Free Hired by Her Husband by Anne McAllister Page B

matter what he thought. She lifted her chin and met his gaze firmly. “Yes.”
    He looked as if he might argue with her. But finally he shrugged. “Maybe you do,” he said enigmatically.
    She didn’t know what he meant by that, wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She kept her arms folded, her gaze steady.
    “I have to get some work done sometime, Sophy.”
    “Not tonight.”
    “My head feels better.”
    “Good. Not tonight.”
    He looked almost amused now. “Are you going to stand there and say that until tomorrow?”
    “If that’s what it takes.” She didn’t move.
    George sighed and shook his head. “You’re a bully.”
    And there was the pot calling the kettle black. She remembered so many times when she’d been expecting Lily that he had gently bullied her into taking extra good care of herself. But that was not a memory she wanted to dig into right now. Sophy just shrugged. “It’s time to go to bed.”
    “Is that an invitation?” George’s brow lifted. He grinned faintly.
    “No, it’s an order.”
    He laughed, then winced at the effect it had on his head. But finally he pushed himself slowly up out of his chair and started to hobble slowly toward the stairs. He had to pass within inches of her to get there.
    She wanted to step back, to give him plenty of space, to keep her distance while he passed. Yet she sensed that if she did, he’d see it as a retreat. And Sophy was damned if she was retreating.
    She stayed where she was, even looked up to meet his gaze when he reached her and stopped to loom over her, so close that if she’d leaned in an inch or two she could have pressed her lips to his stubbled jaw.
    He didn’t say anything, just stood there and looked down at her for a long moment. She could see each individual whisker on his jaw, trace the outline of his lips. She flicked her gazehigher to meet his eyes. He didn’t speak, but the air seemed to crackle with some weird electricity between them. Sophy didn’t blink.
    Finally he limped slowly on toward the stairs. “Coming?” he said over his shoulder, with just a hint of sardonic challenge in his voice. “Or are you going to stay down here and set fire to my office?”
    Sophy drew a breath and said with far more lightness than she felt, “Of course. I’m right behind you—ready to catch you if you fall.”
    It was like climbing Everest.
    And he couldn’t complain because if he did, Sophy would just say, “Told you so,” or something equally annoying.
    He couldn’t even just go lie down on the couch again because when he finally got to the first floor she said, “Might as well go all the way up since you’re feeling so much better. I’ll get your crutches.”
    At least the thirty seconds it took her to do that gave him a half a minute’s respite before she was standing there, holding them, saying brightly, “After you.”
    Serve her right if he fell on her.
    He didn’t. But not for lack of opportunity. Ordinarily he didn’t even think about all the times he clattered up and down the flights of stairs in his house. Tonight he counted every single blasted one of them.
    There were twenty per floor. It felt like a hell of a lot more. The crutches didn’t help, which he already knew from his experience outside. And going down to his office hadn’t been a problem. He’d eased his way down by sliding carefully on the bannister. Not that he intended to tell Sophy that!
    She stayed behind him the whole way, wordlessly watching while he made the laborious climb. She never said a word, but he could sense her eyes on him.
    “Don’t feel you have to wait. Go right on up,” he said through his teeth.
    “No hurry,” she replied. “I don’t mind.”
    He did, but he wasn’t telling her that, either. So he just kept on going, aware as he did so that sweat was breaking out on the back of his neck and the palms of his hands. He hoped Sophy didn’t notice.
    He thought she might have, though, because when they got to the second