Allison blinked herself fully awake. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m declaring myself recovered,” he said. “I’ve been off the pain pills for twenty-four hours. I was hoping you’d let me take you for a drive this morning after breakfast.”

“A drive where?”

“To see an old friend. Come on, sit down.”

Neither of them mentioned his calling her by Kate’s name last night. It had happened before and would no doubt happen again. Aggravating as Allison found it, there was no point in making it an issue.

Allison crossed the kitchen to the table. Only then did he notice that she was limping. He frowned. “What on earth—?”

“I went for a walk last night and twisted my ankle. It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? I don’t think so.” He pulled a chair away from the table. “Sit down. Let’s have a look.” He motioned her to the chair. Allison sat down and raised her pajama-clad leg for him to see. He dropped partway to a crouch, wincing with sudden pain. “It seems I’m not as recovered as I’d hoped,” he said, moving another chair to face hers and sitting down. “Now let’s see that ankle.”

His hand cradled her bare foot, strong, gentle fingers testing the pain. “It doesn’t seem swollen. Does it hurt here?” He probed just above the ankle bone. She whimpered.

“Bad?”

“Just a little. Not too much.”

“Here?” His hand moved higher, pushing back the loose-fitting leg of her pajamas. His touch sent electric tingles up her thighs. She stifled a moan that had nothing to do with pain. He had to know what was happening—and what might happen if he continued.

Was it too soon? Should she stop him? Could she?

She sensed the slight quickening of his breath as he moved again, higher up the inside of her calf. “What about here?”

Her lips parted. “I think . . .”

“You think what?” His voice was husky.

At that instant, a bitter smell penetrated her nostrils. “I think the bacon’s burning!” she exclaimed.

With a muttered oath, Burke lunged toward the stove and moved the smoking skillet off the burner. He gazed down at the charred remains of the bacon. “Would you settle for coffee and toast?” he asked.

At least they could still laugh together.

* * *

Half an hour later, they were in Allison’s Honda Civic with Burke driving. She could tell he was in some pain, but she knew better than to mention it. Burke’s pride wouldn’t let him admit he was hurting.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“You’ll see. It isn’t far. It feels good to be driving again. I was beginning to feel like a prisoner.”

“Now you need to get a car.”