Ginna Gray - A Man Apart

Matt shot her a blistering look. “You just hold on to that rack and let me worry about my leg. Jeez, are you always this bossy?”

“Sorry.” She gave him an abashed grin. “Comes from dealing with children all day, I guess.”

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not ten years old.”

Oh, she’d noticed, all right. It was difficult not to, under the circumstances. Still fresh in her mind’s eye was the sight of those tight buns of his.

Despite his recent weight loss, Matt’s broad shoulders and arms were corded with muscle. So was his impressive chest and flat abdomen and long, powerful legs. Water-beaded tanned, glistening skin and more droplets clung to the jagged piece of silver he wore on a chain around his neck and the mat of dark curls that covered his chest. She could not help but notice how the silky hair arrowed downward to swirl around his navel, then narrow into a thin line that disappeared beneath the maroon terry cloth slung low around his hips.

She was seeing much more of Matt Dolan than she had ever expected to see, and he was most definitely not a boy but an adult male. A very attractive, well-built, virile adult male.

It wasn’t easy, but after a lot of struggle and slipping and sliding, she finally managed to pull him to his feet. “Here, just hang on to me,” she instructed. Looping his arm over her shoulder and wrapping her free arm around his waist, she carefully stepped out of the shower with him.

The instant his feet touched the bathmat, he released her and grabbed the edge of the basin for support. Stiff-armed, he braced himself against the sink and hung his head, clenching his jaw. Beneath the tanned skin, his face was pale, and his muscles quivered with fatigue.

Without a word, Maude Ann grabbed another towel and began to pat his torso dry, working so briskly she was almost finished before he could protest.

“Hey! Stop that! Look, I can manage from here okay.”

“Nonsense. You’re so exhausted you can barely stand. You need to lie down before you fall down. Again.” Squatting beside him, she ran the towel down one of his legs and up the other before he could dodge her hands, then she tossed the towel onto the rack and grasped him around the waist again.

“Come along, let’s get you to bed.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his jaw set, but this time he didn’t argue. Beneath her encircling arm, she felt his muscles tremble, and she knew by the way he leaned against her that his strength had reached low ebb. She also knew that a man like Matt Dolan would hate for anyone, especially a woman, to see him in such a weakened state.

His cane was propped against the wall, and she grabbed it and hooked it over her arm as they passed by.

Their progress across the large bedroom was slow and painful, but finally they made it.

“There, you go,” she said brightly, lowering him onto the side of the bed.

While Maude Ann lifted his feet onto the mattress, Matt gave a sigh, closed his eyes and collapsed on his back with one arm crooked over his head and the other flung wide.

Straightening, Maude Ann stood beside the bed, debating what to do next. Lines of pain and fatigue etched Matt’s face, and his skin had a grayish cast. His black hair was tousled and wet, and a lock hung down over his forehead. Her fingers itched to smooth it back off his face, but she resisted the urge.

Her gaze slid downward over the arm flung over his head, tracing the tender underside to its juncture with his body. For no reason, her attention was caught by the tuft of damp, dark hair under his arm. As she stared at it, she felt her stomach tighten.

Helpless to stop herself, she ran her gaze over his shoulders and throat, the sculpted beauty of his collarbone. A glint caught her eye, and she zeroed in on the jagged piece of silver nestled in the thatch of dark hair on his chest. She wondered what it was. It must be important, because he wore it all the time, even while bathing.

The mystery diverted her only seconds before her gaze was again drawn downward, trailing over his ribs, which moved rhythmically up and down with each heavy breath he drew.

Maude Ann’s mouth went dry. Lord, he was a magnificent male specimen. She knew she should look away, but she could not. Mesmerized, she continued her study, following that intriguing line of dark hair down over his belly and lower.

Then her gaze encountered the angry, puckered wound on his right leg. Instantly the sensual spell was broken.

Before she could stop herself she sucked in a sharp breath. Quickly she glanced at Matt’s face to make sure he hadn’t heard and found he was watching her, his eyes steady and glittering beneath half-closed lids.

Hot color rose in her neck and face, but for an interminable moment neither moved nor spoke. They simply stared at each other, their gazes locked.

The air in the room seemed thick, almost suffocating, magnifying every sound. Maude Ann could hear the wind-up clock on the bedside table ticking, the whir of the cicadas outside the window, the thrumming of her heartbeat in her ears. She wondered if Matt could hear it, too.

“See something you like, Dr. Edwards?”

Maude Ann swallowed around the tightness in her throat. “I was just looking at your wounds. They need tending. I’ll, uh…I’ll rebandage them for you, if you like.”

“What are you going to do? Kiss them and make them all better, like you do Debbie’s ouchies?”

“Hardly.” She forced a chuckle, fighting to regain control of the situation and her wayward senses. “You’re not four years old.”

She turned to go in search of his medical supplies, but his hand shot out and clamped around her wrist like a vice, jerking her to a halt. His blue eyes glittered dangerously, and when he spoke his voice dropped, becoming rough and steely.

“That’s right. I’m not one of your wounded chicks that you can cluck over and mother. I’m a man, with a man’s appetites.”

His gaze dropped to her chest, and his eyes darkened. Maude Ann was about to protest, but instead, a downward glance made her gasp and clamp her free arm over her breasts. The front of her gown and robe were still sopping wet, and the thin batiste clung to her body like a second skin. The air-conditioned air had cooled the wet cloth, causing her nipples to pucker and harden. They thrust against the wet gown, clearly visible through the semitransparent material.

“Right now I’m not in any shape to do anything about those appetites, but I will be soon. Remember that the next time you come waltzing in here uninvited. You may get more than you bargained for.”

Blushing from her hairline to her toes, Maude Ann stammered, “I got wet helping you. I didn’t realize…I certainly didn’t mean to flaunt myself. Anyway, I was only trying to help.”

“Oh? Is that what you were doing just now? Helping me?”

“Well, I—”

“Just keep in mind that the next time you’re tempted to look at me with that hungry gleam in your eye, you better be prepared for the consequences.”

Denial never even occurred to Maude Ann. Though it hadn’t been intentional, she had been admiring his body, and she’d been caught red-handed. She nodded. “Fair enough.”

She started to move away, but Matt’s grip on her arm tightened. She looked at him and arched one eyebrow.

Matt rubbed his thumb over the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist, and his eyes grew slumbrous. “Unless, of course, you’d like me to satisfy that hunger of yours.”

Her sense of humor and down-to-earth common sense, neither of which was ever far from the surface, came bubbling up. That she would find herself in such a situation with Matt Dolan, of all people, struck her as absurdly funny. He was the most intimidating, overwhelmingly masculine man she’d ever encountered. When she had worked for the HPD, even before she had met and married Tom Henley, Matt had paid her no more mind than a piece of office equipment.