He's the Man
Page 8
Which was probably exactly what he needed.
He explored the house unashamedly, poking his head into the small guest bath off the kitchen and each of the guest bedrooms. It was a small house but well laid out. Each of the rooms had the bare minimum of furniture needed to be functional. It made him feel slightly better about his own decorating skills.
When he reached the master bedroom, he almost stepped back out to make sure he hadn’t stepped through some kind of time portal. Unlike the rest of the house, which was still plain white, the master bedroom was painted a deep navy blue. The color contrasted well with the ivory curtains at the windows and the cream-colored down comforter on the bed. A mountain of pillows covered the bed, the fussy kind women always piled all over everything. Even the carpet in this room was different—a deep, thick pile his feet sank into as he walked. He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked around again.
His phone rang and he answered before he thought about it.
“Hey, it’s Nick. Did you get in okay?”
“Yeah, I’m here now. Although you forgot to tell me about the secret handshake to get past the front door.”
“My fault. I thought I’d warned you. I’m convinced Eli doesn’t fix it because he thinks of it as a security measure. It’s probably harder for someone to break in if they can’t even get the door open with a key.”
Matt found himself nodding. “Eli has a nice place here. I wouldn’t have thought he had it in him.”
“Oh, you must be in his bedroom. Yeah I was surprised the first time I saw it, too. We used to tease Eli about not having any game but after I saw that room, I don’t tease him anymore. Stay away from the closet if you don’t want to lose your religion. It’s always the quiet ones.”
Matt’s brows lowered as he looked around. “You guys just like giving each other a hard time. It’s a nice room. A little over the top for my taste, but it’s not that bad.”
“Whatever, dude. Enjoy freak central. Call me when you get back.”
Nick hung up, so Matt tossed the phone on the bed next to him and stretched out. When he was flat on his back, he opened his eyes and then barked out a laugh. His reflection laughed with him. There were mirrors hanging above the bed.
So this was what Nick meant about freak central. He stared at his reflection for a moment, observing the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
A second later he jumped up and headed for the closet.
CHAPTER THREE
PENNY TYPED THE last sentence of her e-mail and closed the lid of her laptop. It always took a bit of juggling when she was treating a high-profile client, but athletes took it to another level. Not only were they expecting immediate results so they could get back to playing, but she had a bevy of people interested in every aspect of their recovery, from family to coaches to the media.
“I’m heading out, Penny. Did Coach call you?” Chris Walters leaned in the open door of her office. He’d come to her after having surgery to repair a torn ACL. They hadn’t had an appointment today, but he’d come in anyway because he was experiencing some pain in his knee.
“I just sent him an e-mail. We can continue with therapeutic massage for the rest of the week to aid in draining the excess fluid buildup you’re experiencing.”
“You think I’ll be okay in time for the play-offs?”
Penny grinned at his enthusiasm. Chris was entirely different than she’d expected. He was a quiet young man who exhibited none of the arrogance she’d expected from someone considered to be the king of Washington’s basketball team.
“If you keep working as hard as you have been, I don’t think anything can stop you. I’ll see you for your next appointment on Friday.”
Matt’s file was still on the edge of her desk. She picked it up and flipped through it idly.
Even if she hadn’t seen him in years, there was still a lingering sense of obligation. That was it, she told herself. She felt some twisted sort of responsibility because she used to babysit him. It had nothing to do with the pain she’d glimpsed in his eyes as he’d left. He was hurting and had no idea what to do about it.
When she got to the notes about his accident, her hand stilled. It was never a good feeling when she couldn’t help someone, but in this case she especially felt the loss.
Her attraction to him had nothing to do with her desire to help him. Although now that he was gone and she was done with her work for the day, she could allow her mind a few minutes to drift back to their meeting.
What the hell had that been?
She’d never been the type to go googly-eyed over a guy. Matt, however, had made her almost forget her own name. She didn’t consider herself to have a “type,” but if she did—he would be it. Tall, dark, and handsome was more than just a cliché in this case. It was a recipe for disaster. It was probably best that they wouldn’t be working together. She’d never been tempted by a patient before.
You’ve also never had a patient who was six feet tall and two hundred pounds of pure masculine temptation, either.
Then she thought back to all the athletes she’d worked with. They were all tall, heavily muscled, and in peak physical condition. Georgia had panted after plenty of them. So why was she so affected by Matt in particular?
“Knock knock. Are you busy?” Georgia leaned around the door frame. “Everyone’s gone now. Are you almost done?”
She closed Matt’s file. “I am now. I was just daydreaming.” She grabbed her coat and bag and followed Georgia to the front of the building, then waited while her friend gathered her own things and locked the outer doors. They walked out to the parking lot in companionable silence.
He explored the house unashamedly, poking his head into the small guest bath off the kitchen and each of the guest bedrooms. It was a small house but well laid out. Each of the rooms had the bare minimum of furniture needed to be functional. It made him feel slightly better about his own decorating skills.
When he reached the master bedroom, he almost stepped back out to make sure he hadn’t stepped through some kind of time portal. Unlike the rest of the house, which was still plain white, the master bedroom was painted a deep navy blue. The color contrasted well with the ivory curtains at the windows and the cream-colored down comforter on the bed. A mountain of pillows covered the bed, the fussy kind women always piled all over everything. Even the carpet in this room was different—a deep, thick pile his feet sank into as he walked. He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked around again.
His phone rang and he answered before he thought about it.
“Hey, it’s Nick. Did you get in okay?”
“Yeah, I’m here now. Although you forgot to tell me about the secret handshake to get past the front door.”
“My fault. I thought I’d warned you. I’m convinced Eli doesn’t fix it because he thinks of it as a security measure. It’s probably harder for someone to break in if they can’t even get the door open with a key.”
Matt found himself nodding. “Eli has a nice place here. I wouldn’t have thought he had it in him.”
“Oh, you must be in his bedroom. Yeah I was surprised the first time I saw it, too. We used to tease Eli about not having any game but after I saw that room, I don’t tease him anymore. Stay away from the closet if you don’t want to lose your religion. It’s always the quiet ones.”
Matt’s brows lowered as he looked around. “You guys just like giving each other a hard time. It’s a nice room. A little over the top for my taste, but it’s not that bad.”
“Whatever, dude. Enjoy freak central. Call me when you get back.”
Nick hung up, so Matt tossed the phone on the bed next to him and stretched out. When he was flat on his back, he opened his eyes and then barked out a laugh. His reflection laughed with him. There were mirrors hanging above the bed.
So this was what Nick meant about freak central. He stared at his reflection for a moment, observing the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
A second later he jumped up and headed for the closet.
CHAPTER THREE
PENNY TYPED THE last sentence of her e-mail and closed the lid of her laptop. It always took a bit of juggling when she was treating a high-profile client, but athletes took it to another level. Not only were they expecting immediate results so they could get back to playing, but she had a bevy of people interested in every aspect of their recovery, from family to coaches to the media.
“I’m heading out, Penny. Did Coach call you?” Chris Walters leaned in the open door of her office. He’d come to her after having surgery to repair a torn ACL. They hadn’t had an appointment today, but he’d come in anyway because he was experiencing some pain in his knee.
“I just sent him an e-mail. We can continue with therapeutic massage for the rest of the week to aid in draining the excess fluid buildup you’re experiencing.”
“You think I’ll be okay in time for the play-offs?”
Penny grinned at his enthusiasm. Chris was entirely different than she’d expected. He was a quiet young man who exhibited none of the arrogance she’d expected from someone considered to be the king of Washington’s basketball team.
“If you keep working as hard as you have been, I don’t think anything can stop you. I’ll see you for your next appointment on Friday.”
Matt’s file was still on the edge of her desk. She picked it up and flipped through it idly.
Even if she hadn’t seen him in years, there was still a lingering sense of obligation. That was it, she told herself. She felt some twisted sort of responsibility because she used to babysit him. It had nothing to do with the pain she’d glimpsed in his eyes as he’d left. He was hurting and had no idea what to do about it.
When she got to the notes about his accident, her hand stilled. It was never a good feeling when she couldn’t help someone, but in this case she especially felt the loss.
Her attraction to him had nothing to do with her desire to help him. Although now that he was gone and she was done with her work for the day, she could allow her mind a few minutes to drift back to their meeting.
What the hell had that been?
She’d never been the type to go googly-eyed over a guy. Matt, however, had made her almost forget her own name. She didn’t consider herself to have a “type,” but if she did—he would be it. Tall, dark, and handsome was more than just a cliché in this case. It was a recipe for disaster. It was probably best that they wouldn’t be working together. She’d never been tempted by a patient before.
You’ve also never had a patient who was six feet tall and two hundred pounds of pure masculine temptation, either.
Then she thought back to all the athletes she’d worked with. They were all tall, heavily muscled, and in peak physical condition. Georgia had panted after plenty of them. So why was she so affected by Matt in particular?
“Knock knock. Are you busy?” Georgia leaned around the door frame. “Everyone’s gone now. Are you almost done?”
She closed Matt’s file. “I am now. I was just daydreaming.” She grabbed her coat and bag and followed Georgia to the front of the building, then waited while her friend gathered her own things and locked the outer doors. They walked out to the parking lot in companionable silence.
