“Sorry. That’s a nasty bruise. Are your ribs okay?” The bruise started beneath his lowest rib, but she still pressed against them to make sure.

He cleared his throat, but his voice still came out huskier than normal. “They’re fine, but you’re welcome to continue your examination. I can point out some other painfully swollen spots for you to examine.”

Rolling her eyes, although less dramatically than she usually did, since he was honestly hurt, Molly carefully lowered his arm to his side. Releasing her grip on his wrist, she took a step back, not willing to admit that the idea of running her hands all over him was surprisingly tempting. “If you’re back to flirting, then you’re not going to die.”

“Just feels like it sometimes,” he muttered under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.” His grin was back, but she thought it looked strained. No wonder, since he must be as exhausted as she was, and he was bruised and sore on top of that.

“Go to bed. I’m going to shower and then I’ll join you.” When John’s smile widened into something she could only describe as wolfish, she realized her mistake. “As in join you in sleep, not join you in bed.” Turning on her heel so he couldn’t see the way her face flushed bright red, judging by the heat in her cheeks, Molly headed for the bathroom. She needed to get clean and then go to sleep. If she was unconscious, she wouldn’t keep saying embarrassing things.

It was only after her shower, when she was damp and naked under her towel, dirty clothes tucked into the hamper, that she realized her mistake. She’d forgotten to bring pajamas into the bathroom with her. Now, she was going to have to waltz into her room, where John was, in just a towel, and dig through her dresser drawers…which of course were the bottom two. She could imagine the picture she was going to present, her towel-clad body bent over with her butt in the air as she dug for some clean underwear.

She sighed silently, jerking open the door with resigned resolve. Hopefully, John was fully asleep and would miss the show. With her luck, though, that was unlikely. Her only other option was to sleep naked, and that seemed even more ill-advised when sharing a bedroom with John Carmondy.

“How’d you end up in this situation?” she muttered to herself as she made her way down the hall toward her room. Tucking the towel around her torso a little more securely, she shoved open the door before she could annoy herself by hesitating.

The lights were on, making it easy to see that the room was empty. Molly paused, trying to figure out where John had disappeared to, but then reminded herself that she needed to take advantage of his absence to get less naked. She dressed in record time, yanking on the first pair of panties and sleep shorts she put her hands on. The first two tank tops were discarded because they were too tight, but the third was a loose winner.