"No problem. Is just soup enough? I could make something more."

She shook her head and slipped a hand out from under the covers to squeeze his. "Soup's plenty, thanks.

You're being great."

But he wasn't doing anything!

Nik guessed she must have dozed for a few minutes. The next thing she knew, Bill was back in the bedroom with a mug of hot soup. She started to sit up, already dreading the difficulty of finding another comfortable position.

"Here you go, sweetheart," he said, slipping an extra pillow under her head. "Just lie back on the pillow, and I'll feed you."

"You don't need to do that! I can sit on the edge of the bed to eat."

"Sitting hurts, doesn't it?"

"Not too much."

He shook his head. "Any amount's too much, if it's something I can spare you." He smiled. "I promise I won't spill soup all over you." He did a good enough job that she wondered if he'd done this before. But lady killers didn't normally double as nurses, so she doubted it.

When he finished feeding her, he said, "I'm going to eat now, so you rest a little. I'll ma.s.sage you when I come back." She ought to object. Her muscles hurt too much to have him poking and prodding at them, no matter how well-intentioned nor how careful he was.

But he'd given her a great neck rub the weekend before last, and he was doing a super job of taking care of her tonight. She'd give him a chance to try the ma.s.sage. If it didn't help, she knew he'd listen when she told him to stop.

Being able to trust him like that made it worth the risk.

Bill's stomach was in such a knot that he barely touched his soup. He was no stranger to pain, his or other people's, but Nik's was harder to accept.

It wasn't like when Pop would go off on him and Ma. There was so much anger then, so much hate, that the pain was only part of it, a sometimes almost-forgotten part.

Now, part of him wanted to be angry and to hate whatever made Nik hurt like this. But he couldn't do it.

There wasn't someone he could blame for this, no one like Pop who was doing this to Nik to make himself feel powerful and to take him away from his miserable life for a few minutes once in a while.

Besides, if the anger and hate took over, it would ruin everything with Nik. She'd feel it and she'd push him away. He couldn't let that happen.

He had another reason for his stomach to be in knots. He'd told her he'd ma.s.sage her when he went back in the bedroom. He'd said that because he was desperate to find some way to help her, and because he had a reputation for being good at giving ma.s.sages.

But he hadn't given a serious ma.s.sage to anyone with real problems before! Nik had liked the neck rub he'd given her that time, and once he'd worked a kink out of a date's back, but none of that meant a thing in comparison to what he'd signed up for tonight.

What if he did permanent damage to her muscles? She said the ma.s.sage the ma.s.seuse gave her had hurt for several days afterwards, and the ma.s.seuse undoubtedly had a lot more training than Bill did.

Even if he didn't cause damage, ma.s.saging the muscles that were already incredibly sore would have to hurt. And causing her more pain was impossible. It would make him too much like Pop.

Well, maybe by the time he got back into the bedroom, she'd be asleep. And if she wasn't, he'd simply explain that it would be better to wait until another time to give her a ma.s.sage. She'd accept that.

He dumped the rest of his soup down the disposal and took care of their dishes before tiptoeing into the bedroom. Nik looked almost asleep, but she opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Hi. I missed you. I was thinking about the ma.s.sage you promised -"

Oh, good. She didn't want him to do it. "You were?" he asked, relieved already, but not wanting to admit it to her.

She nodded carefully. "I think it would be best if you started with my legs and worked up, rather than going the other direction. My legs aren't much worse than usual tonight, and I've found that if my legs feel okay, the rest of my body follows along to some extent."

All right. Her legs weren't as scary. They weren't like her back, with her spine right there and all those tender points he couldn't touch even when she felt okay. Still, his smile felt plastic. "Should I help you turnover?"

"I can manage," she said - a little grimly, it seemed to him. She did manage it, eventually, after a process so obviously painful that he became determined to make the ma.s.sage successful, simply so she wouldn't have to turn over again anytime soon. She took a couple of deep breaths and said, "Okay."

He took his own deep breaths and started ma.s.saging her legs. She might say her legs weren't too bad tonight, but nevertheless they felt like a ma.s.s of pulpy knots and there was almost no give to them, even at the surface. But as he worked on them, they gradually changed consistency a little, becoming somewhat softer and almost normal to the touch.

Her breathing seemed fairly easy, so he guessed he wasn't hurting her too much. Finally, he decided to move on, and it was while working on her lower back and hip muscles that she whimpered.

He froze, horrified. "I'm sorry, baby. Should I stop?"

"Oh. No. You're doing fine." Her voice was slow and sounded mellow.

"But I hurt you."

"Just a little, and mostly it feels good."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. My legs are great. But if you're getting tired or anything, you can stop." It might be his imagination, but it sounded like she didn't like that idea.

"No, I'm not tired. Just be sure to let me know if I hurt you." He started working on her beautiful a.s.s again.

"Um-hm," she murmured.

He couldn't really believe her, but he couldn't disappoint her, either. He'd be even more careful from now on.

Nik was floating for real now. This ma.s.sage was making her muscles relax and shut up for once, and she was going to enjoy every second of it.

She remembered being sick one time when she was a little girl. Before Mom died, and probably before Neal was born. All she really remembered was being tucked into her bed, and looking outside and seeing it was a nice day, and wanting to go out and play with her friends. She knew she couldn't do that because she was sick and she was mad at the unfairness of it all. When Mom came into her room, she just stared straight ahead and pretended she was still all alone.

Mom came and sat next to her on the bed and read her a wonderful story about fairy princesses and magical potions, and even though Nik tried really hard not to listen, she couldn't help it. After the story, Mom made her a grilled cheese sandwich with the crusts cut off and the sandwich cut into fancy shapes, and she let her have chocolate milk, even though she normally had to have her milk plain.

By the time Nik fell asleep that afternoon, she felt cherished and very, very special.

She hadn't felt like that in the nearly twenty-five years since then. Until tonight.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

Bill had nightmares that night. It was the first time. He hadn't had the luxury as a kid - reality was worse than anything a nightmare could throw at him. And after Pop was gone, he'd been too busy making sure he never came back to sleep more than a few hours at a time. Since then - well, there hadn't been a point, he guessed. His life was a smorgasbord of beautiful women, good times, and great eats. His subconscious ate all that right up, just like the rest of him.

Now there was a point. He was in a relationship for the first time in his life, he hadn't thought of another woman in a month, and tonight he'd faced his fears for her.

So he dreamed about giving Nik a ma.s.sage. Except instead of how he'd really done it, with soft hands and gentle pressure, the nightmare had him using brute strength and closed fists. And instead of Nik being calm and pliant under his hands, she was frantic and pleading. Her cries were still whimpers, but only because she had no voice left to scream with.

He woke himself before he finished the a.s.sault by raping her.

Nik cracked an eye open when she heard Bill up and moving around the room. "I must have gone to sleep." Her mouth felt surprisingly stiff and dry.

He glanced over at her and smiled. "I'll say. I should give you a ma.s.sage every night."

She watched what he was doing for a few seconds. Why would he be getting dressed in the middle of the night? Was he going home now? But then she realized that it wasn't middle-of-the- night dark in here.

"What time is it?"

"A little before seven." He paused, as though he knew she'd need to think about that for a second. "I need to go over to my apartment to shower and change before work. You're not going in to work today, are you?"

Today? "Wait a second - are you saying it's morning?"

He grinned, and she saw tired shadows under his eyes. "All morning long. But you can go back to sleep, so it's not a problem."

"No, I can't!" She threw the covers back and started the ignominiously clumsy process of getting out of bed. Because she knew he'd argue - Neal had, too, until they'd had it out a few times - she explained, "If I stayed home from work whenever I had a flare, I wouldn't be able to do my job. Work is very important to me, and I'm smart enough to take it easier than usual the day after something like this."

Well. That wasn't so bad. Here she was, sitting on the edge of the bed, and she wasn't sure, but she seemed more flexible than normal, not less. "I'm feeling pretty good this morning, actually," she told him.

"Thanks to you."

"I hope you're not just saying that."

She glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled. "I'm not. Do you want to run over to your apartment now and pick me up on the way to work?" Good thing they lived close to each other.

He frowned, obviously not happy that she was going to work, but finally he sighed. "Okay. Should I pick you up some breakfast on the way?" Oh, yeah. A fast-food egg-and-sausage sandwich would be super for her. "No thanks. I'll grab some yogurt from the fridge."

"Okay then. I'll be back in a while." He started toward the door.

"Thanks for last night, Bill. You were great."

He had no idea how sincerely she meant that.

Bill couldn't say exactly how, but things between them were different that weekend. Nik seemed more sure of him, and less suspicious. She was different, too, not quite as reserved about what made her tick.

She still wouldn't spend Sunday with him. She was nice about it, but firm. Finally, he decided to try for something else, something even better. While he still held her in his arms, he asked, "How about coming over to my place for dinner some night this week?"

"Just dinner?" Her smile was skeptical, but not uninterested.

"That would be entirely up to you. Of course, I'd like you to spend the night, but I'd rather spend only part of the evening with you than have to wait until next weekend."

She reached up and touched his cheek. "You're sweet, and I'd like that, too. I don't know if I can handle overnight, but dinner should be okay. What night?"

Every night! He knew not even to say that jokingly, though, so he thought for a few seconds. "How about Tuesday?" It was midway between the weekends, so maybe it would cut down on him missing her.

"Tuesday's good. I should do my exercises first, so I won't get there until maybe six-thirty. Will that work?"

"Sure." As if he'd refuse this chance because of what time she'd arrive!

Tuesday wasn't as far away as next Friday, but he still hated to let her climb out of bed and start the day.

Nik went to bed early on Monday and listened to a soothing new-age tape while she fell asleep.

Sometimes that was nearly as effective at getting her to sleep as a sleeping pill, and it avoided the drugged morning-after feeling. It worked pretty well this time and she woke up relatively refreshed and definitely looking forward to the evening.

Bill's apartment was probably about half a mile from her house "as the crow flies" - considerably further when following the short and curving streets through the intervening neighborhood. Both were in the same densely-packed residential area near Washington Square Mall and its outlying shopping centers. A-W was on a main street less than a mile away.

His apartment was on the ground floor and had a small patio at the back. The most noticeable thing about it, though, was that it was furnished in black - black leather sofa and recliner, black laminate coffee table and dining table, black dining room chairs, and black entertainment center with smoked gla.s.s doors.

Not a single item showed dust or fingerprints. The first thing she thought to say was, "You must have a great cleaning service."

He looked quizzical. "I don't have a service. Why?" She gestured at the entertainment center and the coffee table. "It's all so spotless."

"Oh. I like to keep things neat."

Her place must drive him nuts, then. She didn't mention it, though, since he wouldn't be impolite enough to agree. "I like your place - it feels so modern." She didn't get much sense of the person who lived here, but she knew that was by design. He had a public persona, and only rarely let anyone see beneath it.

"Thanks." He slipped his arm around her waist and led her to the sofa. "I'll do the last little bit on dinner in a few minutes, but first, what would you like to drink? I have sparkling cranberry juice and bottled water, as well as pop and wine."

"Juice would be great."

"Then juice it is." He squeezed her hand, then put a remote control device in it. "This is the stereo remote and here's a list of my CD's. If there's anything special you'd like to hear, just press this b.u.t.ton," he pointed, "then put in the disk number from the list."

Music was already playing. It was something soft and full of guitars, and she raised the volume slightly to hear it better. Out of curiosity, she scanned the list he'd given her. It was a single sheet of paper, printed on both sides, covered in plastic, and it listed more than 200 CD's. They were categorized and alphabetized within category by the artist's name. He appeared to have something for every taste, from straight cla.s.sical to hip-hop.

He'd returned by the time she finished looking at the list. "Find anything you like?"

"How could I avoid it?" she asked with a smile. "You've got everything. But I'm enjoying what's on now."

He listened for a couple of seconds. "Oh, yeah. That's good background music." He sat next to her and handed her a fluted gla.s.s of juice.

She half-expected him to offer a toast, something she'd feel awkward about echoing. When he didn't, she relaxed and took a sip. "This is good."

"It doesn't taste as much of cranberry as I expected." He tasted it again. "It's more like apple with a little cranberry."