Читать книгу Never Kiss a Man in a Christmas Sweater - Debbie Johnson, Debbie Johnson - Страница 11

“I could hire a nurse,” said Rob, frowning at his still doped brother.

“Well, make it a hot one…” Marco mumbled in reply, his eyes slowly focusing on Maggie, who was lurking in the doorway, leaning on the frame and looking decidedly uncomfortable being there at all. His eyes were still a little fuzzy, and she looked like a giant blob of red hair stuck on top of a body.

“No – we’re going to find the nastiest, meanest, ugliest nurse in Britain,” added Leah, who was sitting at the end of the bed looking at his medical chart. “It says right here that you need someone over 70 with facial warts.”

“Hey – I have a generous spirit when it comes to women,” answered Marco, struggling with the remote control to his bed until he was semi-upright. “I could find that hot. I could find anything hot right now, I’m on so many drugs. Maggie – that’s your name right? Come on in. How’s your ass?”

She walked slowly into the room, trying to ignore Leah’s little snigger at the question, and sat carefully down on the spare chair next to him. He was wearing a puke-green hospital gown that was way too small for him, and he certainly wasn’t glowing any more. He was hooked up to various beepy machines, and had a drip attached to his arm by one of those horrible spiky things that always made her cringe. She could see the outline of his plaster-cast leg beneath the sheet, which was equally cringey. The crash hadn’t been her fault – but she still felt guilty.

“My ‘ass’ is wonderful, thank you,” she replied, placing one hand on the edge of the bed. He quickly covered it with one of his own, luckily not the one with the spiky thing in it. “How’s yours?”

“It’s hanging out of this gown, for one thing…hey, Maggie? Thanks for sticking around. Thanks for calling these guys. And I’m so sorry about the accident. I’m glad it’s me who ended up here, not you.”

“So am I,” she said, linking her fingers into his and giving them a quick squeeze. She’d been aiming for friendly and reassuring, but found herself in such a tight grip that it started to feel entirely different. Maggie tried to pull her hand away, but he held on, and winked at her as she struggled. His eyes were clouded with pain and drugs, but they still managed to have enough sparkle to make her tummy contract. She remembered those eyes so well from his visit to the shop. The way they looked at her for just a little bit too long; the way they’d made her feel exposed and cornered and just a little bit gooey inside.

It wasn’t just the eyes, of course. The face was pretty gorgeous as well. The wide smiling mouth; the cheekbones. The ridiculously impressive arms bulking out of the green gown. It was very inappropriate to notice such things at the side of a hospital bed – but she wasn’t blind. Or dead. Just very, very…jittery. Yes. That would be the word. Not horny at all – that would be sick, under the circumstances, and she wasn’t sure she’d recognise it even if it was true. She was just…jittery. In some very strange places.

“Maybe you could be my nurse,” said Marco, grinning at her, a flash of brilliance on a pain-wracked face.

“She’s not ugly enough,” interjected Leah, looking up from charts she couldn’t even understand.

Hmm, Leah thought. Medical charts, I don’t understand. But the way Marco’s looking at Maggie, and the way Maggie’s trying so hard not to look back at him? That, I do understand. Leah switched her narrow-eyed gaze over to Rob, and saw from the one quizzically raised eyebrow that he’d noticed too. For anyone who knew Marco, it was hard to miss.

Leah snapped the file shut, and leaned back in the chair. She loved it when a plan came together. Now she just had to convince everyone else she was Hannibal Smith, and get started on that imaginary cigar.