drank, just a sip or two but she had to admit the neat alcohol burnt up the nausea causing her to feel more herself. And then she froze as Kingsley took off his jacket, bundling it into a roll and leaning over her as he said, ‘I’m going to put this under your foot to cushion it as best we can, but I’m afraid the journey’s not going to be pleasant.’
And then his head was practically in her lap as he positioned the clump of material that had been a very nice Armani jacket under the injured foot, easing off her court shoe as he did so.
She looked down at the short, spiky jet-black hair and muscled shoulders, and almost asked for another swig of brandy.
‘Thank you.’ She hoped he would put her breathlessness down to pain and ignore the flush of embarrassment that had flooded her cheeks with colour. He had only taken off his jacket, for goodness’ sake, so why did it suddenly feel as if he were almost naked?
He eased himself back into the driving seat, loosening his tie and letting it hang slackly as he undid the first couple of buttons on his shirt.
He had a magnificent body. Her eyes just couldn’t tear themselves away from the broad chest under the silk of his shirt. Powerful and lean, without an ounce of fat anywhere. She gave up trying to be cool and reached for the hip-flask again, taking another sip gratefully.
‘Okay?’ The blue eyes met hers, his voice low with sympathy now, and she gave a brave smile, nodding because she didn’t trust her voice. Suddenly the hospital didn’t seem such a bad idea—anything to get out of the claustrophobic confines of this car.
Having experienced Kingsley’s driving technique earlier in the day, Rosalie appreciated he was driving extremely cautiously once they were underway, but nevertheless every slight jolt or bump of the car had her biting on her lip to stifle the gasps of pain.
She was conscious of him glancing at her a few times before they reached their destination, which looked to be a hospital nearer Oxford than London. As they drove into tree-filled grounds and she saw the long, modern attractive building in front of them she said, ‘This isn’t a private hospital, is it?’
‘What’s wrong with that?’
She hadn’t got private health insurance, for a start.
Whether he guessed what she was thinking he didn’t say, but what he did say was, ‘This is where a friend of mine works and, as luck would have it, he’s around today. He said he’d take a look at the ankle as a favour, and we’ll go from there. Okay?’
This whole thing was running away from her and she didn’t like that, besides which Kingsley seemed to have a friend for every occasion, Rosalie thought resentfully. It might be nasty of her in the circumstances when he was being so helpful, but she couldn’t help the way she felt—he brought out the worst in her. She sat stiffly in her seat, her cheeks flaming. ‘I would have preferred to go to a National Health hospital,’ she said primly.
‘Tough.’ Her eyes shot to meet his at the tone, widening as he went on, ‘I haven’t got time to waste sitting in an emergency department even if you have. I have another appointment later.’
She glared at him. ‘Well, excuse me!’
‘Certainly.’ The carved lips twitched at her fury. ‘Now sit still until I can help you.’
Much as she hated to obey him she had no option, and unfortunately she knew she was not going to be able to walk on the ankle either. Even trying to flex her toes brought acute agony. But the thought of him carrying her again… Could she hop, perhaps? Darn it, she’d never felt so helpless in all her life.
When he opened the passenger door the decision was taken out of her hands. He scooped her up before she could so much as utter a squeak. The warm masculine feel of his body was worse this time with just the silk of his shirt covering his chest.
‘Put your arm round my neck,’ he said quietly as he hotched her more securely against him. ‘Don’t worry, I don’t bite.’
She was startled into looking up into his face; there had been a smoky quality to his voice that was pure dynamite. There had been wry amusement in his face at first, but then as their eyes locked she watched the amusement replaced by something else and found she was holding her breath, not daring to move a muscle.
Another car entering the car park broke the spell. Rosalie lowered her head, grateful for the wings of hair that covered her hot face, but by the time they walked into the reception of the hospital the burning colour had subsided due mainly to the ache in her foot.
The next half an hour was a painful one, and at the end of it Rosalie could have cried with frustration when X-rays confirmed Kingsley’s friend’s prognosis that a small bone was broken, necessitating a plaster cast on her ankle for a few weeks.
Another hour or so and they were back in the car again, the ankle feeling better now it was supported but Rosalie’s head spinning as her brain scrambled all the appointments and deadlines of the next days. Fortunately a great deal of the work could be done from the office, she decided thankfully after a few minutes of thinking hard, and site visits would have to be undertaken by one of the others until she could drive again, unless she called on taxis. She would manage somehow, anyway. There was no way she was going to hand this job over, lock, stock and barrel, to someone else.
‘How does it feel?’
‘I’m sorry?’ As Kingsley’s voice penetrated her whirling thoughts Rosalie turned to him. She had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that he had been very good over this whole affair—refusing to let her pay for anything although she knew he had written a cheque at the hospital, and displaying a patience she hadn’t suspected he possessed.
‘The ankle. How is it?’ he repeated, the patience she had noticed not so much in evidence now.
‘Fine.’ His irritation reminded her he’d had an appointment. ‘I hope I haven’t delayed you too long,’ she added politely. ‘You mentioned an appointment?’
‘A dinner engagement.’
With a woman, she dared bet, and obviously one he was anxious to see if he was prepared to pay the expenses of a private hospital to keep his date. A dart of something Rosalie didn’t care to put a name to made itself felt, causing her to silently upbraid herself. A man like Kingsley Ward would have any number of women, for goodness’ sake, and gorgeous ones at that, but his private life was absolutely nothing to do with her.
She slanted a sideways glance at him from under her eyelashes. She had got used to the muscled contours of his body now—she’d had a couple of hours to do that at the hospital as he had insisted on staying with her—but still something warm curled in her stomach as she took in the hard profile and clean-cut lines. He was intensely sexy, she thought drowsily, the combination of the trauma of the accident and the pain-killers Kingsley’s doctor friend had prescribed making her sleepy in the car’s warm womb. She yawned before she could stop herself.
‘Put your seat back and have a snooze,’ Kingsley suggested a moment later, even though she hadn’t been aware he had noticed.
For some reason the thought of being asleep and in a position where Kingsley could look at her and she wouldn’t know was quite untenable. It woke her up better than a bucketful of cold water. ‘No, it’s okay,’ she said quickly, adding, perfectly truthfully, ‘I wouldn’t sleep tonight if I had a nap now. I don’t sleep well as it is.’
‘No?’
