Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 104820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
“It looks like a nurse’s uniform,” he added.
Something inside her firmed up. She was going to have to look past his movie-star good looks and remember her position. “I am here as a professional caregiver,” she reminded him. “This is my uniform.”
Although the truth that she’d never tell him was that she’d abandoned her uniform while working with Margaret. She had allowed herself to relax and enjoy her company as if she were living with a long-lost aunt. A tough but benevolent long-lost aunt.
But Archer Davenport was no relation, even a pretend one, so Tessa cleared her throat, straightened ever so slightly, and checked her watch. “I understand you’re still on pain meds. What’s your medication schedule?”
Archer frowned ever so slightly and she wondered if her tone was a little too nurse-like. Well, he would just have to get used to it.
“No. I’m good. But do you have to wear a uniform? I feel like I’m back in the hospital.”
“A hospital that took great care of you,” she reminded him, before listing a long regime of exercises that would help to heal and rehabilitate not only his leg, but his core and back as well.
This was when she allowed herself to glance at his chest in return. She knew from several of his movies that under that black T-shirt were impressive pecs and tanned, rippling abs. When she looked up at Archer’s face, she saw a scowl at her mention of a strict routine.
How did she always end up with the most reluctant clients? Had he thought they were going to be the way they’d been at the party—relaxed—and just spending time in each other’s company?
Not on her watch.
Undeterred, she continued, “I’ll also be in charge of your nutrition, which is a vital part of your recovery. Are there foods you can’t eat due to an allergy? Or that you just don’t like?”
She imagined he was used to the Hollywood lifestyle of green juices and sashimi and grain bowls. So she was surprised when he said he wanted comfort foods. “Pizza and spaghetti and ice cream sundaes.”
Now it was her turn for her eyebrows to shoot skyward.
He laughed. “I’m supposed to be training for an action movie. They have a production nutritionist to help us prepare. She gave me a meal plan. It’s on the sideboard. And unfortunately, there isn’t a single pizza or ice cream sundae on it.” He made a move to get up to grab it for her, but she shook her head, and he stayed put. “There’s a card with the key code, too, in the bowl there.”
She went to the sideboard, noting its sleek walnut top, and found the list. As she’d suspected, it recommended a lot of green, leafy vegetables, lean meat, and fresh fish. “This is a very healthy diet.”
“Tell me about it,” he said sadly. “Like I said, not a fry or a hamburger in sight.”
She smiled in sympathy. “Don’t worry. I know how boring meals like this can be, so I’ll try and make them as tasty as possible. I can work magic with kale, I promise.”
He grinned. “I’m willing to believe there’s magic in those healing hands of yours.”
She blushed, flustered for a moment. So much for staying professional.
“Anyway,” he continued, “it’s only ten weeks. I can put up with eating super healthy for that long.”
“Ten weeks?” she repeated, confused.
When he explained that shooting on his next film started in ten weeks, she couldn’t keep the shock out of her voice. “But a fractured tibia takes four months to heal.”
He shrugged, unfazed. Clearly, he was used to getting his own way. “Well, this one is going to take ten weeks.”
She took a deep breath. She was good at her job, but she wasn’t a miracle worker. “Then you’d better do all your exercises and follow the doctor’s orders. And mine.”
She grabbed a pen and added a few items to the nutritionist’s list before telling Archer her first job would be to buy groceries. Then she could set about designing a meal-prep schedule for the week.
Again, she couldn’t help but notice he looked disappointed.
“Okay,” he said. “But before you leave, would you mind changing out of your uniform top? I never know when photographers are staking out the house, and I don’t want anyone to know I’m stuck at home with a broken leg.” He paused, a playful look returning to his face. “Besides, like I said before, it makes me feel like an invalid. Your regular clothes will be just fine.”
There went her plan to make herself look more professional and plain. But she agreed to change into a different shirt to go shopping. Privately, she decided to wear her uniform most of the time when she was in his house, to remind them both that she was his paid caregiver.