He set the coffee maker on the minifridge, then straightened. “The computer’s off-limits. It’s password protected, and not in English.”

She held up both hands. “Not even going to try to decode it.”

Finally he looked at her. A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Fine. I’m going to cast as many healing spells as your body can handle. Then I have to head back to town. I have an eight a.m. staff meeting to prepare for.”

She didn’t want him to go and tightened her hands into fists. Forget about wondering where that bastard Josiah had disappeared to—who was this strange woman inhabiting her body? “I would appreciate a few more healing spells, but don’t tire yourself out. You’ve got a lot going on this week.”

“I’m not going to give you anything I can’t afford to give,” he said grimly. “We’d better get to it.”

Damn it, why didn’t he have any proper furniture down here? She looked around, at a loss, and only started toward the bedroom when he put a hand at the small of her back and urged her in that direction.

He flipped on the light as they entered the room. When she sat on the edge of the bed, he sat beside her. “I’m going to concentrate on your broken ribs this time.”

Terrific. This was going to suck, but it would be worth it to be able to breathe without the constant, nagging stab of pain. “Let’s do it.”

Twisting, he rested one hand on the mattress behind her and laid his other hand over the broken ribs until she felt surrounded, immersed in his presence. Then he began to speak in that foreign language, and sparks of his magic flew through the air.

She had enough time to notice the beauty and Power in it before pain slammed into her rib cage, squeezing her in a vise. She turned her face away.

After what felt like a hundred years, he paused, then said roughly, “Breathe.”

“Sure thing,” she wheezed.

He pulled her against his side, supporting her body until the vise around her lungs eased. Feeling light-headed, she didn’t bother to try to straighten. If he wanted to keep her sitting upright, let him.

He gently prodded her ribs. “Can you take any more?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t stop this much fun for the world.”

He snorted. “Now who’s full of bullshit? Let me know when you’re ready.”

Turning toward him, she knotted one fist in his shirt and tucked her face into his neck. “Ready.”

“You’re killing me,” he muttered.

The edge of his jaw came down on the top of her head, and he wrapped his arms around her. Then the torture began again. She endured until he finally fell silent.

“That’s it, I’m done.” He sounded hoarse. “Jesus Christ.”