Next to Die by Marliss Melton Page B

do?
    “Jacobs,” he growled, wincing as Penny bent his knee and put her weight into the joint, forcing it to stretch beyond the comfort zone.
    As the caller identified himself, Penny felt the admiral stiffen. “What the hell do you want?” he growled.
    Mercy,
thought Penny, releasing pressure to extend his leg fully. She’d never seen this gruff side to the admiral, who was always sweetly affable during his biweekly appointments. She moved to his left leg.
    “I thought this matter was settled,” the old man blustered.
    “Bend your leg, sir,” Penny reminded him.
    He did so, distracted by whatever it was that the caller was telling him. The news was bad enough to make him put a death grip on the phone. “Are you certain?” he demanded.
    The reply made the admiral’s jowls quiver. “Fine, then. Do whatever it takes,” he acceded. With a sad shake of his head, he severed the call and fell back, clutching a hand to his heart.
    Penny sent him a look of concern. “Is everything all right, sir?” she inquired, applying more pressure to his bent leg.
    “Oh, as all right as it can be, I suppose,” he replied, his eyes still closed. He sounded so weary.
    She felt sorry for him. Poor man, he’d lost his son early in the war and never quite got over it.
    Penny couldn’t fathom losing a child to war, let alone to blue-on-blue engagement. “That’s it for today, sir,” she told him gently. “I’ll see you next week at the same time. Keep up the exercises,” she added, placing her hand briefly over his.
    His skin felt so cold!
    She left the room, dropping off the admiral’s chart, then hurried down the hall to snatch up the chart belonging to her next patient. Recognizing Joe’s name, a flush of anticipation heated her cheeks. All day she’d looked forward to this session.
    With a warning knock, she peeked inside. “Good morning.”
    She drew up short at the sight of Joe propped against the table, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs. Her gaze skittered over his washboard abs to the bulge below, and her skin seemed to shrink.
    “Morning,” he said, clearly unabashed at being caught half-naked.
    “Where’s your, um, gown?” she asked, dragging her gaze upward. Heat rose to her face, no doubt turning her complexion bright red.
    “There wasn’t one in here.” His green gaze mocked her discomfit.
    “I’ll get some more,” she said, fleeing the room.
    When she returned, he was lying facedown on the table, weighted with moist heat packs. The corpsman had gotten his session under way. Penny stowed the gown for later use and left the room.
    Twenty minutes later, she returned. “Do you, uh, want to put the gown on now?” she asked, removing the cooled heat packs.
    “What’s the point?” he asked sleepily.
    “Right.” But with the gown on, she could pretend he was dressed and not practically naked—a circumstance that disturbed her sensibilities. “How’s your back been?” she asked, wheeling the ultrasound closer. She rolled his briefs down, squirted warm gel on his back, and spread it, delighting in the texture of his skin.
    “It was good for a day, and then the spasms came back.”
    “That’s why we need to see you more than once,” she answered, turning the machine on. She applied the wand over the affected muscle group. She gave in to the childish urge to write a cursive L. L for love, lust, and let-me-touch-you-everywhere, lover boy. He couldn’t possibly guess the game she was playing, so why not?
    Precisely seven minutes later, she cut the machine off, eager to get to the part she enjoyed most. She climbed her stool and put her hands on him.
Oh, yes
.
    The term
soft tissue
was a misnomer on Joe. There wasn’t anything soft about him. He was all fibrous, toned muscle, the density of which left the joints in her fingers aching, yet she would happily have continued for hours.
    “You think you could work on my shoulders some?” Joe’s sleepy voice seemed to echo her own reluctance to