Come Lie With Me by Linda Howard Page A

the children who had tugged the most strongly at her heartstrings. He was the challenge of her career; he’d become so much to her, but he was still a man, and she couldn’t understand why she didn’t get that icy, sick feeling she normally got when a man got close to her. Blake could touch her, and she couldn’t tolerate the touch of any other man.
    Perhaps, she decided, it was because she knew that she was safe with him. As he’d pointed out, he wasn’t in any condition to do any chasing. Sexually, he was as harmless as the children she’d hugged and comforted.
    â€œYou look like Michelangelo, agonizing over the final touches to a statue,” he said provokingly. “Have you cut a big gap in my hair?”
    â€œOf course not!” she protested, running her fingers through the unruly pelt. “I’m a very good barber, for your information. Would you like a mirror?”
    He sighed blissfully. “No, I trust you. You can shave me now.”
    â€œLike heck I will!” With mock wrath she practically slapped the loose hair off his shoulders. “It’s time for your session on the rack, so stop trying to stall!”
    In the days that followed nothing else was said about the situation between Serena and Richard, and though the couple continued to have dinner with Blake and Dione, the coolness between them was obvious. Richard treated Dione with a warmth that never progressed beyond friendliness, though Dione was certain that Serena wasn’t convinced that the situation between them was innocent. Blake watched everything with an eagle eye and kept Dione close by his side.
    She understood his reasons for doing so, and as it suited her to be with him, she let him be as demanding of her company as he wanted. She liked being with him. As he grew stronger his rather devilish personality was coming out, and it took all her concentration to stay one step ahead of him. She had to play poker with him; she had to play chess with him; she had to watch football games with him. There were a million and one things that took his interest, and he demanded that she share them all. It was as if he’d been in a coma for two years and had come out of it determined to catch up on everything he’d missed.
    He pushed himself harder than she ever would have. Because she could lift more weigh than he could, he worked for hours with the weights. Because she couldswim longer and faster than he could, he pushed himself to do lap after lap, though he still couldn’t use his legs. And every week they had a rematch at arm wrestling. It was their fifth match before he finally defeated her, and he was so jubilant that she let him have blueberry waffles for breakfast.
    Still, she was nervous when she decided that it was time for him to begin using his legs. This was the crux of the entire program. If he couldn’t see some progress now in his legs, she knew that he’d lose hope and sink into depression again.
    She didn’t tell him what she had planned. After he’d done his sets on the weight bench she got him back into the wheelchair and guided the chair over to the parallel bars that he would use to support himself while she reeducated his legs in what they were expected to do. He looked at the bars, then at her, his brows lifted in question.
    â€œIt’s time for you to stop being so lazy,” she said as casually as possible, though her heart was pounding so loudly it was a miracle he couldn’t hear it. “On your feet.”
    He swallowed, his eyes moving from her to the bars, then back to her.
    â€œThis is it, huh? D day.”
    â€œThat’s right. It’s no big deal. Just stand. No trying to walk. Let your legs get accustomed to holding your weight.”
    He set his jaw and reached out for the bars. Bracing his hands on them, he pulled himself out of the wheelchair.
    The weight lifting came in handy as he pulled himself up, using only the strength