Once a Playboy…. Kate Hardy
are your wrists?’ she asked.
‘Better. I can manage without the splints now. And I’ve got pretty much the full range of movement back, thanks to the exercises you gave me.’ He gave her a rueful smile. ‘You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to being able to drive myself again.’
‘Taxis that bad, are they?’
‘They are when they’re being driven by your little sisters, and the fare is a whole journey’s worth of nagging.’
She laughed.
‘You’re supposed to be sympathetic,’ he said.
‘I am.’ She was still smiling. ‘But I’m just imagining you being bossed around by a woman.’
‘My sister,’ he corrected. ‘Bossy isn’t the half of it. The oldest one’s the scariest barrister I’ve ever met—you just don’t answer Alice back. Ever. The middle one’s an architect and threatens to gag me with gaffer tape if I dare suggest she modifies her driving slightly so she doesn’t scrape my car, and the baby just switches to speaking Latin if you try to talk her into letting you do something!’
Serena laughed again. ‘I bet you charm all three of them into doing everything you ask of them.’
Fair point. It was what George did with women. Charmed them. With two exceptions—ones he didn’t usually let himself think about—women tended to agree to what he wanted.
And right now he wanted her.
Serena had a beautiful mouth—a perfect rosebud. She wasn’t wearing a scrap of make-up, but she really didn’t need any. She had a fresh, natural beauty. Flawless skin that made him itch to touch it, feel how soft it was under his fingertips. And he couldn’t help wondering what that mouth would feel like against his own.
‘So you think I’m a shallow, charming playboy? I’m hurt,’ he said, batting his eyelashes at her. ‘Deeply wounded.’
‘Sure you are.’ That glint of amusement was back in her eyes.
‘Oh, but I am.’ And the suggestion was too much for him to resist. ‘And, as you’re the one making me feel bad right now, Serena, maybe you should be the one to kiss me better.’
She simply smiled at him. ‘I’m afraid that’s not part of the treatment, Mr Somers.’
He noticed that she’d switched back to formality with him. Well, it was his own fault for being too pushy. Time to backtrack. ‘I apologise for teasing, Ms James—or should that be Mrs?’
‘Ms is fine.’
Which still didn’t tell him whether she was married—or at least committed elsewhere. Though he had a feeling that she wasn’t. A feeling that wasn’t based on any actual information: simply his gut instinct. And his gut had rarely led him wrong in the past. Only with Rebecca, and that had been his fault for wanting what she couldn’t give him.
Serena took him through all the exercises, and he concentrated on making sure he got them right.
‘Good. I think we’re done for today,’ she said.
‘See you on Thursday? Or are you going to make me see Brutal Bruno instead, to teach me a lesson for being cheeky with you today?’
‘Bruno’s as gentle as a lamb,’ she protested.
‘Not with me, he isn’t,’ George said feelingly, remembering his first sessions with the physiotherapist while he had still been in hospital. Once the painkillers had worn off, the movements had hurt like hell. Not that he would’ve admitted to any of it. He’d wanted to be out of hospital with his independence back. Like yesterday.
‘Oh, you big baby.’ She laughed. ‘I’ll see you on Thursday.’
He’d see her on Thursday.
Funny how that made the whole physiotherapy thing seem bearable.
Serena was still smiling as she wrote up the notes.
George Somers was just too gorgeous for his own good.
Another time, another place, and she would’ve been tempted to take him up on his offer of kissing him better.
But …
She couldn’t afford to be unprofessional. She needed this job, and getting too friendly with your patients was the quickest way to risk ending up in a sticky situation and with a disciplinary charge on your records, at the very least.
Plus she knew that George Somers was the kind of man who never dated anyone more than a couple of times. He didn’t do serious relationships. His picture was in the press with a different woman practically every week—usually a tall, skinny blonde—and having two broken wrists, a broken leg and concussion hadn’t seemed to slow him down in the slightest. He was the last kind of man she wanted to get involved with. And why on earth would the heir to a barony—a man who’d dated supermodels, according to all the newspapers—be in the slightest bit interested in an ordinary woman like her?
And then there was Ethan. Her son’s needs came first and they always would, as far as she was concerned. End of story.
So, much as Serena found George Somers attractive, she knew he’d better remain a patient and only a patient. She couldn’t afford to offer him anything else.
She looked at her appointment schedule. Her next patient was another of her favourites, Lisa Miller, who’d been suffering from whiplash for the last six weeks and whose range of movements was responding beautifully to treatment. Serena smiled and went over to the door to call her in.
When Serena had finished her session with the patient after Lisa—an elderly lady who was recovering from a hip replacement—she took a break, just long enough to gulp down a cup of coffee in the staff kitchen.
Jess, one of the other physiotherapists, was already there, leaning against the worktop. ‘The kettle’s just boiled. Want a coffee?’ she asked, taking a mug out of the cupboard and waving it at Serena.
‘Thanks, Jess. That’d be great.’
‘So how was Mr Hot?’ Jess asked, making the coffee and then handing Serena the mug.
‘Mr Hot?’ Serena asked warily.
‘Your first patient this afternoon.’ Jess grinned and fanned herself. ‘I can’t believe you didn’t know who I meant. He’s seriously gorgeous.’
Serena didn’t dare reply to that, in case her words were too revealing. The last thing she needed was for her colleagues to think she was lusting after one of her patients.
‘Is he single?’
‘No idea,’ Serena fibbed. ‘Anyway, I thought you were engaged?’
‘I am, but I’m not dead. I can still look. And he’s something else.’ Jess rolled her eyes. ‘I can’t believe you don’t know anything about him. I mean, if I was single and one of my patients was that hot, I’d want to know everything about him.’
‘There is such a thing as patient confidentiality,’ Serena said dryly.
‘True.’ Jess gave her an irrepressible smile. ‘You know, if he is single, you could always ask him out.’
‘Of course I can’t! He’s my patient.’
‘Only until his treatment’s finished,’ Jess pointed out. ‘And then there’s nothing to stop you getting to know him better.’
Serena played her trump card. ‘Ethan.’
‘You know your parents would babysit like a shot if you asked them.’
That was true. But Serena’s mother already picked the little boy up from school every afternoon and kept him entertained until Serena had finished her shift; Serena felt she was taking quite enough from her parents as it was,