Race For Love (5 page)

"'
S
up
, D3?"

Derek smiled as he cradled his phone between his shoulder and ear and unpacked his bag. When their father had married Sarah, Dylan had given him the nickname because all three kids had D names. Delilah, Dylan and Derek. He was the youngest. The name had stuck.

"What's up, asshole? So am I actually going to see you now that I'm in town or what?" Ever since Dylan had joined the FBI a couple of years ago, he'd seen his brother less and less. Usually only twice a year. It was a stroke of luck that Dylan was working a case in Los Angeles now.

"I don't know, you make it sound so appealing," his brother drawled.

"Shut up and tell me you have your pick up lines picked out. My boy Ray, who left the Jags last year to play for the Lakers, is going to hook us up at some it club this weekend. You can't back out on me."

His brother sighed. "You realize I'm out here to work, right, not party it up with starlets?"

"You're really not going to meet your brother for a drink?"

Dylan was notorious. Even as a kid he'd been like an old man in a kid's body. Always the responsible one. Always the one taking on the mantle of looking out for everyone. The little adult. Clubbing wasn't really his thing. Therefore, Derek made it his personal mission to see that his big brother had some fun every now and again.

"No, I'll be there. Just tell me where. I just want it to be known it's under protest."

Kind of like he was here under protest? He couldn't believe she'd called. What’s more, he couldn't believe he'd said yes. Just thinking about Kisima set his teeth on edge. He kept trying to remind himself that she was just one more spoiled, beautiful, rich girl who thought she could skate by in life. But fuck, he wanted this one.

From the moment she'd jutted her chin out at him and challenged his assumption about her recovery, he was a goner. There was only one word to describe what he felt when she'd told him it wasn't going to work out...relief. Okay, first, annoyance, then relief. And now, like an idiot, he'd walked right back into the lion's den wearing a meat suit.

But he wanted to work. And a small part of him was terrified that Kallie's influence would prove stronger than the truth. He had to find alternatives. But that didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

Although, he glanced around at his surroundings, if he had to be here under protest, there were worse places to be. The room Kisima had given him was huge. And thankfully, the bed was a California King, so his feet wouldn't dangle off. The bathroom had a shower big enough to host a party in, and the stereo system was state of the art to make him nearly weep.

But a sick room didn't change the fact that he was going to have a hell of a time with her. He didn't need them to be best friends forever, but they did need to get along. Be on the same team, on the same page. And it would certainly help if that challenge he saw in her eyes didn't make him want to bite her lip. He cleared his throat and dragged his attention back to his brother. "Just like that bar in Adams Morgan when I came to DC? You went home with that blonde under protest?"

He could hear the humor in his brother's voice when he said, "Well, you'd worked so hard to get me to talk to her, so I figured it was only right for me to at least put my back into it."

"The things you do for family." Derek chortled. He'd missed this. Missed his big brother. Dylan was the only person that knew exactly what it felt like when their mother had walked out because she realized she didn’t want to be a mother.

"I'm all about self sacrifice." Dylan was quiet for a moment, then asked, "So how's it going, you getting settled in?"

Derek glanced around. "Yeah, you know, it could be worse." That was a hell of an understatement. The carpet in his room was so plush that his feet all but sank in with every step he took. He could fucking live in there. Fuck, the bathroom even had its own sauna.

"And you? You feeling okay about the gig?"

He recognized the worry in Dylan's voice. "You can relax D2. I'm cool. I'm confident about this appeal. I'll only be here for a few weeks, then I'll be back where I belong. Besides, do you really want to talk about my new patient, or do you want to talk about who gets Sofia Vergara when she walks into the club this weekend?"

Keep it light
. As close as he and his brother were, he still didn't want to go into exactly how he was feeling. Or mention the terror that nipped at his heels while he ran toward resolution. This all had to work out the way he'd planned. There was only one outcome he was willing to accept and it didn't involve accepting the status quo. He would help Kisima, and then he'd be out. He wouldn't be here long. He'd be returning to his life in no time.

"Clearly she likes grown men so that puts you out of the running, little brother."

"We'll see about that. Listen, I'll text you details, okay? I need to commence the torture." Derek checked the clock. He figured he'd given Prince Charming enough time to clear out. Something about the guy rubbed him the wrong way. It shouldn't matter, but it did.

"Cool, see you this weekend."

As he hung up with Dylan and grabbed his plate, he sucked in a deep breath. He could keep his shit under control. She was just a client. No big deal. All he had to do was get through the assessment session with her. He could keep his hormones under control for that long. He hoped.
Just remember Kallie. Remember why fucking her is a bad idea.

War
. This was war. And Derek and Kiss had drawn their battle lines. As for positive things she could say about him went, he was punctual. That was the extent of it. They hadn't even started yet and she was pretty sure she was going to hate every single minute of this torture.

When she'd met him at the front door of the gym, he'd taken one look at her chair and scowled. Well, tough titties for him. He was going to have to deal with the fact that she was in a wheelchair. It wasn't by choice.

He was silent for a minute before he said, "So, Christian is your boyfriend?"

She slid him a glance. "I'm not sure if that's any of your business."

"Well, considering that for the next month or so, I'll be your trainer, confessor, teacher, object of your disdain, and at times your only ally, it kind of is my business. I need to know if he'll be standing in the way of your progress." He inclined his head toward the guesthouse. "From the way it seemed back there, I felt like I was stepping on toes or whatever."

"He is not my boyfriend."

"Ah, I see. He just wishes he was."

She scoffed. "He does not. He's practically my brother."

Derek shrugged as he swiped his keycard at the gym and opened the handicap doors to let her in. "Practically and exactly aren't the same things."

"It's not like that with us. We're really close is all. I grew up here. He thinks it's his job to protect me."

Derek clamped his jaw shut. The muscle just under his cheekbone worked.

"What?"

He raised his brows as he turned on the lights to the rehab facility that TJ had had installed. "What, what?"

"You clearly have something to say."

"Not my business."

"Oh really?" She cocked her head to the side that didn't send shards of crystalized pain through her body. "What happened to my father confessor?"

He crossed his arms. "Okay, if that's how you want it. He's controlling, overbearing. Thinks he knows best and he's holding you back. He thinks he's helping you by doing everything for you, but it's hurting you. You've used your shoulder more in the two hours I've been here than you have in the last couple of weeks since you've been cleared to start working out. It's not good for you and he's impeding your progress."

He stood close to her chair and she could feel the heat rising off of him. He was so tall she had to force herself to look up so she could see him. More pain. "Okay, Dr. Phil. I see you have a problem with Christian. Not to worry though, he'll be in London for a few weeks so you can feel free to torture me at will."

"Great," he muttered, not looking at all happy about the prospect.

"Fine."

"Let's get started then." His body was rigid.

What the hell had bitten him on the ass? "Let the fun begin. Why are you so pissed off, if I'm the one about to be tortured? And you talk about my sunny disposition. You know what they say about a guy with an attitude?"

"What's that?"

She grinned. "The only way you'll ever get laid is if you crawl up a chicken's ass and wait."

His lips twitched first. Then his shoulders. His head dropped last as a low, sexy rumble rolled out of him. "You have a smart mouth."

"Thank you. It goes with my brain. Now weren't you the one who said this would be painless if we worked together?"

"That I did. Let's get on with the painless."

As it turned out, painless was a misnomer. For the next hour she hurt. Everything hurt. Even parts of her that hadn't been injured. Hell, even her face hurt. He had her using weights, and checking her range of motion in the chair, out of the chair, and on the equipment around the room.

Just when she thought she might pass out from the pain he said, "That's enough for now. Let's head back and I'll put together your training plan based on what I've seen this afternoon."

She sagged in the chair. "You go ahead, I'm gonna just sit here and pass out for a few minutes."

"You're not ready to quit on me are you?"

She leveled him with a direct gaze. "What, and turn out to be the pampered princess you created in your imagination. I'm going to love proving you wrong too much for that. Bring it on." And she meant every word...just as soon as she had a shower and some rest. Fuck the shower, her bed was far more appealing at the moment.

I
n the morning
, Kisima's eyes pricked some more as she braced herself up with her good arm and Derek assisted on her other side. She was
not
doing well; she could see her own progress. Do not cry.
Don't you dare cry in front of Clark Kent
, she admonished herself. She could do this.

But a sigh and a sag and too much pressure on her hip and her legs were crumbling underneath her.

Derek caught her of course. Because that's what annoying superheroes did.

"Easy there. Good job for the day, we'll call it for the day, and pick up with this stuff tomorrow."

She stubbornly shook her head. "I can do it." She glared at the marker where she was supposed to stop...five feet away. "Again."

But Derek shook his head. "No. It's up to me to tell you when you've had enough. I know you want to push yourself. That's a good thing, but I can't let you push farther than you're ready for. We'll stop for now. Go have some lunch and then pick up again this afternoon."

She pinned him with a narrow eyed gaze. "Weren’t you the one who essentially told me to stop being a baby and get my lazy ass up out of the chair?"

He pressed his lips together. "That was a...miscalculation. I'd only looked at your charts. I hadn't seen the bruising. And I do want you out of the chair. I just want you to do it safely." Left to him, she'd be in remedial classes. She moved off to the side slightly. "Don't move. I'll get your chair."

Screw him. She was getting to that marker today. The sooner she got to the marker, the sooner she'd be healed and the sooner she'd be back to normal again. Using one arm to brace herself on the bar, she shuffled again. Another inch. Oh, at this rate, it would only take her all fucking night to get to that red line. But by hook or by crook she was getting there—today. Not at some arbitrary date when he said.

When he turned around with her chair, he wasn't pleased. "Jesus, Kisima." He ran to her, determined to support her other side, but she twisted away. "I'm going to do this. You'll see. I can. There is a goal to hit and I'm going to hit it." But she wasn't as strong as she wanted to believe. Nor was she used to being upright on two legs, because her good leg buckled and her bad leg, well, the pain came quick. She was going down.

Derek was quick. Very quick. He wrapped his arms around her and broke her fall with his body. The good news was she didn’t hurt herself any more than she was already hurt. At least she didn't think so.

The bad news was, not only that he'd managed to save the day...again, but, also she lay on top of him. Hip to hip, her breasts pressed into his chest, and something pressing into the juncture of her—Holy hell, endowed didn't even cut it as a descriptor word. Unless of course he stuffed his workout gear. Not that she'd put it past him.

His voice was low when he spoke. "There's a reason you don’t attempt to do that shit on your own, Kisima. You can get hurt. Just freaking relax so I can help you up."

Instead of helping her up though, he rolled them over deftly, so she lay beneath him, his hips and pelvis resting between her open legs. He was careful not to put any weight on her.

In that second, the selfish, masochistic side of her enjoyed the feeling of his big, broad body over her. The association was impossible not to make. Her response was merely the by-product of not having a date in so long she couldn't remember. The slight uptick of her hips was completely involuntary.
Yeah, sure it was.

Derek's bright blue gaze pinned to hers for a millisecond and she saw the naked truth in his dilated pupils and flared nostrils.

His gaze flickered to her lips. And she licked away the dryness. He groaned low. The feral sound spoke to a primal part of her and she involuntarily arched into him.

His breathing changed to sharp, shallow pants. He was going to kiss her. Oh shit. She might not like him, but her body was beyond primed and ready. He stared at her lips, their breath comingling, but then, nothing happened. His eyes sharpened and the maddening arousing moment was gone.

Well this was just freaking fantastic. Two people who couldn't stand each other wishing the other would scratch an itch. Well, she could ignore it if he could.

He was on his feet in an instant, scooping her up into his arms. He transferred her to her chair quickly, and she couldn't help but stare at his profile. He really was too pretty for words. It really was too bad he was a pain in the ass.

"Let's get one thing straight." His voice was tight, cold. "We had an agreement. You do what I say, when I say, and you don't do anything else. You could have hurt yourself just now."

"But, I—"

"No buts, Kisima. Now, either you want to get into that car or you don't. My way, you make it. On your own, not so much. So what will it be?"

Asshole
. "Your way." If she didn’t find a way to kill him first.

"Let's get you in the water tomorrow," he'd said. "It will take some of the pressure off of your joints," he's said. Too bad Derek hadn't given the proper thought to the fact that Kisima would be in the water, warm and wet, and wearing that thing that could only be described as a man torturing device.

When she'd come out of the house with the towel wrapped around her, he'd known right away he should not have suggested the pool.

It had only been a couple of days and she was improving a little each day. Just getting up and moving was already increasing her range of motion and making her stronger. She was already able to tolerate the walker and some stretches during the day. With any luck, he could transition her to the crutches and out of the chair completely in a couple of days.

She came toward the pool using the walker. The problem was the towel. It barely reached past her butt and showcased her mile long legs. Even with lack of constant use, they were still lean and well muscled. She'd have all her tone back in no time if she kept working.

If anything, Derek was a leg man. Well, legs and ass, and tits weren't anything to sneeze at. Kisima Jennings had been blessed in all departments. His plan was to get out of the pool and help her. Really it was, but then, he'd seen her legs and his cock had other plans.

Erection equaled,
stay your ass in the water and think about anything other than her legs
. Kiss must not have been in a helpful kind of mood because, once she reached the edge of the pool, she dropped the towel.

Oh hell.
He nearly swallowed his tongue. First of all, the white material on the cinnamon bronzed skin was a dynamite combination. Second, the bandage zigzag pattern of her suit hinted and teased enough flesh to have him panting, but at the same time wasn’t too provocative. It showed just cut outs of flesh on her belly, side, and he assumed, the back.

Her surgery scar was visible, but it looked to be all healed up. Next time, tell her to get a Speedo suit or something. His ever-helpful brain provided him an image and he thought better of it. Picturing her full breasts incased in and pebbling against the spandex made his erection pulse.
Focus
. He stayed put in the shallow end and squinted up at her. "Do you need help getting in?" Shit was that his voice? Why the hell did he sound like it had been through a cement mixer?

She pursed her lips and shook her head. "No. I got it."

It had only been a few days, but he'd already come to recognize her game face. The one she made when she was concentrating really hard on something. He cleared his throat before speaking again. "Just lower yourself onto the lounger, then you can slide in." Okay, that was a bit better, but not much. "I'll steady you from here." He moved to stand in front of the lounger closest to him.

She lowered herself, then gritted her teeth together as she swung her legs around. Derek reached out for her and wrapped his hands around her calves first to urge her closer to the edge. On skin to skin contact, she tensed and her dark eyes flickered up to meet his gaze. He felt the tight pull of awareness low in his belly. He'd barely touched her and he was raring to go. Why had he said yes when she'd called to ask him back? He could have said no and saved himself the torture.

When she was close enough, he fitted his hands around her waist and gritted his teeth. Damn, she was soft.

He growled a silent command to his dick.
Stay in my fucking shorts
.

Kisima's eyes widened and her pupils were dilated. Okay, that didn't help. He didn't need her as aware of him as he was of her. "You ready to work?"

She pursed her lips again, drawing his attention to the last place he should be focusing. It was going to be a hell of a day.

He dragged a floatation belt from the side of the pool and deliberately avoided her gaze as he wrapped it around her. He took her through the stretches. Nice and easy. She worked without complaint, just that determination and grit he'd come to expect from her by now. She worked without a word either.

She did everything he asked, but this was fucking brutal. It was the worse kind of chore. He'd take draining a septic tank to this. They needed to work together on this, otherwise neither of them would get the benefit out of it.

Eventually he had to stop her. "You know, this will all be a little easier if you relax. Maybe have some fun."

She raised a delicately arched eyebrow. "Fun? This isn't my idea of
fun
. A night out on the town with her best friend, Leah, that's my idea of fun. Taking a corner at nearly two hundred miles an hour,
that
is fun. Hell, I'll even take a sedate afternoon on the beach with a good book.
This
, pushing my muscles until they hurt,
this
is not fun. I can think of so many other things I can think of that are more fun."

Derek's lips twitched. It was the most she'd spoken to him all day. "Okay, I hear you. This isn't fun. I'm asking you to do things that hurt. But I promise, it'll take your mind off of it if we at least act like we can be friendly."

She glowered at him as he moved her arm through exercises. "Is this from the same guy who called me a pampered princess who needed to get over herself."

Well, fuck
. "I'm sorry about that. I was dealing with my own shit and after looking at your file it pissed me off that you weren't further along. Now that I've worked with you, I can see it's not because you're not working hard. Your last physical therapist didn't have a fucking clue. It ticked me off when I saw you. But now I've seen how you'll push yourself past the point where you should. You're not in this position because you're lazy or you’re pampered."

She sniffed. "Oh, now you get it?" she said through gritted teeth.

He sighed. He'd fucked up and right now his miscalculation was going to make his job more difficult. "I'm sorry, okay. I'm here for a couple of months and by no fault of yours it's not where I want to be. I put my shit on you and I shouldn't have. I fucked up. The way I see it, we can either move forward and you can let me help you, we can be a team and get you back in a car with minimal torture to either of us. Or we can take the painful tortured route."

She dropped her arms and her shoulders slumped slightly, but she met his gaze levelly. "What did the hurricane say to the coconut palm tree?"

Derek frowned. As long as he lived, he would never understand women. "What?"

With a grin, she said, "Hold on to your nuts, this is no ordinary blow job!"

He blinked once, not quite sure if he'd heard her correctly. Then the laugh bubbled out of him in a burst. "Are you kidding me right now? That was truly awful."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever, I'm funny. Hilarious even."

"Where did you even hear that joke?"

"You seem to forget I grew up at the track. Some of the greatest racers in the world have been my mentors. They were great in cars, terrible around children. I have no idea what TJ was thinking. You want to hear another one?"

Yes. Especially if it kept her smiling like that. "No, please spare me." But because he liked the dancing light behind her eyes, he let her tell him a few more.