Fit for a Sheikh

After Peg closed the wound with the sturdier strips she’d brought with her, she said, “Okay, that’s one down, two to go. Where are the others?”

“The cut on his side isn’t that bad,” Fiona said. “He has to turn over for you to see the worst one.” She immediately regretted her words when Peg sent her a devilish look. “It’s on his ankle.”

Peg stood. “Okay, Frank. Roll over and let me see.”

After Scorpio complied, again burying his face on his folded arms, Peg sat down on the sofa and rested his foot in her lap. The look she sent Fiona this time was void of humor and full of concern. “This is pretty nasty. I’m not sure the strips are going to hold it all that well. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve nicked a tendon.”

Scorpio glanced back at her. “Do what you can. I will manage.”

“You might manage to get one hell of an infection,” Peg said. “But you don’t need to walk on it for at least two days, if you live that long.”

Scorpio’s face showed no sign of fear. “I assure you I will live.”

“He’s had worse injuries,” Fiona added, apparent from the jagged scar on his back.

Peg sealed the slash the same way she had his thigh, then wrapped it tightly in gauze. After she was finished, she patted the back of his calf as if he were a child. “Okay, sugar. We’re all done here. Don’t blame me when you get gangrene.” She stood and stared down on him. “Are you allergic to penicillin?”

Scorpio resumed a sitting position, careful to keep the throw bound around his waist. “I have no allergies.”

“Good.” She dug in the bag and handed Fiona the box of samples. “Give him two of these a day for seven days. If he spikes a temp, get him to the hospital.”

“I’ll try.” Fiona figured she would probably have to call in the cavalry to convince Scorpio to cooperate. Besides, she doubted he’d be around for more than one day, much less seven.

“I am grateful for your assistance, Ms. Jones,” Scorpio said.

Peg sent him a sunny smile. “Oh, you’re welcome. My husband and I would love to have you and Fiona over for dinner.”

“He’s leaving soon,” Fiona added before Peg had the opportunity to suggest she help pick out the wedding cake. “Isn’t Walt waiting for you?”

Peg kept her gaze locked on Scorpio, laid a palm over her liberal chest and giggled like a schoolgirl. “Walt’s my husband.”

Scorpio’s smile seemed strained but sincere. “He is a very lucky man.”

Oh, brother, Fiona thought as she took Peg’s arm, turned her toward the door and guided her outside. She pulled the door closed when Peg kept trying to look inside. “Thanks bunches, neighbor. I owe you a lot for this.”

Peg patted Fiona’s cheek. “Yes, you do, sugar. And you owe yourself to get to know that one a whole lot better. He is one fine specimen.”

Fiona couldn’t agree more. “He’s a friend, Peg. Just a friend.”

“Sure, Fiona. And I’m too old to have sex.” Peg glanced in the direction of her apartment. “Which reminds me. I left Walt in bed and almost in the mood. If I hurry, maybe he won’t be in REM sleep yet. If he gets that far, I can forget about getting some action.”

Wonderful. Peg and Walt, and probably Benny Jack and his date, were all going to have sex, and Fiona was having a hard time getting Scorpio to smile at her. “By all means, go and rouse Walt.”

“Okey-dokey. And you go and rouse the hunk.”

Peg pivoted on her furry pink slippers and headed down the walkway while Fiona pushed back into the apartment, closing and locking the door behind her.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” She bypassed Scorpio and went into the kitchen to draw a glass of water so he could wash down the antibiotics. On afterthought, she retrieved a bottle of pills she’d had filled following a little incident in the bar where she’d intervened in a brawl between two regulars. Who would have thought that a seventy-year-old senior would have packed such a powerful right hook? Fiona’s jaw had learned that lesson the hard way.

The bottle was almost full since she’d only taken one of the painkillers that had basically rendered her brainless. Scorpio would need something for pain in order to sleep, whether he cared to admit it or not. She shook one pill from the bottle as directed, then took out one more. Considering his size, he probably needed two to garner any relief.

Fiona strode back into the living room and offered him the glass of water and the pills housed in her open palm. “Here. These will make you feel better.”

He eyed the capsules with disdain. “I do not see the necessity.”

“Well, I do. One will thwart infection, the other two are for pain.”

“I’m experiencing minimal discomfort. At least in the vicinity of my wounds.”

Obviously he considered her a pain in his posterior. Too bad. “These will ensure you won’t have any pain at all, at least tonight. You’ll sleep like a baby.”

He nailed her with his fathomless black eyes. “And if I refuse?”

Of all the obstinate men. Good thing he was cute, otherwise she’d toss him out. “Then I’ll do to you what I do with Lottie. Grab your jaws and shove the pills in the back of your mouth, then rub your throat until you swallow.”

“You are determined to persist in this matter?”

“Yes, I am. So be a good boy and take them.”

Releasing a frustrated sigh, he slid the pills from her palm, put them all in his mouth then swallowed the water. Fiona decided that even the bob of his Adam’s apple was sexy. If only she had the courage to proposition him, as Peg had suggested, but she didn’t. Not tonight. After all, he was wounded, and regardless of Peg’s assertions that injuries wouldn’t stop a man’s ability to perform, Fiona was hard-pressed to believe it. Besides, tomorrow he would probably be gone. She’d never had a one-night stand. No need to start now.

Oh, well. Easy come, easy go.

“Open your mouth,” she demanded. “I want to take a look and make sure you swallowed them.”

“Do you not trust me?”

“Not exactly, so let me see.”

With lightning speed, he clasped her wrists and pulled her forward between his parted legs. She planted her palms on his shoulders to keep from toppling into his lap, although that didn’t seem like a totally abhorrent prospect. “How will you know for certain by using only your eyes?” he said in a deep, persuasive voice. “I could be hiding them.”

“They would’ve dissolved by now.” Her voice sounded like a rusty wheel.

“Perhaps, or perhaps not.”

“Are you going to force me to pry your jaws open and put my hand in your mouth?”

His near-black eyes looked bedroom drowsy. “I would prefer you not put your hand in my mouth, but I would be open to other suggestions.”

“I’m not quite sure I’m following you here, Scorpio.”

He clasped the back of her head and pulled her closer, his lips only a fraction from hers. “You have other means to conduct a search.”

Was he giving her an open invitation to engage in a little tongue tango? That’s what she thought he was doing, but she’d been wrong before. Better safe than really sorry. “You want me to do a little mouth-to-mouth expedition?”

“If you wish to know for certain, I see no other recourse.”

Whew, boy. Peg had been right on. A near-death experience had done nothing to quell his manly urges. Or maybe it was the drugs. “Those pills are obviously doing their job if you want to kiss me.”