Living with Temptation (10 page)

“Shit!”

Not again.

Chelsea rolled up her pants to reveal the bulge in her right
knee. It was unmistakable. It was happening again. Her heart pounded wildly as
fear took hold of her and she held back a sob.

From the living room, she heard Dean run to the foot of the
stairs, and he looked up at her, his eyes wide with concern.

“What is it?” he demanded, clearing the three steps to reach
her.

Tears burned at her eyes.
Why did my body have to do this
to me now?
She felt Dean’s warm hand on her bare arm and raised her head to
meet his gaze.

“It’ll go away,” she insisted, gesturing weakly towards her
knee. Dean looked at it briefly before helping her get to her feet. Chelsea
pressed her body against him, leaning her weight on her left leg. A flush of arousal
went through her, and she immediately recalled the night of passion where his
naked chest touched hers, bonding the two of them in that single moment of pure
pleasure.

Dean guided her over to the couch, and even though her mind
ran wild with fear, her main focus was the touch of his hand against her back.
The warmth from him was heating her skin through the fabric of her shirt. When
he lowered her onto the couch and pulled away, she let out a breath, yearning
to feel him again.

Dean stood in front of her, his brows creasing. “I’m taking
you to the doctor.”

Chelsea’s eyes widened. There was no way she wanted to go
through that again – the tests, the pointless discussions where it had been
obvious the doctors had no idea what was causing it. This was her one moment of
weakness with Dean, one moment of fragility, and she didn’t want to show how
scared she was.

“No,” she said firmly. “It’s not even that bad. See? Swollen
a little bit, sure, but it’ll fade.”

“I’m not taking that chance. And I wasn’t giving you a
choice.”

Her lips formed a fine line. “This is
my
health,
Dean. I know what’s best for me.”

He gestured to the swollen knee. “Leaving it like that will risk
long term complications. And I know, I studied to be a doctor, years ago. Don’t
judge me on that.”

“I don’t.”

“Really?”

“I don’t judge people based on what they do. Being a doctor
doesn’t mean you’re instantly respected, being a soldier doesn’t mean you’re
bloodthirsty. They’re all experiences. There’s too much judging and over
analyzing in this world.”

“Is that so? You judged me.”

Chelsea quirked an eyebrow. “I was wary of you. And I was
right to be after Ryan.”

“This is a discussion for another time,” Dean decided,
withdrawing his cell phone from his pocket.

“Wait, I don’t want to bother you with this,” she insisted.
“My own doctor’s in Newark. I don’t know if the clinic’s open right now…”

He gestured for her to stop. “I have a personal doctor.
He’ll see you immediately. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll take care of it.”

“But…”

“Chelsea! You’re too damn stubborn for your own good.”

She exhaled in a huff, watching as Dean walked out of
earshot into the kitchen. She gritted her teeth briefly, torn between her anger
and helplessness. She always relied on herself to take care of things. She
organized her trip with Ryan to Hawaii, and her countless visits to the doctors
about her knee. Now that it was happening again, she didn’t want to inconvenience
Dean.

He’d taken charge without backing out to let her handle it.
A pleasant warmth filled her chest. This is what she wanted, even though she
was too stubborn to accept it. Chelsea took a deep breath, trying to relax. Her
anger was directed at herself, not Dean. He was doing everything he could to
help, and she appreciated it in a way that nothing she said could express.

Dean returned, striding into the living room. Her breath
caught in her throat as she ran her gaze across his firm body. How could he be
so gentle yet sexy at the same time? She hastily raised her head to meet his
eyes as he spoke.

“Doctor Reese will be over in a few minutes.”

“We aren’t going to a clinic?”

“No need to. He’s pretty certain it’s a build up of fluid in
the knee, he can inject it to ease the inflammation.”

Chelsea nodded, a brief moment of fear fluttering in her
chest. It was bad enough having her knee flare up again, but even worse for it
to happen in front of Dean.

“So you’re a medical expert, huh?” she teased, trying to
keep her voice from shaking.

Dean chuckled. “I’ll let you think I am.”

She smiled and straightened her knee as much as she could against
the cool leather. Chelsea waited nervously as Dean walked to the front door and
glanced outside.

“He’s here now.”

It didn’t take long for the doctor to enter, and as he and
Dean exchanged greetings, Chelsea leaned back. Her heart was pounding wildly
and she glanced up as the two men walked over to her.

Doctor Reese was a middle aged man, significantly shorter
than Dean with wildly dark brown hair and glimmering blue eyes. He gave her a
friendly smile, holding a black bag in his grasp. After the introductions, he observed
her knee and nodded to himself.

“Fluid in the knee,” he remarked. “Sometimes this just
happens unexpectedly. It can be quite puzzling as to what caused it. But an
injection of corticosteroid and draining the fluid will take care of it.”

Chelsea nodded and met Dean’s gaze. He gave her a reassuring
smile, but she could read the concern in his eyes. As Doctor Reese withdrew
what he needed from his bag, Chelsea held Dean’s stare, knowing that as long as
she looked at him, she felt safe, and nothing else mattered.

The next day, she could move her knee. The swelling had
reduced significantly. A relieved smile tugged at her lips as Chelsea swung out
of bed and dressed herself. Dean’s consistent care throughout the day made her
realize that she didn’t need to be afraid of either her knee or her feelings
for him. His lingering touch and comforting embraces only added to her belief that
a relationship was possible. It was time to confront him.

She left her room and went downstairs, the hem of her pastel
green dress skimming her thighs. Chelsea walked gingerly but with a newfound
confidence Dean’s attentiveness had given her. He’d helped her through so much
without an excuse.

As she entered the living room, she saw him lying on the
couch, dressed in a navy blue shirt and black pants. Dean immediately sat up
when he heard her approach, and his gaze went down her body.

Chelsea blushed, recognizing the lustful gleam in his eyes.

“How’re you feeling?”

His voice was husky and deep.

“Fine,” she responded. “No more pain. And I can walk. It was
a minor case this time.”

He nodded and a relieved smile crossed his face. “Glad to
hear it.”

Chelsea hesitated, lost in the heated look he was giving
her.
How can he get to me like this?
Her thoughts were spiraling towards
the night they shared together. Quickly pushing it aside, she lightened her
tone. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Just don’t like to see you hurt.”

Chelsea smiled, touched by his words. She took a few steps
closer to him, preparing herself to mention her feelings. It was a delicate
balance between seeming interested but not desperate.

“I think we should talk about us.”

Dean straightened, his eyebrows rising briefly in surprise. “What
about?”

“I know you…that
we
both wanted sex that night.”

He nodded. She waited for him to say that it was something
more. But Dean said nothing. A sinking feeling overcame Chelsea, and she
swallowed heavily, trying to keep her expression even.
It doesn’t mean more
than sex to him.

“We can’t let it happen again.”

The very words she didn’t want to say. But it was for the
best. Chelsea knew Dean cared for her, but it seemed as if her own feelings
were stronger. She couldn’t risk a one sided relationship, not that he was
interested.

Dean stood up from the couch and strode towards her. Standing
close to her, Chelsea felt her body respond. The warmth of her skin, the need
to touch him. She felt herself getting wet below, her breathing shallow as her
cheeks flushed in response. Arousal came so easily around him.

Chelsea took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

“If that’s what you want,” he said. “I don’t want to push anything
on you.”

“You’re not. We’re keeping this professional.”

“As we agreed.”

Chelsea pursed her lips, waiting for him to say anything. Her
heart was racing. But Dean turned around and went back to the couch, resting
against the leather as he crossed one leg over the other.

She let out a breath, grateful for the distance between
them. But the sinking pain in her chest wouldn’t leave. There was dampness in her
panties as she crossed the wooden floor to stand a few feet away from Dean.

“I’ve been wondering what you do while I’m upstairs on the
computer,” Chelsea remarked, attempting to lighten the mood. Anything to turn
off the heavy sexual tension between them. Anything to shut off the voice that
insisted she’d made a mistake by mentioning that night.

Dean glanced up at her as if surprised she hadn’t left. Then
he reached for a book sitting on the side table and opened it up to reveal it
was a case covering a small laptop. A recent Sony model, Chelsea noticed. Far
too small and slim. And expensive.

“I’m studying,” he explained. “Picking up from when I left university.”

Chelsea stared at him in admiration. Another part of Dean
Westley she’d uncovered. She smoothed her dress down and gently sat at the edge
of the couch, being aware not to sit close to him. Dean cleared his throat, and
she noticed he was avoiding looking directly at her.

Sleeping together acknowledged how they felt for each other.
But Chelsea’s feelings for him had grown over the past few days, and his
hadn’t. She felt torn between wanting to tell him, and to keep quiet. At any
mention of feelings, it could ruin what they had. There was too much fear of
being rejected.

 “You dropped out?”

“It was my childhood dream to be a doctor. Someone of
importance, someone with respect. But reality came knocking. I realized I
didn’t have the passion for it,” he explained. “I gained all the money I could
dream of at the cost of losing everything else. My family. My life. So I
followed my next passion – women. Drowned my grief in all the sex and alcohol
any man could want.”

At Chelsea’s grimace, he added, “All safe sex, don’t worry.
I was young and stupid, but not that reckless. My behavior pushed Jake away.
Cemented myself in the media. In the end, I did get respect, and acknowledgement.
Just not in the way I thought.”

Chelsea was silent for a moment. She could understand his
pain, the need to be something. Even though she resigned herself to working at
Walmart and achieving nothing else, her desire to work on websites returned. “Then
why the studying?”

Dean rolled his shoulders back and his chest rose and fell
with a gentle sigh. Pain etched his face. “I don’t want to look back on my life
and realize I based my existence on my inheritance. It disgraces myself. My
family. But it’s all people see me as. A millionaire, a playboy. I deserved
that reputation, but I don’t want it.”

Chelsea stared at him, noticing the deep furrow of his
brows, the intense look in his eyes. It was tempting to reach out and touch
him, but she held back.

“You told me you just went with whatever came along?”

“For relationships, yes. But this…” He gestured around the
house. “I may be able to have any woman I want, but that doesn’t mean I’m not lonely.
So I study. Not just medical stuff, but general knowledge. My way of making up
all those years I wasted. My pathetic attempt to show I’m not a failure.”

“You aren’t!” Chelsea insisted, surprising herself. Dean
glanced at her, his green eyes wide. She bit her lip, recalling the passion he
had shown her in his bed. The need to please her and keep her satisfied. No one
could compare to him, or make her forget that memorable night. Yet that all
came from his experience. Everything he’d done made him the man he now was.

“You’re a good man, Dean Westley,” she admitted softly,
recalling his words to her. “No one’s perfect, but you are to me.”

Chelsea didn’t understand how or why she’d come to that
conclusion. All that she’d experienced with him, the way he made her feel, the
look in his eyes as his gaze went to her. He
was
perfect.

Dean leaned forward until there was no distance between
them. Lost in his eyes, she waited. Chelsea felt the heat of his breath
caressing her skin and her lips parted. She waited for the inevitable kiss.
Have
I finally made him realize how he feels?

“You want to be with me?”

His voice teased, and her body responded. Chelsea swallowed,
the words lost on her tongue as she tried to gather her thoughts.

“Yes, of course,” she whispered.

Dean leaned forward to kiss her. Not out of lust, but
genuine emotion. Fear pierced through her need for him, and Chelsea pulled
away.

“It’s obvious how I feel for you.”

Silently, she wished she hadn’t interrupted their near kiss.
But she had to make it clear. Now she’d made the ultimate mistake of announcing
her feelings clear as day. Clear enough for Dean to reject. Chelsea bit her lip,
inwardly cursing at herself.

“I know I haven’t said anything definitive, but I do care
for you.”

Dean’s assuring smile captivated her and she was drawn to
the curve of his lips, longing to kiss him. But that stubborn part of her was
resisting. Chelsea couldn’t get involved without the assurance, the security of
a relationship.
He cares about me
. Wasn’t that enough? It held the
promise that he wouldn’t think of hurting her now that he respected her
feelings.