Instant Gratification
Page 22

“What are you doing?”
He leaned his bike up against a tree. “Just enjoying the day.” And the view. “How about you? What brings you out this way?”
She came toe to toe with Stone, in her very classy and expensive black heels which now had some mud on them, pressing up to his Nikes. Her eyes were stern and serious, conflicting with the scent of some exotic shampoo, and his brain got mixed signals. Sexy woman. Pissed woman.
“Are you stupid?” she asked. “Or just stubborn?”
“Uh, is there a third option?”
“You’re still recovering. You have no business riding like that, getting air, risking crashing—” She went up on her tiptoes and ran a finger over his forehead.
Yeah, mixed signals, he thought dazedly as her voice brought to mind a teacher-to-errant-pupil sexual fantasy. His gaze ate her up as her fingers ran along his forehead. He couldn’t help it, she was within the perfect eating up distance of about two inches. Hell, if he leaned in even a little bit, they’d be kissing.
Which would be nice. Really nice.
“It’s okay,” she said in relief. “You haven’t ripped any stitches. You having pain?”
Yeah, in his ribs, but he was afraid of the black bag she had slung over her shoulder, so he smiled. “Aw, look at you. Caring about me.”
Her eyes locked on his. “I care about all my patients.”
“You make house calls for all of them?”
She narrowed her eyes and pursed those lips that were a little bit distracting for their fullness. “Delusional,” she decided. “We should have that checked, too.”
He grinned. “See? Falling for me.”
“That would be a mistake. I don’t make mistakes. You shouldn’t be mountain biking, Stone.” Without asking, she put her hand on his side, probing at his ribs. She was watching him carefully so he didn’t dare grimace, but she shook her head, reading right through him. “You shouldn’t be doing anything strenuous.”
The image of him doing just that, being strenuous with her naked in his bed, wouldn’t leave him alone. He wondered if she’d lose some of her tension if he got her out of those city clothes.
“Honest to God,” she muttered. “Men.” She dropped her hands from him and stepped back. “Racing when you’re still in pain.”
“You call that racing?” Nick asked, coming close with a laugh. “Please. I could have beaten him with both my hands tied behind my back if I’d wanted.”
Stone shot Nick a not helping look, and smiled at Emma. “Honestly, I’m fine.”
“You have seven stitches in your head, a cracked rib, and more road rash than a used car.” She shoved up his shirt, revealing his abs. Her fingers brushed over his bruised skin, and he had an immediate reaction. So did she, given the way she dropped her hands as if he was a hot potato. “You have no business being on that bike, bouncing along on that rough terrain.”
Well, actually, he did, but he didn’t want to rile her up any more than absolutely necessary in case she was packing a shot of antibiotics in that bag.
“Rest, elevate, and ice, I told you. Why does no one listen?”
“I’ve elevated,” he said. Hell, they were standing at 6,300 feet. That had to count.
“The other day, we flew a group of clients up to the Trinity Ice Flats,” Nick interjected helpfully. “We climbed the ice dams and sat up there for a couple of hours. Stone was hurting so he lay down. On the ice.”
Emma stared at Nick as if he’d sprouted horns. Without a word she turned on Stone, narrowing her eyes as she swept an angry gaze over him, lingering at his forehead and the stitches she’d put there herself. “You did end up on the climb?”
“Only a little.”
“Do you have a death wish?”
“Only a little.”
She tossed up her hands. “I give up.” But instead of walking back to her truck, she headed toward the steps to the main lodge.
He exchanged a look with Nick, who shrugged. “Uh…can I help you?” Stone asked her.
“I’m picking up a guest you had last night.” She didn’t slow or look back. “Spencer Jenks. He’s with me.”
Stone had ridden earlier that morning with their New York guest. The polite doctor had been an outdoor enthusiast, but more importantly, outgoing, friendly, and adventurous. In other words, Dr. Emma’s virtual opposite. “Spencer’s with you?”
“That’s right.”
He watched her stride up the steps, her heels clicking with forceful purpose on the stone, his gut sinking.
“Is that the one who saw you naked?” Nick whispered.
Dr. Spencer Jenks was hers. “Yeah.”
“I don’t think you impressed her much.”
When Emma got to the top step, TJ opened the door from the inside and he smiled at her. “Doc Sinclair.”
She smiled back sweetly. “TJ.”
“Did you come to check on my idiot brother?”
Still next to Stone, Nick snickered.
“Actually,” Emma told him. “I came to pick up my friend Spencer.”
“Oh. Here I thought maybe you came to kick Stone’s ass for kayaking yesterday. With a cracked rib and all.”
Emma turned and sent a slow, long, easily decipherable look in Stone’s direction.
“Did you bring him another shot?” he heard TJ ask hopefully as he directed her inside.