One Night That Changed Everything. Tina Beckett
trill of Hannah’s watch alarm registered in her ears, but it took her brain a little more time to place the sound.
Opening her eyes, she punched a button before noticing Greg’s dark, mussed hair, his even darker eyes regarding her with a slight smile. He was upside down. No, wait. She was. Hadn’t she been sitting up while he’d slept? Why were they now reversed?
Ack. Because she’d fallen asleep, too. Had evidently just keeled over sideways and was lying on the floor, looking pretty much like she’d looked sitting up. Bent at the hips, legs straight out.
Greg’s lips curved higher. “Looks like I wasn’t the only one who was tired.”
Only he didn’t seem tired. Not anymore. His eyes glittered with life, and the dark circles beneath them had eased. He also looked much more relaxed. Or was that still due to the topsy-turvy world she’d awoken into? Maybe his smile was really a frown.
“Did you sleep well?” She cleared her throat when her voice came out as a hoarse squawk.
“Like a rock. Good thing you set that alarm.”
He could say that again. She’d only set it so she wouldn’t be tempted to wake him with the proverbial kiss. Like a reverse Sleeping Beauty. That analogy fit her current mixed-up thought processes to a T. “Sorry. I had no idea I was that tired.”
“I should be the one saying sorry. I don’t expect you to keep the same hours I do.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized she should be moving. “Don’t you think I’m capable of it?”
He gave a soft laugh. “Oh, I know you are. I just don’t want you to run you off before I’ve …”
His words trailed away.
“Before you’ve what?”
“Before I’ve proven I can take better care of myself.”
That made her smile. But when she did try to sit up, the awkward angle at which she’d been lying made her back muscles give a warning twinge. She eased back down, licking her lips as she waited for the spasm to pass.
He frowned. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” Lord, what was she going to do? She couldn’t very well wave him off and send him on his way while pretzeled on the floor. What if she couldn’t get up after he left and he returned in the morning to find her still here? Still folded like a crazed contortionist? “I’ll be fine in a minute. My … er, foot’s asleep.”
He angled away, his gaze sweeping down her pants’ legs. He reached down and plucked off one of her white leather slip-ons and then the other. “Which one?”
“No, don’t touch it!”
Okay, that screech hadn’t been exactly the calm tone she’d been going for. But her feet were seriously ticklish—one wrong move and she’d wrench her back even further.
“Shh. I won’t.” He propped himself on one elbow as he continued to regard her. “Your foot might keep you from walking but it wouldn’t keep you from sitting up. Why didn’t you at least get a pillow for yourself?”
Because I didn’t expect to crash to the floor like a felled tree. Was so busy watching each breath you took that …
No, that wasn’t right. She’d been merely biding her time, letting him get some much-needed rest.
“I just closed my eyes for a second or two.”
“Or more.” He paused, still watching her face. “Do you want me to help you up?”
Her body tensed, her back already sending up a frantic mayday. “No.” She even managed to smile, although she could only imagine what it looked like to him. She’d better come clean before he did something that made the situation worse. “My back is a little … sore. From lying in this position.”
“I thought it was your foot?”
“I lied.” The admission came with a real smile this time.
“Hannah, Hannah, what am I going to do with you?” The soft murmur trailed across her senses, making her back tighten further.
She pulled in a careful breath. “How about leaving me to die in peace?”
His face stilled. “Don’t say that.”
“Don’t say …?” It hit her. Mrs. Brookstone’s turn for the worse. How hard he’d worked to keep that from happening to any of his patients. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He stood up and carefully lifted the chair behind her out of the way. Then the two on either side of it.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to help you sit up.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
When he knelt on the floor behind her and put his hands on the muscles on her right side, a quick flicker of fear went through her. But he didn’t try to jerk her upright. Instead his fingers played over the different areas of her back before muttering something under his breath. Then he said, “I can’t feel anything through your shirt. I need bare skin.”
Her heart went into overdrive, threatening to hammer its way out of her chest. “Wh-what?”
“Sorry. I meant your muscles.” He paused. “Where does it hurt?”
“Below my right shoulderblade.”
His fingers shifted, testing. “Can you roll onto your stomach?”
“I don’t know.” She tried, inching to the right, his palms taking some of the work off her back muscles. Then she was there, legs stretched straight behind her, feet bare, all the while a group of muscles sizzled with fire. Even drawing too deep a breath caused it to tighten further. A tiny whimper made its way out before she could stop it.
His fingers began exploring her back again until he reached the ball of agony around which her world currently swirled.
“Oh, God, don’t. Please.” She was horrified at the hoarse plea in her voice.
He swore softly.
“Stay here. I’m going to get a muscle relaxant and a heating pad. I’ll be right back.”
As he walked away, Hannah heard him talking softly to someone, giving them his cell number and asking whoever it was to call him if there was an emergency. The hospital? His answering service?
She hadn’t wanted to interfere with his work. She’d just wanted to leave some food for him and be on her way.
He could have just left her, like she’d suggested …
But he wasn’t that kind of man.
She heard him come back. “I don’t want you to take the pill lying down like that, so we’ll see if we can loosen you up a little first.”
Despite the pain, she giggled. It sounded more like he was trying to get her drunk than help her get back on her feet.
“You find this funny?”
“No. It’s just … Never mind.”
A second later he draped something across the sore part of her back and the sound of a switch clicking hit her ears. Soft vibrations made their way through her back, not hard enough to hurt but enough that she knew it was there.
“It’ll warm up in a minute or two.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t normally have back spasms.” The last time had been after her biopsy, when lying in one position for a prolonged period of time had left her muscles stiff and sore. She’d moved too quickly and driven home in quiet agony, too embarrassed to tell anyone at the hospital what was going on. It had taken two days for the pain to ease—she