Out of Left Field by Morgan Kearns Page B

mind immediately went to sex. Of course. It seemed every damned time she entered his line of sight his libido took notice.
    She must have boarded his train of thought because she shook her head, her giggles turned a bit husky. Color seeped into her cheeks.
    “ Maybe not that much.” She placed the sandwich on the table in front of him when he sat. “I’m gonna grab a couple things out of my car. You eat. I’ll be right back.”
    “ Did you eat?” If she insisted on taking care of him, he could at least make sure she took care of herself, too.
    “ I’m fine.”
    “ I didn’t ask how you were.” He shook his head. “I asked if you’d eaten.”
    Her blush darkened. “I picked at the ham while making your sandwich. So I’m … fine.”
    Satisfied with her answer, he didn’t question her, and she didn’t wait for further interrogation. She hurried out of the kitchen. He heard the front door open and a few minutes later he heard a lot of bumps and grunts.
    He rinsed his plate and placed it in the sink, then went out into the living room to see what Frankie was up to. “Hey, sweet thang, what’s—”
    She looked up from her half-unfolded massage table and smiled, big and cheesy. “How about we take that brace off, and I’ll see if I can ease some of that tension out of your shoulders.”
    “ You’re just trying to get me naked.” And damn if his groin didn’t really like the idea. He put his hands in front of his crotch.
    “ You got me.” She shook her head and laughed, loud and mocking. “Now strip.”
    Her teasing withered his ego, as well as other parts of him. Her ability to verbally castrate him cut to the core, especially since she didn’t have a clue she affected him. To her, his come-ons were a joke. He supposed they were .
    He yanked at the Velcro on his brace and the resounding riiip! made him think of peeling his skin off. Her fingers brushed his chest as she helped him with the brace. Every part of him went rigid.
     
    ***
     
    She took the brace and set it on his recliner. She turned around and slapped the table. “Come on, big boy, hop on up here.”
    Oh, this was such a bad idea. He sat on the edge of the table and snorted. “Do I really have to lay down?”
    “ Unless you want me to have to kneel on the table behind you.”
    Images, vivid and in all-too-detailed color, flashed through his brain. He choked back a groan.
    “ I’ll lay down.” While I still can.
    He put his face in the hole and admired the wood of his floor. He didn’t want her to touch him, and yet, at the same time, he’d never wanted to feel a woman’s hands on his naked body more.
    Through the hole, he saw her feet. He’d never noticed how small they were. She wore those fancy exercise shoes with the rounded bottoms, and she rocked back and forth, heel to toe. He heard her clap her hands and the shh, shh, shh of her palms rubbing together.
    “ I’m just warming my hands.”
    Like that was necessary. If she got any hotter, he might burst into flames when she touched him. He swallowed hard. He didn’t like this situation, didn’t like liking her the way he did.
    He’d always respected her, thought she was an okay looking woman, but getting to know her these last few weeks, she’d wormed her way into his heart.
    And there wasn’t a woman alive worthy of residing there.
    The second her hands skimmed over his good shoulder, he flinched. Big time. Almost sending himself tumbling off the table.
    “ Oh. I’m sorry. I thought you knew I was going to touch you.”
    “ Just do your thing, Doc.” Get the torture over with!
    Frankie’s touch started out gentle, rubbing over his shoulders, moving up over his neck, then down his spine. As her hands, slick with sweet-smelling oil, teased over his obliques, he bit back a moan. His every cell hummed. He throbbed and needed. It was a good thing he laid on his stomach, and if she asked him to roll over, he’d have to deny her. He couldn’t let her see what having