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forward. The room took on the appearance of an obstacle course: table here, floor lamp there—and a cord, for God’s sake. Look out for the cord . He jerked the crutch up. It went wide, right in front of Remy, and Remy tripped. Oh, fuck a duck. If he’d killed his benefactor—
    In a gymnast-like move, Remy tucked and rolled. He stood and brushed himself off.
    “Oh, God. I am so sorry.” Jamie’s heart pounded his ribs, riding high on adrenaline. “Are—are you okay?”
    “Unscathed.”
    Thank you, Jesus . “That was something else. Where’d you learn that?”
    “Martial arts. Although I’ve never had to defend myself against a crutch before. If I ever meet one in a dark alley, I’ll know what to do.” Remy grinned.
    Heat moved into Jamie’s cheeks. “Maybe you should walk behind me.”
    “Uh, no. A backward swing could go high and catch me where it counts.”
    The flames grew higher, burning Jamie’s face. He ducked his head. “I’m a menace.”
    Remy chuckled. “Come on, menace, let’s go home.”
    * * * *
    Remy eyed Jamie’s slow progress down the steps. Okay. So Jamie and crutches were about as safe as a toddler with a scalpel.
    Jamie lowered himself with painstaking precision from one step to the next, trembling with nerves and effort. And they hadn’t reached the first of the three landings.
    After two more steps, and Jamie stopped on the concrete stair. Face tight and pale, he met Remy’s eyes. “Sorry. It’s a lot harder than I thought.”
    “See why an elevator is necessary?” And if the fire had spread beyond the laundry room, Jamie could have been trapped.
    Grimacing, Jamie nodded. “You’ll never get to your workout at this rate.”
    “Sure I will.” He held out a hand. “Crutches.”
    Jamie’s eyes narrowed as he handed them over. “What’s happening?”
    “Hang on to the railing. Don’t bump your foot.”
    “Okaaay.”
    Facing Jamie, Remy bent and tossed Jamie over his shoulder.
    “Hey, what are you doing?”
    Hiding a smile, Remy trotted down the steps. “Part of my workout.”
    Jamie’s hands clutched Remy’s sides. “We’re both going to get hurt.”
    “I feel fine.” And he did. Jamie’s delectable behind was close enough to bite. The heat of his body, the strength of his hands fisted in Remy’s shirt…must be heaven to feel those strong fingers giving a back massage. Or massaging other things. Blood detoured south.
    Oh, for God’s sake. Get a grip . Running shorts wouldn’t hide a damn thing. Remy willed his cock to deflate, clenched the crutches in his other hand.
    “Let me down.” Jamie pounded Remy’s flank as they made the turn for the last set of stairs. A hint of panic had crept into his tone.
    Weird idea to just grab him and go, Marshall . Bad idea . “Almost there.”
    “No! Stop. Now.”
    At the bottom of the stairway, Remy gently tipped Jamie upright and let him get his balance. He kept one arm around Jamie and held out the crutches. “You all right?”
    “I asked you to stop.” Jamie swallowed, tucked the crutches under his arms, and looked away.
    O…kay . Something was off. Maybe Jamie didn’t appreciate Remy’s he-man tactics. “Sorry if I offended you. I just thought it’d be easier—”
    “Forget it. Can we go, please?” Jamie gave a sickly smile. “I don’t want to run into Simon.”
    Remy doubted fear of seeing Simon had been the reason behind Jamie’s reaction, but for now, getting home and going for a run sounded like a good plan.
    * * * *
    In Jamie’s opinion, daytime TV sucked.
    Even with satellite, nothing good came up. Not a single superhero movie. The bookshelves held no comic books, vintage or otherwise. Jamie doodled on a scratch pad, graphite lines forming a sketch of Remy. It’d been a long time since he’d had the urge to draw. It’d been a long time since a man had taken this kind of care with him. On the other hand, it hadn’t been long since he’d said “no” and a guy did as he pleased