Wondering how long she had slept in the chair next to his bed, he studied the woman he loved. Makeup streaked her face, reminding him a little of the way she had looked streaked with soot. How long ago? He had no idea how long he'd been under but it felt like a long time. He flexed his muscles, feeling the soreness, the stiffness from immobility. More than a day. Memories of another hospital awakening, followed by long months in rehab, intruded on his current reality. But this time was different. This time someone was there for him. Sandy came awake slowly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She sat up, pushed her hair from her face, arched her back, and stretched. Curves pushed against the loose, filmy fabric of her dress. For one sensual instant, Ryan wished he could take her out of that dress. He also felt a profound sense of relief when another part of his anatomy began to stir in response to the gorgeous picture of Sandy waking up. "Hello, beautiful," he whispered. When she graced him with a slow, sizzling smile, he sighed.
