“I’m fine,” Dana interrupted, proving herself a complete waste of space when it came to helping a sister escape the clutches of a determined man. “I’ll start gathering everything up. John can help me once he gets back. You kids go take care of that cut. It looks like it hurts.”
Cami’s shoulders slumped in defeat. But that didn’t keep her from muttering unkind things about Doc’s parentage as he dragged her upstairs and into the bathroom.
It was pitch black inside the cramped space. Miraculously, Doc was able to locate the matches the Deep Six crew kept on the back of the toilet. He had the three-wick candle sitting in the windowsill lit a handful of seconds later.
“Sit,” he told her, pointing to the closed toilet seat lid.
She considered raising her hackles and telling him she wasn’t a dog, so there was no need for him to think he could give her orders. But then she decided the quicker she complied, the quicker they could be finished.
And the quicker I can escape this stuffy bathroom.
She could smell that unique scent that always lingered on Doc’s skin. It was pine trees and clean mountain air, like his childhood home had imprinted itself into his very cells. And she would swear she could feel his body heat reaching out to her. Curling around her. Rubbing against her.
As if he could read her mind and thought to torment her further, he said, “Hang tight for a sec.”
Before she could object, he unzipped the top half of his wetsuit and peeled his arms from the sleeves. He let the empty upper half dangle down behind him. And in the low glow of the candle flame, she got an up close and real,realpersonal view of his tanned torso.
Doc wasn’t meticulously cut like Romeo. He didn’t have Mason’s thick, bulging muscles. What hedidhave was a body that was long and lean and startlingly beautiful.
He was built like an Olympic water polo player. His shoulders were wide. His pectoral muscles were large and well-defined. And his stomach was flat and corrugated.
Unlike a water polo player, he hadn’t done away with his body hair. It grew in a brown mat across his chest.
Nestled between his pecs was a silver coin. A piece of eight it was called. All the Deep Six guys wore one. But Cami only pictured what it would be like to have Doc’s dangling above her face while he thrust into her.
That little fantasy had her eyes following his body hair as it arrowed toward his waist. Then, farther, as it became a love trail that led to…
Gulp.
He was semi-erect. The wetsuit made it impossible notto notice.
Her body instantly responded. Her skin flushed. Her nipples furled. And despite her best efforts to keep it inside, she gasped quietly.
When Doc chuckled, it was just the bucket of cold water she needed to snap her out of her trance. Ripping her eyes away from his—ahem—impressivebulge, she looked up to find him staring down at her, one ever-mobile eyebrow quirked up his forehead.
“See something you like?” He’d lowered his voice until it was little more than a provocative rasp.
This was usually the moment when she went tongue-tied. But maybe it was her fear of the approaching storm, or maybe she was getting used to his flirting, because, to her surprise, she was quick to admit, “I think I made that obvious the first night we met. But like I’ve told you a million times, I don’t shop for meat at the same store that’s selling me bread. And besides”—she tilted her head—“you’ve been very clear that you’re all talk and no action when it comes to…” She paused for dramatic effect. “Amorous congress.”
He sputtered, “That’s just withyou.”
“Right.” She nodded. “Because I’m a lawyer and, as far as you’re concerned, that makes me the lowest form of human life.”
He didn’t contradict her. Not that she thought he would. But, you know, there was always thehope. Instead, he turned toward the medicine cabinet.
She sullenly watched him pull out a bag of cotton balls, some antibiotic ointment, and a box of Band-Aids.
“Don’t forget the peroxide.” She pointed to the brown bottle he’d left sitting on the shelf.
“Contrary to popular belief”—he arranged his haul around the sink before washing his hands in a meticulous manner that reminded her he’d been weeks away from finishing his residency in family medicine at Johns Hopkins before quitting and joining the Navy—“peroxide can actually harm the tissues around an open wound and delay healing. It’s best to clean fresh lacerations with mild soap and warm water before bandaging them.”
She frowned. “My mom used peroxide foreverything.Got a scrape? Peroxide. Earache? Peroxide. Bad breath? Peroxide.”
He chuckled and the low, warm sound seemed to bypass her ears to swirl around in her chest. “Your mom, my mom,everymom who grew up before the invention of the internet and that amazing piece of technological wizardry known as Google.”
Kneeling on the tile floor next to her, he reached for the hem of her shirt. “May I?”
“Oh,nowyou feel the need to ask?”
