Cowboy's Caress. Victoria PadeЧитать онлайн книгу.
in the pit of her stomach.
“Let’s get you back downstairs then,” he suggested.
Carly did an ungraceful about-face on the crutches and headed for the stairs again.
At the top of them she hesitated, unsure how best to make the descent.
“You probably ought to go down on your rear end,” came the advice from behind her in a deep, baritone voice edged with amusement once more.
There was no way she was going to sit and slide down those stairs while he watched!
Carly ignored his recommendation, handed Evie Lee the crutches again and bounced on her good foot from step to step much the way she’d gone up.
Granted, it wasn’t an improvement in the grace or aplomb department, but at least it was quick and didn’t involve her rear end.
Once she was at the bottom she held her head high, accepted the crutches from her tiny assistant, and led the way through the house, back to the cottage with Bax and Evie Lee both following behind.
Only when she was in the middle of the cottage again did she turn to find that Bax McDermot was trying to hide a laugh. At her.
“Are you always this headstrong?” he asked.
“I got here, didn’t I?”
He just chuckled and raised her bags. “Where shall I put these?”
“Set the big one on the table, the carry-on on one of the chairs beside it and the smaller bag in the corner,” she instructed. “If you wouldn’t mind,” she added to soften the command.
The cottage had never felt as small to Carly as it did then. Bax was a big man and he seemed to fill the space with a heady masculinity that seeped through Carly’s pores and made her almost dizzy.
She couldn’t keep from watching as he did as she’d told him. Her gaze was glued to his bare back where it widened from his narrow waist to the expanse of his shoulders in smooth-skinned glory. No doctor should have a body like that, she decided. It put too many other men to shame.
And she had to fight the itch in her palms to reach out and run them over the hills and valleys of honed muscle.
Then he turned to face her once more and tearing her eyes off his chest again became a battle she almost lost until she reminded herself that the last thing in the world she wanted was to be attracted to a man right now. Any man.
But it still took a force of will to yank her gaze up to his face.
Too bad that didn’t allow her any relief. Because the chiseled planes of his ruggedly perfect features only made her feel dizzy all over again.
“Need me for anything else?” he asked.
Needs were just what were churning inside her, but none he could meet in front of his daughter.
Or anywhere else, for that matter, without disrupting Carly’s plans more than they’d already been disrupted.
And she wasn’t going to let that happen.
“No, thanks. But thanks for helping me get my stuff down here.”
“How long shall I give you before I come back to wrap your ankle?”
“Half an hour?”
“Perfect.”
Yes, he was. Damn him, anyway.
“Come on, Evie, let’s do something with your hair,” he said to his daughter then.
The little girl skipped out ahead of him, clearly oblivious to her father’s effect on Carly. As was Bax, Carly hoped.
But only after they’d both left and closed the door behind them did Carly breathe freely again.
The trouble was, this time she couldn’t blame her response to Bax McDermot on lack of sleep. She had to admit that it was purely a reaction to something about the man himself.
But she had too much at stake to let it get beyond goose bumps and weak knees and itchy palms and dizziness and flutters in her stomach. She likened her reaction to sneezing when she got anywhere near ragweed—inevitable, inescapable, and over as soon as she got away from the ragweed or took her antihistamine.
She just needed to get away from Bax McDermot.
Which was exactly what she would be doing in just a few days.
In the meantime, she’d simply have to grit it out and keep reminding herself that she didn’t want anything to foul up her plans any more than they already had been.
Because unfortunately she didn’t think her antihistamine would be of any help with this particular reaction.
Chapter Three
Carly took the fastest shower of her life. Not an easy task when she had to do it standing on one foot like a flamingo lawn ornament. But there was absolutely, positively no way she was going to come face-to-face with Bax McDermot for the third time without being presentable.
With that in mind—actually with Bax in mind—she gelled her hair to give it body and let it air dry while she slipped into a pair of flowing rayon overalls in a red- and cream-colored batik print over a tight-fitting short-sleeve T-shirt.
She applied just enough blush to give her high cheekbones a healthy glow, mascara enough to accentuate every single eyelash and a pale gloss that guaranteed kissable lips.
Of course that kissable part didn’t matter, she assured herself, ignoring a second eruption of those stomach flutters at the thought.
By then her hair was dry, so she brushed it and pulled it to the top of her head in an elastic scrunchee and let the slight bit of natural wave on the ends have its way.
A scant splash of perfume was the final touch. Even though she knew there was no call for it, she couldn’t resist. She just rejected any thought that her desire to smell sweet and sexy and alluring had anything to do with the new town doctor.
She was in the midst of stashing the perfume bottle back in her carry-on bag when the knock on the cottage door came.
She took one quick look at herself in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door, approved of the improvement, and called “Come in,” in a voice she hardly recognized because it sounded so giddy and unlike her.
Bax only poked his handsome head through the door. “Are you ready for us?”
“Sure,” she answered after clearing her throat, this time sounding as calm as if she hadn’t just hopped around the place like a rabbit in fast-forward mode.
“You look ready,” he said, stepping inside and giving her the once-over as he did. Then he dimpled up with an appreciative smile that made her crazed hop worth it.
At least it would have if she’d been admitting to herself that she cared.
Behind him came Evie Lee, closing the door and turning to Carly, too. “Daddy wouldn’t put a pencil in my hair,” the little girl complained rather than saying hello.
Carly didn’t mind the omission. She was grateful for the distraction from Bax’s dimples and lowered her gaze to the child.
Evie Lee’s hair no longer stood up or was matted on one side. It was combed smooth all over, but merely left to fall loosely around her thin shoulders.
“Could you put the pencil in it now and maybe another time we could use a barrette?” Evie Lee persisted.
Carly looked to Bax for permission. “Do you mind?”
He rolled his eyes, shook his head and answered so slowly it was clear he’d been exasperated with the subject before ever getting to the cottage. “If she wants a pencil in her hair and you’re willing to put a pencil in her hair, then be my guest and put a pencil in her hair.”