understand you might want to shield yourself. But I’m afraid—’
‘Everything you need will be brought in. I’ll have my assistant organise it. And I’ll double your fee to cover any inconvenience and time difficulties.’
She shut her dropped jaw.
Was she reading him right? Double your fee …? We’ll prove him wrong …? You’ll bring me through …? Did he think he could bribe her into cutting short his treatment so he could make his Round Four? Clearly Alex Wolfe wasn’t familiar with the terms caution or compromise. He knew only one way to get things done. His way. If she didn’t agree to his conditions—his offer—no doubt he’d find someone who would.
Which left her two choices.
She could bow to the inevitable, agree that all work be carried out on his private premises and take the fortune he offered as well as give the all clear when he deemed, whether he was fit to return to driving in her opinion or not. Or she could tell him she couldn’t be manipulated by his charm or his pride. That her ethics were more important to her than money. More important than anything.
But there was a third option.
Decided, she looked him in the eye. ‘I’ll speak with your assistant. Get the ball rolling. We’ll start tomorrow morning.’
A shadow swept over his expression, so fast she almost missed it. She recognised the emotion. Disappointment. He’d thought she’d put up more of a fight before capitulating to his terms, even for show’s sake. Pity she couldn’t set him straight, but that would come … when the time was right.
She headed for the door. ‘I’ll be back in the office in half an hour. Your assistant can call me any time after that.’
With long fluid strides he caught up, a satisfied smile tilting his lips. ‘I do believe I’ll enjoy working with you, doc.’
Doc. Walking side by side down the hall, Libby grinned.
‘Perhaps I ought to wear a white coat and stethoscope when I call next,’ she said, a slightly mocking edge to her voice.
‘Feel free to wear whatever makes you comfortable. I will.’
‘Oh, there won’t be much need for clothes,’ she said, stopping before the front doors. ‘On your part, at least.’
His hold on the handle froze.
Swallowing the grin, she brushed his hand aside, opened the door and stepped out. ‘See you tomorrow. Nine sharp.’
Walking away, she felt his surprise and curiosity drilling her back. But if her last comment was loosely inappropriate, she was okay with it. He’d needed to be pulled up and using his own level of language.
Alex Wolfe didn’t know how well she understood his mind. She knew about burning passions. About setting a goal and never losing sight of it. She also knew how it felt to lose the capacity to chase and hold onto your dream. To have to reinvent yourself and leave that other more natural you behind.
Six weeks rehabilitation? Hell, Alex Wolfe didn’t know how lucky he was.
But slow and steady won the race. This race anyway. She’d get him into a routine, he’d feel the positive results and when the time came she’d make him see how detrimental—possibly catastrophic—returning to the track too soon could be. Until then she’d be on her guard. She couldn’t deny that those subtle looks, his unmistakable body language, his casual touch, affected her, and Alex knew it. He assumed he could manipulate her, charm her, perhaps even intimidate her into getting what he wanted.
Unfortunately for Alex Wolfe … not a chance.
Libby slid into the driver’s seat. She was about to turn the ignition when her stomach twisted, like it had earlier when he’d tossed off that unconscious slap in the face. Her hand ran down her left thigh, over the patella. Then her fingertips traced the line where she and the lower limb prosthesis became one.
Washed-up cripple …
Long ago she had finished crying and asking herself, What did I do to deserve this? With the support of family, friends and professionals she’d moved from beneath those dark clouds of self-pity. Helping to rehabilitate others had brought new and worthwhile meaning to her life. But sitting here, remembering the gleam in Alex Wolfe’s eyes when he’d looked at her that certain way, she couldn’t mistake the pang in her chest or the choking thickness in her throat.
Her hand skimmed the shin she couldn’t feel. Would Alex Wolfe see her as less of a woman if he knew?
CHAPTER THREE
LEANING his good shoulder against a patio column, Alex kept his eye on Libby Henderson’s silver sedan as it looped the circular drive and headed out. An intrigued smile lifted one corner of his mouth.
Ms Henderson was an attractive prospect, particularly with those large amber-coloured eyes that seemed to both cloak her emotions as well as swirl with boundless possibilities. Her hair, which flowed past her shoulders in soft waves, was a captivating silvery blond, a consequence, no doubt, of a lifetime spent in Australia’s surf-and-sun conditions. Of medium height, her lithe figure had curves in all the right places. If she’d tried to hide that fact beneath her designer business suit, she’d failed and she knew it.
Perhaps best of all, he thought as he watched her car disappear beyond the auto iron entry gates, Libby Henderson had spunk.
She’d as good as accepted his offer—to work here on him, with him. However, she’d let him know that he didn’t intimidate her, even if they were aware of each other in a primal man-wants-woman way. When her palm had cupped his fist, she’d felt the zap as much as he had. But her comeback regarding the insignificance of what clothes he did or did not wear during their sessions had been priceless. Few people could pull him up like that. Coming from Ms Henderson, he couldn’t say he minded.
Clearly, she was the right person for the job. With his past, he didn’t wait around for miracles, nevertheless he had faith that Libby Henderson’s clients believed she could work them. Regardless, he would have little trouble persuading her and, as a consequence, others that he was indeed fit to drive again when he deemed it should be so. And if she needed a hand in helping her decision along, he wasn’t opposed to the idea. In fact, now that he’d met her, he was more than intrigued by the prospect.
Recalling the natural wiggle in her walk, he pushed off the column.
Until that time, he needed to focus elsewhere. Needed to keep busy. Tomorrow midday, a videoconference with the Australian CEO of his best-selling signature-brand aftershave was scheduled. Before then, he’d go through projection figures for an additional anticipated range. Along with earnings from his extensive investment portfolio, he certainly didn’t need the money, but a man would be a fool not to strike when his iron was hot. Current and potential sponsors agreed: Alex Wolfe was steaming. He intended to keep it that way.
About to head in, he pulled up. Eli Steele’s sleek black sports car was slinking up the drive. Grinning, Alex crossed back to the patio’s edge. Not only was his assistant smart in a business sense, he had a good head for cars. Eli wouldn’t be working for him if he didn’t.
‘I take it that was your physiotherapist driving off,’
