‘I’m not hungry,’ she said truculently.
‘No, but I am,’ he said, sitting at the desk and draping a starched napkin across his knee. ‘I have a full day’s work ahead of me.’
And she didn’t. Trust him to rub it in! Jane drew in her lower lip, feeling the hot pressure build up behind her eyes as he ate in silence. She could feel him watching her and tried to arrange her face into the familiar pattern of haughty indifference, but somehow the old tricks just wouldn’t work any more. She was sick of being brave. She was sick of pretending she was something she wasn’t. Who was she fooling but herself, anyway?
The arrival of Dr Frey in an elegant grey suit was as embarrassing as Jane had expected it to be, not least because he didn’t arrive alone. He was preceded by a familiar lithe fair-haired man who prowled into the room with a panther-like grace, making a quick survey of the exits as he handed Ryan a small black suitcase. It was the same silver-eyed man who had been at Ryan’s side when she had thrown her punch—the one who had opened the restaurant door for her afterwards.
His eyes widened when he saw Jane sitting in the bed and she lifted her chin as Ryan casually introduced his personal advisor. He didn’t say what sort of advice Carl Trevor specialised in, and she quailed inwardly as the astute silver-grey eyes moved thoughtfully from her swollen hand to his employer’s solid chin.
‘Mr Trevor,’ she acknowledged repressively, hoping to nip any open speculation in the bud.
‘Call me Carl,’ he said easily, undiscouraged by her formality. He came closer and nodded towards her hand with a charming smile of sympathy. ‘That looks like a pretty painful injury, Miss Sherwood, no wonder Ryan was concerned.’ The smile became more personal as he added in a soft murmur, ‘Metacarpal, is it?’
Jane flushed, but before she could summon a reply Ryan cut in and shunted his advisor towards the door with an impatient frown. ‘Thanks, Carl, but I think the doctor and I can handle things from here...’
‘Shall I wait for you outside?’
The bland enquiry earned him another darkling look. ‘I have my own car here so there’s no need for you to hang around unnecessarily. I don’t know how long this might take, so why don’t you go on to the office and let Irene know I might be late in this morning. Get her to rearrange the early part of my schedule.’
He tossed several more pithy instructions into his advisor’s increasingly amused face before firmly shutting him out and striding back to hover over the grey-haired doctor, who had drawn up a chair beside the bed and had begun his gentle examination.
Jane fought back the waves of pain, answering his quiet questions about her previous medical treatment with a reluctance which was justified when Ryan exploded, ‘Broken! Then why aren’t you wearing a damned cast? What in the hell kind of witch-doctor did you go to? Dammit, Graham, she shouldn’t be in this much pain, should she? Why don’t you do something about it?’
Dr Frey was obviously a friend as well as a physician, for he ignored the arrogant outburst, focusing his beetle-browed attention on Jane as he meticulously went over the treatment she had received and sternly chided her for removing the strapping before the bones had begun to knit. It was apparent that he assumed that vanity had been the reason for her actions and Jane was happy to let his misapprehension stand.
‘And the accident occurred...how?’ he enquired delicately, when he had elicited the date of her injury and subsequent visit to the clinic. From his tone she could tell that he had drawn the same conclusion as the doctor in the clinic. She wasn’t going to be able to get away with claiming she had got it caught in a door.
‘It wasn’t exactly an accident,’ she muttered warily, having seen Ryan stiffen into alertness when she had mentioned his birthday. He was now fingering the scar on his lip, and she decided that it was pointless to prevaricate any longer. ‘I—I hit someone,’ she sighed.
‘Oh?’
‘Yes. Me!’ Ryan announced tightly. He looked furious at being made to feel guilty. ‘She underestimated my hard-headedness, didn’t you, Jane? A big failing of yours—underestimating your opponents...’
‘I still knocked you flat on your back,’ she flared.
‘Yes, but at what cost?’
‘It was worth it!’
The doctor cleared his throat and opened his cavernous black leather bag. Jane blinked rapidly, telling herself that the tears in her eyes were because of the pain. Ryan swore under his breath and moodily poured himself another coffee.
‘I’ll retape your hand but I want you to strictly follow orders this time, or you’re going to end up needing that surgery your doctor warned you about,’ Dr Frey instructed Jane gravely. ‘As it is, this renewed inflammation is going to set back your recovery. So from now on, Miss Sherwood, please leave the doctoring to the experts.’
In spite of Dr Frey’s ultra-gentle touch, by the time her hand had been rewrapped Jane was in real tears, and Ryan was ominously controlled as the doctor took his leave.
‘Don’t worry, Graham, I’ll make sure she doesn’t behave so irresponsibly in future...’
Jane just had time to surreptiously scrub at her eyes with the corner of the sheet before he swooped back, planting himself down on the bed and caging her against the pillows with his strong arms.
‘You shouldn’t have implied you have any control over my behaviour,’ she began, with a pathetic attempt at her former haughtiness. ‘I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself—’
‘You can say that? After last night?’ Ryan said, piercing her with a look that made her flush and clutch the gaping neck of the oversized robe. ‘Why? Why go to such lengths to hide it from me?’ He laughed grimly. ‘No, don’t bother to answer, I think I know. Did you hear what Graham said? You could have caused permanent nerve damage—and all because of your damned inflexible Sherwood pride! Your father never taught you to recognise your own limitations, did he, Jane? You’d rather cripple yourself than admit to a simple case of human weakness!’
He ran a hand through his damp spiky hair and down over the back of his skull, shaking his head incredulously. ‘I still can’t believe you took such a risk. What in God’s name possessed you?’
‘Obviously you did!’ Her acid retort was flung at him without thinking, and they both froze as the literal truth of her heedless statement sank in.
‘I—I didn’t mean—’ Jane began to inch backwards against the pillows as Ryan lowering his arm, studying her with eyes that transmuted from angry blue to a sensuous blue-black.