Silhouette Intimate Moments, December 2003 copyright RaeAnne R. Thayne
Not sure exactly when his life had spun so completely out of his control, Gage let Lisa wheel him into the kitchen and arrange him in front of the sink. He really ought to be working up some sort of a protest. He didn't need another example thrown in his face to remind him how helpless he was that he couldn't even wash his own hair, for pete's sake.
So why did he stay silent even as she draped a towel around his shoulders and handed him another for his eyes in case water dripped into them? It couldn't be because he secretly wanted her hands on him. Absolutely not. No, more likely he went along with her only because he was too worn out to argue with the immovable force that was Lisa Connors.
Besides, he had to admit, his head was beginning to itch. Why suffer one more misery on top of everything else if he didn't have to?
Behind him he could hear water run in the sink while she tested the temperature. A few moments later, the tone of the flow changed as she turned on the spray attachment.
"Can you lean back a little?"
Resigned to his fate, Gage complied, wondering as he did why her voice seemed to have slipped an octave.
"Is that far enough?"
"It should be."
A moment later a spray of warm water hit his head. He forced himself to relax as she soaked his head. He even managed to close his eyes instead of watching her with the wariness of a chained wolf. Really, this wasn't so bad after all. She was right, it felt kind of nice. Restful, even.
After a moment, it became better than nice. He had never realized what a sensual experience having someone else wash his hair could be. As she worked lather through each strand of his wet hair, he was suddenly uncomfortably aware of this woman who had managed to barge her way into his life.
How could he be anything but aware of her? As her fingers worked through his hair, she leaned over him to reach better, enveloping him in her clean, fresh spring-like scent until he couldn't seem able to breath in anything else.
If he turned his head just so, his cheek would brush against both of her her high, firm breasts. He could nuzzle against her, could inhale the scent of her, could press his mouth to the warm skin of that enticing little hollow above her collarbone ... .
She cleared her throat. "I'm going to rinse now." Her voice jerked him back to sanity. What in the hell was the matter with him? His body was stirring like some randy teenager while he sat here fantasizing about a busybody nurse with a choppy haircut and secrets in her eyes. Maybe she ought to just turn that spray to cold and stick his whole head under.