‘Wide enough for me, of course.’ His expression was now pure challenge, purely expectant of...what?
She saw the barely suppressed smirk. He was amusing himself at her expense? Well, two could play at that game. Roxie determinedly imagined diving into Antarctic waters, cool—freezing—waters. Anything to keep her blush at bay. She was not going to go all girly embarrassed here, even though she felt it. Instead, she leaned back on her hands, 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 defense—fueled 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 sharedamusement 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.
