She heard him enter the bedroom from the bathroom. Too late to remember she should have moved the throw rug beside the bed.

Moments later, the mattress squeaked. After that, at least one crutch fell to the floor.

When silence reigned, she opened the door a crack. “Harry? Are you decent? May I come in?”

His response was muffled, but Cate took that as a yes. She peeked, feeling like a voyeur. Harry was sprawled on his back, mostly on top of the covers. He had drawn one corner of the quilt over his midsection. His eyes were closed.

She approached the bed tentatively. “Are you okay?”

One eyelid lifted. His mouth twisted in pain. “Don’t you dare say, ‘I told you so.’”

“But you’re clean,” she said, trying to pacify him. “That will feel nice. Let’s see if we can get you under the covers.”

The task took far too long. Cate had to coax him to one side, drag the top sheet back, and then get him to roll the other way. He could only move his left leg comfortably, so she had to gently ease the covers out from under him.

Every bit of his body she could see was gloriously naked. His golden skin was damp and beautiful. Sleek muscle and sinew marked his tough, toned form. Her response to all that masculinity rattled her, but she tucked those feelings aside to be studied later.

When at last she had him properly in the bed, only his right leg was exposed. That was by design. She didn’t want to risk reaching under the bedding to find his knee with the ice pack. Too much dangerous real estate nearby.

“I’m going to run downstairs for a minute,” she said, resisting the urge to stroke his tousled hair away from his forehead. “Will you be okay?”

Her only answer was a grunt that could have meant anything.

In her grandmother’s kitchen, Cate searched the freezer. She found two medical ice packs and three packages of frozen peas. She would start with the ice packs and come back later for the veggies if it came to that.

Quickly, she checked all the windows and doors and turned off lights. At the last minute, she remembered to grab a bottle of apple juice and a cereal bar.

When she returned to Harry’s room, he appeared to be dozing, though it was hard to tell. She fetched a hand towel from the bathroom and used it to cover the bruised knee before she applied the ice pack.

In the midst of the job, a strong male hand grabbed her wrist. “I can do that,” Harry said, sounding disgruntled.

“But why should you have to? Be still and let me get this right.” The ice pack had an attached Velcro strap. Cate carefully slid that part underneath Harry’s leg and fastened it snugly so the ice pack wouldn’t be dislodged if he moved.

“All set,” she said, trying for a cross between cheerful and competent. Truthfully, she was neither.

Harry’s eyes were open now. He patted the empty side of the bed. “Stay here and talk to me,” he said. “I’m not sleepy.”

Fourteen

The atmosphere in the room was charged. Cate was far too aware that Harry lay naked beneath the covers. In the process of getting him settled, she had seen one unmistakably bare butt cheek.

“You’re not sleepy because you’re hurting?” she asked.

Long silence.

“Yes.”

“I checked the discharge papers to see when they gave you the first dose of meds,” she said. “You can have more in a little while. I’ve set an alarm on my watch. We want to stay ahead of the pain.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” he said.

“You didn’t break anything or tear anything, but your kneecap took a direct hit. It’s not nothing.”

“I like your voice,” he said, the words drowsy. “Even when you’re fussing at me, it’s soothing.”

Cate took a seat on the unoccupied side of the bed and rested her back against the headboard. “I haven’t fussed,” she said, mildly amused. “I’m only trying to take care of you.”

“That’smyjob.” He slurred his words now, clearly trying to resist the pull of the narcotics.