other physical therapists. The other documents were thank-you letters and such from pleased clients, but the photos were what interested him most. They were of youth sports teams.
He blinked as he paused on the three wheelchair basketball team photos. In all three photos was none other than Natalie Keaton, wearing a bigger smile than she’d ever given him. He suddenly wondered what it would feel like to have her smile at him that way, but he tucked away the thought where it belonged.
“You’ve found out all of my secrets.”
He started at the sound of her voice, surprised that he hadn’t heard her approach. He’d been off the job too long if his senses were that dull. If nothing else, he should have felt this particular woman’s nearness from the electric jolt she usually gave him.
“You mean that you smile really big when you’re not on the job?” He immediately regretted his words. Now she knew that he’d only been looking at her when he should have at least feigned interest in the other subjects of the photo.
At her frown, he grinned. “Oh, you mean that you coach.”
“Guess it shouldn’t come as a surprise.”
He narrowed his eyes, trying to decipher her comment. “Why shouldn’t it surprise me that you coach wheelchair basketball?”
“Oh... I mean...you know...that I played.”
“How would I know that you played?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
She shrugged, but he could have sworn that she scrunched her shoulders more than she had been already. She couldn’t have looked more uncomfortable if she’d been standing there beautifully nude instead of wearing those curve-masking scrubs. Then he would have been the uncomfortable one. At least he hoped his body would respond that way to seeing a sexy woman in the altogether. But he couldn’t worry about that now, not when her discomfort over their conversation was still so obvious.
Was this about her height? Sure, she was tall. Her willowy frame had been one of the first things he’d noticed about her. Well, not the first, but close to it. Would it surprise her that she wouldn’t look so tall if he were standing next to her instead of sitting?
“What position did you play?” He didn’t know why he asked. He might understand the intricacies of the two-point conversion or a hook-and-ladder play, but he had no clue what happened on a basketball court. Still, it was easier than asking why she wasn’t comfortable in her own skin. How could she not know how beautiful she was?
Instead of relaxing over his inane question, she winced.
“Center.”
She watched him as if that admission should mean something.
“Were you good at it?”
She squinted at him as though he’d missed something, but she answered anyway. “High-school good. No D-1 colleges were chasing me, if that’s what you’re asking. Especially when I spent all of my time at practice.”
He lifted a brow. “Why do you say that? Most of my coaches were all about putting in the work.”
“Not that kind of practice. Five hours a day of piano practice.”
“Piano?” He watched her for several seconds, trying to picture her playing. Strange, though—he could just as easily imagine her long and elegant fingers skimming over his skin as floating over ebony and ivory keys.
“But that was a long time ago.”
She turned to study another therapist and his patient as if to signal that the subject was closed.
“Anyway, the Livingston Community Center was trying to build a youth wheelchair basketball team to compete with teams from surrounding counties, and someone suggested that I should coach. Probably because of my game experience and my medical background.” She shrugged. “Anyway, the kids are great, and they work so hard. We have a game tonight.”
“I bet you’re a really good coach.”
He didn’t know why he’d said it, and he had no proof to back up his belief, but the way she smiled at the young faces in those photos told him he was right.
“Well, I’m not being a good PT right now, standing around talking about myself.” She returned to the file in her arms. “We have work to do, so stop wasting time by asking me questions. I’m on to your game.”
He was stalling today for more than one reason, so he appreciated that she didn’t mention the other. Though he allowed her to direct him through the series of exercises, his thoughts were far from the strengthening of weakened muscles. He had so many questions about the woman instructing him that he kept losing count of his repetitions.
He’d planned to keep his distance from Natalie, to see her as his physical therapist and nothing more. But each little thing he learned about her only made him more curious. An athlete who played piano off the court. A tall, beautiful woman who was uncomfortable with her amazing body. A biracial woman who knew precious little about the African-American experience. Her contradictions drew him in as effectively as her beauty had. Possibly more.
Though she’d joked that he’d discovered all of her secrets, he really knew only a few. And he couldn’t help himself. He needed to know them all.
LOCAL WOMAN CRITICALLY injured in police chase.
Shane returned to the top of the article on his laptop and read the whole thing a second time. It had been too easy to find in a simple search, yet so much harder to read. Just another high-speed chase with tragic, unintended consequences. Only this time, Natalie and her mother were the innocent bystanders whose lives were forever changed by it.
No wonder Natalie hated cops. She could blame a couple of them for her mother’s injuries. If the woman was even still alive.
Chewing his lip, he returned to the search results and scanned the headlines for follow-up articles. Most were from the initial accident and the ethical questions about whether the officers should have called off the chase once inside city limits. But one article, dated several months later, described a lawsuit for the care of a paraplegic accident victim. Long-term care, meaning she’d still been around to need it. Still another article spoke of a settlement reached as officers involved were cleared of wrongdoing.
At the sound of approaching footsteps behind him, Shane startled, bumping the TV tray and nearly sending the whole electronic setup onto the floor.
Trevor Cole set the tray of food on an end table and hurried to help with the tray.
“Easy there. Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Yeah.” But Shane closed the laptop instead of showing his frend the results.
Trevor raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment as he moved the laptop to the other end table and replaced it with the food tray.
“I told you I could do that for myself.” Shane frowned at the sandwich, glass of milk and chopped strawberries.
“I know you did, but I was already getting something for myself.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Shane waved away the other officer’s excuse and took a big bite of his ham sandwich, chewed and swallowed. “But thanks.”
“No problem. Anyway, you were busy doing research for...whatever you were looking for.”
“Just keeping up on the news.” He took a few more bites of the sandwich.
Shane pretended not to notice Trevor’s speculative glance before he returned to the kitchen. It wasn’t anyone’s business what he was looking for, even if he thought Shane was surfing porn. Whether that was better or worse than searching for details on his physical therapist, he couldn’t decide.
His