The Lone Wolf's Craving. Tina Beckett

most promises were quick on the tongue and easily broken. Not by him, though.

      And yet he’d made two pretty big promises in the last couple of days. One to Nick and one to his daughter. “I already told you I’m not going to tell him.”

      He stopped for a red light, shifting down to first gear and glancing over at her. “What happened at the hospital stays between the two of us—no one’s going to hear it from me.”

      Her eyes closed for a second, and she nodded. “Thank you. I couldn’t bear it if anyone thought I was...”

      “If anyone thought what?”

      “It’s not important.”

      If that soft sigh was anything to go by, it was important. At least, to her. But if she wanted to tell him, she would have. It was probably best to stick to neutral topics anyway, since the purpose of this outing was to discuss Nick’s treatment, extol his virtues and then each go their merry way.

      The light turned green, and Luke eased back into traffic. “Nick’s going to make a full recovery, by the way. He had some shrapnel—leftover from an old wound—that shifted. It got a little too close to his spinal cord for comfort. He’s just finishing up his course of physical therapy and then he’ll be free to go about his business.”

      Kate twisted in her seat and stared at him. “That’s wonderful. So he won’t have any permanent damage?”

      “No.” Unlike himself, who carried a permanent reminder of his time in Afghanistan. “His physical therapy is taking a little longer than expected because of some nerve damage, but after that he should be good to go.”

      “Maybe I can help. I’m a physical therapist.”

      She was? Luke frowned. He’d been thinking along the lines of socialite, so the fact that she was a PT came as a complete surprise. “I don’t know...”

      “I’m licensed, specializing in LSVT.”

      Luke’s head was still spinning at the revelation as he turned another corner. He’d known plenty of physical therapists, but Kate looked nothing like the professionals who’d hauled his ass out of bed after the injury that had nearly claimed his leg. Who’d propped him upright and goaded him into taking his first shaky steps.

      Although remembering the lean muscles beneath his hands as he’d lifted Kate onto that sink, he shouldn’t be that surprised. And imagining those hands working on his body...

      Good God.

      He swallowed. Nick would not be happy to know the thoughts racing through his mind right now. For the life of him, he couldn’t think of anything to say, so he asked the obvious question. “LSVT?”

      “It’s a specialized voice therapy for Parkinson’s patients.”

      Ah, so she wasn’t the brute-strength type of therapist after all. “Nick will need occupational therapy, not speech.”

      “Part of LSVT deals with the physical aspects of Parkinson’s.” Her chin tilted stubbornly.

      He tried again. “Your father doesn’t have Parkinson’s.”

      “Yes, he does, he’s in the early...” She let out a soft sigh. “Oh. That’s right. It’s still hard for me to think of Nick as my father. I’m sure I could help him, though. I’ve already checked online, there are several hospitals here in England using LSVT. It could be useful, even though he doesn’t have Parkinson’s.”

      What had made her check on that? Was she thinking about staying in London? “I’m sure he’s getting everything he needs at the hospital’s PT center.”

      “But what about when he’s not there? I could help him with some extra exercises...help his wife out with him. Maybe it would give me a chance to get to know him better.”

      Luke wasn’t sure Tiggy would welcome the reminder that Nick had fathered another child. Especially not in her condition. But it wasn’t up to him. That was a decision the couple would have to make on their own.

      He pulled into the parking lot of the Indian Palace Restaurant and set the handbrake. “Nick and Tiggy are under a lot of stress right now—with the surgery and everything. Now might not be a good time.” Unhooking his seat belt, he waited for her to follow suit. “Listen, we’ll eat, and I’ll fill you in on his surgery and prognosis, and then you’ll have a better grasp of his situation, okay?”

      “Good. That’ll give me more time to convince you.”

      Not good. He might not be the one she needed to convince, but all he could think was that it might be fun to let her try, anyway.

      * * *

      Kate took a quick gulp of water and then another, her mouth on fire. The smoldering sensation of swallowing hot coals continued as she sucked air in and out through pursed lips in a desperate effort to get some relief. “Oh, my God...” Huff, huff. “That’s so good.”

      The man across from her gave her a quick grin. “Your face is pink. And your accent is really coming through.”

      “Because I’m on f-i-ire.”

      She put every Southern bone she had into that last word. The food was just-this-side-of-pain spicy. And she loved it. It was hard to get good Indian food in the States, but Luke had assured her that Londoners loved it. And they were evidently not afraid of a little spice. Or a lot, in this case.

      “Well, when you decide to go hot, you go all the way, don’t you?”

      Kate looked at him sharply, wondering if the amusement in his voice was in regard to the food or if he was talking about something else. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and reached for her napkin, using it to dab the still-burning corners of her mouth. The words had stung, but only because she’d let them.

      Her mom had been a wonderful, loving mother, but she’d also been impulsive, throwing her whole being into whatever caught her interest. That had tended to change weekly—even daily. When she’d found Nick’s note in that shoebox, it hadn’t been the only “call me later” letter. There’d been others. Many of them. If not for the fact that her baby picture had been stapled onto a corner of one of the envelopes, which contained a picture of her mother with a much younger Nick, along with his note, she might never have wondered if the man she’d known as her father was actually her biological father.

      Her mom’s impulsiveness hadn’t been restricted to hobbies and charities, it would seem. It had spilled into other areas. And she’d left a trail of broken hearts along the way. Her dad never seemed to indicate she’d strayed during their marriage. Or maybe he didn’t know. Kate had never doubted his deep love for her mother, though. He’d been devoted to her. Her death had devastated them both. She was thankful she’d found that box and not her dad. She’d hidden everything except Nick’s letter and her photo, which had been when her father had broken down and admitted he’d adopted her after he’d married her mother. She’d been two years old at the time.

      All those men. Several of them had clearly not understood why her mother hadn’t returned their calls. And she’d kept those letters. Why? As reminders?

      God. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt anyone like that.

      She glanced at Luke. He seemed well able to take care of himself. Their little fling in the storage closet probably hadn’t left the slightest scratch.

      Unlike she herself, who was still reeling from her actions. They’d been totally out of character for her.

      Or were they? She didn’t know anymore.

      Dropping her napkin back in her lap, she feigned a sweet smile. “I always say if you’re going to do something, you might as well make it worth your while.”

      He nodded at her plate. “Even if it stings.”

      “Maybe that’s the goal.”

      His smile faded. “To do