detour than a permanent road closure.
“SO WE MEET AGAIN.”
A startled sound escaped Natalie’s throat as she froze in front of the closed curtain. She didn’t need to see the spoked wheel and the running shoes beneath to identify the voice that filtered out like a sneaky caress from the base of her neck to her tailbone, but she peeked anyway.
Shane.
Her mouth was suddenly dry. Of course, his name was on the appointment schedule. She’d set those appointments herself. And two days had seemed like plenty of time to prepare herself to have to work with him again. Apparently it wasn’t long enough.
How had he known she would be the one passing by his exam room right then, anyway, and not one of the other PTs or the office staff? In her navy scrubs and basic white tennis shoes, she could have been any one of them. Was there something unique about her shoes or the way she walked? And had he been watching her closely enough to notice? But then her gaze caught on the narrow opening where the two curtains met. He grinned out at her.
She schooled her surprise into a frown, but she couldn’t stop the sudden rush of her pulse or the dampness on her palms. Proving what a coward she was, she opened the chart in her arms and studied it as if she hadn’t just reviewed it with her last client. She hoped he wouldn’t notice it wasn’t his.
“What are you already doing in here?” She stepped to the counter outside his visual range and switched charts. Once she opened his, she pulled the curtain wide.
“That young receptionist helped me out since you were running late.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the front desk. “She was very helpful.”
“I bet,” she said under her breath and then grimaced, hoping he hadn’t heard. But he was reading an exercise chart on the wall, the one designed for clients with knee injuries. She would speak to Anne-Marie about her helpfulness later, though she wasn’t sure what she would say beyond hands off the clients. She could have used that reminder herself the other day.
“My last appointment ran over. Sorry.” She stepped to the sink and washed her hands, even though she’d just done so prior to switching clients. She spoke over her shoulder as she dried them. “Did one of your chauffeurs have to get back on patrol?”
“Four-car pileup on Interstate 96. Trooper Cole took the call. Priorities.”
“Trooper Cole?” She pursed her lips, trying to recall the name of the attractive woman she’d met the other day. “So it wasn’t...either of the officers from last time?”
His smile was slow, knowing and so sensual that it was all she could do not to fan her face with the chart. Heat rose up her chest and neck. If only she’d worn a turtleneck under her scrub top. She didn’t even want to think about any of the other places she felt warm.
She wished he would look away, and at the same time, she dreaded the moment he would. What the hell was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she stop asking dumb questions? She shouldn’t even be thinking the things she had been. She was acting as if he was the first guy she’d ever met. Well, he wasn’t, and she refused to get all flustered by this guy, who had probably turned that sexy smile on every woman in the office by now, including dowdy Beverly Wilson.
She cleared her throat, banishing thoughts that could only get her into trouble. “Have you been doing your exercises?”
“I was supposed to do them at home?”
“Are you—” But she stopped herself before adding “kidding” as Shane’s grin spread wide.
“Gotcha.”
Natalie rolled her eyes and looked at the chart. She couldn’t just keep staring at him.
“You’re not the first of my clients to say something like that on a return visit,” she said without looking up.
“I’m not like your other clients.”
He had that right in more ways than he could know. “How do you know you’re different?”
“Because I did my homework. Five times a day.”
She set his chart aside, stood and opened the curtain. “You put in the work. Probably more than you should have. Let’s see how much improvement you’ve made.”
Deftly maneuvering his chair out of the tight space, he followed her into the hall.
“You’re about to be impressed. Which of the exercises do you want me to demonstrate first? I’m an expert at each.”
“None of them.”
When the grind of his rotating wheels stopped behind her, she turned to find him watching her.
“What do you mean?”
She started forward again, hoping he would follow. He did. Continuing into the activity room, she led him past some of the machines they’d used the first time to a low-tech area filled with gym mats. She stopped in front of a pair of parallel bars on a wooden platform.
“I thought we’d give these a try.”
He just stared at the contraption. “Already?”
“Why not already?”
But he was still looking at those parallel bars the way some people gawked at a line of fire trucks and ambulances racing toward someone else’s tragedy.
“I just thought we’d build up to that,” he said finally. “You know...try some other things first.”
He still wasn’t looking at her when he said it, but she couldn’t stop watching him. This didn’t fit. For the first time since he’d appeared in the clinic, Shane exuded something less than unshakable confidence. His face looked downright ashen.
“You were already using the parallel bars at the intermediate treatment center, weren’t you?”
“Just once.” He paused and licked his lips. “It was too soon.”
“But you’re stronger now.”
“Maybe.”
He didn’t sound convinced. Which didn’t make sense. He’d been so determined to get back to work. And he’d worked so hard in the clinic and at home. So why was he reluctant to even try the most important step? Why was he stalling? Was he afraid of trying to walk again...or terrified he never would?
Natalie turned her head toward the wall of windows as if she could find answers in that angry sheet of gray. She shouldn’t become personally involved. Her only job was to use her skills to help an injured client become stronger. If he chose not to—or was too scared to—improve the quality of his life, that was none of her business.
It couldn’t matter that his reticence reminded her of her mother’s choice not to reclaim her life. She couldn’t go there. Shane and her mother might both be in wheelchairs, but they couldn’t have been more different.
