The front door started to blow open, probably a result of the gusty conditions today. Sammi was leaning her entire weight onto it to force it shut when a harsh yelp, a colorful string of words and something squishy stopped her in her tracks.
Eyes wide, she turned to look. The doorway she’d sworn was empty a second ago was now filled with Mark, and that squishy thing…
Yikes, she’d just crunched his hand in the door!
‘Coffee’s getting cold.’ Lynn’s warning was drowned by the realization of what she’d just done.
She jerked the door wide. ‘Oh, God, Mark. I’m sorry. I had no idea you were there. Or I’d have never…’
‘Never what? Slammed the door on me?’ He shook his injured hand, the graveled accusation bringing back the fact that she’d done exactly that once upon a time. When he’d announced his intention of moving away to join the armed forces, she’d slammed the door in his face with a ‘Don’t bother coming by before you leave’.
But that was all in the past, where it would stay.
‘Come in so I can look at that hand.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘Seriously. It could be broken.’
He gave a wry laugh. ‘You really think I’d let you set it if it were? I’d probably end up with permanently crooked fingers.’
‘I can think of at least one finger I’d like to fix permanently.’ The one he showed to the world. Not a visible gesture, but one he exuded with his attitude.
In answer to her statement, he laughed. A genuine chuckle that moved from his stomach to his mouth… to his gorgeous green eyes. It took her breath away, and she had to force herself not to gasp.
‘I’m not that bad, am I?’ His brows went up.
Worse. The word came and went without her uttering a single sound.
Before she could give him an actual answer, Lynn peeked out from the other room, her mouth rounding in a perfect ‘O’ as she realized who was standing there. She’d grown up on the island, knew about Sammi and Mark’s infamous past.
‘You’re going to have to start without me,’ Sammi said. ‘Mark’s gotten an… injury that should probably be checked out.’
Mark grinned in the receptionist’s direction and the woman’s color immediately deepened to an ill-looking salmon, before she nodded and withdrew.
Damn him. How could he have that effect on every woman he encountered? And why had she been so stupid to fall for it herself all those years ago? Well, no danger of that now. She’d found a cure, and that was her son. She’d protect him from being hurt at all costs. And Mark could do exactly that with very little effort.
Jaw tight, she led the way to one of the exam rooms. ‘Hop up on the table.’
He leaned against it instead. ‘Don’t I get a gown?’
‘Don’t push your luck.’ Despite her irritation, the man still had the power to make her lips curve from the inside out. She pressed them together so he wouldn’t see as she started toward the dispenser on the wall.
Gloves? Really?
Yes.
Wearing them would give her a measure of protection that had nothing to do with disease and everything to do with self-preservation. She glanced into his face. Would he know the reason?
Yep. It was there in the brow that lifted a quarter of a centimeter.
Forget it. She wouldn’t let him know how terrified she was of touching him or how taking her son’s hand from his had twisted her heart and left it raw and vulnerable.
She stopped in front of him and tilted her head to meet his gaze. ‘Where does it hurt?’
‘Seriously?’
‘No more games, Mark. You could have broken something.’
His cocky smile disappeared and something dark and scary passed through his eyes. ‘Did I, Sam? Break something?’
For the longest moment she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t tear her gaze from his. No one ever called her Sam.
No one, except Mark.
And she had the distinct impression the broken thing he was asking about had nothing to do with his hand and everything to do with her. No, that couldn’t be right. He hadn’t cared one iota about the damage he’d caused when he’d taken off without so much as a ‘Why?’.
She shook her head, but had to avert her eyes as she did. ‘Let me see your hand.’
He held it out, and she winced at the long diagonal stripe of discoloration already showing up just below his metacarpophalangeal joints. He must have had his hand wrapped around the frame of the door when she’d leaned against it. ‘Wiggle your fingers.’
He obliged, and Sammi watched for a reaction as he curled his fingers into a loose fist and released them. Only there was no reaction. ‘It doesn’t hurt?’
‘It was slammed in a door. What do you think?’
The amused sarcasm was back in place. She decided not to rise to the bait this time. ‘Palm up.’
It was only when he turned his hand over that she realized she was avoiding touching him. But she was going to have to eventually. She’d have to X-ray his hand at the very least.
Suck it up, Sammi.
Sliding her fingertips beneath the back of his hand and desperately wishing she’d gone for the gloves after all, she tested the swelling on his palm with her thumb. ‘I don’t think anything is broken, but I do want to take an X-ray.’
She glanced up, surprised to find a muscle tic in his jaw. ‘That bad?’ she asked.
‘You have no idea.’
‘Hmm…’ She looked closer at his hand, turning it gently. Maybe there was more damage than she’d thought. ‘Follow me.’
Leading him into the tiny X-ray room, she fitted him with a lead apron, forbidding herself from thinking about exactly what she was protecting. She lined up his hand on the table and used the flexible arm on the X-ray tube to pull it down over the injured area, glad to be able to keep her mind on the job. ‘I should be able to get this all on one frame, but if not, we’ll take a couple more. Hold still for a second.’
She went into the control booth and took the first film, then rejoined him, swinging the tube away from his hand. ‘All done. Let’s see what we’ve got.’ A thought occurred to her as she pressed buttons on the computer to call up the image. ‘Why did you come to the clinic anyway? Are you sick?’
The correct X-ray flashed up, and Sammi zeroed in on the injured portion, not seeing any obvious breaks. Before she could heave a sigh of relief,
