She lifted an eyebrow at his imperious command.
The military had honed many of his natural qualities. Confidence, determination, and stamina, to name a few. But it might’ve done him a disservice when it came to the more subtle side of social situations. He’d learned to forgo politeness for proficiency.
“Christina”—he made sure his tone was obliging—“why don’t you sit down and take a load off while I run you a bath?”
Her gas tank might be empty, but her sense of humor remained intact. “Thank you for asking so nicely, Wolf.” Her mouth curved into a teasing smile as she primly arranged herself atop the toilet. “Don’t mind if I do.”
He turned on the water, adjusted the temperature, and then hitched his chin toward the shirt she wore. “You’re goin’ to need help with that top.”
Thanks to the sling and bandaging, Chrissy had needed the nurse’s assistance getting into the scrubs top. It stood to reason she’d need some help coming out.
“Wow,” she said dryly. “I’ve had men come up with some pretty bad lines while attempting to get me out of my clothes, but that might be the worst one yet.”
“Like I said, the best lines are less about seduction and more about statin’ your offer straight out.” He lowered his chin and gave her his most provocative look. “If I was tryin’ to get you naked, I’d have said somethin’ along the lines of, ‘Christina, you gorgeous thing, why don’t you let me take off your clothes and then kiss every new inch of you once it’s exposed?’”
He was teasing. Except the instant the words were out of his mouth, they didn’t feel like a joke.
“I wish I had a pithy reply, but you just melted my brain.” She lifted a hand to dab at the side of her face. “Is it leaking out of my ears?”
He laughed. God love the woman. Never once had she tried to act like they didn’t have explosive chemistry. She simply chose to ignore it.
“Meltin’ your brain was my intention.” He looked pointedly at the scrubs top. “Now…that shirt?”
She curled her upper lip. “It hurt like hell getting it on. I can’t imagine trying to take it off.”
“We could cut it,” he suggested and watched her face brighten.
“Scissors are in the knife block in the kitchen.”
He headed for the door, but then hesitated. “One thing before I go.”
Curiosity had her eyebrows arching.
“You want to enlighten me on the difference between a good guy and a nice guy?”
“Isthatwhat’s been bugging you?” She shook her head. “I’ve been wondering.”
“It’s one of the things,” he admitted evasively. “So? What’s the difference?”
“Look.” She shrugged. “Neither of them is bad, okay? I want to start by saying that.”
It never boded well for the person listening when the person talking felt the need to preface a statement.
“A nice guy is someone who’s polite and treats the women he dates well,” she explained and he relaxed. “A good guy is someone whocaresabout the women he dates, and he goes out of his way to show he cares.”
So much for relaxing. Someone inserted a steel rod in his spine. “You don’t think I cared about you when we were datin’?”
She couldn’t hold his gaze and let her eyes fall to a piece of lint stuck to her knee. “Were we ever dating, Wolf?”
“I thought so. Or, at least, I thought we were gettin’ there in an awful big hurry.”
Nowshe met his gaze. He would swear he saw a shadow of That Night in her eyes.
“Then I…” She lifted her hand and let it fall. “I don’t understand why— No.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s water under the bridge, and it’s better if we row as fast as we can in the opposite direction.”
He wasn’t sure how he got there, but he found himself sitting opposite her on the lip of the tub. The sound of the running water was loud in the little bathroom. He switched it off. He didn’t want to miss a single word out of her mouth.
“It’snotwater under the bridge, Chrissy. Tell me what you were about to say. Ask me the question you stopped yourself from askin’.”
