Chapter 4

Caitlin turned the water off and then turned her attention to the man sitting on the edge of garden tub. She handed him a small towel and he looked at her questioningly.

"You'll want something to cover with, won't you?" she asked undoubtedly.

Donovan nodded; amusement filled his eyes. He stood slowly and with one hand holding the towel in front of him, the other removed his cotton briefs, letting the skimpy covering fall to the floor at his feet.

Caitlin placed another towel on the ledge of the tub for him to sit on. When she stood, he had turned his back to her and she received a full view of his naked backside. She caught her breath at the sight of his round, firmly muscled buttocks. Every nerve in her body was alive with anticipation. She found herself wanting to touch him. Touch him in ways she had never touched a man.

He had turned then, in time to see the desire that filled her eyes. If he weren't so weak, he would be acting on that desire, he told himself. Instead, he let her help him back down to the ledge, with his back to the water. She sat beside him, facing the water. She asked him to lean back and she supported him so that he would not have to exert himself.

Caitlin carefully doused his head with the warm water from a cup. She then put a small dab of shampoo into her hand and rubbed it into his short hair.

He almost groaned, her fingers massaging his scalp felt so delicious. He found himself relaxing against her, her touch was a comfort and it was also alarming. He lost himself in thoughts of her massaging other parts of his body. "Christ! What's wrong with me?" He scolded himself for letting himself get aroused so easily. And, hell, that manly part of him was announcing itself quite remarkably.

Caitlin rinsed his scalp carefully, not wanting to get his shoulder wound wet or soapy. She touched him lightly on the shoulder and he turned his head to look into her eyes. His gaze was guarded and she wondered what caused that veil to fall over them. She only smiled and asked him to turn to face the water and he did as she asked.

Donovan thought he was in some sort of sadistic hell as Caitlin bathed him. Her touch and that of the thick, soapy sponge was driving him mad. She began with his face, neck and shoulders, carefully wiping the soap without dousing him with water. She cleaned around his shoulder wound without getting it wet and finished his chest and stomach. She carefully rinsed the soap from his chest and stomach. God, he wanted her, and damned his weakened state. If she could bring him to arousal with a sponge, he could sure as hell finish the job.

Caitlin found her breathing labored. She could barely concentrate and she dare not look at Mr. Donovan, for he would surely know she wanted him. She knew it was ludicrous, she didn't even know him, yet all she could think of was his body on hers. It was only because she had been in seclusion for so long, she told herself. Men never had this effect on her before. She told herself to stop acting like a fool and finish the job so her body could get back to normal.

Donovan turned his back to the water again at her command. She was now running the sponge down his back and buttocks. Damn! This agony had better stop soon, or by God, he was going to throw her on the floor and take her right there. Suddenly he felt the sponge being thrust into his hand. She had said something, but he had been lost in the thought of taking care of the ache in his groin.

"I said, the rest you have to do yourself," she repeated when she realized he hadn't heard her. She caught her breath when he looked into her eyes this time; he did not try to mask his desire. "Mr. Donovan..."

"Frank...or Donovan, whichever you prefer," he told her huskily. "Caitlin..." he leaned toward her, very intent on kissing those beautiful lips of hers, but she backed away.

Standing quickly, she said, "You can finish, Mr....I mean, Frank. I'll go start your breakfast. Please don't over do it, you really need to rest." And with that, she fled the room.

"Finish, she says," he muttered, his arousal full in his hand. He wished for a cold shower at the moment. Instead, he focused on other thoughts until the ache in his groin had subsided. He finished cleaning himself; then reached for the clothing she had laid neatly on the chair.

He wondered whom the clothes belonged to as he slid the boxer shorts up his legs, careful of the wound on his thigh. He carried the silk robe back into the master bedroom and laid it at the foot of the bed. He eased himself back into the overstuffed chair, instead of lying back down on the bed.

Caitlin entered the room with a bed tray and questioned why he wasn't in bed, but he insisted he wanted to sit up. She nodded and sat the tray of scrambled eggs, sausage, toast, orange juice and coffee on the ottoman in front of him. She was pleased when he ate hungrily, devouring every bite. When he was finished she sat the tray aside and reapplied his bandages. The wounds were healing nicely, she told him.

After that, she made him go to the bed. He argued with her, but she was insistent, her hands on her hips as she berated him. When he did as she asked, she pulled the blanket to his chest and told him to rest.

"I'm going to take a shower, so you get some rest," she told him firmly. "And don't try to get up. If you reopen those wounds, I'll be very angry with you."

He chuckled, "Okay, okay." When he heard the decided click of the lock on the bathroom door, he knew what she had been thinking. That he wouldn't be able to resist the thought of her showering, her naked body just a few feet from him. And she was right. Already the thought had started his readiness, and he reprimanded himself. Instead he turned his thoughts to what he would to once he was healed enough to confront his assailants.

When Caitlin emerged from the bathroom, she was fully clothed in a light blue sundress and she was toweling her hair dry. She took notice that Frank lay with his eyes closed, but knew he wasn't asleep; his breathing was too shallow. She went to the French doors on the other side of the room and opened them, letting the cool morning air and sunshine flood the room.

She sat on the bed next to him and gently laid a hand on his arm. His eyes fluttered open. "I need to run into town for a few things that I don't have for you here," she informed him. "Is there anything in particular you want?"

"A toothbrush and a razor," he smiled. "This is very thoughtful of you, thank you."

"No problem. I need to take care of something while I'm there, but I'll try not to be too long." She frowned as she watched his expression become dark.

"You're going to the police, aren't you?" he accused her.

"No! I promised you I wouldn't, and I won't." Did she look that dishonest, she wondered. She was sure he had a reason for not wanting anyone to know he was here, and she had given her word.

She placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "Frank, I worked too hard to get you well, I'll not do anything to cause you harm." His expression softened and she knew he believed her. "I volunteer part-time at the local library. I just wanted to let them know I wouldn't be in for a few days, that's all."

"Won't they ask why? What will you tell them?" He touched her hand that still lay on his arm.

His touch sent an unexpected thrill from her hand, up her arm and all the way to her toes. "Don't worry, they won't ask. Trust me, I will explain later, in more detail." Her fingers twined with his and she asked, "Do you trust me?"

"With my life." That was true enough, he thought. But he knew she was telling the truth, and he smiled warmly at her.

With that, she left him to his thoughts. He sighed heavily. For the Leader of a Justice Department Specials Operations Unit and former FBI agent, he was behaving like a schoolboy. He hadn't given much thought to women in his life for some time, but now that he had been thrust into a situation where he could not avoid the subject, he gave it some thought now.

Caitlin was a wonder, he thought. She had saved his life, with little regard to her own. If he had been a criminal, then she would have opened herself up to God knows what. But he had to thank God that she did save him.

She had a kind, gentle disposition that only enhanced her beauty. That was something that puzzled him; she didn't act like she knew she was beautiful. He knew many women in his life; those with beauty that dared come close to Caitlin's always flaunted it and used it to their benefit. She flaunted nothing, in fact, was almost timid in some ways.

He relaxed into the soft pillows where Caitlin's head normally lay. He could smell her all around him and drifted into a peaceful sleep.

To be continued...