Her Fifth Husband? by Dixie Browning Read Free Book Online Page B

man. That perfume must be messing with his head.
    He cleared his throat. “If you’re finished, I can take your tray. You want your cell phone handy?” Rising, he looked around for her purse.
    â€œWhy would I want that?”
    â€œIn case it rings so you won’t have to get up? Or to call someone to come stay with you?”
    â€œIf it’s important they’ll call back, and I’m not in the mood for company.”
    â€œI just meant—” He started to explain and gave up on it. When it came to defenses, the lady could give lessons to a porcupine.
    So he took her leavings to the kitchen, refilled the tumbler with ice and sweet tea and brought it back. Then he removed the cold pack, which was mostly melted, anyway. “Wait a little while, then ice up again. In the meantime, keep your foot elevated. I’ll put your prescription here where you can reach it. Let’s see…you took the last dose about two.” He glanced around for a clock. She looked at her wrist. One of her several bracelets turned out to be a wristwatch. “Every four hours or as needed,” he reminded her.
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    Sasha was glad he’d turned away. She hated being seen at a disadvantage, she purely hated it! She must looklike a lump of raw dough with her clothes all twisted around her; with her hair falling out of the carefully casual do she’d started out with this morning and her lipstick chewed off. Heaven only knew what had happened to her eye makeup. At least she’d done nothing to smear her eyeliner or dislodge any of her eyelashes.
    â€œYou moonlight as a nurse, right?” she snapped, and was immediately ashamed of herself. She refused to apologize, and that bothered her even more, because she knew better.
    Without a word he blotted the rings of moisture from the coffee table, then replaced her magazines and sample books. That mouth of his that could look so sensuous in unguarded moments had tightened into a grim line.
    Sasha felt lower than dirt, yet she couldn’t bring herself to apologize for her rudeness. God, she was wicked! That saying about pride going before a fall had been one of her father’s favorite quotations, usually uttered right before he attempted to beat the pride out of her.
    Obviously it hadn’t worked.
    Jake stepped back, his face expressionless. “If you’re sure you don’t need anything else, I’ll be leaving. Don’t forget to ice up again.”
    â€œHand me my purse before you go, I haven’t paid you for lunch. I owe you gas money, too.”
    He looked annoyed, but his voice remained calm. “Just make sure you call someone to sit with you. Tell ’em to bring a book so you won’t have to entertain them if you’d rather not, but you’re in no shape to take care of yourself.”
    â€œOh, go to hell,” she shot back. This time she really would have apologized, but before she could find thewords, he was gone. Twisting around to look through the front window, she watched him stride down the front walk. Lordamercy, he looked like a storm waiting to happen. Not that she could blame him.
    â€œWhy do I do these things?” she moaned, flopping back onto the cushions. Talk about being your own worst enemy.
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    Jake was halfway across the Currituck Sound when his cell phone sounded reveille. He punched on and before he could say a word Sasha started rattling off what sounded like an apology, with a garbled explanation that he was in no mood to hear. He broke in, reminding her that she would need someone to take her to Kitty Hawk for her car once she was able to drive again.
    â€œDon’t you worry about that one bit,” she said earnestly, “I have lots of friends.”
    He assured her he wasn’t worried in the least.
    So how come, he wondered as he replaced the phone in its holder, he was trying to think of some excuse to turn around and go back to Muddy Landing?
    As to that, how