A Heart Decision (7 page)

Unfortunately, in addition to sustaining a
concussion and severely fracturing his left ankle, Luke had
sprained his right wrist, so crutches weren’t an option for the
time being. The orthopedist had forbidden him to put any weight on
his ankle for the first week. Therefore, he would be bedridden and
wheelchair bound for a while.

He glared up at Sabrina as she entered the house and
the screen door slammed behind her, foiling Dusty’s attempt to
escape. “I suppose this was
your
brilliant idea?”

“No, this particular brainstorm was all BJ’s.”
Sabrina bent down to elevate the footrest on his wheelchair and
scratched the puppy behind the ears. “Hi, there, fella. I’m sorry I
don’t have your sister with me.”

Luke turned his gaze back to Ben. “I guess Sabrina
didn’t tell you what happened yesterday.”

“What? That she kissed you?” Ben shrugged one
shoulder. “So? You didn’t kiss her back, right?”

“It wasn’t just a friendly little peck, pal. And I
didn’t exactly stop her, either.” Another minute or so, and they
would’ve had a bonfire blazing between them.

“So you’re saying you liked it.”

Like
was an understatement. “Of course I
liked it, damn it! What red-blooded, heterosexual male
wouldn’t?”

“She kisses great, doesn’t she?” Ben winked at
her.

Luke did a double take. If their roles were
reversed, he’d be feeding BJ his teeth right about now. “I don’t
believe you. Don’t you even care your fiancée hit on me?”

“Hell, yeah.” Ben spread his hands. “But if Sabrina
feels something for you, now’s the time for me to find out—not six
months after we’re married. You’re such a pain in the ass, I can’t
think of a better way to convince her she wants to be my wife than
for her to spend a few weeks at your beck and call.”

Luke snapped his gaze to Sabrina. “And you agreed to
this?”

“Why not? It’s not as if Ben’s wrong. Anyway, I’ve
seen what a terrible patient you can be when you’re sick. If we
hired a home health aide for you, the person would probably hold a
pillow over your face inside the first hour.” She shook a Percocet
tablet out of the prescription bottle into Luke’s palm.

He couldn’t wait for the medication to start
working. His ankle throbbed like a son-of-a-bitch. “It’s a
completely insane idea. It’s like locking a starving wolf in a cage
with a defenseless lamb and tellin’ the wolf not to eat.”

Ben cast a
get-real
look at him. “When it
comes to the opposite sex, Luke, I’d hardly call you starving.
Anyway, if the two of you can’t resist each other for a few weeks,
then maybe she’s marrying the wrong guy.”

“No, she’s not—because I’m not marrying
anyone
.” Luke’s present situation had done nothing but
reinforce his conviction to remain single.

Sabrina removed a can of soda from the refrigerator
and popped the top. She took a sip before handing it to Luke.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, we’ve heard your confirmed bachelor theme song
before.”

“Besides,”—Ben shrugged—“I can’t think of a better
way to disillusion her about you. Relying on other people and
letting them help you isn’t exactly your strong suit.”

Ben had that straight. The thought of being a burden
on the people he cared about gave Luke a knot in his stomach the
size of New Jersey. But what choice did he have? He did absolutely
everything right-handed.

After shattering his right arm and shoulder during
college and spending six weeks in a cast, the nurses at his
orthopedist’s office had voted him the Least Ambidextrous Patient
of the Year. They’d even printed up an official-looking award for
him.

Luke tossed the pill into his mouth and washed it
down with the ice-cold Coke. Ben just might be right. Maybe two
weeks of him running Sabrina ragged would permanently kill any
feelings she had for him. He fiddled with the denim fringe just
above his knee. Why the hell did it have to be his favorite pair of
jeans they’d cut off?

“So.” Ben crossed his arms, signaling the subject
was closed. “Do you want me to haul your bed downstairs and set it
up in the living room?”

“No. I can scoot up and down the steps on my
ass.”

“Okay. Then I’ll call the medical supply company and
tell them to send over two electric wheelchairs tomorrow
morning.”

“No, this one is fine.” Luke took another swig of
his soda. “I guarantee my insurance won’t cover more than one
chair, and an electric one is a lot more expensive.”

“Then I’ll take care of it.”

“Like hell. I’ll pay my own medical expenses this
time, thank you.”

“So what’re you planning to do in that chair with a
sprained wrist—turn just the left wheel and rotate in circles?”

“Very funny.” He raised his hands. “Fine. You can
order
one
electric chair, and that’s it.

Sabrina squeezed Ben’s arm. “Luke’s right. It’s
stupid to pay so much for two electric ones. During the little time
he’ll be out of bed upstairs, I can push him around.”

“Right.” Luke grinned. “We already know how good she
is at that.”

She scowled at him.

“Okay.” Ben nodded. “But, in addition to the
electric one for down here, I’m getting another manual chair that
folds sent over for the car so Sabrina won’t have to carry this one
up and down the stairs every time you want to go out.”

“You’d better tell them to send us a portable
commode, too,” Sabrina suggested.

“Forget about it.” Luke shook his head emphatically.
He was not crapping in some little pot for her to scrub out. Not
today, not tomorrow—
not ever
.

“Your bathrooms aren’t wheelchair accessible,” she
argued.

“Just get me to the door, and I’ll take care of the
rest.”

“And what if you have to go during the night?”

“Hey—” Luke raised his good hand and smirked. “If
you want the job as my nurse, you’ll just have to get your cute
little tush out of bed and take me to the john.”

He could easily hop his way into the bathroom, but
that would defeat his whole plan to drive her crazy. The more
helpless he played it, the sooner he could convince her she didn’t
want any part of a relationship with him.

Sabrina wasn’t the most cheerful person when she
first woke up. Two or three nights of being rousted out of bed
several times should prove to her she was much better off marrying
Ben. “Of course....you can always hire someone else if it’s a
problem for you.”

“If I’m going to have kids, I might as well get used
to being woken up every night. You’d better include a baby monitor
in that order,” she told Ben.

BJ chuckled and glanced at his watch. “I’ve gotta
get going. I told Tyler to reschedule our meeting with the Powell
guys for three. I’ll have Thomas drive Mopsy down here sometime
tomorrow.”

“Tell him to make it early,” Sabrina told him. “Once
the medical supply place delivers the wheelchairs, I’m taking the
patient for a ride to pick up some things from my apartment.”

“Unh-uh.” Luke shook his head. “I’ll drive. You’re
riding.”

“I don’t think so.” Sabrina flashed a victorious
grin at him. “Not unless your Jeep has recently had a transmission
transplant and is now automatic.”

Damn. He’d forgotten Sabrina didn’t have her car,
and they’d have to take his SUV, which Cal had promised to drop off
that evening.

“Shit,” Luke muttered under his breath. There was no
way he could safely work the clutch in a cast. He winced as he
tried to open his right hand, which was wrapped in a thick Ace
bandage. It would probably hurt too much to steer anyway.

“I’ll call you.” Ben brushed her lips with a tender
kiss. “Oh, and by the way”—he smirked at Luke—“when I told Ty what
happened to you, he said Sabrina should bring you out to visit one
day next week. Annie will give you and little Jillian joint lessons
in looking both ways when you cross the street.”

“
Hardee-har-har
. When you see Tyler, give him
a message from me.” Luke flipped BJ the bird. “And be sure to keep
some of that for yourself.”

While Sabrina stood at the back door and waved to
Ben as he climbed into the taxi he’d kept waiting, Luke studied the
way her black yoga pants hugged her rounded bottom. He let his gaze
wander down the length of her shapely legs and shifted his
hips.

Spending the rest of the month with Sabrina would be
a living hell. He would have enough trouble getting his dick out of
his fly without help, let alone trying to relieve his frustration
left-handed.

He stared down at his toes peeking out of the
fiberglass cast and cursed under his breath. This was just
fabulous. He couldn’t even take a freaking cold shower without her
help.

Sabrina had waited a lifetime for the chance to get
Luke alone for more than ten uninterrupted minutes. Now that she
had, she didn’t have the foggiest idea what to say or do.

While she studied Luke’s battered face, her mind
raced, trying to formulate a coherent thought to utter. The dark
shadows under his eyes and his cuts and bruises made him look as if
he’d gone ten rounds in a boxing ring and come out the loser.

Luke mercifully broke the uncomfortable silence.
“Dusty needs to be fed. He hasn’t eaten since last night. His
food’s in the laundry room.”

“Okay.” She headed to collect the food, and at the
door, she turned back to him. “You’d better call your mom. You’ll
catch hell if she finds out about your injury from someone other
than you.”

Teresa Marino was a fiercely protective Italian
mother who didn’t hesitate to send her kids on an
around-the-world
guilt trip whenever they gave her a
scare.

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t know. I
already called her. I had a helluva time convincing her not to race
over to the hospital.”

Sabrina stepped inside the large mudroom that also
served as a pantry and laundry. She grabbed a can of dog food from
the nearly empty shelves. The only other items were a wide variety
of snack foods. The refrigerator wasn’t stocked any
better—containing only condiments and beverages.

“How can you live on this garbage?” she called to
him. “I don’t know why you bothered putting in such a fabulous
kitchen when you don’t ever cook.”

“Resale. As soon as I finish renovating the third
floor, I plan to sell it and start over with another fixer-upper.
That’s why I’ve kept the efficiency apartment in Trenton.”

She gasped, stepping back into the kitchen. “Don’t
you dare sell this place! I love it.”

Once he’d finished modernizing the ancient house,
he’d spared no expense in on the upscale amenities and
state-of-the-art appliances. She would kill to have the giant
Jacuzzi tub and stall shower that doubled as steam room in the
master bathroom. Of course, the interior’s beauty was partly due to
her decorating talents. While remodeling the large kitchen and
three and a half baths, he’d dragged her along to help pick out
everything, claiming he had less taste than a stale soda
cracker.

She’d chosen champagne maple cabinets for the large
kitchen that extended all the way to the nine-foot ceiling. Several
of the doors had glass-paned fronts which, combined with the marble
countertops and wood floor, preserved the Victorian atmosphere.

Consequently, Luke now lived in Sabrina’s dream
home.

At the sound of the electric can opener, Dusty
danced around her feet.

“Brina,” Luke rasped, “when you’re finished with
that, would you take me to bed?”

Her hands froze as she dumped the dog food into one
of Dusty’s bowls. She glanced over her shoulder at Luke’s mouth
stretched open in a long, wide yawn.

To sleep, idiot.
The poor guy was obviously
exhausted.

Come to think of it, so was she. She’d only closed
her eyes for about three hours the night before. “Uhhh—sure. Just
let me give Dusty some water.”

She filled the puppy’s other bowl and set it down
next to his food in the corner. As she pushed Luke’s wheelchair
down the hall and through the living room, she admired the
beautiful job he’d done refinishing the crown molding and hardwood
floor. At the bottom of the wide, curved mahogany staircase she
applied the brake and lowered his footrest. “Okay, I’ll take the
chair upstairs and get your bed ready while you scoot your way up.
Holler when you get to the top.”

“Okay.”

As she helped him stand on his good foot and waited
until he’d grabbed the newel post with his left hand to balance
himself, his musky scent wafted around her, making all of her girl
parts ache to press against him. The only problem was, if she gave
in to her body’s yearning, she’d most likely knock him over.

The moment she was sure he was steady, she backed
her way up the steps, pulling the wheelchair after her. At the top,
she applied the chair’s brakes and hurried to the master bedroom at
the end of the hall. She stopped in the doorway and shook her head
at the heap of clean laundry dumped on the dresser and the mountain
of dirty clothes piled on the floor in the corner. The drawers in
his yard-sale dresser and his closet were probably completely
empty.

So much for her romantic fantasies about making love
in Luke’s big brass bed. Not one of her erotic dreams had ever
included smelly socks and underwear.

Evidently, when the antique bed frame was
manufactured, mattresses must have been a lot thinner. His
king-size, pillow-top mattress was so thick he’d replaced the box
spring with a board, turning the frame into a platform bed. If he
hadn’t, a person would’ve been likely to get a nosebleed climbing
onto it.

After shaking out the covers and fluffing the
pillows, she headed toward the door and stiffened at the sound of
thumping.

“Luke!” She dashed out of the room and found him
hopping down the hallway. “Stop right there, you idiot. I’m not
staying here to watch you fall flat on your face.”