minute he was thinking that her tone held heartfelt apology and he wasn’t sure why. The next, fire shot through him and it was all he could do to hold it together. Sweat beaded on his brow, and he closed his eyes, concentrating on holding still. Simon gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw to keep from making any sound as she dabbed and prodded, rubbed and poked his skin to clean the scrapes.
Should he tell her not to bother? There was nothing she could do for what really ailed him. The wound was deep inside where no one could reach it.
“There. Done,” she said.
He opened his eyes and saw her toss bloodstained gauze on the tray. “That wasn’t so bad.”
But he’d heard the raw edge to his voice. His scraped skin tingled and throbbed, hurting only slightly more than his throat from his effort to hold back any sound.
One of her eyebrows lifted. “Really? Maybe I missed something. I can check and see. Go through it again—”
“No!”
He met her gaze and saw the shadows in her wide blue eyes. Her lips turned up at the corners, evidence that she was teasing him. But it cost her. Every job had its downside. Hurting a patient, even to help, wasn’t easy for her. Humor was her defense mechanism.
“You’re absolutely sure?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He let out a long breath. “I’m squeaky clean.”
“At least your boo-boos are,” she qualified. “Now I’m going to put on some antibiotic.” She grabbed a packet and ripped off the edge, then squeezed until opaque ointment appeared. After touching a swab to the stuff, she applied it to his scrapes.
She met his gaze. “Okay, just a couple more spots on that pretty face of yours and you’re almost ready for the doctor to suture your shoulder before you go upstairs for the night.”
“You seem awfully cheerful at the prospect of passing me off.”
“Really? And I thought I was being subtle.”
“Why are you so anxious to get rid of me?” he asked, squirming.
“Hold still.” She finished dabbing the ointment at a spot on his jaw, then met his gaze without blinking. “You’re my worst nightmare.”
“Wow. Don’t sugarcoat it, Megan. Tell me how you really feel.”
Her lips compressed into a straight line for a moment and she shook her head. “I can’t believe I just said that.”
“But you did. So come on. The least you can do is explain.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You’re not going to provoke me into saying anything else.”
“How unfair is that? I should get something for holding still while you tortured me.”
One of her delicate eyebrows rose. “Now there’s a switch. The person being tormented is usually the one who sings like a canary.”
“I think it hurt you more than me. So give.”
“No.”
“Why? Why am I your worst nightmare?”
Still holding the swab, she looked at him, her eyes snapping. “Are you going to drop this?”
“No.”
“Okay.” She sighed. “You win. Why am I anxious to pass you off? You’re dangerous, a loose cannon. Before you ask how I know this, I’ll tell you. No one in their right mind would try to leave the hospital in your condition. Obviously, you thumb your nose at the rules.”
“I prefer to think of it as marching to my own drum.”
“You didn’t bother to deny it. I have to admire that. But people like you are bad for me.”
“Junk food is bad for you. I’m—”
“The saturated fat in the veins of my life.” She dropped the used swab onto the tray beside her.
“Some son of a bitch dumped you.”
“How did you know?” Her head snapped around so fast whiplash was a real possibility. “Never mind. We’ve already established that you’re not stupid.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“It’s probably the nicest thing I will ever say to you.”
Simon found that bantering with her took his mind off the pain. There was no other explanation for the way he was acting, why he was pushing her—provoking her. If he didn’t know better, he would call it flirting. But that was impossible. A guy only flirted to show interest in a woman, and he hadn’t been interested for a really long time. Not in women—or anything else.
“So tell me about him—the jerk who dumped you.”
“It’s none of your business.” She picked up the empty packaging on the tray beside her, then toed open the metal trash can and dropped it in. “I refuse to discuss that with you.”
“Come on, Megan.”
“It’s unprofessional.”
“Isn’t a nurse supposed to help with pain? Talking helps take my mind off it.”
She put a clean paper on the tray. “Okay. We can discuss the weather. Sports. Movies. Books or—”
“I want to know about the creep who hurt you.”
“Why?” She looked over his injuries, then met his gaze and smiled. “Are you planning to beat him up for me?”
“Give me a little time. Seriously, how can I defend myself against being your worst nightmare if you don’t talk to me?”
“For a guy with recent head trauma you’re awfully stubborn, not to mention pushy.”
“And those are my good qualities.” He studied her face, the shadows that chased away the sunshine.
“You remind me of him,” she finally said.
“Go ahead—kick me when I’m down.”
“You insisted. Besides, I’m merely being objective—and truthful. He was a rule-breaker, too—probably still is, wherever he is. Good-looking—”
“You think I’m good-looking?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“On the contrary, you said I remind you of him.”
“I was talking attitude not appearance,” she retorted.
“So you think I’d have to sneak up on a glass of water?”
“I didn’t say that, either.” She positioned a nonstick square
