Page 15 of California Dreaming

She smiled in sympathy. “Don’t worry. I know how boring meals like this can be, so I’ll try and make them as tasty as possible. I can work magic with kale, I promise.”

He grinned. “I’m willing to believe there’s magic in those healing hands of yours.”

She blushed, flustered for a moment. So much for staying professional.

“Anyway,” he continued, “it’s only ten weeks. I can put up with eating super healthy for that long.”

“Ten weeks?” she repeated, confused.

When he explained that shooting on his next film started in ten weeks, she couldn’t keep the shock out of her voice. “But a fractured tibia takes four months to heal.”

He shrugged, unfazed. Clearly, he was used to getting his own way. “Well, this one is going to take ten weeks.”

She took a deep breath. She was good at her job, but she wasn’t a miracle worker. “Then you’d better do all your exercises and follow the doctor’s orders. And mine.”

She grabbed a pen and added a few items to the nutritionist’s list before telling Archer her first job would be to buy groceries. Then she could set about designing a meal-prep schedule for the week.

Again, she couldn’t help but notice he looked disappointed.

“Okay,” he said. “But before you leave, would you mind changing out of your uniform top? I never know when photographers are staking out the house, and I don’t want anyone to know I’m stuck at home with a broken leg.” He paused, a playful look returning to his face. “Besides, like I said before, it makes me feel like an invalid. Your regular clothes will be just fine.”

There went her plan to make herself look more professional and plain. But she agreed to change into a different shirt to go shopping. Privately, she decided to wear her uniform most of the time when she was in his house, to remind them both that she was his paid caregiver.

“I’ll just grab my luggage and take it to my room before I head out.”

Again, Archer made a move to get up.

“No, you stay right where you are,” she said. “I can handle my luggage on my own—and certainly better than you could right now.”

She could see he was struggling with not being able to help. Having met both of his parents, she could guess that Archer was an old-fashioned guy and no doubt considered it his duty to help carry heavy luggage. It could be more difficult for men who saw themselves as the chivalrous type to allow other people to come to their aid. But she’d have to show him she was perfectly capable of doing it herself, even if privately she thought the attempt was sweet.

“I’ve moved my bedroom to the ground floor,” Archer said. “There’s a guest bedroom next to mine. You can set up in there. It’s very comfortable.”

She blinked at him. Share a bedroom wall? No way. If she was going to keep things professional, she’d have to sleep as far away from Archer as possible. She couldn’t spend her nights lying awake, imagining she could hear him. “Are there any bedrooms on the upper floor?”

His expression turned petulant, and her stomach flipped as she noted the adorable way his bottom lip jutted out.

He shrugged. “There’s two. But what if I need you in the night?”

She swallowed as the words need you in the night immediately turned into a sexy scene inside her head. She really needed to stop thinking about him this way! “If you need me, call my cell, any time, day or night.”

With that, she excused herself and hauled her bags upstairs. She nearly gasped with pleasure when she reached the upper floor. The floor-to-ceiling windows showed off Carmel’s glorious beach, with dozens of happy dogs running around, playing with one another, and bounding in the surf while their owners looked on with smiles. Facing the window was a telescope, as well as a comfortable seating area and bookshelves full of books and treasured objects, all of which she’d inspect later, along with the art on the walls. She recognized the work of a couple of artists she followed herself who were becoming famous.

She chose the bedroom with the ocean view, assuming there wouldn’t be any other guests staying, and rapidly unpacked her clothing. She set the backpack containing her painting supplies against the wall.

Then she changed into a plain white T-shirt and headed back downstairs. Archer was sitting where she’d left him, reading what looked like a script. “Can I get you anything before I leave?”

He shook his head, but she went to the kitchen—a gorgeous gourmet space that had her fingers itching to start cooking—and poured him a glass of water. She set it beside him with a reminder to drink plenty of fluids, then took the grocery list and the credit card he offered her. He told her to pick up anything she liked to eat as well, which was nice of him.

She paused for a moment in the driveway, studying the house. She couldn’t quite believe this was going to be her home for the next ten weeks and Archer Davenport her constant companion.

She was thrilled and apprehensive in equal measure. But she was determined to do her best to bring him back to the peak of health. She was, after all, very good at her job.

And if there was a little flutter in her pulse when they were working close to each other, no one had to know but her.

Chapter Eight

The house felt weirdly silent after Tessa left. But that wasn’t the only reason Arch could hear his own heart thumping. When she’d appeared at the door, she’d looked like an angel sent to help him just when he’d needed her most. After he’d gotten over the initial shock of how beautiful she looked and the deep blue of her concerned eyes, the nurse’s uniform had snapped him back to attention. There was something surprisingly sexy about it—librarian sexy—and he couldn’t help wanting to pull the ponytail band from her hair, shake loose those dark curls, and kiss her senseless.

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