Lucien wasn't lying: he was a terrible patient. In the few days that he'd been home, he had pulled his stitches once, was lax in changing his bandages, and had forgotten to ease up on the whiskey and she'd found him passed out in his study more than once (pain pills and whiskey just didn't mix well).
She'd taken to monitoring his pill and alcohol intake and had set a timer for herself every few hours to change out his bandages, rolling her eyes as Lucien offerred techniques for proper wrapping. The kitchen timer trilled and alerted her to the next bandage changing.
Gathering supplies in her hands, she headed for the sunroom and found Lucien lounging outside, bathing in the sun like a giant cat. She stood over him, blocking the sun, and his eyes flickered open, grinning as he took in the sight of her.
"Ah, Nurse Beazley."
She shook her head fondly at him, leaning down to pluck at the buttons of his shirt and encouraging him to sit up. "You wouldn't need Nurse Beazley to look after you if you were a responsible patient." Lucien just grinned boyishly at her, not in the least scolded, and carried on unfastening the buttons of his shirt, the fabric falling to the side and exposing his stomach and bandages to her.
No matter how many times she did this for him, her breath still caught at the sight of his chest and stomach: the warm, tan skin, the sparse patches and lines of hair, the thick muscles.
Lucien watched her kneel in front of him and felt his smile widen when he noticed her eyes track over his body. He may be getting on in years but it brought him immense pride and satisfaction that his body pleased her, could cause her to stop and catch her breath.
Jean looked up and saw that Lucien had caught her taking in her fill and she blushed, looking quickly down. With deft hands, she quickly undid the old bandage and ran an iodine-soaked swab over his wound, cleaning the area thoroughly, before sitting up on her knees and wrapping his chest and stomach again.
"There, all done."
She moved to get up but Lucien placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. "I think you're forgetting the most important part of the healing process, nurse."
Jean raised an eyebrow. "Oh, do tell, doctor."
Ignoring her sass, Lucien continued, still smiling. "You need to kiss it better."
The teasing flirtation hung in the air between them. It was dangerously close to crossing a line, a boundary that they had established between them weeks ago. Too much flirtation, too many touches and they were lost in each other, the temptation too great. They needed restraint.
But, Jean thought, looking down on him. You almost lost him and it's just one kiss.
She bowed her head in mock supplication, "My apologies, doctor." Leaning forward, she pressed a single, closemouthed kiss to the bandage over his injury and, feeling daring, moved down a bit further and placed a kiss to the exposed patch of skin that had been taunting her for days. She felt Lucien's stomach jump beneath her touch and she grinned, pleased she could affect him so.
When she sat back on her heels, she felt immensely proud to see him slack-jawed and wide-eyed, looking at her like he'd never seen her. Rising onto her feet, she leaned down and gave his cheek a little pat. "I'll be back to change that in a few hours."
And with that, she sashayed back into the kitchen, heart racing. Nurse Beazley, indeed.
