Night Watch (Kendra Michaels #4)(36)

“It’s a bruise. It will go away.”

“I’ll take a look at it,” he repeated as he opened the freezer. “I’ve had my share of wounds and bruises. I know how to get by with as little pain and discomfort as possible. Take off your shirt.”

She hesitated, then unbuttoned her shirt and took it off. The painful motion caused her to flinch again.

“See?” He was coming toward her with a large bag of frozen green beans in his hand. “He hurt you. Sit down on the couch and let me take a look at it.” He sat down beside her and gently turned her so that he was facing her back. “Shit,” he muttered. “You’ve got a bruise back here that’s almost a foot long. Nasty.” He undid her bra fastening and pushed it off so that it fell on her lap. “It’s going to hurt.”

He gently pressed the frozen bag to her back and held it there.

She inhaled sharply.

Ice-cold plastic on top of that bruised flesh.

“It will get better in a minute. Hang in there.”

It did get better. The ice was causing a numbness to spread over the inflamed bruise.

“Why ice and not heat?” she asked.

“Ice is better for the first twenty-four hours. Heat tomorrow.” He was carefully moving the ice bag around the bruised area. “Do you have any Arnica?”

“Don’t think so. Should I?”

“It might help. I’ll call a drugstore and have them send a bottle.”

“You do know about bruises.”

He chuckled. “Did you doubt me? Hell, yes. I remember one time I was beaten so badly by a tribal leader in Nairobi that I could barely walk. But the next day I knew I had to escape, or it wasn’t going happen. So I learned very fast how to lessen the pain and make it bearable.”

“How long do you have to do this ice therapy?”

“Another five minutes or so. Then I’ll massage it for another fifteen.”

“Massage it?” The idea of rubbing that painful area made her shudder. “I don’t think so.”

“Trust me. I’ll make it work for you.”

She was silent, letting the numbness grip and take the pain away. “Why was that tribal leader beating you?”

“His daughter decided she couldn’t do without me, and he didn’t like the idea of me as a son-in-law.”

“Lynch.”

“I thought that sounded pretty good. Much better than his wanting to know where I’d hidden a cache of diamonds he’d stolen that we were planning to use to ransom hostages being held by pirates from his village. Boring.”

“It depends on how you look at it.”

“True.” The ice was gone, and she heard him move away from her. “Lie down flat on your stomach now, and I’ll get to the massage.”

She stiffened.

“Do it, Kendra. I won’t say I’ll never hurt you. But I won’t do it if it’s not necessary. And it’s not what you’re thinking it’s going to be.”

She hesitated, then slowly stretched out on her stomach. “It just seems weird and definitely not medically approved.”

“I won’t touch the bruise itself. I’ll just go around the edges in gentle circular motions.” He was doing it even as he spoke. “Breathe deep and relax. Massage helps your body’s normal lymphatic process to clear it away.”

“This better not be bullshit, Lynch.”

He chuckled. “Suspicious woman. You do have a fantastic back, but this isn’t my idea of foreplay.”

And it wasn’t hers either, but his fingers were skilled and gentle and infinitely soothing. She felt … treasured.

But she was beginning to feel something else, too, that was not at all soothing. She was acutely aware of her naked breasts pressed against the soft pillows of the couch, his warmth above her, the sound of his breathing.

“How … long?”

He went still. “A few more minutes.” Then he continued to massage. “I’m not stopping while I know it’s helping. You wouldn’t want that.”

“No.” Her voice was muffled in the pillow.

But that few minutes was a long time.

Then his hands were gone. “That should do it. Now go get cleaned up while I set the table. It’s almost time for the food to get here.”

“Right.” She grabbed her bra and shirt, jumped up from the couch, and hurried across the room. “Thanks. You must have done a good job. I hardly felt a thing.”

“Didn’t you? I did.” His quiet voice followed her. “And if I can make a suggestion? When you change for dinner, why don’t you put on that sloppy sweatshirt you wore at breakfast. I believe we both might be more comfortable.”





CHAPTER

7




“CHINESE FOOD” WAS A VERITABLE feast whipped up by the Szechuan chef who owned one of the most popular restaurants in the city. He delivered the food himself and even insisted on cooking part of it in Kendra’s small kitchen.

After he left, Kendra stared in amazement at the spread on her dining-room table. Dry-fried chicken with chiles, hot glass noodles, Fei Teng fish, and multiple other delicacies she couldn’t even identify. “This is astonishing. I’m stunned that you were able to get him to do this. I once saw that chef’s picture on the cover of San Diego Magazine.”