tossed her head so her hair flicked out of her eyes. And she—who’d never spread her legs for any man—spread them as wide as they’d go. Which, given she could do the splits three ways, was actually quite wide. ‘This okay?’ she asked huskily.
He looked. Down then back up. Opened his mouth. Closed it. Swallowed as he looked down again. ‘Just about,’ he murmured and stepped right into place—mere inches separating them.
She ignored the flush she knew just had to be covering every inch of her skin and smiled the smile of total success. ‘I didn’t know you promised to flirt with your patients when you took the Hippocratic oath.’
‘You’re not a patient.’ His gaze snapped up to her face.
‘No? Aren’t you tending to me, Mr Physician?’
‘No. Not as a medical professional. I’m just going to hand you some cream and you can rub it on that sting yourself.’
She didn’t know what had come over her, but the need to tease more was impossible to ignore. For the first time in her life she was flooded with confidence. She could say anything and not give a damn—the more provocative, the better, because his rapid response—desire mixed with defence—fuelled her wicked excitement. ‘You’re not going to rub it on for me?’ she purred.
‘No.’ He stepped back. ‘I am not.’
‘Oh.’ She looked down innocently. ‘Do you only like rubbing cream on those big rugby boys?’
‘Roxie.’ He came back close, too close, his expression goaded. He studied her silently, ensuring he had her attention, then deliberately looked down her body in a blatantly sexual appraisal. ‘Your hair isn’t the only thing about you that’s changed.’
He was looking at her chest. And, yes, he knew the truth for sure.
She lifted her chin, refusing to let embarrassment rise. ‘It’s amazing what supportive underwear can do for a girl.’
‘Quite amazing,’ he agreed drily. Suddenly he chuckled, that wholly amused sound that stirred that instinctive response in her to draw closer—and the temptation to tease further.
Yeah, she couldn’t help but giggle back, despite the tension that still threaded through her. If anything the shared amusement pulled that thread tighter. ‘You don’t think my rack’s real?’
‘We both know it’s not.’
Yeah, they did both know that. She angled her head down but peeped back up at him, batting her lashes to totally ham it up. ‘But you have to admit, if you didn’t know better, you’d be completely fooled.’
He took a moment to study her again, slow, deliberate consideration. ‘Completely.’
She decided to push for more. ‘And even though you know the truth, you like the effect anyway?’
The deep breath he drew in seemed to be painful, because he grimaced at the same time. Then he shook his head. ‘It’s false advertising. What happens if you pull one of those rugby boys—how you going to cope when he finds out the truth? Or are you going to offer to cook the chicken fillets for supper after?’
She wrinkled her nose but appreciated the attempt to shoot her down. ‘Not chicken fillets. They’d stink something awful.’
‘What’s in there, then, cotton wool?’
‘Gel pads. Much more comfortable. Natural feeling.’
‘They feel natural?’
She shot a look into the deep, dark eyes that were only a few inches from her own. ‘You want to find out for yourself?’
Oh, the challenge was out now. She could see him thinking, deciding …
‘Roxie …’ He cleared his throat and turned away quickly, went to a cupboard and pushed packets around in it with fierce concentration.
Disappointment burst her fantasy bubble. She looked down at her leg, suddenly the pain that had been muted screamed. She saw how the red was spreading, the swelling thickening.
‘The reaction is getting worse,’ she muttered, biting her lip because her thigh was hot, itchy and sore.
‘It certainly is,’ he answered abruptly, returning from the cupboard, still not looking at her directly. He pierced the seal on the small tube, squeezed some of the white cream onto the tips of his fingers. ‘I’ll give you a couple of antihistamine tablets as well. Have them when you get home—they might make you drowsy.’
She nodded, not able to speak any more. He’d gently spread her legs wider again and with fingers was smoothing the cream across the hot, tight skin. Seemed he’d forgotten he was going to make her do that herself. She looked at him as he watched what he was doing. Now she knew exactly why all those dancers faked injuries to get him to tend them—he was fun. And he truly was gorgeous with his perfect features and height. So very male. So very close. Touching her in a way that suggested other kinds of touch might be even more moving. Her lashes lowered as the tips of his fingers circled carefully, narrowing in on the sting site. She shouldn’t be feeling it so sensually, but she was. She shouldn’t be imagining those fingers gliding higher, but she was. She shouldn’t be heating, melting, wanting—but she was. And she couldn’t help the small shudder as he stroked in that smooth, regular rhythm.
He looked up; his eyes bored into hers. All tease gone and nothing but banked fire in the black eyes. ‘You need to do this yourself.’ Honest, raw—faint sheen sparkled on his skin as if he too felt a fever.
Her throat tightened, rendering her mute. So she nodded. But even that took effort. It was as if he’d some spell cast over her. Her heart wasn’t racing, it was thumping so slowly, and every beat was so huge it hurt. She thought her eardrums were going to burst with the pressure. Both his hands rested on her now, no longer rubbing the cream, but holding her thigh. He could tighten his grip any moment.
If he wanted.
His gaze dropped a couple of inches south of her eyes. She knew what he was thinking about. She was thinking about it too. Wanted it. Her lips tingled, dried, she was desperately trying not to lick them. Suddenly he was closer, so close that—
‘Hey, Gabe, how’s our new girl?’
Gabe moved so fast Roxie didn’t have time to blink before he was at the sink, running taps and scrubbing his hands.
‘You mean me?’ Roxie stared at the vivacious blonder than blonde who’d just burst into the room. Chelsea, the leader of the dance troupe.
‘Yeah, are you okay?’ Chelsea came up close to look at Roxie’s leg. ‘Looks ouch.’
‘It’s okay.’ Seriously, she’d forgotten it in that overpowering moment with his hands on her. ‘Really, I’m … just fine.’ Just breathless.
‘Great. Because up to the bee thing, you blew us away. We want you in.’
‘You do?’ Roxie gaped. ‘Really?’ She’d thought she’d blown it with the whole allergic-reaction-and-screams-of-agony routine.
‘Yeah, you’re classically trained,
