"Thank you, Marcus Welby. Now, will you get your tush out of here and leave me in peace?"
"Sure. I'm exhausted."
"Take all that junk with you." He nodded toward the metal trolley Pete had rolled in earlier.
"What, that?" Lilah asked innocently. "That stays. We'll need it tomorrow."
She removed the gym towel and re-covered him with the sheet. As she was bending over him to straighten it, he caught her forearms. His fingers and hands had seemingly suffered no loss of muscle control, flexibility, or strength. His grip was surprisingly hard.
"You want me to feel something?" he asked silkily. "Then why don't you do the physical therapy you do best?"
"Which is?"
The smile that had caused hearts all over the world to patter spread across his lips. He dropped one eyelid in a suggestive wink. "Come on, Lilah. Hot little tart that you are, I'm sure you can think of something that would be good for me, a trick guaranteed to raise even a dead man. Why don't you straddle my lap and see the extent of range you get."
"Let me go."
He didn't. Instead he gripped her arms tighter and drew her down closer to him. "I've been lying here watching you sashay back and forth like you owned the place. I've listened to your irritating, nonsensical chatter till I'm sick of it. That smart mouth of yours is bound to be good for something besides making wisecracks. Let's see just how good you are at your job."
He yanked her down and kissed her hard. His tongue speared through her lips and plumbed her mouth with sleek, expert precision. He slid one hand around the back of her neck while his other moved to her breast. He kneaded it through the strapless bodice of the sarong, then pushed his hand inside and rubbed his fingertips back and forth across her nipple.
Lilah wrested herself free and backed out of his reach. She pulled her dress back into place and shook her hair over her shoulders as she squared them. Her mouth was wet and red from his kiss. She licked her lower lip. It felt swollen and bruised. And it tasted wonderful.
That unnerved her more than anything.
"It's going to take more than lewd propositions to scare me off, Mr Cavanaugh. That kind of behavior is juvenile and unoriginal. It's characteristic of a healthy man who suffers an accident like yours to become an abusive sexist only to prove to himself that he's still a man. Be as disgusting and decadent as you want. It'll reflect on your character, not mine."
Furiously, he pounded the mattress with his fists. "Why'd they send you? You? I mean — dear God! — you top the list of people I would least rather have around."
"Vice versa, pal, but for as long as it takes, you're stuck with me."
"When this is all over," he said in a voice so menacing it sounded like a growl, "I'll personally kick you out of my house and back to the mainland."
Lilah's eyes twinkled. "I thought you said you'd always be a useless lump." She laughed at his whey-faced expression when he realized he had trapped himself. "Look at it this way. Kicking me back to the mainland will give you something to work toward. Nighty-night, Ace."
Chapter 3
Adam's suggestion hadn't been all that unappealing. That bothered her. When he had invited her to straddle his lap, the idea had struck her as being erotic rather than crude.
Male patients commonly made obscene remarks and propositions as a means of venting their frustration. Ordinarily she dismissed the lewd comments with a chastising put-down or a flippant joke seconds after they were uttered. Yet, almost ten hours later, Adam's words were still echoing through her mind. Disturbing.
Not only disturbing, but farfetched. How could a man who couldn't even move, move her?
Why did it seem that all her senses were more finely tuned this morning? Perhaps it was the tropical setting. Bali Ha'i didn't hold a candle to Cavanaugh's mountain retreat. The landscape was gorgeous, the colors vivid, the climate balmy, the air perfumed with the heady fragrance of Polynesian blossoms. The house was an architectural triumph that maximized the vistas beyond its stucco walls and enormous windows. The decor was harmonious but eclectic, reflecting Adam's variety of interests and tastes.
Luxurious as they were though, Lilah didn't think her surroundings were solely responsible for her sensual awareness. On the other hand, it was untenable to think that Adam Cavanaugh might be.
She didn't like him. Not at all. When Elizabeth had first expressed an interest in him, Lilah had warned her about such smooth operators. He was accustomed to ordering "Jump!" and a whole corps of subordinates would jump. Not only his bankroll, but his natural charm and Hollywood good looks had lured scores of cosmopolitan women to his side. He was a playboy. His newsworthy romantic liaisons were enough to make Lilah snicker with contempt. Men like Adam Cavanaugh had certainly never held any appeal for her.
Granted, Adam did have a few virtues to his credit. He generously supported numerous charities. He'd acted as knight in shining armor to Elizabeth by personally financing the expansion of her Fantasy shops. Without his assistance Elizabeth would have never ventured into such risky but potentially rewarding waters.
Aside from that, however, Lilah had always been suspicious of him. As she had told Elizabeth, she mistrusted anyone as polished as he. He must have a personality flaw that was as ruinous as a deep fault in a seemingly perfect diamond.
So why did her stomach go all aquiver whenever she thought about his kiss? When she had whipped that sheet back, she had wanted to impress him with how blasé she was toward the nude male body. Well, her plan had backfired. It turned out that she was the one who had been impressed. And in the wrong way.
Through the night she had gone into room at two-hour intervals to turn him. The first time her efforts had been met with vile cursing and name-calling. She had ignored it and forced him onto his side. "Comfy?"
"Go to hell."
"Good night."
"Go to hell."
The next time her alarm went off and she stumbled into his room, he was moaning in his sleep. "Adam?" she asked softly. She rolled him to his back. There were tears on his cheeks.
"Pierre?" he called fretfully. "Alex? Answer me. God, no! I can't find them. Why aren't they saying anything?"
She turned him to his other side, adjusted the sheet, and withdrew without his ever awakening from his nightmare. She didn't leave until his tortured monologue had ceased and his breathing had become regular. He slept, or pretended to sleep, through the other times she had turned him. Each time she touched his warm skin she experienced a sensation, not unlike light-headedness, in her lower abdomen.
Crazy. For her to get jelly-kneed over any man. But Adam Cavanaugh? Crazy.
Pulling on white shorts and a white T-shirt with a huge red hibiscus flower silk-screened on the front, she left her bedroom. "God bless you, Pete," she told him when she entered the kitchen and her nose picked up the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Grinning from ear to ear, he poured her a cup and passed it to her. She shook her head at his offer of cream and sugar and sipping at the steaming coffee, sat down at the bar.
"Ham, eggs, pancakes?" he asked.
"No, thanks. The fruit looks good." He'd been arranging slices of mango, papaya, and pineapple on a platter when she came in. "And a slice of wheat toast, please. Any word from upstairs?"
"Use bedpan. Say, 'I don't rike pee in pan no more.'"
Lilah laughed while she ate her light breakfast. "Good. Maybe that'll inspire him to get into a wheelchair so he can use the bathroom." She dusted toast crumbs off her hands. "Thanks for the breakfast. Time to attack. Is his tray ready?" She declined Pete's assistance and carried the tray up herself. Knocking once, she immediately pushed open the door.