. She applied just the right amount of pressure to each muscle, alternately flexing and relaxing her fingers. To touch his skin was thrilling. His vitality could be felt in each sculpted muscle.
She got so lost in her task that she didn't hear Lucretia until the door closed behind her. Lilah hastily pulled the sheet up over Adam's naked back. "You'll have to come back later," she said testily. "We're not quite finished. I'm relaxing him."
"So I see." Despite what Lilah had just told her, Lucretia moved toward the mat table. "I have something that will relax him better than a massage. Martini, darling? Just the way you like it."
Adam propped himself up on his elbows and extended his hand to take the drink. "Thanks." He sipped. "Hmm. Perfect."
They smiled at each other, then looked at Lilah expectantly. Defensively she stood her ground. To Adam she said, "You'll need help getting back into your chair."
"Surely I can help him with that," Lucretia said smoothly.
Lilah silently consulted Adam. He was sipping his martini with a connoisseur's appreciation. She wanted to knock the glass out of his hand and wipe the silly grin off his face.
"All right." She headed for the door. "I'll see you before bedtime, Adam."
"That won't be necessary either," Lucretia told her in that modulated, Swiss-girls'-school voice Lilah had come to loathe. "I'll be sleeping in here with Adam. I'll be at his beck and call through the night. We'll alert you if you're needed. Otherwise Adam will see you tomorrow morning for his therapy session. Good evening, Miss Mason."
Lilah gave her patient a fulminating hook, then shammed out the door.
"What's that?"
"What does it look like?"
"It hooks like a set of parallel bars."
"Congratulations," Lilah told Adam. "You just answered the question correctly. As your prize, do you want the zirconium ring, the set of scratchproof cookwear, or the weekend getaway in the Ozarks?"
"You're a regular comedian."
"It was my sense of comic timing that earned me F's in citizenship." Lilah assembled the bars where she wanted them, then stood back and surveyed her handiwork. "There."
"What are they for?"
"Well, not for me to perform tricks on for your entertainment."
"Then, what?"
"They're for you to perform tricks on for my entertainment."
He looked shocked and frightened. "Isn't this premature? Why are you bringing them in here now?"
"Because it's time you started practicing walking on them."
"As I said, you're a regular comedian."
"I wasn't joking."
"Neither was I," he snapped. He was eyeing the contraption as though it were possessed of evil powers. "I can't do it."
"You can try."
"I'll make a damn fool of myself even trying."
She released a deep groan. "Save it, will ya, Cavanaugh? You say the same thing every time I introduce something new. The pulleys, the wheelchair, the mat table. I've heard it all before, and it's getting real old. Come on. Haul ass. Out of the bed and into the chair."
"Into the chair, fine. Even onto the mat table, fine. But don't expect me to stand on my own two feet. I can't."