Tempting the One (Meadowview Heat 4; The Meadowview 4) Page 3

  He peered over the doc’s shoulder, but saw no sign of the caregiver his brother-in-law had promised him. The night before, Ethan had called. Over the phone, his brother-in-law had told him he would arrange home care through the hospital, which kept a list of available certified nurse’s assistants. Ethan said the service would provide him with twenty-four-hour care, including bathing and meal preparation and driving him to various doctor appointments until the casts came off in six weeks. Theo would stay at Ethan and Sadie’s home during the duration of his recuperation, and Ethan and Sadie were supposed to be flying back from New York some time today.

  But so far, no one had shown up. Not his sister, and definitely not the hired caregiver.

  “Um, I think there’s supposed to be a caregiver here, but she or he hasn’t yet arrived.” He gave an uncomfortable laugh. “Not sure how I’ll get home.” He’d moved to San Francisco after Harvard, and although he came back to his hometown to visit often, he always drove his own car, and subsequently had never paid attention to whether or not a town with a population of a couple thousand had a taxi service. Maybe he should have. His nose twitched more violently.

  “I’m your way home,” Chessie said suddenly, catching him off-guard. “That’s why I’m here.”

  Oh, good god, had Sadie forced Chessie to give him a ride? “If my sister blackmailed you somehow into giving me a ride to her place, you don’t have to,” he said, trying ineffectively to swipe the tip of his nose against the hospital gown he still wore. “I’ll be fine. I’m sure the caregiver will be here soon.”

  “Theo, stop talking,” Chessie interrupted rather abruptly. “I don’t have a lot of time today and I need to get some information from the doctor. The more you talk, the later it gets.”

  Huh. What form of grumpy had crawled up Chessie’s butt? He frowned. “Busy doing what, picking radishes? Making soap? Squeezing cheese curds?” He immediately regretted his shitty attitude, but sometimes that woman could drive him beyond batty.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “I have a meeting with Liz Pritchard in a half an hour to discuss business.”

  “Wait…what? Why are you meeting Liz? What business?” He knew Liz, a friend of his from high school, had moved back to Meadowview, but couldn’t quite make the connection between her and Chessie. Liz had gone out with his friend Ethan in high school after her boyfriend Hunter dumped her, and possessed Ethan like…well…like a person possessed. She’d hated any other girl who came near Ethan, and that included his sister Sadie and her friends Chessie and Lia. Theo had run into her a few times over the summer when she’d returned to Meadowview to sell her mom’s house after her mother had passed, and he’d even seen her when Chessie was around, but Liz hadn’t seemed all that warm to Chessie during that time.

  “You two haven’t become besties behind my back or something, have you?” he asked, then added under his breath, “Stranger things have happened.”

  Chessie shook her head. “I never had much of a problem with Liz, unlike half of Meadowview. And I consider her a friend now. I’m helping her create a signature perfume scent for her wedding, is all. It’s my gift to her.”

  He edged up, smiling. “Good to hear.” Over the summer, Liz had returned to Meadowview to find the boy who’d gotten her pregnant back in high school had returned, as had the daughter they’d created and given up for adoption. “I figured Hunter would ask her to marry him soon enough.”

  “I don’t want to make her wait, so we need to get a move on,” Chessie added, distractedly, as she moved around the hospital room, shoving his possessions into a brown paper grocery bag.

  “I still don’t get it,” he said, puzzled and distracted by the rising desire to scratch his nose. Why was Chessie packing for him?

  Chessie refused to engage with him and instead turned to the doctor. “So, what do I need to know about his condition?”

  So much for getting an answer to his question.

  Or getting his nose scratched.

  The doctor tipped her head down to examine the chart she held in front of her. “Both wrists have distal radius fractures and will be in casts for about six weeks. His right ankle was more complicated. He had surgery to repair the break, and he’ll need to wear the brace for about six weeks as well. He needs to have his foot elevated above his heart until that brace comes off. His left ankle is sprained.”

  “Can he walk?”

  “No weight on the broken ankle at all. As soon as his sprained ankle feels better, probably in a day or two, he can hop around if he uses crutches. From what I hear of how he hit that tree, he’s lucky his injuries weren’t more severe. Just pretty inconvenient, I’d assume.”

  “You assumed right,” Theo mumbled. Hell, he couldn’t even grab his own dick to pee. He hated sitting on the toilet like a girl.

  “He can only have a painkiller every four hours,” the doctor said to Chessie, handing her two bottles of medicine. “Don’t let him try to sweet-talk you into giving it to him any earlier. Apparently he tried that with a few of my nurses.”

  “Hey,” he said feebly.

  The doctor kept her focus on Chessie. “And he needs his antibiotics twice a day. He’ll try to worm his way out of taking them since the pills are so large, but make sure he swallows both pills.”

  Sounded like his doctor was describing a Labrador retriever. Was he really that bad of a patient?

  “Sure.” Chessie nodded. She seemed somewhat absent, her focus on the medication bottles she held in her hand. “Do I bring him back here for a follow-up?”

  Wait a minute. The scene unfolding in front of him made questions swirl through his mind. Why would Chessie bring him to his appointment? Wouldn’t the home care provider do that? And why was the doctor sharing all his information with her? Wasn’t that considered confidential information?

  “Um, Chessie—” He tried to speak but was cut off by the doctor.

  “Yes. Bring him back here in about a week. I’ll take a look and make sure all’s well.” She riffled through his chart and then turned back to Chessie. “Make sure he gets some form of exercise several times a day. Remember, no weight on that leg, but he needs to move his body around, keep his circulation going. He’ll need help getting to the bathroom, of course.”

  At this, Chessie drew her attention away from the doctor and focused on Theo. She shot him a look he couldn’t quite read, then said, “Thank goodness there’s a bidet.”

  Bidet? Even back when his ancestors had built the family estate, The Cottage, there never had been a bidet in the house. And he was pretty certain Sadie hadn’t put one in. What was Chessie talking about?

  “Hold on. I’m not staying at Sadie’s place?” Ethan had promised he could have the guest bedroom and the caregiver could stay in the pool house. Puzzled, he tried to scratch his head, but with his hand encased in plaster, only ended up smacking the side of his temple. God, that hurt. “What’s going on?”

  Instead of answering him, the doctor handed Chessie a sheaf of papers and walked out the door, waving goodbye as she exited.

  Chessie finally turned her attention to him. “I brought you clothes,” she told him. “They all belong to my brother, but you and Jack are somewhat similar in size, so they should do until we can get some of your own clothes shipped in from San Francisco. Jack has wider shoulders than you and is a little shorter—you’re what, six two?” She reached inside the brown paper bag and pulled out a dark blue T-shirt.

  “Six three,” he lied, watching her movements. Aha. Today the bag wasn’t serving as a purse, but rather as luggage. Did Chessie not own anything to carry stuff in besides grocery bags? He was used to women carrying thousand-dollar crocodile bags with gold zippers, not brown paper bags with a grocery store logo on the front.

  In a quick motion, Chessie yanked the sheet off his chest. She leaned forward and he could see her breasts, sans bra, hanging all delicious-like in front of his face.

  “I can see your boobies,” he said, the words coming out before he c
ould trap the thought in his mind.

  Chessie sighed. “Put your arms up and I’ll get you get into this shirt.”

  “What?” he asked, trying to pull his mind back from Chessie’s breasts. He’d been joking about the offer of sex the night before, but yeah, as much as she could be a pill, she was as sensual as they come.

  “Theo, focus. Stick your hands up.”

  His chest tightened. Chessie hadn’t looked happy to see him when she’d walked into his room, but it wasn’t like he’d asked her to come.

  Well, he reflected, he’d all but begged her to come back, but to hang out like they had the night before, not to dress him like some baby. Probably Sadie had pleaded with her to bring him over some clothes before he was released. Maybe Chessie was peeved because she’d had her day interrupted.

  But no matter what reason she had for feeling uncomfortable around him, he certainly didn’t need to put up with her being so damned demanding.

  “No.”

  “No?” Chessie leaned back, the frown on her forehead deepening.

  “No, I won’t put my hands up.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you didn’t ask nicely.”

  Theo was pleased when she stomped her foot and gripped the T-shirt like she was about to throttle it. He’d gotten under her skin. But she deserved a little teasing.

  “Put the damned shirt on, Theo.”

  “No,” he repeated, tipping his chin up in the air. “It was nice of you to bring me some clothes, but I’ll have my caregiver help me get dressed. I’m sure she’ll be here any minute. And I’m sure she’ll be nicer than you.”

  “You think?” Chessie asked dryly.

  “Yes, I do. She’ll be great. And she’ll adore me.”

  “And she’ll probably be a hot, skinny blonde who has a thing for rich men, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  Chessie wadded the T-shirt in her hand and tossed it to him. “Looks like you’re going to have to dress yourself, big boy.”

  “Why?” he asked, fumbling around with the stretchy cotton. Damn. No wonder the thumb made mankind the king of all beasts. God, but did he ever want his opposable thumbs back.

  “Because,” she answered slowly, drawing the word out, “your sister called me a few hours ago. Seems she couldn’t bear the idea of her precious brother being cared for by some minimum-wage caregiver who might feed him TV dinners. She’s in pre-term labor—”

  “What?” Shock rippled through him. “Sadie’s in labor? She can’t be—the baby isn’t due for another two months.”

  “That’s why it’s called pre-term.”

  He struggled to sit up. “She’s having the baby? Is she in danger? Is the baby in danger?”

  Chessie must have realized he didn’t know what the hell she was talking about, because her face softened. “Hey,” she said softly. “It’s fine. She’ll be fine, and so will the baby. She’s being taken care of, and the baby is doing okay. She needs to be on medication and bed rest until the baby comes, so she and Ethan are staying in New York.”

  “Why didn’t they call me?”

  She shrugged. “I’m sure they tried. Maybe they didn’t know what room you were moved to, or maybe the message got lost in the hospital system. I’m sorry, Theo. I thought you knew about the pre-term labor already.”

  “But she’ll be okay, right?”

  “Yep, just stuck in New York on bed rest while you’re stuck in Meadowview, doing the same.”

  He settled down, his heart rate returning to normal. God—that had been a rather dramatic bomb Chessie had just dropped. He’d have to call Sadie as soon as he got to her place. He trusted Chessie to tell him the truth, but he still wanted to hear his sister’s voice. Make sure for himself that all was well. But first…he needed to get home. And Chessie had picked the T-shirt back up and was hovering in front of him like a nanny.

  “I still don’t quite get why you’re dressing me,” he said. “And what Sadie’s pre-term labor, or whatever it is you called it, has to do with you being here dressing me like a baby.”

  At that, the tension lines around Chessie’s mouth came back. “I wanted to do anything to help calm her down and settle those contractions. So when she asked me for a favor, how could I refuse?”

  Theo shook his head, an inkling of what Chessie was saying beginning to form. “You mean…”

  “Yep.” She nodded, and held the T-shirt high. “You don’t get some leggy blond nurse as your caregiver. Nope, you’re stuck with a freckle-faced chubster.”

  “First, that’s not a very nice word, and second…seriously?”

  “Seriously. I’m your caregiver, Theo. Not some brainless blonde with the hots for you. Me. I promised your sister I’d let you live with me for the next six weeks until your casts come off.”

  For the first time in his life, Theo didn’t know what to say. Hell, he didn’t even know what to think. Six weeks living with Chessie? As she put it, they were, at best, frenemies.

  How the hell would he survive?

  Theo let out a long sigh and stared at the fire flickering in the stone fireplace on the other side of the room. The leather couch in Chessie’s living room, on which she’d dumped him a few minutes earlier, fit him like a glove, and the ottoman his feet were perched on allowed him to stretch out while sitting up. After a couple of days in that uncomfortable hospital bed, it felt good to be seated upright. And good to be somewhere comfortable…even if that was in Chessie’s home and not his sister’s. On the drive from the hospital, he’d been able to speak to his sister and was reassured she was in good care. He promised Sadie he’d be an excellent houseguest—agreeing not to bug Chessie and agreeing he’d refrain from asking girls over for blow jobs.

  Not that he’d actually ask a girl over for the sole purpose of getting a blow job, but apparently that’s what his sister thought of him. Funny, how a few online articles and being photographed with a few models and actresses had earned him the reputation of playboy—to the degree that his own sister had bought into the image.

  An image he’d used to generate more donations for The Courant Foundation, though. He’d do anything to bring in more funding. The world was a tough place, and through no fault of their own, people got stuck in dire circumstances. His family’s foundation could help. So could he.

  But not tonight. The anesthesia from the surgery the day before still had him wobbly and not quite thinking straight. And then there was Chessie.

  Chessie had been busy in the few minutes since they’d arrived at her house, helping him into the wheelchair he’d be using until his sprained ankle healed up enough to allow him to use crutches, setting him up in the living room, getting him a bottle of water and a few cookies and promising to make dinner after her meeting with Liz Pritchard.

  Now, Chessie stood bent over in front of him, giving him a clear view of her round ass. Funny how his best friend’s little sister had turned into a pin-up girl. Soft and sexy.

  But off-limits.

  Years ago he’d taken to teasing the hell out of her to keep that distance between them, adhering to the Bro Code: thou shall not do thy best friend’s little sister. Although, his one best friend Ethan had fallen for his sister Sadie and had not only married her but gotten her pregnant, and his other best friend Jack, Chessie’s brother, had recently proposed to Ethan’s little sister Lia.

  Small towns could add layers upon layers of complications.

  Chessie moved and jiggled just a bit. He couldn’t help it—he groaned. God, she was a freakin’ turn-on.

  Damn. That wasn’t a hard-on starting to happen now, was it? He’d been joking about a quickie when she’d stopped by the hospital to visit him the night before. When she’d accidentally dumped a bunch of condoms on his hospital room floor and had looked up at him with those big, luminous eyes of hers, parts of his body and brain had responded. And with pleasure.

  Yup, she’d turned him on, and still did.

  Maybe it was because she’d stuck around
to visit him for a while, even after he’d made a pest of himself.

  Maybe it was because he could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra under her hippie-dippie clothes.

  Maybe it was because of how she’d licked her full lips when he’d propositioned her—although she’d immediately given him the Chessie Gibson Death Glare.

  Didn’t matter. He had to face the facts: for the next six weeks, he was stuck living with someone who he found hot but who thought he was the Guest from Hell.

  Great combo.

  “Need anything?” she asked.

  “A blow job?”

  She let out a sharp laugh. “Good for you. Haven’t let go of having dreams.” She moved around the room, fluffing pillows and adjusting lighting, her movements sensuous.

  Dreams? More like fantasies.

  Heat spread to his groin. His borrowed sweats shifted. Hell no—this could not be happening. He had to wear casts on both hands for six weeks, for chrissake! That meant no way to “handle” a hard-on. By the end of this ordeal, his balls might turn themselves permanently blue.

  This wasn’t a dream—this was the stuff of nightmares.

  Time to redirect his attentions.

  He peered around her living room, taking in his surroundings. A woven rag rug covered part of the polished pine flooring, two easy chairs that matched the couch sat on either side of a bay window framed by rich red velvet drapes, and an antique armoire in the corner housed a television and extensive stereo equipment. Watercolor paintings with scenes of meadows and rivers were hung in simple wood frames on three of the walls, seemingly done by the same hand.

  He shifted to get closer to the painting above his head. It appeared to be an original. When he noted the signature on the bottom, he whistled. The artist was well known on the West Coast, with her original work selling well in the thousands. For Chessie to have bought four of this artist’s pieces, she had to be doing well for herself.