Bastian told her harshly.
‘Yes...’ Eyes opening, she focused dizzily on Bastian standing over her, clad only in a towel, a startling enough vision to make her stiffen. ‘You’re not dressed—’
‘Yes, and you’re dripping all over my bed,’ Bastian informed her.
A sudden shiver took hold of Emmie and she registered the wet cling of her sodden garments and groaned out loud. She was still staring at the most perfect set of masculine abs she had ever seen outside a movie screen. Stripped, Bastian had the musculature of a Greek god—not a very original thought, she conceded abstractedly, considering who and what he was.
‘Emmie...the doctor’s coming.’ Bastian bent down and scooped her up into his arms without warning. A muffled squeak of surprise escaped her. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m putting you in the bathroom so that you can get out of your wet clothes,’ Bastian told her with immense practicality. ‘Do you think you can stand up?’
‘I’ll have to,’ she muttered as he very carefully settled her down on her bare feet. ‘What happened?’
‘One of the teenagers rammed you and you fell in the pool. You were knocked out—’
‘My word, I might have drowned,’ Emmie framed shakily, her knees buckling under her. ‘I’m sorry, I’m feeling dizzy—’
Bastian hauled her up against him and sat down on the side of a raised bath.
‘Don’t you dare try to help me take my clothes off!’ Emmie warned him.
Face taut with frustration, Bastian lowered her limp body down onto the tiled floor. ‘Do you really think I’m likely to touch you inappropriately in the condition you’re in?’ he enquired angrily.
Shivering violently with the chill of her damp clothing, Emmie rested her brow down on her raised knees. ‘Just leave me...I’ll be OK—’
‘You really do have a very low opinion of me, don’t you?’ Bastian growled like an angry bear.
‘Sorry,’ Emmie whispered, on the edge of tears because she felt so weak while she was now also being tormented by the disastrous start she had made to her weekend with Bastian. So much for the girlfriend he wanted to use as cover! One minute inside the door she had taken a header into the pool and rendered herself unconscious and a liability.
In answer, Bastian trailed her sweater off over her head and tossed it aside. He draped a towelling robe round her pale slight shoulders, gazing down at her while wondering why she looked so absurdly vulnerable, fluffy lashes drooping, full lower lip trembling. He didn’t get involved with women who looked that breakable and had no idea what to do with her.
Emmie managed to dig her arms into the sleeves of the robe to at least cover her bra. She felt absolutely humiliated as Bastian lifted her upright again, urging her to hang onto the edge of the vanity while he freed her from her trousers with as much seductive intent as he might have used towards a cardboard cut-out. She thought of the surgical scars marring her leg and hoped he wouldn’t notice them. Tears stung her eyes. ‘I’m sorry about this!’
‘Why are you apologising?’ Bastian demanded impatiently while he struggled to behave like a man of honour and not sneak a glance at the truly spectacular female figure he had briefly unveiled. Unfortunately his own body was rather less disciplined and was already betraying him with very masculine efficiency. He cursed under his breath, wondering what it was about her that made his hormones react as if she were a rocket attack. She was destroying his self-discipline and he was well aware that experiencing desire while she was feeling wretched was the act of a selfish, unfeeling bastard. Which he was, Bastian fully accepted that, knew he was no candidate for sainthood. Of course, he wasn’t going to do anything about the inconvenient way she made him respond with every flash of those stunning blue eyes, he reminded himself grimly. But with bleak humour he recalled how he had suspected that
‘Yes...’ Eyes opening, she focused dizzily on Bastian standing over her, clad only in a towel, a startling enough vision to make her stiffen. ‘You’re not dressed—’
‘Yes, and you’re dripping all over my bed,’ Bastian informed her.
A sudden shiver took hold of Emmie and she registered the wet cling of her sodden garments and groaned out loud. She was still staring at the most perfect set of masculine abs she had ever seen outside a movie screen. Stripped, Bastian had the musculature of a Greek god—not a very original thought, she conceded abstractedly, considering who and what he was.
‘Emmie...the doctor’s coming.’ Bastian bent down and scooped her up into his arms without warning. A muffled squeak of surprise escaped her. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m putting you in the bathroom so that you can get out of your wet clothes,’ Bastian told her with immense practicality. ‘Do you think you can stand up?’
‘I’ll have to,’ she muttered as he very carefully settled her down on her bare feet. ‘What happened?’
‘One of the teenagers rammed you and you fell in the pool. You were knocked out—’
‘My word, I might have drowned,’ Emmie framed shakily, her knees buckling under her. ‘I’m sorry, I’m feeling dizzy—’
Bastian hauled her up against him and sat down on the side of a raised bath.
‘Don’t you dare try to help me take my clothes off!’ Emmie warned him.
Face taut with frustration, Bastian lowered her limp body down onto the tiled floor. ‘Do you really think I’m likely to touch you inappropriately in the condition you’re in?’ he enquired angrily.
Shivering violently with the chill of her damp clothing, Emmie rested her brow down on her raised knees. ‘Just leave me...I’ll be OK—’
‘You really do have a very low opinion of me, don’t you?’ Bastian growled like an angry bear.
‘Sorry,’ Emmie whispered, on the edge of tears because she felt so weak while she was now also being tormented by the disastrous start she had made to her weekend with Bastian. So much for the girlfriend he wanted to use as cover! One minute inside the door she had taken a header into the pool and rendered herself unconscious and a liability.
In answer, Bastian trailed her sweater off over her head and tossed it aside. He draped a towelling robe round her pale slight shoulders, gazing down at her while wondering why she looked so absurdly vulnerable, fluffy lashes drooping, full lower lip trembling. He didn’t get involved with women who looked that breakable and had no idea what to do with her.
Emmie managed to dig her arms into the sleeves of the robe to at least cover her bra. She felt absolutely humiliated as Bastian lifted her upright again, urging her to hang onto the edge of the vanity while he freed her from her trousers with as much seductive intent as he might have used towards a cardboard cut-out. She thought of the surgical scars marring her leg and hoped he wouldn’t notice them. Tears stung her eyes. ‘I’m sorry about this!’
‘Why are you apologising?’ Bastian demanded impatiently while he struggled to behave like a man of honour and not sneak a glance at the truly spectacular female figure he had briefly unveiled. Unfortunately his own body was rather less disciplined and was already betraying him with very masculine efficiency. He cursed under his breath, wondering what it was about her that made his hormones react as if she were a rocket attack. She was destroying his self-discipline and he was well aware that experiencing desire while she was feeling wretched was the act of a selfish, unfeeling bastard. Which he was, Bastian fully accepted that, knew he was no candidate for sainthood. Of course, he wasn’t going to do anything about the inconvenient way she made him respond with every flash of those stunning blue eyes, he reminded himself grimly. But with bleak humour he recalled how he had suspected that
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