Page 20 of California Dreaming

She could tell from his physique that he kept himself in prime shape. She did not need to give Archer—or rather, Arch—a lecture on eating well and avoiding junk. Besides, she wasn’t a complete purist about food. She understood that sometimes a treat helped a patient as much as a well-timed visit from people they loved.

He patted his flat belly anyway. “I’d love to get straight back to the gym, or at least the pool,” he said, “but I know I’m not strong enough yet. The physical therapist I saw in the hospital wrote me a daily workout plan. It’s at the back of the file with the nutritionist’s notes.”

Tessa pulled out the workout plan and read through it. She’d helped enough patients heal from broken bones that she had a pretty good notion what the exercises would be. As she’d expected, this was a more rigorous plan than someone of Margaret’s age and strength would receive, but she could ensure Arch did the exercises properly. She offered to gather the equipment he needed and bring everything up to the ground floor.

To her relief, Arch didn’t attempt to dissuade her from lifting anything or try to haul himself downstairs to the gym.

“Why don’t you change into your workout gear, and I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes? I’ll set up the mats.” But as soon as the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake. “Or do you need some help changing?”

She was trying so hard to be professional, but at her own suggestion of helping him off with his clothes, she felt heat rush to her cheeks.

It was so difficult to talk to him as she would with Margaret, whom she frequently helped with her clothes, or any other of her countless patients who had needed that same level of care. It wasn’t even like Arch was the first handsome man she’d worked with. And yet, all her cool flew out the window at the very suggestion that she might assist him in unzipping his pants.

The truth was, she was afraid of getting that close to him—as if one touch would be all it would take for her to lose the battle. To not fall completely under his movie-star spell. Although, to be fair, he didn’t act like an entitled movie star. She waited with bated breath for his reply, hoping against hope he could handle his pants himself.

* * *

Arch stared at Tessa, trying to read her neutral expression. Was that a flush of color across her tanned cheeks, or was he only seeing what he wanted to see?

He was tempted to reply that he did need her help getting changed into workout gear. Just the thought of her hands on his skin filled him with warmth. As did super sexy visions of the two of them tangled together on his bed, pleasure humming through every part of their bodies.

But the truth was that he didn’t need help. He’d managed to dress himself the last few mornings, and he could easily pull on a pair of shorts. Plus, he didn’t want to overstep his boundaries with Tessa.

At least, not yet.

He sensed that winning her heart was going to take time. So he would have to move slowly and respect that she was in his house as a professional.

What’s more, there was a vulnerability to Tessa that she did a good job of hiding beneath that efficient exterior. But he could still sense that she had been hurt in the past. Not physically, but emotionally. Her guard was up.

At one time or another, he had seen something similar with his sisters. A short burst of fury went through him at the thought that someone had hurt a woman as precious as Tessa. He’d been pleased when Erin had asked her to join her and Mila for coffee. Their letting another woman into their tight circle was a big deal, and he was glad for Tessa that she was going to have two of the coolest women in Carmel as new friends.

He couldn’t help but feel a little glad on a personal level too. Because if she started hanging out with his sisters, maybe they’d put in a good word for him. His sisters might tease him, but they knew him better than anyone else, and they knew he’d never deliberately hurt anyone, least of all a woman living in his home to do a job.

Tessa was still waiting for an answer, so he shook his head. “I’ll manage getting into my workout gear just fine.” With that, he took his crutches and maneuvered as well as he could into his bedroom to change.

He dug out a pair of red shorts and took his time slipping them over his cast. When he got back to the living area, he found Tessa on her hands and knees, unrolling his green yoga mat. She had set out varying pairs of free weights in neat rows and two resistance bands.

She hadn’t noticed him, which allowed him to observe her luscious backside for a moment.

It was a great moment, even if he did feel a little bad for drooling over her when she wasn’t looking. Then again, he was just looking. Not touching, no matter how desperate he was to do just that. No, he wouldn’t dare touch her in a sensual way unless she told him she wanted it too.

When she stood, she went to the fireplace where one of his favorite paintings hung. He’d started collecting art when he signed his first big Hollywood contract. He loved to find unusual pieces and support up-and-coming artists.

Tessa stood still, gazing up at the piece in wonder. It depicted swaths of blue water the artist had captured in motion, bubbling and rippling, the suggestion of a shimmering body swimming beneath all that blue. Tessa didn’t give it a cursory glance, as most of the people who came here did. Instead, she stepped closer, then away, giving the painting her full attention.

“It’s a Lawles,” he said to Tessa’s back. “She had a small solo show in LA last year, and I fell in love with this piece.”

She turned, clearly surprised to find him back in the room already. “Kalinda Lawles, yes, I know her work. I love how photorealistic all her work is,” Tessa said dreamily. “At the same time, there’s something so free, almost abstract, about the brushstrokes.” She continued to gaze at the painting in awe, before adding, “I don’t know how she does it.”

Arch was impressed. “I don’t know many people who would have recognized her name, let alone known so much about her work.” Eager to get to know this fascinating woman better, he added, “You must really like art.”

But instead of getting into a subject they were both clearly passionate about, she laughed off his comment and told him to come to the mat.

He obeyed, happy to get closer to her. But as she settled him on his back to begin a mobility warm-up, he found he couldn’t concentrate on her instructions. He was too aware of her—her pretty floral scent, her seemingly delicate but strong wrists as she gently took hold of his good leg. And then he noticed a smudge of green on her thumbnail. Nail polish she hadn’t managed to completely remove? But she didn’t strike him as a woman who had weekly manicures—not like Mila, whose nails were always polished. She always said she kept them that way so she could picture herself signing the biggest real estate deals in Carmel with beautiful hands.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to force his concentration on the workout, not on Tessa. Keep his focus on the exercises. Build up his strength. Make it on set in ten weeks for what was sure to be a blockbuster action movie.

Tessa helped him circle his ankles, open his hips, stretch his spine. He was torn between enjoying every minute of her touch and the pain in his leg.

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