Winning Back His Wife. Melissa McClone

back of his hand, he touched her face. She wasn’t flushed, but a temperature could mean another infection. “You don’t feel warm.”

      She closed her eyes. “My brain might be rebelling from having to work again. Think I probably need another nap.”

      “Probably.”

      But Cullen preferred to err on the side of caution. He checked the circulation of each finger sticking out from her cast. He wanted to blame his anxiousness on the Hippocratic oath, but he knew there was more to it than that. The more part revolved around Sarah. He wished it weren’t so. In time he hoped—expected—not to care or to be so concerned about her. Time healed all wounds, right?

      She opened her eyes. “You always had a nice bedside manner.”

      He didn’t want her words to mean anything. He hated that they did. “It’s easier with some patients.”

      “With me?” she asked, sounding hopeful.

      “Yes.”

      Sarah’s lips curved into a slight, almost shy smile. “Thanks.”

      He brushed hair off her face. “You’re welcome.”

      Her eyelids fluttered like a pair of butterfly wings.

      He remembered when she’d slept against him and her eyelashes had brushed his cheek. The urge to scoop her up in his arms and hold her close was strong, but he couldn’t give in to temptation. This woman had trounced his heart once. Whatever else he did, he couldn’t let himself fall in love with her again.