Page 62 of Hot & Heavy

Finally the cat was off of him. Sam stood on the floor for a moment, arched her back to show how fierce she was, gave him "the look" which she'd perfected so well, and sauntered off to do what she did best— sleep. "Poor cat? I'm the injured party here." He walked over to the sink and wet a dish towel. He was about to wash the scratches when Maddie took the towel from him.

"Let me."

No way! "I can do it myself."

"I can do it better, you stubborn lout. I've tended wounds much worse than this for my fighting men."

With that, she began to dab gently at the blood seeping out of the wounds, and, yes, she did seem to know what she was doing. "As for my siding with the cat. She did not know any better. You scared her."

She is standing so close I could kiss her without… Get a grip, man, get a grip! "Hah! That scaredy-cat probably gave me rabies, or blood poisoning or something."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. I was just kidding. She's had shots."

He could tell that Maddie didn't understand.

"I do not think that I need to sew up any of these scratches, deep as some are. I do wish I had my special healing ointment here. It has cured many an injury, including a festering sword wound on Dar the Deaf one time. Mayhap you could take me out in a forest sometime and I will gather the herbs I need."

Sword? Dar the Deaf? Herbs? I am not going to ask. He could take only so much of her standing close to him— she smells like Irish Spring soap—and touching him. Even in my pain, I can imagine those hands doing something else, and not just to my skin.

Quickly, before he embarrassed himself, he went into the bathroom and took a cold shower. When he came back, he wore a tank top and sweats; his feet were bare. He usually slept nude, but these would have to suffice for pajamas tonight. Which brought to mind something he needed to discuss with her. But first, he should feed the wench.

"Maddie, where are you?" he yelled from the kitchen.

"Right here." She was standing behind him. "You don't have to bellow."

"Do you have to sneak up on me?" he griped.

"Do you always blame everyone else?"

"Aaarrgh!"

"That is what men say whenever they have lost an argument."

"Aaarrgh!" he said again.

Within minutes he had reheated the tomato soup in the microwave, made fresh grilled cheese sandwiches and poured them both glasses of Pepsi with ice. He put the food in front of her at the kitchen table, then plopped down on the opposite side. He was already halfway through his food when he noticed that she hadn't started. She was just staring at her dinner.

"What?"

"I'm not sure how to eat this. The cheese bread I can handle. I see you using your fingers. But I'm not sure I could use a spoon and get this thin liquid from the bowl to my mouth. And what is this beverage with ice floating in it?"

"It's Pepsi. Try it. You'll like it."

She took a sip and smiled.

"How would you eat tomato soup where you live?"

"What's a tomato?"

He laughed. "A tomato is a fruit."

"This broth looks like blood. Are you sure it is not blood?"

He crossed his eyes at her continual questions.

"This is what we would do in my land." She picked up the bowl in both hands and took a drink.