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BECAUSE OF YOU Chapter 11
Jen paused outside Shane’s door, and hesitated for a brief moment before knocking softly. Shane’s muffled voice came through the door and she pushed it open.
She didn’t know how he would receive her, but she wasn’t prepared for the glow in his eyes when his gaze landed on her. His entire expression softened, then instantly, the shields were back and he was the rock-hard Sergeant First Class Garrison again.
‘Hi,’ she said quietly as she stepped into the room.
He studied her without speaking for a long moment. Too long. Jen fought the urge to squirm beneath his scrutiny. She felt the makeup against her skin and wanted to scrub the new blush from her cheeks.
‘How are you feeling?’ She moved closer to the bed, and pulled his chart open. She was pretending to update herself on his status, but she really just needed something to do with her hands.
It had been a week since she’d shaved him. A week since his lips had hovered a breath from hers. A week since something deep and primitive had awoken in her, refusing to be ignored. She thought she’d imagined the intensity of her emotions. She’d been wrong.
‘You’ve been gone.’
She stopped short at the possessiveness of his tone. That dark and needy something shifted and stretched inside of her again. The kiss they’d shared had been a lifetime ago, but she suddenly felt the desire to do it again. So much for perspective.
‘You look different.’ His voice was low. Edgy.
Heat crawled up her neck. ‘Is that a compliment where you come from?’
She watched him flush, noting the lack of stubble lining his jaw and his newly shaved head. It made him look rough again, but no less appealing. Then she saw the electric shaver on the counter and suppressed a brief flicker of disappointment. Guess she wouldn’t need to shave him again, after all. She didn’t know what to do with the sharp regret that came with that thought.
He cleared his throat and rubbed his jaw. ‘Sorry. I, ah, was wondering where you’d been.’
She watched the way his free hand picked at his hospital gown, wanting to step closer to him. No matter how good it felt being in the same room as him, he was a patient, and she knew better. Even if he professed his undying love, she knew his feelings were all tangled up in gratitude. And she needed to be professional. She snorted softly. Yeah, right.
‘So, things are looking good. When’s the last time someone talked to you about your chart?’ she asked, looking up at him. A lot had changed in a week. There was some questionable bone setting in his left leg but his right leg was knitting together nicely.
His silence unnerved her. He sat back in the bed, simply watching her. His expression could have been carved from Kevlar, but for the vein bunching in his neck. His eyes were dark and searching and she felt exposed beneath his gaze.
‘I’m sorry.’ His words were quiet, barely audible.
She tipped her head and returned his scrutiny. ‘For what?’
‘Making you uncomfortable.’ He sniffed. ‘Contrary to popular belief and recent demonstrations, I don’t generally behave like an asshole.’
‘What are you apologizing for? Yelling when you first got here? Shane, that’s all part of this. You were in pain. Thank you but your apology isn’t necessary.’
‘That’s not what I’m apologizing for. I ran you off after last week. I didn’t mean to . . .’ He looked away and swallowed. ‘It’s nice seeing a friendly face. Other than Carponti.’
Jen couldn’t quite get her mouth to work. Her throat closed for a moment and she set the chart down. She smiled, letting some of the warmth his words inspired show through. ‘I wasn’t avoiding you, Shane. I was in San Antonio for training at the burn center.’
She’d never seen him truly embarrassed. Now she knew that there was nothing sexier than seeing this man blush. His tan skin turned a deep shade of pink as her words hung between them. She couldn’t resist the grin that broke through as she leaned on the edge of his bed. ‘It has to be hell on your ego thinking you almost kissed a girl and she didn’t come back for a week, huh?’
His lips parted a little as he tried to figure out what to say. She rested her palm against his forearm, felt the heat from his skin.
‘I wouldn’t avoid you, Shane.’ She cleared her throat, hiding the thought that avoiding him was exactly what she’d been doing this last week. A whole lot of good that had done her. She’d come straight back to the hospital to check on him. He shifted then, catching her hand and holding it to his chest. Beneath the cool cotton, she could feel his heart, strong and steady.
‘I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.’
‘That’s sweet of you to say,’ she whispered. The sensation of his palm against her skin sent heat spiraling through her belly.
‘I’m not sweet.’
‘Charming?’
‘No.’
‘How would you describe yourself then?’
‘Useless.’ He swallowed and looked away, dropping her hand abruptly. She instantly regretted teasing him. ‘Can we change the subject?’
‘Oh, Shane.’ The words were out before she could stop them and instantly, his anger was back. She shut him down before he could even launch. ‘You’re not.’
‘What would you know about being so friggin’ useless you can’t even wipe your own ass?’ His voice was a growl now. The quiet moment between them was gone, replaced by awkward insecurity and his own, glaring anger directed at just one person.
Himself.
She folded her arms against her chest, barely noticing that her scars didn’t pulse against her skin. ‘Well, since you brought it up, how would you like to get your cast off?’
* * *
He was getting his cast off.
Cold relief prickled across his skin. He’d had broken bones before. Hell, his right arm had been broken three other times in his life. With two arms, he could maneuver his Franken legs out of the bed. With two arms, he could go to the bathroom by himself. The first order of business would be getting that tube out of his dick. Immediately wouldn’t be soon enough.
Jen moved with practiced efficiency as she set the cast removal tools down on a tray near the bed. He enjoyed watching her. He would have to be dead not to appreciate the curve of her hips against her pale cotton scrubs.
She turned back to face him, pulling on her gloves. Shane felt the memory of the soft brush of her lips against his, the slide of her tongue in his mouth. He looked at her now, her smile all soft and sexy, and wished she would come close again. His new favorite smell was strawberries and vanilla.
Damn, he was pitiful.
‘Ready?’
Finally, he nodded. ‘Yeah.’
She squeezed his shoulder and fired up the saw. It was slow work as she ground the lines down his biceps then circled his elbow. The cast came away in pieces, upper arm first, followed by the lower. When she’d peeled away the last piece of plaster, Shane flexed his arm for the first time in weeks.
Back and forth. Up over his head. He threaded his fingers together and stretched as warmth spread inside him. His arm was stiff and sore. But whole. He made a fist, opened it again, his muscles stretching and protesting the now foreign movement. He felt weak. Weak but whole. It was a start.
He looked down at his two hands, turning them to look at the veins running beneath his skin. He felt like a new man with both arms free. Like some of the weight that had dragged his soul into the depths of depression was finally lifting. He looked up again and caught Jen watching him. Her gaze softened as heat unfurled in Shane’s belly.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘You should see your face.’
‘That bad?’ He tried to lighten things up. He tried to direct her attention anywhere but at him. Because try though he might, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was too good to be true. To finally have both hands free. To be able to take care of himself. To lose some of that damned dependence he’d been forced to live with.
It had to be a dream.
‘Shane?’
‘Hmm?’
‘You stink.’
He looked at her like she’d suddenly grown two heads. His sudden laugh surprised them both, most of all Shane. His breath caught in his throat. He went deathly still. ‘Are you volunteering to help me clean up?’
‘Don’t get excited,’ she said dryly. ‘It’s my job.’
‘Okay. Yeah.’ Excited wasn’t quite the right word, but he wasn’t about to correct her.
Jen moved around the room, setting things up for a sponge bath. As badly as he might want a shower, it wasn’t possible with all the pins in his legs. And the thought of her sliding her hands over his skin was damn tempting, too. Her fingers wet and warm slipping down his chest, across his shoulders. It was the stuff of fantasies.
Maybe if he hadn’t kissed her all those months ago, the thought of her touching him wouldn’t be such a big deal right now. Maybe if he didn’t know her taste, hadn’t felt her hand resting on his stomach as his lips traced hers, heat wouldn’t be trailing down his body and settling someplace very obvious. Until now, someone else had always taken care of that. Today, Jen gathered together the soap and towels. Today, Jen poured water into the basin. His body was tight with a new tension coiling through his blood.
Today, Jen was going to bathe him.
The thought was torture. Pure, blissful torture.
‘You’re going to need to take this off,’ she said, flicking her thumb over the hem of his T-shirt.
He didn’t answer. Shy was not a word he’d normally use to describe himself. But damned if he wanted to take his shirt off at this moment. Hell, he spent most of his time surrounded by men, half of whom went native when they were deployed or in the field. So why did the simple act of removing his shirt something he could now do by himself thanks to free hands and a stinted IV cause his mouth to go dry?
It was fear. Fear that he could say or do the wrong thing and crush this fragile thing growing between them.
He wanted to feel her fingers on his skin too badly to screw this up.
He lifted the shirt over his head, wincing as stiff muscles protested. She didn’t move for a long time. What was she seeing? The black tribal lines that were tattooed across his chest and down each arm? Or was she noticing the scars interwoven with those black lines, some of them fresh enough to still be red gashes in his flesh.
He waited, watching her watch him. Finally, he closed his eyes, needing to regain control of the riot inside of him.
It was a long moment before she moved. Her feet shuffled against the tile. Then he felt it. The tiny brush of her fingertip over the half-inch scar at the base of his belly button.
The scar where the docs had gone in and taken out the appendix that had damn near killed him. The more recent wounds that were still knitting together were larger. More raw. But her fingers found the old one, the one that she had found before.
He jumped at her touch and she yanked her hand away. He was faster, though, and he grabbed her hand in his. All at once the heat was gone from her eyes, replaced by something else he knew all too well. ‘Don’t. Don’t blame yourself for sending me.’
Her throat bobbed. ‘I could have kept you here. You would have been angry, but you would have been safe.’
He gripped her hand tighter. ‘And someone else would be sitting here instead. Someone who might have had kids who loved him or a wife who actually gave a damn about him. It’s better this way.’
She didn’t respond. Shane refused to release her hand. That simple human connection felt so right and it was the only thing anchoring him to this moment.
‘How can you say that?’
‘Because it’s true.’
‘It’s not true. You have a family, right?’
He snorted. ‘My mom’s an alcoholic who spends all her time in truck stops up in Kansas, and I have no clue who my father is.’
‘There are other people who care about you, Shane,’ she whispered.
‘Not really.’ He sniffed. ‘The one person who was supposed to care gave up, too. It’s better this way,’ he repeated, as though saying it again would make it true.
He waited for her to speak, but she didn’t. Instead, she reached for the sponge and Shane braced himself for the shock of cold water. The other nurses never managed to keep it warm, but when Jen dribbled the water over his newly released shoulder, he was surprised to find it not just warm, but hot.
A bath was a shameless excuse to have her hands on him. To feel her cool fingers running over his skin through the warm water.
He closed his eyes. Her fingers slid across his back and heat followed her gentle touch. She slipped the washcloth up his neck and he shivered.
‘Sorry. Thought the water was warmer than that.’ She hadn’t even started on his chest yet.
‘It’s fine,’ he managed, not wanting her to take her hands away for any reason.
She studied him quietly for a moment, then traced her hands down his chest, her fingers running over the maze of scars that marked his skin. Each one of them represented a failure. He hadn’t been quick enough to keep Zublow from dying on the battlefield. He’d been too arrogant to wait for air support before he tried to rescue Widget. He hadn’t pulled Ross from the kill zone fast enough. Somehow, the weight of those failures seemed a little less heavy as she ran her soapy hands over his skin.
She adjusted the bed and had him sit all the way forward so she could spread towels beneath him. She leaned across him, the heat from her body radiating into his, and dragged the warm, wet cloth down his jaw. He closed his eyes, enjoying the warm caress of her fingers on his skin. Bathing patients is a normal thing for a nurse to do. He clenched his fists, his lungs suddenly tight. He was jealous. Jealous that any other man had ever had her hands on him.
He captured her hand, rubbing her wet fingers between his. ‘Jen ‘
He didn’t care that she was a nurse and he, her patient. He wanted her. This beautiful, stubborn woman who touched him and made him feel like a man instead of an invalid. Her heart-shaped mouth was so close. Her lips parted.
Warm water dribbled down his chest, cooling as it slid over him. He stroked her palm, making small circles with his thumb. Her mouth drew him and held him mesmerized. Just one taste and he’d let her go.
Neither was prepared for the door to slam open like a cannon. Or to see Carponti staring at them like he’d just found Jimmy Hoffa’s body.
* * *
If Jen had ever wished she could disappear, now was that moment. Carponti’s grin was as wide as the Cheshire Cat’s. Had he walked in on anyone other than Jen herself, she might have laughed with him. Instead, she felt like a guilty teenager.
‘I’ll, ah, wait outside,’ Carponti said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. For the first time since Shane had known him, he didn’t slam the door.
It took Jen all of a hot second to realize that Shane still had her hand captured against his chest. She was starting to enjoy this habit he was developing. A little too much.
‘Shane ‘
‘Don’t pull away. Please.’
‘Then let go.’
She could feel his heartbeat beneath her palm. Strong and steady, she could imagine her cheek resting there instead. Just lying still and listening to his heartbeat. It was such a small desire.
She was hot and she was bothered and she needed to escape from Shane before she exploded.
‘Thank you. For everything.’ He looked like he wanted to say more, but she stopped him. She didn’t bother to fight the blush that crept up her cheeks.
‘It’s the least I can do.’ She smiled slightly. ‘Let go. Vic is outside waiting and you’re almost naked.’
He shook his head and refused to let her hand go free. ‘You’re amazing, you know that?’
‘That’s nice of you to say.’ The moment was gone. She looked at him now, and just saw a patient who was grateful to regain a little more of the life he’d had before he got hurt. She tugged her hand free and cleaned up the remnants of his bath.
* * *
She dreaded the thought of leaving the room and walking by Vic Carponti. She kept her head down when she finally did leave, and she refused to make eye contact when she passed him in the hallway. Her hand burned where it had rested against Shane’s chest. She balled her fist as though she could capture the memory of Shane’s heartbeat inside of it.
It took all of ten minutes for her cell phone to ring.
‘So I hear you gave the patient a happy ending to his bath?’ Nicole asked.
‘That was fast.’ Jen sighed. ‘Would it do me any good to lie?’
‘Nope.’
‘Well, I’ll say this, Carponti certainly has an active imagination.’
‘Ah, so something did happen. I knew it. Spill.’ The glee in Nicole’s voice was contagious. Not so much so that Jen wanted to actually have this conversation, but still.
‘Nothing happened. I took Shane’s cast off. He was a little overwhelmed to have both of his hands back.’
He had been more than overwhelmed. He’d been stunned into silence, and the way he’d looked at her, she’d have thought she’d conquered space instead of just cutting off his cast.
For that brief moment, Jen had forgotten about the scar slicing across her chest. For that brief moment, she’d felt desired and beautiful. She’d believed him when he told her she was amazing.
Reality had a way of crashing down on her, though of reminding her that Shane would be leaving the hospital one day. How likely was it that he’d want anything to do with her after that? He’d probably just find someone else.
‘Nicole, will you stop? Nothing happened.’
‘Uh-huh. Obviously I’m going to have to beat it out of you. I’ll be at your house for dinner tonight at six p.m. sharp. I’m bringing food and Laura.’
‘Nicole, it won’t kill us if we don’t get together tonight. I’m tired.’
‘Honey, I might kill one of the neighborhood kids if I have to stay in another night. Besides, Laura needs a break.’
‘What’s your husband doing?’
‘Apparently he has duty, so he’ll be sitting at a desk all night.’
Jen sighed, unable to generate a single good excuse for why she wanted to beg off girls’ night. ‘Would it help if I said I had laundry all over my living room?’
‘No.’
‘Not letting me out of this, are you?’
‘Nope.’ She could practically hear Nicole’s grin through the phone. ‘I’m going to ply you with alcohol to get the details about Shane.’
Jen rolled her eyes again. ‘Nothing happened.’
‘Uh-huh.’ They hung up and Jen tried to come up with a rational explanation for what Carponti ‘thought’ he’d seen. Maybe she could suggest he was on drugs.
She was so screwed.
ONE CLICK BECAUSE OF YOU
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