The Playboy's Mistress

‘Just when your father said you were a great little nurse I thought…’

‘I’ve got brothers—I can stick on a plaster. I’m not Florence Nightingale…!’

‘True. Nobody with an ounce of caring in their body could stand there watching me struggle like this.’ He stood there, one arm inserted in his shirt, wondering what to do next.

‘If that was a hint, you’re really pushing it!’ she growled. ‘What if someone asks me to do something…nursey?’ she worried hoarsely.

‘Is that likely?’ he drawled, managing to project the distinct impression he found her complaints slightly hysterical.

It occurred to Darcy that they were drifting away from the real cause of her simmering anger. ‘Don’t try and change the subject,’ she growled.

One slanted dark brow quirked. ‘Which was…?’

‘I’m not your wife!’

‘This is true,’ he conceded with an expression that suggested he was mightily relieved about this. ‘I didn’t think you’d mind—it’s not like I’m actually asking you to marry me or anything drastic.’

‘For your information, I’ve been proposed to several times!’ she felt goaded into unwisely boasting.

‘Congratulations,’ he drawled, looking amused.

Darcy’s cheeks were burning with humiliation as she discovered a major flaw in his manipulations. ‘What were you going to do if I’d driven straight off?’

‘I knew you wouldn’t do that,’ he stated confidently.

‘How could you possibly…?’

‘You’d be eaten up by guilt if you did. You’re deeply into doing the right thing.’ He made it sound like a flaw in her character. ‘Be a sport, Darcy,’ he cajoled.

‘I’m not lying for you.’

He sighed. ‘Just don’t say you’re not, that’s all I’m asking. It’s no skin off your nose. Walk out of here with me and then you’ll never have to see me again.’

Darcy’s shoulders slumped in defeat. ‘I must be mad…’

A wolfish grin split his lean, dark face. ‘Good girl,’ he approved.

Further comments were made impossible by the arrival of the nurse who’d directed Darcy here originally.

‘I’ve come to suture your head wound,’ the young man explained.

Darcy took the opportunity to excuse herself. ‘I’ll wait outside.’ Halfway through the curtain, she paused. ‘Are you going to give him a local anaesthetic?’ she asked the young nurse.