Yesterday's Roses (12 page)

Hallie suddenly realized where her eyes were focused and quickly glanced back up at his face. She drew a sigh of relief when she saw that his expression was politely bland. Thank God he hadn't noticed her over enthusiastic inspection of his person. She flushed at the memory of her bold scrutiny, and it was then that he rewarded her with a wickedly charming grin.

“Finished with your examination, Doctor?” Jake quizzed lightly, leaving no doubt in her mind that he had observed her eager perusal. “And have you come to any conclusions?”

He leaned forward as if daring her to reply.

Hallie hastily composed herself and answered in her best doctor-to-patient voice, “I conclude that the nasty-looking cut on your lip should be properly tended.”

“My lip?” he asked, a teasing light dancing in his smoky-green eyes. “Is that all you discovered in your rather, ah, lengthy observation?”

“I wouldn't presume to pronounce any further findings without a far more complete, and I might add, intimate, examination,” she retorted rather primly. She stole a glance at Jake and saw that he was regarding her with warm interest.

“I can't say I've ever had the unusual privilege of being intimately, or otherwise, examined by a lady physician.” He lightly stroked the curve of his jaw, mulling over the notion. “The idea does have some merit, though. Hmm. Come to think of it, I did take some nasty blows from Cyrus King that could benefit from your tender ministrations.”

He nodded, and Hallie became mesmerized by the genuine smile that sketched across his lips, a smile that was reflected in the inviting depths of those tip-tilted eyes, beckoning her to move closer.

“What's wrong, Doctor? Afraid to
intimately
examine a man?” he taunted challengingly. “Or could it be that you're not nearly as experienced as you would like me to believe?”

“Of course I've
intimately
examined men before. Hundreds of them!” she lied, half expecting the ceiling to open up and lightning to strike her where she kneeled.

For, in truth, her experience with male anatomy was strictly limited to little boys and one very old cadaver. She'd certainly never treated a man as potently masculine as Jake Parrish.

Nonetheless, not being one to shrink from a challenge, Hallie added brazenly, “I've even been known to dissect a few male cadavers, and if that's not intimate knowledge I don't know what is.”

What, indeed!
Jake thought, forcibly suppressing his urge to howl with laughter at the naiveté of her words. In a choked voice he managed to reply, “I hardly think a dissection will be necessary. However, you did promise to tend my injuries and I'm feeling the need sorely.” He closed his eyes, groaning playfully.

Hallie rose to her feet and reached for his face. “If that is what you wish, then it's my sworn duty to aid you in your distress.”

Jake almost laughed aloud at Hallie's priggish little speech. Then he felt her cool, work-roughened hand cup itself beneath his chin. He opened his eyes as she gently lifted his face and found himself captured by a most remarkable pair of golden eyes. The color vaguely reminded him of the sun reflecting through amber glass, and they were lit as brightly as a candle, flaming with an intelligence and compassion that sparked his imagination. They were beautiful eyes, exotic with their almond shape and thickly rimmed with inky lashes. Eyes that offered a generosity of spirit, an innate kindness, a caring, that Jake found himself longing to accept.

Hallie tenderly traced the dark swelling beneath his eye, not daring to meet the gaze she could feel trained upon her face. For she knew that to do so would mean to drown in those cool green pools. When Jake at last lowered his lids, his heavy lashes swept against her fingers, startling her with their length. Then he winced, almost imperceptibly, at her gently probing inspection, and her heart wrenched with sympathy.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, for to have spoken in a normal tone would have broken the curious magic of the moment. “I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“You didn't.” He sighed and then relaxed.

She let her fingers slide in a feather-soft motion down the side of his face, her sensitive touch reveling in the surprisingly silky texture of his skin. She stopped to explore the tempting contour of his high, chiseled cheekbone.

“Jake?”

“Hmm?”

“I would never hurt you,” she murmured, overwhelmed with tenderness.

“I know.”

And Hallie felt her breath catch in her throat as Jake rested his cheek in her cupped hand, nuzzling gently against her palm in an almost childlike gesture of trust. It was an act of naked vulnerability—an act that made her yearn to enfold him in her embrace and to rest her face against his, an act of such simple faith that it almost undid her.

It was as if Jake Parrish, a man known for his omnipotent strength, had let a chink open in his steely armor and was entrusting her with a revealing glimpse into his sensitive inner soul. Lightly, she stroked his cheek, mutely acknowledging his silent plea for tenderness.

The feel of Hallie's gentle fingers against his face infused Jake with the peace he urgently sought yet rarely found these days. He was held spellbound by the magical solace that radiated from her touch. How natural it felt to rest his cheek in the curve of her palm—how right. It was as if he had waited a lifetime for someone who could still the thundering chaos raging in his head and engulf him with a warm blanket of tranquility. It seemed like forever since he had been blessed with the priceless gift of a caress.

Yet, somehow, this odd little woman had recognized his aching need and, with the touch of her hand, had made him realize just how much he missed simple human contact.

Jake opened his eyes to study the face that went with the bewitching touch. It was true that Dr. Hallie Gardiner would be considered plain by many, for her face had that square-jawed type of strength that was at odds with the delicate, doll-like features that were so in vogue. Yet her skin was as smooth as an unblemished peach, with a tint every bit as delicate as the fruit it resembled. And though her nose was a bit long, it wasn't unattractive; it didn't hook, bump, or twist. Indeed, it was blade straight and could safely be pronounced unremarkable.

Then Jake's eyes sharpened with interest, caught by a pair of generously curved lips. He had always preferred women with full, succulent mouths, for they seemed to invite a provocative impression of lush promise.

And Hallie Gardiner definitely had the sort of mouth that made a man hunger to tease it with his lips and tongue. Jake could almost picture that mouth swollen and trembling from the assault of his kisses, and his groin tightened uncomfortably in response to his erotic thoughts.

With a violent shudder, he forced his eyes away from the disturbing feature to meet her dreamily longing gaze. Ah, yes. One mustn't forget those wonderful, expressive eyes.

Yet most people would consider it a nondescript face,
he mused to himself. But if that were true, then why did he, a man known for his unerring appreciation for beautiful women, feel such an urge to pull those untidy coils of hair from the spinsterish chignon and watch them dance in fire-touched splendor around her face? Why did he long to explore what lay beneath her ugly, ill-fitting clothing, to discover if her magic was in more than just her touch? But most of all, why did he feel such a need to bury himself in her flesh and fill his loneliness with her warmth?

A slash of heat knifed through his loins as he suddenly pictured Hallie naked and in his arms. She was beautiful, her skin the color of melted peaches and cream, touched by the molten copper of her hair as it cascaded around her enraptured face. He could almost feel her heat as he plunged his needful flesh into the core of her fire, forcing a response from her body so sweetly overwhelming that she arched up violently, hungry to receive every inflamed inch of him.

So graphic and unexpected were his thoughts that he was unable to suppress his shuddering moan.

“Jake?”

He opened his eyes at the sound of her anxious voice.

“Are you all right? You look so flushed and … strange.” She paused to feel his forehead. “You seem to be a trifle warm. I hope you're not getting a fever.”

“Warm?” he muttered beneath his breath, shifting in his seat to find a more comfortable position. “Now there's an understatement.” The cut of his trousers was definitely on the constricting side at that moment.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing!” he snapped, far more sharply than he intended. Didn't the woman realize what she had done to him?

Then he laughed. Of course not. She was the Mission Lady, for God's sake. Imagine getting worked up over one of those prudish Bible-thumping fanatics.

He glanced at her highly colored face and remembered the longing he had read in her eyes.
Well, maybe not so prudish,
he amended. Not if her transparent reaction to him had been any indication of her true feelings. A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest as he wondered what Hallie's reaction would be if she could read his thoughts.

Worried.
Hallie was worried. Lord! The man was sitting there, laughing like a lunatic, and neither one of them had said anything remotely funny. Perhaps Cyrus King had inflicted some sort of terrible damage on Jake's head when he had hit him.

Unmindful of everything except her growing concern for Jake's condition, she abruptly buried her hands in the sable softness of his hair and began to prod at his skull with sharp, jabbing motions.

Jake's laughter died in his throat at her odd behavior. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for the bump.”

“What bump?”

“The one that will be swelling over the crack in your skull. I can't think of anything else that could make you behave in such an unpredictable manner!”

“Ow!”

“Aha!” she crowed triumphantly, poking at the knot rising on the back of his head. “I knew it!”

“My behavior has nothing to do with that particular bump,” he growled, removing her hand and rubbing the area with a reproachful look.

Hallie crossed her arms over her chest. “If your head isn't the culprit, then pray tell what is?”

“You really want to know?”

“Of course. I can't make a proper diagnosis if you don't tell me where it hurts,” she scolded. “Now why don't you show me the area that's causing you such discomfort so I can make a thorough examination?”

His eyes raked her boldly for a moment before he drawled, “Fine. Do you want me to drop my trousers here, or would you prefer to examine me in the privacy of my chambers?”

At his words, Hallie's gaze flew downward, and her eyes widened with shock as they focused on the bulge of his arousal.

“Well, Doctor? What's it to be?” He grinned lazily. For the first time in their acquaintance, the woman was struck speechless.

Think, Hallie!
she commanded herself, wondering at the strange tension that was coiling deep in her belly and trying to ignore the way the thought of Jake Parrish trouserless made her feel curiously flushed all over. She glanced up at his face to see him smiling at her.
Aha! He was bluffing. He had to be. He wouldn't just drop his pants like that … would he?
But did she dare to call his bluff?

“Right here will be just fine.”

His eyes flared with surprise and then he gave her a very slow, very wicked grin. “As you wish, Doctor.” And his hands moved to the buttons on his trousers.

“Wait!” Hallie gasped. Damn the man. Leave it to Jake Parrish to effectively trump her play. Oh, Lord! Now what?

“What's this, Doctor? Surely a woman of your vast experience wouldn't be shocked by the sight of a naked man?”

“Of course not.”
The bastard! Wait. Oh, yes. She knew how to fix him!
She remembered a woman at the medical college who had been much too pretty for her own good. She had regularly been accosted by such behavior from clodhopping men. After one such episode, in which a swain had become frighteningly persistent, she and Hallie had concocted a method of discouragement which had proved to be 100 percent effective.

“Well, Doctor?” he quizzed in a taunting voice.

“I was just trying to save your modesty until after I had had Hop Yung fetch me a bucket of ice. Of course, if you want to undress now, it makes no difference to me.” She stared at his hands on his waistband.

“Ice?” His eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Hallie shrugged and moved toward the door as if she were indeed about to summon Hop Yung. “Yes. Ice. I've found that by packing the area with a cold substance—ice being the most effective—such swellings are reduced in a remarkably short period of time.” She watched with satisfaction as he recoiled at her suggestion.

And then he laughed. So hard, in fact, that he doubled over, clutching his sides.

“I don't see what's so funny.” This wasn't supposed to be the way he reacted. He should have cringed with horror and beat a hasty retreat.

“Ice?” He snickered again. “Got a remedy for everything, don't you, Doctor?” He leaned forward to fix her with a smoldering stare. “However, in this case, I can think of a cure that's far more interesting and pleasant.”

“I'm sure you can. But don't you know you'll grow hair on your palms and go crazy if you abuse yourself in that manner?” she snapped, deliberately misunderstanding his meaning.

Jake threw back his head, shouting with mirth. “Let me assure you that
self-abuse
is hardly what I had in mind.”

He rose to his feet and stalked toward her until they were only inches apart. “Shall I explain in detail exactly what I was thinking?” he purred silkily, drawing his face close to hers.

Hallie's breath caught in her throat. He was so near, she could smell the clean scent of shaving soap lingering on his skin, and see the way the moss green irises of his eyes were ringed with smoky gray. As she felt his warm breath caress her cheek, the tension in her belly seemed to explode, sending rivulets of heat shooting through her body, creating a fever so intense that she wanted nothing more than to melt against him. Hallie wavered toward him, and when he reached out to steady her, she gave in to her wanton urges and molded herself against his muscular body, mindlessly intoxicated by his closeness.