Free Heatseeker (Atrati) by Lucy Monroe Page B

he should not do.
    “If you’d rather, I can do it.” Eva cocked her head, studying him, her eyes questioning.
    She was a woman. She was a doctor. And still Kadin found himself growling out his refusal. “I’ll do it.”
    Eva didn’t seem surprised as she nodded her agreement and then stood up and moved toward the door. “I’ll get the caretaker’s wife to send up some soup. Try to get her to eat.”
    He’d dismissed the medic from his mind before the door shut on her retreat.
    A sound of protest from the bed had Kadin fixing his attention back on the scrubs-clad woman lying so still.
    Her brown hair was messy, her blue eyes were bloodshot, there were bruises on her cheeks, and the scrubs did one hell of a job hiding any feminine attributes, but Rachel was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
    Her bottom lip protruded in a purely unconscious but adorable expression. “Not hungry.”
    “Maybe you’ll feel more like eating after the massage.”
    “No massage,” she slurred. Even in exhaustion, there was a stubborn tilt to her chin.
    Kadin shook his head, finding himself smiling despite the situation, and shifted until the bed brushed his calves.
    Built into the wall with decorative scrollwork around the base, it was as narrow as a double but longer and a lot closer to the floor than his bed at home.
    He lowered himself to the futonlike mattress and gave Rachel his best do-what-the-hell- I-say-or-else look.
    She just glared back, her mouth moving into a mulish line.
    He brushed her hair away from her forehead, noticing she didn’t flinch this time. “You want to stay in Morocco?”
    “For now.” Her eyes narrowed, as if she was trying to figure out where this was going.
    He knew damn well what she was thinking, and it wasn’t that she’d go back to the States sometime soon, either. The woman intended to go wherever Jamila Massri was, and Kadin’s best guess was, that would mean a return to Egypt for Rachel.
    “You want to stay, you let us do what we can to help you heal. That means you eat the soup when it comes up, and you sleep tonight without trying to sneak out of bed to find a computer to do some research.”
    The way Rachel’s blue eyes flared, he knew he’d hit a nerve with that one.
    “And you let me give you a massage.”
    “Eva can do the massage. She’s the doc.”
    “And I know your body better than she ever will.”
    Rachel’s sharp intake of breath put a sharp pain into his own chest, but she didn’t argue the point. She just looked at him as if he’d betrayed her all over again.
    He looked back, letting his own “stubborn” show. He didn’t know why this was so important to him. He had no claim on the woman lying on the bed, but that didn’t stop him from needing to do this for her.
    “Not fair, Kadin.”
    He nodded, making no effort to disagree. “I can be a real bastard.”
    Her blue eyes widened and then narrowed. “No. The men who did this to me? They’re the bastards. You’re just a pain in my backside.”
    “Good to know.” That inexplicable urge to smile was back.
    “Yeah, well . . .” Her voice trailed off.
    He leaned over her, his hands fisted on either side of her hips, the heat from her body calling to him. He did his best to ignore the message. “The massage will be easier and more effective with skin contact, but if you want to leave your scrubs on, I’ll work around them.”
    There . Look at him, being all reasonable and shit.
    That gut-wrenching vulnerability washed through her eyes again. “I . . .”
    “It’s okay, Rach. Whatever you want.”
    She took a deep breath and looked at some point over his shoulder, the wheels turning in her head so loud, he could hear them. “No scrubs,” she finally whispered.
    He was so shocked by her decision, it didn’t register at first. But when it did, his body had a wholly unacceptable reaction. He’d thump himself, but he wasn’t about to draw her attention to his condition.
    “Okay, then. Will