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Authors: Karen Rose Smith
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met.”
Shifting against the sofa arm, he looked uncomfortable. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
She waited.
His gaze studied her for a very long time. Then releasing a pent-up breath, he decided. “Never mind. It’s not important. I have to get a shower.” Rubbing his hand over his beard, he added, “And a shave.”
“You can’t get your shoulder wet.” She didn’t know if he could make it to his room on his own steam, let alone take a shower.
Swinging his legs to the floor, he sat there for a few moments. “I’m still in my running gear, and I smell like sweat and antiseptic. I have to change the dressing on my wounds, too.”
“You might need help with that.”
“Are you going to help me with my shower, too?” he asked wickedly.
As if she answered questions like that on a daily basis, she shrugged nonchalantly. “That depends. Do you really need help or are you just trying to make me feel uncomfortable?”
Dropping his head into his hands, he thrust his fingers through his hair.
Amira wished she could do the same thing with her fingers. When he’d kissed her, she’d slipped her hand into the hair at the nape of his neck. It had seemed such an intimate gesture that she hadn’t realized whatshe was doing at the time. Now she consciously wanted to do it.
“I don’t know what I’m trying to do,” Brent muttered. “My shoulder hurts and my pride took a beating. I can’t believe I wasn’t listening last night, wasn’t watching out. I can’t believe I couldn’t stop him before he did this.”
Sliding closer to him, her knee grazed his. “I can only imagine how frustrated you must feel, but it could have happened to anyone.”
He glanced at her sideways. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”
“What would make you feel better?”
When his gaze locked to hers, she could see the desire in his eyes as well as a deep need maybe even he didn’t know was there. “You don’t want to know.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Don’t tempt me, Amira, or I’ll be just as brash as that gardener.”
“You couldn’t be.”
He shook his head again. “You give me too much credit.”
“Maybe you don’t give yourself enough.”
The atmosphere in the room crackled with the attraction they both felt as well as the memory of their kisses. The silence stretched too long, and she broke it. “I want to help you any way I can.”
“You’re asking for trouble. Men don’t like to accept help from a woman. It makes them grouchy.”
Laughing, she stood. “I’m not going to retreat just because you’re grouchy. What would that say about my character?”
“It would say you’re not a glutton for punishment.” At that he stood, too, and when he did, his color faded.
“Brent?”
“I’m okay. I need to do this on my own.”
“All right. But I’ll follow you to your room. I think you really ought to eat breakfast before you attempt this.”
“Maybe you’re right. I’ll make a stop in the kitchen and let Flora feed me.”
“I could bring your breakfast in here.”
“I’m not going to act like an invalid. It’s not in me. You’re welcome to join me for breakfast if you want,” he said with a wink. “Come on, Cocoa. Let’s see if Flora’s up.”
Then Brent strode from his office as if he hadn’t been injured at all. His denial of his condition made Amira watchful as she followed him and Cocoa to the kitchen.
Flora was indeed up and already making breakfast. She took a look at Brent, though, and shook her head. “You should be in bed, sir.”
The walk from his office seemed to have tired Brent out, and he sank heavily into a chair at the table. “Once I eat your French toast and hash browns, I’ll feel like new.”
Amira couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “You’ll have to patent that recipe, Flora. Every restaurant in the country will want it.”
Brent just scowled at her, and she imagined even that took energy. He didn’t argue when she crossed to the counter
Shifting against the sofa arm, he looked uncomfortable. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
She waited.
His gaze studied her for a very long time. Then releasing a pent-up breath, he decided. “Never mind. It’s not important. I have to get a shower.” Rubbing his hand over his beard, he added, “And a shave.”
“You can’t get your shoulder wet.” She didn’t know if he could make it to his room on his own steam, let alone take a shower.
Swinging his legs to the floor, he sat there for a few moments. “I’m still in my running gear, and I smell like sweat and antiseptic. I have to change the dressing on my wounds, too.”
“You might need help with that.”
“Are you going to help me with my shower, too?” he asked wickedly.
As if she answered questions like that on a daily basis, she shrugged nonchalantly. “That depends. Do you really need help or are you just trying to make me feel uncomfortable?”
Dropping his head into his hands, he thrust his fingers through his hair.
Amira wished she could do the same thing with her fingers. When he’d kissed her, she’d slipped her hand into the hair at the nape of his neck. It had seemed such an intimate gesture that she hadn’t realized whatshe was doing at the time. Now she consciously wanted to do it.
“I don’t know what I’m trying to do,” Brent muttered. “My shoulder hurts and my pride took a beating. I can’t believe I wasn’t listening last night, wasn’t watching out. I can’t believe I couldn’t stop him before he did this.”
Sliding closer to him, her knee grazed his. “I can only imagine how frustrated you must feel, but it could have happened to anyone.”
He glanced at her sideways. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”
“What would make you feel better?”
When his gaze locked to hers, she could see the desire in his eyes as well as a deep need maybe even he didn’t know was there. “You don’t want to know.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Don’t tempt me, Amira, or I’ll be just as brash as that gardener.”
“You couldn’t be.”
He shook his head again. “You give me too much credit.”
“Maybe you don’t give yourself enough.”
The atmosphere in the room crackled with the attraction they both felt as well as the memory of their kisses. The silence stretched too long, and she broke it. “I want to help you any way I can.”
“You’re asking for trouble. Men don’t like to accept help from a woman. It makes them grouchy.”
Laughing, she stood. “I’m not going to retreat just because you’re grouchy. What would that say about my character?”
“It would say you’re not a glutton for punishment.” At that he stood, too, and when he did, his color faded.
“Brent?”
“I’m okay. I need to do this on my own.”
“All right. But I’ll follow you to your room. I think you really ought to eat breakfast before you attempt this.”
“Maybe you’re right. I’ll make a stop in the kitchen and let Flora feed me.”
“I could bring your breakfast in here.”
“I’m not going to act like an invalid. It’s not in me. You’re welcome to join me for breakfast if you want,” he said with a wink. “Come on, Cocoa. Let’s see if Flora’s up.”
Then Brent strode from his office as if he hadn’t been injured at all. His denial of his condition made Amira watchful as she followed him and Cocoa to the kitchen.
Flora was indeed up and already making breakfast. She took a look at Brent, though, and shook her head. “You should be in bed, sir.”
The walk from his office seemed to have tired Brent out, and he sank heavily into a chair at the table. “Once I eat your French toast and hash browns, I’ll feel like new.”
Amira couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “You’ll have to patent that recipe, Flora. Every restaurant in the country will want it.”
Brent just scowled at her, and she imagined even that took energy. He didn’t argue when she crossed to the counter
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