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Gift Wrapped Dad
Sandra Steffen
The Hunk Under Her Christmas Tree Single mom Krista Wilson could hardly believe that the man she'd loved years ago was standing before her, asking for help. Though Krista had sworn off men long ago, she couldn't resist agreeing to Will's request - with a few stipulations: No midnight kisses under the mistletoe.No slinky gifts that would add temptation to their strictly business relationship. No mention of the stormy past they shared. And no promises to her son Will didn't intend to keep. Because little Tommy had decided that Will was the dad he'd asked Santa for. And Krista didn't have the heart to deny it… .



Gift Wrapped Dad
Sandra Steffen



www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Dedicated to
My brothers, Leon, Larry, Dave and Ron—
great guys, one and all.

Acknowledgment
A special thank-you to Gordon Allen of Gordon Allen Rehabilitation Associates
Contents
Prologue (#u553ba617-2424-5179-ad26-5aa5933877ad)
Chapter One (#uca700c97-c7f3-5ee3-a68b-18170229f283)
Chapter Two (#ued5cd769-0973-574b-8374-621620c9b901)
Chapter Three (#u113a0e02-71fe-5dae-8734-4cf7d2636a33)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Santa,
I know it’s only October, but my best friend Stephanie told me I’d have a better chance if I wrote to you before the Christmas rush. Mom’s always telling me I’m a good boy. Mrs. Hansen, my teacher, said I’m not only good, I’m gifted. That means I’m smart, so you can bring me some books to read if you want to. But what I really want is a baseball glove. Not a sissy one, but a real leather, major league baseball glove. I want a dog, too. I don’t care what kind. Oh, and a dad, if you know of any extras anywhere.
Yours truly,
Tommy Wilson
P.S. Stephanie says hi.

One
Will Sutherland stopped in the doorway, the hum of an exercise machine obliterating any sound he might have made. The room was oblong, with mirrors and exercise equipment lining one entire wall. It was unoccupied, except for Krista.
She was wearing a black leotard and tights, the muscles in her thighs tightening with every stride she took on the treadmill. Her hands grasped the side rails loosely. Even so, the strength in her upper arms was clearly evident.
Her hair was as dark as always, but longer, coiled into a braid partway down her back. Her face was tipped up, and her eyes were closed, which explained the fact that she hadn’t noticed his presence. She was more slender than he remembered, but the way she filled out the top of her leotard was still the closest thing to perfection he’d ever seen. Will wouldn’t have minded staring at her for hours, except he was in a hurry to get this matter settled.
Gathering his thoughts, he said, “I didn’t believe it when they told me I’d find you up here. ‘Krista, exercising?’ I said. I was sure they had you confused with somebody else.”
Krista Wilson opened her eyes. She didn’t need to turn her head to know who had spoken; she’d recognize that voice anywhere. Breathing deeply, she slowed her pace on the treadmill and turned her head slightly, finally looking at the man who was watching her from the doorway. Studying his face unhurriedly, she couldn’t help smiling.
“Hello, Will.”
For a long moment he looked back at her, his lips slowly lifting into a grin she remembered well, the kind of grin that had made her swoon once, the kind of grin that reporters liked, fans loved and women adored. On anyone else, it would have looked practiced. On Will, it looked boyishly natural. It always had.
Thoughts whispered through her mind the way memories sometimes did. Images of her and Will laughing together and loving together lingered around the edges of her memory as if it had been weeks since she’d seen him instead of years. His hair was cut short, the front slightly askew, as always. His eyes were still a vivid blue—bedroom blue, according to the papers. His arms and shoulders looked as powerful as she remembered, and she could practically feel the afternoon stubble on his chin. He looked nearly the same as he had eight years ago. Only the crutches were different.
“I heard about the accident,” she said quietly.
Will inclined his head, his smile changing slightly as he said, “I don’t recall receiving any Get Well cards from you.”
“I don’t remember receiving any letters from you eight years ago, either,” she said quietly.
“You never were one to beat around the bush, Krista. That’s why I’m here.”
He looked into her eyes as if he were reaching into her thoughts, and Krista altered her first impression of him. He wasn’t the same as he’d been eight years ago. He was more serious, more mature.
Her heart was beating hard from her workout. Breathing between parted lips, she flipped a switch on the treadmill, stepped off the machine and walked closer. Fleetingly, she wished she was wearing something less revealing. Since there was nothing she could do about it, she squared her shoulders and stopped a few paces from him. With her hands on her hips, she asked, “Why are you here, Will?”
“I need a good physical therapist. And I’ve heard you’re the best,” he answered.
“You already have a physical therapist. I saw you together in Person Magazine. I believe her name was Miss July.”
One corner of his mouth rose, but it wasn’t the cocky smile she remembered. In a voice edged with irony, he said, “Unfortunately, my former therapist was more interested in getting me on my back than on my feet.”
His eyes had darkened like smoke, and he leaned on his crutches as if he was tired to the bone. He took a deep breath and finally broke the silence between them. “You aren’t going to ask, are you?”
Krista shook her head. She knew he was referring to his ability to make love. She also knew what a delicate subject that was with patients who had suffered spinal-cord injuries. The Will she remembered had been virile and too darn sexy for her own good. The man standing before her was every bit as ruggedly handsome and sexy as he’d been in her memories.
He didn’t smile, but she hadn’t expected him to. He didn’t come right out and say if you want proof, come closer, either, but it was there in the set of his shoulders, in the determination in his eyes and in the way his fingers tightened around the handrests on his crutches.
She thought about moving closer and, God help her, she did. In fact, for the first time in a long time, she was tempted to touch a man intimately, to savor his touch in return. A curious sensation swooped deep inside her, and Krista couldn’t suppress the admiration she felt for Will’s courage and tenacity.
In that instant, she felt as if she were twenty years old all over again, meeting Will for the first time. She’d been at the bus stop not far from Michigan State University’s campus that sunny October day eight years ago. He’d taken one look at her and stopped in his tracks. Thunderstruck, he’d called it. Secretly, she’d called it love. They’d been together the rest of the year, and although he’d never promised her forever, she’d somehow believed it was what they’d have.
She could still remember how they’d both reacted to an innocent brush of their shoulders. Most of all, she could still remember how her world had rocked when he’d left her behind to play pro baseball. At first she’d dreamed he’d come back. Now he had, but not the way she’d imagined. He needed a physical therapist, not a lover.
That line of thinking brought her back to the matter at hand. Raising her chin, she looked him straight in the eye and said, “You’re not a small man, Will. A male physical therapist could handle your weight and help you if you stumbled or started to fall much better than I could.”
“I only want you.”
It required incredible effort not to look away from the determination and the longing in his eyes. Being wanted by Will Sutherland was a heady sensation. It always had been. Eight years ago he would have accented a statement like that with a wink or a raised eyebrow. Today, he stared directly into her eyes, waiting for her answer.
The changes in him were as intriguing as the things that were the same. Krista didn’t want to be intrigued by him. Intrigue had a way of leading to heartache. That thought set off a warning in her mind. She’d loved him a long time ago. She didn’t want to fall in love with him again, but was already feeling the pull of his attraction.
“There are thousands of physical therapists, Will. Why did you come to me?”
Will knew what she was asking. She wanted to know why he’d come to her now, after all these years. How could he put into words how he’d felt during that split second when he’d known with frightening clarity that an out-of-control truck was going to crash into his car? How could he describe the boom of impact or the sound of breaking glass and bending steel, or what it felt like to be rushed to a hospital, unable to feel his legs? How could he describe the fear and the dread and the despair of these past three months?
But Krista wanted to know. If she was going to help him, she deserved to know.
“I was having a shouting match with my former physical therapist when Dr. Richardson, one of the doctors at the rehab center in New York, stepped into the room to intervene. I asked him if he could recommend another therapist, and he told me you were one of the best.”
She raised her eyebrows a little and shrugged offhandedly as she said, “Adam Richardson consulted on a case I had a few years ago. I’m a little surprised he remembered me.”
Will wasn’t surprised. He’d never forgotten her. Thoughts of her had filtered into his mind at the oddest times these past eight years, but never as often as they had these past three months. He’d done a lot of thinking while he was in the hospital in New York. About his life. About baseball. About the woman he’d left behind. He knew he’d hurt her, and he knew he had no right to ask her to help him now. Yet here he was, trying to think of some way to convince her to do just that.
“I came to you because I want to walk again, and because you’re the only person I know who really believed I could reach for the stars. I’m reaching for them again.”
Krista heard the earnestness and honesty in Will’s voice. He’d always called his dream of playing pro baseball reaching for the stars. Baseball was the reason he left her before. It was the reason he’d leave again. She became a physical therapist because she wanted to help people, and she knew that hadn’t changed. Reaching a decision wasn’t difficult, but she was afraid that protecting her heart from Will’s charm a second time was going to be the most difficult thing she’d ever done.
Raising her chin another notch, she said, “You’ll have to clear it with the hospital first, get doctor and insurance authorization, but if they say it’s possible, I’ll help you.”
“I’ve already signed on the dotted line.”
His words sent an old pain quaking through her. He’d been so sure she’d do what he wanted that he’d already signed his forms? She wondered what the people in the office thought about that. It reminded her of the way she’d felt in high school when girls had whispered about her behind their hands and boys had bragged and leered.
It required an iron will to keep from stepping back, to keep from reverting to the way she used to be, to keep from giving in to old hurts. “There’s one thing you should know, Will. I’m not a sure thing anymore.”
Will clamped his mouth shut and squared his shoulders. She’d removed her hands from her hips and wrapped them around her waist as she’d spoken. Her voice hadn’t faltered, but her stance was one of self-defense if he’d ever seen one. There had always been a sensitivity deep in the center of Krista’s heart, a vulnerability and softness that was damned near impossible not to react to. She’d said sure thing as if they were dirty words, like tramp or easy. She’d never been any of those things. Lusty and vibrant and the hottest thing either side of the Rockies, but not easy. Memories of the way she’d responded to him, of her earthy sexuality and sumptuous body played through his mind. Hell and damnation, he was getting worked up just thinking about the way they’d been together. Looking back now, he wondered how he’d ever managed to leave her behind all those years ago.
Gazing at her this afternoon, he decided that his memories hadn’t really done her justice. She’d always been great-looking, but today she was beautiful. She had dark lashes and dark eyebrows, but her eyes were the darkest of all. He watched those eyes, searching for hidden meaning. What he found in her gaze was warmth, and a hint of concern. It was that concern that brought him back to his senses.
He hadn’t seen her in eight years. A lot had happened since college. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and her last name was still the same. But in this day and age, she could still be married. Even if she wasn’t, a woman like her was bound to be involved with someone. Will Sutherland might have been a cad now and then, but no matter what, he’d always had scruples. Besides, from now on he’d be seeing her every day. He’d have time to learn about her personal life later. Right now, he had to concentrate on getting out of these cursed leg braces.
“Would you be willing to start tomorrow?” he asked.
She nodded, and Will felt his skin tighten over his knuckles as he gripped his crutches. She’d agreed to work with him. The knowledge settled inside him like hope.
After saying goodbye, he pulled himself around, making his way toward the elevator at the end of the hall, certain it wasn’t his imagination that made the trek seem shorter than it had when he’d come. Adrenaline pumped through his body as he punched the elevator button. It was a lot like the surge of adrenaline he used to feel before every game. For the first time in the three months since his accident, Will thought he had a chance to make it back—on his feet, and on with his life.
* * *
Krista slipped her dripping raincoat from her shoulders and hurried into the lounge. “Coffee,” she called. “I need coffee.”
All three of the other people in the room stopped whispering and turned around.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “Did one of you win the lottery?”
“We’re not the lucky ones!” Heather Jones, a tall, willowy redhead declared. “You are. Have you seen who your ten o’clock patient is?”
Krista eyed her three co-workers who were blocking her view of the big schedule board on the wall. Reaching for the coffee, she said, “Since I just walked in and I don’t have X-ray vision, I have to say no, I haven’t seen who my ten o’clock patient is.” But she had a pretty good idea.
“Billy the Kid,” Brody Calhoun, the only man in the room, cut in.
Krista took her first sip of strong coffee, eyeing her friends over the rim of her cup. “I think you mean Will Sutherland,” she said quietly.
“Call him what you want,” Heather sputtered. “The fact is the most eligible bachelor within a hundred miles is going to be yours for two hours every day.”
Krista sucked in a breath of air, trying to cool her tongue, which she’d burned on her coffee the instant Heather had said that Will was going to be hers for two hours every day. Her tongue cooled. Her thoughts didn’t.
“I thought I was the most eligible bachelor for miles around,” Brody grumbled.
“Oh, please,” Heather said to Brody. “Your bachelorhood is so confirmed it might as well be carved in stone. What I want to know is why Krista gets Billy the Kid. She doesn’t even like men for heaven’s sake!”
“Now, now,” Mrs. A, the only person in the room with snow-white hair, said. “Krista likes men. Don’t you, Krista?”
“Yeah, right,” Heather and Brody said at the same time.
“I’ve never been able to get to first base with her,” Brody added indignantly.
“Well, that’s not so unbelievable,” Heather retorted, batting her eyelashes at Brody. “You’re not as young as you used to be.”
Krista laughed out loud at the look of horror that crossed Brody’s face. Her fellow physical therapist had recently celebrated his thirty-eighth birthday. He’d discovered a gray hair a few days later and hadn’t been the same since.
“What do you mean?” he insisted. “I can do anything I used to do.”
“Sure you can,” Heather countered.
“Maybe it’s only fitting that the person who’ll get to first base with Krista is a baseball player,” Mrs. A said, interrupting Brody and Heather’s bantering.
“Mrs. A!” Krista protested, trying to keep her coffee from sloshing over the side of her mug.
Heather and Brody both laughed, heading toward the door. Looking over her shoulder, Heather said, “I wish I had bought a lottery ticket, Krista. If I won, I’d trade it for spending two hours alone with Billy the Kid.”
“Two hours!” Brody called. “That’s a lot of batting practice, if you know what I mean.”
“We always know what you mean, Brody,” Mrs. A said, clucking her tongue. “But therapy is what we’re here for, and I think it’s time we all got to work.” Blue eyes twinkling, the older woman cast Krista an affectionate smile and left the room.
Alone with her coffee, Krista looked at the schedule board on the wall. Mrs. A had become the volunteer coordinator for the entire wing in July. Since then, Krista had become accustomed to the other woman’s rather strange speech patterns, but the way she’d implied that Will would get to first base with her had still taken her by surprise. Now that she thought about it, Mrs. A hadn’t even implied it. She’d said it as if she knew. It was downright disconcerting, almost as disconcerting as Krista’s erotic dreams had been all night long. In her dreams, Will had gotten a lot farther than first base, and the fans hadn’t been the ones cheering.
Taking another sip of her coffee, she decided then and there to make sure that particular dream never became reality. She reminded herself that Will had come to her because he wanted to walk again, not because he wanted her again. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.
* * *
“Okay, Will,” Krista said after she’d explained the rehabilitation center’s policies and procedures. “Let’s see what you can do.”
“I want to try to walk without these damn leg braces, that’s what I want to do.”
She heard the vehemence in his voice. Underneath, she also heard the worry. She’d read his chart carefully. News of the car accident that had left Billy the Kid, the golden boy from Nebraska whose cockiness and down-home charm had melted the hearts of baseball fans everywhere, had made national headlines three months ago. Today, she’d read the doctor’s version of his spinal injury. Periodically interspersed with notes about his progress were inferences to his bullheadedness and determination.
Crouching down close to the floor in front of his chair, she said, “I know you do. I want you to walk without those braces, too. That’s why you’re here. And that’s why we’re going to do this my way.”
Will’s blue eyes were narrowed, his chin set stubbornly. After a long silence, he said, “Three months ago the doctors thought I’d never get out of a wheelchair. Two weeks ago the therapist in New York took the liberty to tell me that she doubted I’d ever walk without crutches.”
Stilling her hand on the strap of his leg brace, she said, “Then she was wrong. If you say you’re going to walk again, I believe you will.”
Will hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until he noticed a burning sensation deep in his lungs. He let out that breath and took another, a sense of awe filling him. It was going to be all right. Krista wasn’t going to restrict his rehabilitation. He was going to be up and walking on his own in no time.
Her hand felt warm where it rested on his thigh as she loosened the straps of his leg braces. In his mind’s eye, he flexed the muscle beneath her palm.
In reality, nothing moved.
Until three months ago Will “Billy the Kid” Sutherland, had been considered the fastest base runner in pro baseball. Today he couldn’t even move one tiny muscle. Squaring his shoulders and straightening his spine, he decided he’d better take things one step at a time. He’d work on walking first. And then he’d work on running.
Half an hour later he was ready to scream in frustration. He was exhausted, and he’d barely done anything. His muscles refused to work no matter what he tried. He sat in a chair, gripping the armrest while Krista issued commands.
“Push against my hand. Push. Not from the hip. Use your leg muscles. Push.”
Nothing happened. He had some movement in his toes and all the feeling in his legs had come back, but without the braces his thigh and calf muscles were mush.
“Try it again. Push.”
Will tried it again, with no better results. He strained every muscle that moved, from his neck all the way down to his lower abdomen. He’d pulled his ham string sliding into third base during his first season with the Cougars. Today, no matter how hard he imagined it, no matter how hard he worked, he couldn’t make any of the muscles in his legs push against Krista’s hands. He wanted to learn to walk, dammit, but after forty-five minutes, all he felt was more frustrated than ever.
“Come on,” she said. “That’s it. Concentrate. Push. Again. Push.”
“I am pushing,” he ground out between clenched teeth.
Krista glanced up into Will’s face. His brow was glistening with sweat. Beads of perspiration dotted his upper lip. His teeth were clenched as if he wanted to bite somebody’s head off. She had a feeling that somebody was her. Good. She could deal with anger. In fact, it was a great motivator.
“If you want to get mad, go ahead,” she said. “This is going to take time, and your anger is going to help you get through it. You’ve made remarkable progress, and I’m sure you’ll continue to—”
“Don’t patronize me, all right? I got enough of that from Miss July!”
After a moment of silence, a sheepish expression stole across his face. She watched his shoulders move and his chest expand as he drew in a deep breath and said, “I guess I’m a little edgy.”
This was the Will she remembered. A little arrogant, a little cocky, and underneath it all, maddeningly sweet.
“Don’t worry about it,” she replied levelly. “One whole semester in college was dedicated to dealing with ornery, pigheaded patients.”
His blue eyes reflected the overhead lighting as he said, “Who are you calling ornery?”
Krista noticed he didn’t dispute the pigheaded portion of her statement and couldn’t help smiling. In that moment, the years seemed to fall away. She felt just as exasperated and infatuated with Will as she’d been when they were both young.
On impulse, she ran her finger along the bottom of his long foot. His heel jerked out of her hand, landing on the floor with a soft thud. She looked from his toes to his face and found his eyes mirroring her own surprise.
“You moved your leg!” she said from her position on the floor.
Featherlike laugh lines crinkled around his eyes, and a wondrous smile pulled at his mouth. Her instinctive reaction to him was powerful, nearly as powerful as the silent communication that passed between them. The shock of it ran through her body. Their gazes locked, and their breathing came in unison.
He reached for both her hands, slowly drawing her up toward him. Steadying herself against his chest, she spread her fingers wide across the expanse of strong muscles. His hand grazed her face, his fingers sliding into the hair near her ear. His eyes were half closed, his expression dreamily intimate. She breathed between parted lips, her eyelashes fluttering down the instant his lips touched hers.
The touch of his mouth on hers brought back so many feelings that tears moistened her eyelashes and a knot rose to her throat. He pulled her closer, his thighs straddling her, his arms wrapped snugly around her back, making her body respond in an achingly familiar way. For a moment, time stood still, and there was nothing in the world but this instant with this man.
Gradually, some thread of rationality filtered through her fragmented thoughts. Will was sitting in a hospital chair in a hospital room. Good heavens, he was her patient.
Krista jumped to her feet and spun around, pacing to the far side of the room. “That can’t happen again,” she cried, amazed to hear the huskiness in her own voice.
“I think it could.”
His deep, husky voice took her back to the old days, when kisses like the one they’d just shared had happened every day. Her memories calmed her in ways she hadn’t expected. This wasn’t the end of the world. Sure, she’d kissed a patient, but it hadn’t been just any patient. This was a man she’d once loved, a man who could still ignite her desire in three seconds or less.
Taking a deep breath, she tried again. “Let me rephrase my statement. That won’t happen again.”
“That isn’t going to be nearly as much fun.”
His simple reply brought her head up. The kiss they’d shared had been a natural, spontaneous reaction, just as the movement of Will’s foot had been a natural reaction to being tickled.
“You may be right,” she said, hating the way her voice caught on the last word. “But you’re my patient. And I don’t kiss patients.”
“Do you mean I’m the first patient you’ve ever kissed?”
“The first. And the last. I’m not like your Miss July. I’m not a package deal. I’ll be your physical therapist, but this time, our relationship will remain strictly professional.”
He seemed to digest her words, his gaze trailing down her body as he said, “That isn’t going to be easy. When you touch me, I find myself wanting to touch you back.”
His honesty was wreaking havoc with her senses. She hoped he didn’t notice the quaver in her voice as she said, “I have to touch you. I have to help you get those muscles to move. You can touch me back, Will. As long as you remain friendly and professional.”
He was looking at his left leg, which allowed her a moment to study him unobserved. He was wearing baggy gray sweatpants and a New York Titans T-shirt. She knew his legs were weak from his spinal injury, but they didn’t look it. His upper body was powerfully muscular, his chest and shoulders broad. A vein ran up his forearm, only to disappear inside the sleeve of his shirt.
The bruising to his spinal column had been traumatic, but Will hadn’t sat around sulking. A person didn’t acquire this kind of muscle tone that way. Yesterday he’d told her he’d come to her because she was the only person who could make him reach for the stars. Now Krista realized that wasn’t true. With or without her, he’d always reached for the stars.
The Will she’d known back in college had been on the wild side, but even then he’d been completely motivated. He’d run track to increase his speed and stamina and practiced his swing, his throw and his slide. He’d never been the kind of man who enjoyed inactivity. This type of injury was terrifying to everyone, but to a man like Will, it must have been ten times worse. Krista eyed his crutches and leg braces lying next to his chair, her admiration growing. He hadn’t taken it sitting down, at least not for long.
Trying for a friendly yet professional tone of voice, she said, “We used to touch each other a lot, and old habits die hard. But I’m your physical therapist now, and you’re my patient. I think we need to establish some ground rules, things that are safe, and things that are off limits. Kissing me is off limits.”
He started to speak, but she interrupted. “Don’t look so stricken. I’ve sworn off all men, not just you.”
With that, she strode to the wall and grasped the handles on a lightweight wheelchair. “Come on,” she said, pushing the chair toward him. “Let’s take a ride down to the patient exercise room. You still have an hour of time left this morning. Let’s put it to good use.”
Will eyed the gray chair dazedly. He was aware that it was there, but his mind couldn’t seem to get past the fact that Krista had just told him she’d sworn off men. All men.
He’d known his share of women, but he’d never met anyone who was more sensuous than Krista. Back in college, she’d been as ravenous as he was. Sometimes, she’d been embarrassed about her earthy murmurs and sighs, her automatic reactions and responses to their lovemaking. He used to love to kiss her embarrassment away, to make her forget the inhibitions instilled in her by that prissy family of hers, to take her to the brink of completion, then watch her soar. He never would have imagined that a healthy, vibrant, sexy woman like Krista would swear off men. Not in a million years. But then, he never would have imagined nearly dying in a car accident three months ago, either, or perhaps never being able to walk again.
Eyeing the wheelchair, he said, “I spent the worst two months of my life trying to get out of one of those contraptions and now you want me to get back in?”
She shrugged in an offhand way and said, “I thought you were here to learn to walk again, but if you want to take the time to get into your leg braces so that you don’t have to ride in a wheelchair, suit yourself.”
He stared at her for a silence-filled moment, then grasped the chair’s armrest. “I hate it when you’re right.”
“I know,” she said as she leaned down to set the brake.
Her breast brushed against his forearm, the hair on his arm standing up at the brief contact. Slowly, his eyes moved upward, coming to rest on her face. Since Krista wasn’t very tall, it wasn’t a far climb, but it sure was a pleasant one. Will sucked in a quick breath as the intensity of her gaze hit him between the eyes. He’d reacted to her this way before, lots of times. He hadn’t seen or talked to her in eight years, but he hadn’t forgotten her. He was honest enough to know that he’d experienced some of the best sex of his life when Krista had been in his arms. Fleetingly, he wondered how he’d ever managed to leave her all those years ago.
Thoughts crystallized in his mind as he recalled a comment she’d made when he’d first seen her yesterday. I don’t remember receiving any letters from you eight years ago.
She’d only been twenty-one years old back then, but she’d loved him the way a woman loves a man. He’d loved her, too, he supposed. But he’d been a young twenty-two, his sights set on the major leagues, not on the woman with an unfailing spirit and unfathomable brown eyes.
Will grasped the other armrest and levered himself into the wheelchair. She bent to release the brake, her clean scent filling his nostrils. Before she straightened, he asked, “Did you swear off men because of me, Krista?”
The chair’s brake let go just as her breath pierced the silence in the room. For a moment she remained at eye level. Her eyebrows were arched and her voice was clipped as she said, “Don’t flatter yourself, Will.”
She straightened, pulling the chair back with more force than might have been necessary. Will let out a loud whoop as she pushed him through the wide doorway. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she’d said. Krista never had been one for trite lines or inane white lies. Her honesty was refreshing, but then she’d always been refreshing.
He used to tell her so. Will smiled to himself as he remembered what she’d told him in return. “I’m refreshing, and you’re fresh. Quite a combination, don’t you think?”
Krista called hello to other patients as they passed. Will barely noticed. His thoughts were elsewhere, deep in the fresh zone, where images danced through him mind, images of him and Krista in his dorm room, and later, in her tiny apartment just off campus.
“Mommy! Mommy!”
He turned his head slowly as a young boy with dark hair and huge brown eyes ran toward him from the opposite end of the hall. Will glanced around, searching for the object of the child’s gaze.
“Mommy, guess what?”
It took Will a moment to realize that the kid was talking to Krista. Mommy? Krista was somebody’s mother?
“Tommy,” Krista called. “Where’s Mrs. Hall?”
“She’s coming,” the child replied. “See? Back there.”
Will didn’t know why he glanced down the hall, but sure enough, a heavyset woman with frizzy brown hair was hurrying toward them.
“You’re Billy the Kid!” the boy exclaimed, staring at Will.
“Tommy,” Krista admonished, “where are your manners? This is Mr. Sutherland. Mr. Sutherland, my son, Tommy.”
Will heard the pride and affection in Krista’s voice as she spoke to her son. The little urchin extended his right hand, and in his befuddled state, Will enfolded the boy’s fingers in his own large hand. “Hi, Tommy. How ya doing?”
“Cool,” the child said in awe. “Wait until I tell Stephanie that I shook hands with Billy the Kid. She’s my friend. She doesn’t care much about baseball, so she doesn’t know you stole forty-two bases last season, but she’s still pretty smart.”
By the time the boy had finished talking, Mrs. Hall had joined him and Krista in the middle of the corridor. Krista spoke to the older woman, and Tommy rattled on about home runs and batting averages. Within minutes, Mrs. Hall was leading Tommy away. This time the child’s hand was tucked firmly in hers.
Will sat statue still, barely conscious of the lady with the walker who was steadily drawing closer. “How old is your son?” he asked.
“Tommy’s six going on thirty,” Krista replied. “He’s gifted.”
Will digested that statement easily enough. Since she had a six-year-old son, obviously she hadn’t sworn off men immediately after he’d left eight years ago. Yesterday, he’d assumed that Krista wasn’t married. The subject hadn’t crossed his mind today, especially not while he’d been kissing her. She said she’d sworn off men. Exactly what had she meant by that?
“Uh, Krista?” he asked, waving at the little boy at the end of the hall.
“Mm?” she asked, waving, too.
“Are you married?”

Two
Are you married?
The question hung in her mind as the faint swish, thud, swish, thud of a walker steadily drew near. She’d assumed Will knew her marital status. After all, he’d shown up at the Fourth Street Rehab Center in Allentown so sure she’d agree to be his physical therapist that he’d signed his outpatient admittance forms before talking to her.
She’d been fighting her reaction to seeing him again since the first moment she’d looked into his eyes yesterday. It was so easy to get emotionally involved with her patients, to share in their grief and in their achievements. The fact that she’d known Will intimately eight years ago made her even more susceptible to emotional involvement. Somehow she had to find a way to help him regain the use of his legs and retain her own equilibrium at the same time. That wasn’t going to be easy.
Oh, no, she thought to herself. That wasn’t going to be easy at all. She hadn’t been on an even keel since yesterday, but she hadn’t realized just how much Will had affected her until she’d seen Tommy running toward her a few minutes ago. She’d known he had the day off from school, and she’d known he and Mrs. Hall were going to stop by later this morning. But while she’d been working with Will, Krista had lost all track of time and had forgotten about Tommy’s visit. That hadn’t happened before, but then she hadn’t been kissed senseless by one of her patients before, either. From now on, she was going to have to stay on her toes and try to keep one step ahead of Will.
She watched as Tommy and Mrs. Hall disappeared through the door at the end of the corridor. Grasping the handles on Will’s chair, Krista finally answered his question. “I’m not married.”
Will turned around in his chair to look up at her. “That must make those tight-a—”
His eyes darted to the left, and he let the soft a sound trail away into thin air. Understanding dawned as she followed his gaze and noticed that Mrs. Felpont, Heather’s elderly patient, had moved within hearing distance.
“Er, make that those tight-lipped sisters of yours feel like gloating even more.”
Krista smiled at Mrs. Felpont, wondering how many men these days would have cleaned up their language because a kindly gray-haired lady was nearby. Once again she fought her rising sense of wonder.
Staring down into Will’s eyes, she couldn’t help noticing the derision in his expression. He never had thought much of her sisters. She shook her head in answer to his question, deciding not to go on to explain that she didn’t have a lot of contact with her family anymore. Not that she’d ever had much in common with them in the first place.
“Come on, Krista,” he said, drawing her back to the present. “We have less than an hour left for my therapy today. If we want to get me on my feet, we have to get moving.”
Krista hurried after Will, thinking it wasn’t going to be easy to stay one step ahead of this man. The fact that he couldn’t walk made absolutely no difference whatsoever.
She caught up with him inside the double doors and found him looking all around. In one corner of the room, another therapist was helping a young girl into a whirlpool tub. Brody was barking encouragement to a large black man who was lifting weights. Heather was working with Mrs. Felpont, and still another with a teenage boy.
Krista glanced down at Will’s face. His grin had slipped away and had been replaced with a serious expression people rarely associated with Billy the Kid. He really was different in many ways. She wondered if the years had changed him, or if the accident had.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you loosened up.”
He glanced from one end of her body to the other. By the time it came back to her face, the seriousness had left his expression. “I thought you’d never ask.”
She felt a tingling in the pit of her stomach and a grudging smile on her lips. Will always had been able to turn an innocent phrase into something provocative. She was definitely going to have a hard time keeping one step ahead of him. The surprising thing was, she was looking forward to it.
He set the brake on his wheelchair and placed one hand on the chair’s armrest and the other hand on the low table, swinging himself over with amazing ease. Krista moved the wheelchair out of the way and said, “Lie on your back with your head on that pillow. I’m going to stretch your muscles and help keep those joints limber.”
Will did as she instructed, lying back and grasping the handrails to maneuver himself up to the top of the table. Krista started with his right leg, lifting it, rotating it, bending his knee and pushing toward his body. Her touch was firm yet gentle, and he tried to imagine that his muscles were moving on their own.
“I know this is uncomfortable,” she said. “Tell me if it becomes unbearable.”
He watched her intently as he said, “Three months ago I couldn’t feel anything from my waist down. Believe me, a little discomfort isn’t a bad thing.”
She continued to work on him, pulling gently, then twisting and pushing. At one point, she tucked his ankle under her arm, the side of her breast cushioning his lower leg like a feather pillow. Using her body for leverage, she leaned forward, bending his knee, then straightening his leg.
“How does that feel?” she asked, repeating the exercise.
His gaze skimmed her breasts before settling on her face. “That feels great.”
She nodded and continued with his therapy.
“Let’s talk,” he said, his voice catching on the last word as she pressed his bent knee toward his body.
“All right. Let’s start by establishing those ground rules I mentioned earlier.”
“Ground rules, huh? I suppose I can assume that asking about your sex life is off limits?”
Her eyes narrowed speculatively. “I’ve already told you I’ve sworn off men. Even if I hadn’t, that particular topic would definitely be off limits.”
“Okay, why don’t you tell me what you’re wearing underneath that cute little uniform?”
He winced as she twisted his leg, and even though her attention appeared to be completely trained on his knee, Will caught her little smile. After a long pause, he finally said, “Then tell me about your son.”
That brought a bigger smile to her lips. “Tommy’s a great kid,” she said, moving to the other side of the table, where she began to repeat the entire procedure with his left leg. “Like I said, he’s six going on thirty. We live in Coopersburg, a small town about twelve miles from here.”
“You said he’s gifted. That must make your family happy.”
Her touch remained gentle while she worked his left leg, but her voice contained a strange edge of irony as she said, “Actually, they don’t approve of the way I’m raising him.”
“What’s not to approve of? He looks pretty happy to me. He knows baseball and he looks just like you.”
“That was the first thing I did wrong,” she answered. “I gave him my genes.”
“Those are some genes, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
Instead of smiling the way he’d expected, she remained completely serious. “I’m sure they would have preferred it if he’d been tall and blond and straitlaced like they are.”
He scowled to himself. Krista’s family probably didn’t approve of the fact that Tommy liked baseball, either. Her sisters sounded just as huffy and highfalutin as they always had. It didn’t sound as if Katrina, Kimberly or Kendra had changed over the past eight years.
“Tommy looks like a well-adjusted, impish little kid. I’d say you should be proud.”
Krista heard the depth of sincerity in Will’s voice. Looking from his legs straight into his eyes, she lowered herself to the table next to him, lowering her eyes at the same time. “Do you know what makes me the most proud?”
“What?” he asked softly.
“The fact that he’s having a normal childhood.” She glanced at him to see if he understood and found him watching her closely. “I mean, I know he’s exceptionally bright. After all, he’s only six years old and he’s already in the second grade. But he likes baseball and soccer as well as playing the violin. He has a new little friend. Her name is Stephanie, and even though most boys his age have other boys for their best friend—”
“You said he was smart,” Will cut in.
Krista rolled her eyes and began kneading the muscles in his calf, slowly working her way up his leg. “I never know what to expect from that boy. Even though his reasoning skills are amazing, he still believes in Santa Claus.”
“Doesn’t everybody?”
Krista felt a smile steal through her, thinking it was ironic that she’d told Will that Tommy was six going on thirty, when Will was thirty going on six.
She heard Will clear his throat and call her name. For a moment she wondered why his voice had gone so low, so husky, so deep.
“Uh, Krista?” he said, finally breaking into her reverie. “You’re getting awfully close to a particularly sensitive part of my anatomy.”
She came back from her musings with a start. He was right. Her hands had wandered awfully close to...a place that was definitely off limits. “Sorry about that,” she whispered.
“Believe me, I don’t mind,” he answered. “It’s just that if you keep it up, I’m going to pull you on top of me and finish what you started.”
“Is that what you did with Miss July?” she asked, mentally kicking herself for letting her curiosity show.
He took his time tucking his hands underneath his head. His eyes had darkened, taking on an intense expression, as he said, “Now you’ve stumbled onto a topic that’s off limits.”
She turned from her task and laughed unexpectedly, a spontaneous, deep, pleasant laugh that was the essence of the woman herself, a laugh that made a man think of other activities even more spontaneous, even more pleasant. Will was aware that other people in the room had turned when they’d heard Krista’s laughter. More than anything, he was aware of the way the throaty sound had sneaked inside his body, and the way the touch of her hands had sneaked up his thigh. Both felt good.
Lowering his leg to the table, she said, “I know you still have some time left for therapy today, but I think we’ve just about covered everything for the first session. Come on. I’ll push you back to the room where we started. Tomorrow, we’ll pick up where we left off.”
Without saying a word, he sat up and maneuvered himself back into the wheelchair. She’d said that tomorrow they’d pick up where they left off. Will was pretty sure she hadn’t meant where they’d left off eight years ago.
For the millionth time these past three months he wondered what his life would have been like if he hadn’t gotten behind the wheel of that rental car last July. What if he’d seen the out-of-control truck sooner? What if he never regained all his movement? What if this was as good as he’d ever be?
No. Will wouldn’t concentrate on what if. He’d survived the car accident. He’d gotten his feeling back, and bit by bit he’d regain his strength. He knew he should count his blessings in another area, too. His sex drive was intact. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so aware of his raging hormones. Maybe it was because of Krista.
There was one what if he didn’t mind thinking about. Krista undoubtedly had good reasons for swearing off all men. What if he was the one man who could change her mind?
* * *
Every few seconds, Will punched another channel on the TV’s remote control. Situation comedies didn’t appeal to him tonight. Neither did rescue or cop shows. An action movie caught his attention briefly, but after only minutes he flipped to the next station. In a moment of undiluted annoyance, he punched the Off button and jumped to his feet. At least that’s what his brain told his body to do. Swearing under his breath, he reached for his crutches and pulled himself up to a standing position.
A primitive panic wrapped its fingers around his throat and threatened to cut off his breathing. Damn. He hated this god-awful inability to move on his own. Tiny rooms didn’t faze him, and small spaces had always made him feel cozy. But this was different. This paralysis closed in on him like moving walls in horror movies.
Will grasped his crutches and maneuvered around the room, cursing the panic out loud until his breathing returned to normal and his thoughts calmed. He stopped at the sliding door in his first-floor apartment. Peering through the rain-speckled glass, he noticed lights coming on across the street. Standing there all alone in his apartment, which contained some of the most modern conveniences money could buy, he wondered if he should have taken his mother up on her offer to come and stay with him until he was back on his feet.
In his mind, he pictured the Nebraska sun glinting off the whitewashed buildings back home. It was harvest time, and his father and brother would probably be walking toward the house right about now, the day’s dust thick on their skin. Inside, his mother would have a huge meal prepared. Voices would rise and fall during supper as Cort and their father argued about the price of wheat and just about everything else under the sun. In comparison, Will’s furnished apartment here in Allentown seemed as quiet as a crypt, and just as confining.
His family had wanted him to come home for the rest of his rehabilitation. Will knew they’d have done everything in their power to help him. That’s why he hadn’t gone. If he had let them do everything for him, he knew he’d never make it all the way back. That’s why he’d decided to come to Krista. She’d force him to reach his full potential. She always had.
Krista.
He glanced behind him at the gray carpet and the gray walls and the gray curtains and the gray sofa. Even the air looked gray. He remembered the way Krista’s pink lips had lifted when she smiled, the way her brown eyes had glinted when she laughed and the way her cheeks had colored when he’d asked about her sex life. Nothing about Krista was gray. Not her appearance, certainly not her personality.
Will thought about the past two days, remembering everything about her, the way she moved, what she said, even the way she said it. The intricate details in his memories surprised him. He was usually hard-pressed to put a name with a face. Yet in eight years, he hadn’t forgotten anything about her.
Not that she was exactly the same as he remembered. There was a subtle difference in her smiles, and he was sure he’d never heard so much pride and love in her voice as he’d heard today when she’d talked about her son. She said they lived in Coopersburg, a small town twelve miles away. For the heck of it, Will took out the telephone directory and turned to the area maps.
He located Coopersburg on Highway 309, and wondered what sort of town it was. He wondered what her house looked like. Out of the blue, he wondered what was stopping him from finding out.
Twenty minutes later he eased the midsize car around the last corner, steering with his left hand, accelerating and braking with his right. This specially made car served its purpose, but he couldn’t wait to drive his midnight blue sports car with four on the floor and raised-letter tires.
He slowed down when he spotted the house with the number he was looking for. So this is where Krista lives. The house sat on the corner, the streetlight reflecting off forest green siding and a black roof and shutters. A red bicycle leaned against the garage and wet leaves covered the compact yard. A small scarecrow hung from a Happy Halloween sign on the front door, and a ceramic black cat sat on the bottom step.
For a moment, he simply stared at the small house. He hadn’t called first, and he hadn’t been invited. That had never stopped him before. With anticipation strumming through him, he pulled the keys from the ignition, reached for his crutches and opened the door.
Leaves squished beneath his feet as he made his way to the front door, the panic that had threatened to choke him half an hour ago nearly gone. Now another sensation mingled with the restlessness in his mind and chest, this one infinitely more enjoyable.
He knocked on the door, deciding to say something clever and nonchalant the moment Krista opened it. He saw a curtain flutter and heard the lock turn. His anticipation increased and he felt himself begin to smile.
The door opened, but his words caught in his chest. All Will could do was stare.
Krista’s hair was down, waving past her shoulders like a dark cloud. The porch light deepened the color of her eyes and made the skin on her face look almost translucent.
“Will, are you all right?”
He nodded woodenly.
“Then, what are you doing here?” she asked.
“I had to get out of that apartment before it swallowed me alive.” Was that his voice, so hazy and far away?
“That’s understandable,” she said. “You always were a man of action. Come on in.”
The soft rustle of her long purple shirt brought him out of his befuddled state. Taking a deep breath, he mentally kicked himself. So much for sweeping her away with his nonchalance. He had an almost overwhelming urge to drop his crutches and take her into his arms, to grasp her shoulders and pull her up to him for a long, drugging kiss. He wondered if she’d consider that off limits, too.
Finally he cast her what he hoped was a beguiling grin. “I thought about taking a walk, but decided to go visiting instead.”
“How many people do you know in Pennsylvania?” she asked.
“Counting myself, two.”
Shaking her head, Krista began to laugh. When she’d first seen Will standing on her front step, he’d looked bewildered, shaken. Why wouldn’t he be? Even the most self-confident, rugged men would be rocked by the kind of injury Will had sustained.
“Nice place.”
She watched as he took in the interior of her home, following his gaze as it strayed over textured wallpaper in shades of burgundy, gold and green, lighting on her overstuffed sofa and chairs and lacy curtains. He didn’t stop until he’d taken in the computer in the corner, Tommy’s radio-controlled car next to the couch and the baby toys she’d gotten out for her best friend’s triplets to play with in the morning.
“Did you decorate this yourself?” he asked, his voice low.
She made a sound that meant yes, then said, “Decorating magazines would call this room French country.”
“I’m not surprised,” he said softly. “You always had a passion for anything French.”
Krista looked directly into his eyes, noticing that the panic she’d seen when she’d first opened the door was gone. This was more like the Will she remembered. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she was glad that she’d been able to help him chase the dragons away.
“French restaurants are my favorite,” she said softly.
The stubble on his chin looked almost black in the faint light as he took a step closer. “And French bread,” he added with a half smile.
She crossed her arms and held his gaze as she said, “And don’t forget French toast.”
His crutch clunked against the coffee table as he took another step closer. “And then there’s always French kissing,” he said huskily.
This time, Krista didn’t add anything.
“Do you remember how much you used to love that, Krista?”
Her eyes drifted down to his mouth, and warmth drifted through her body. He had sensuous lips, masculinely shaped and boyishly pouty. Her skin heated in spite of the thin material of her shirt and jeans. That didn’t keep her eyes from trailing down his neck, over his wide shoulders and powerful arms, over his chest and trim stomach. Rather than detract from his powerful physique, the crutches somehow added to his mystery. Krista doubted that anything could alter his allure.
“I remember a lot of French things,” she said. “Tommy’s favorite is french fries.”
“He’s still young.”
Before she knew it, laughter bubbled out of her. “Oh, Will. Would you like to sit down?”
“I’d rather kiss you.”
His honesty was like a wick, his gaze a lighted match. Together they stoked a fire within her, a fire she’d thought had been extinguished a long time ago. That fire had burned out of control once. Krista didn’t plan to lose control again.
He moved toward her. This time she took a step back.
“Tommy’s sleeping right down the hall.”
“I wasn’t planning to make a lot of noise.”
His statement brought her eyebrows up. He used to make plenty of noise, and they both knew it. Holding out her hand to halt his forward movement, she said, “Will, a lot has changed since the old days. I have a different life now. I have a son and a home and work I enjoy. We both know the attraction is still between us, but if all you wanted was sex, I think you would have stayed with Miss July, don’t you?”
He was leaning on his crutches, his eyes narrowing a little more with every word she said. He looked at her so long and so hard that she wondered if he could see inside her mind. Taking a deep breath, he shrugged and tilted his head to one side. After a long moment, he finally said, “Her name wasn’t really Miss July.”
“Oh, really? What was her name?”
“I forget.”
This time her laugh was more like a snort, but it relieved the pressure inside her and lightened the moment. His little jest told her that he understood what she was trying to tell him. He understood that she couldn’t let herself get involved with him, not now, not after she’d come so far. He understood, and she was grateful.
“Since I’m the only person you know in Pennsylvania, could I offer you a cup of hot chocolate?”
Will clenched his teeth, feeling a muscle move in his jaw. Her statement about the reason he’d come to Pennsylvania hit home. She was right. He hadn’t come to her because he wanted to start up where they’d left off when they were young. He’d gone to the Fourth Street Rehab Center because he wanted her to help him get his strength and stamina back. He knew she wouldn’t have had to agree to be his physical therapist. Yet she had. It was his turn to be grateful.
“Hot chocolate sounds great, as long as you promise to talk to me while we drink it. Those walls in my apartment really were closing in on me.”
She turned so quickly that her oversize shirt fluttered behind her before settling around her thighs once again. “Hot chocolate and friendly conversation coming right up.”
He assumed the fact that she continued talking meant that she expected him to follow her. He trailed after her, propping himself against the counter in her U-shaped kitchen.
“That claustrophobic sensation you’re experiencing is perfectly normal. People who are paralyzed or suddenly lose their sight or hearing often experience that kind of panic,” she said as she added water to the teakettle and turned on the burner.
“Does it go away?” he asked.
“Usually,” she said, reaching onto a shelf for two mugs.
Will flattened his palm against the ceramictile counter, smoothing his hand over the cool, shiny surface. Fluffy green area rugs were scattered here and there over the vinyl floor. The table was wood, the chairs cane backed. Woven shades covered the windows, and in the middle of it all, Krista stood at the stove pouring instant hot chocolate into mugs, her hair a riot of waves, her purple shirt clinging to her softly rounded form.
“How long have you lived here?” he asked.
“Three years,” she said, turning around to lean on the counter on the other side of the kitchen.
“Did you live here with Tommy’s father?”
She shook her head slowly. “That relationship ended before Tommy was born. After that, my wandering days were over.”
Will didn’t understand why her words struck such a chord inside him. Her statement was simple enough, but it seemed to be filled with hidden meaning.
“Decorators might think this room is a little too much,” she confessed, obviously attempting to change the subject. “But I like it. Most people decorate with color. I’m a texture person. It has to feel good in order for me to like it.”
He saw her suck in a quick breath as if she’d just realized what she’d said. He could have said something provocative. The Lord only knew how many possibilities flitted through his mind. She’d said she was a texture person. He imagined the texture of her palm gliding over his arm, up to his shoulders and across his chest. He imagined her fingers dipping to the center of his abdomen, and wandering farther.
They both jumped when the teakettle whistled, then grinned sheepishly when she removed it from the burner. While she stirred boiling water into the hot cocoa mix, Will looked on, trying to get his screaming hormones in check. He wanted Krista, but he knew she was right. He hadn’t come here, to Allentown in general or here tonight in particular, to start something. Besides, she’d told him in a couple of different ways that she wasn’t looking for a relationship. Once she’d said she’d sworn off men. Another time she’d told him that theirs would be strictly a patient/therapist relationship. Just now, she’d offered friendship in a roundabout way. Under the circumstances, Will didn’t see how he could turn it down or expect anything more.
She placed the mug of hot cocoa on the counter. Motioning to the low-backed bar stool behind him, she said, “Let’s sit in here.”
Will rounded the counter and leaned into the chair. After propping his crutches against the counter, he took a sip of cocoa and said, “Mmm. Tastes good.”
She nodded. “Hot chocolate is okay, but I dream about coffee.”
“You dream about coffee?”
She nodded again. “My one and only weakness.”
Will eyed her over the rim of his mug and said, “I know, I know. You used to have two, but you gave up men.”
He wasn’t sure he liked the fact that men had been easier for her to give up than coffee. “I can understand why you’re happy with your life, Krista. I mean, you have a cute kid and a nice house and a good job. But why would you give up men completely?”
Krista couldn’t help laughing at Will’s dark expression. Placing her hand on his arm, she said, “You make it sound like I gave up candy for Lent. I didn’t do it for penance, Will. I did it to find my own happiness.” Lifting her hand from his arm, she placed her palm over her heart.
“And did you find your own happiness?” he asked quietly.
She looked around her at her kitchen with all its textures, at the clutter on the counter near the phone, at the field-trip form she’d signed for Tommy and the refrigerator covered with his drawings. She eyed the watch she wore for work and her name badge she always put on just before she walked out the door.
“Not the kind I thought I always wanted, but yes,” she replied, keenly aware of his scrutiny. “I have.”
After a long silence while they both sipped their hot chocolate, she asked, “Have you?”
Will thought about her question. Had he found happiness? At times he was happy enough. He knew he was going to be thrilled when he could walk on his own again. But that wasn’t what she’d meant. He’d had a happy childhood and plenty of happy times. Until these past three months, he hadn’t given happiness much thought. Until tonight, he’d never put his feelings on the subject into words.
Smoothing his finger up and down the handle on his mug of hot cocoa, he said, “I was young and cocky when the Detroit Cougars drafted me into the minor leagues. When I made it to the major leagues the following year, I thought I was on top of the world, thought I was invincible. For three years, I was. Then I had a bad season, tore up my knee. My swing was off. So was my timing. Before I knew it, they traded me to the New York Titans, traded me like stamps or marbles. That brought me down a peg or two, believe me.”
“That’s the way of the game. You play by the rules. Nothing personal, right?” she said quietly.
Nothing personal. Will glanced sideways at her, wondering what she was thinking. “I guess pro sports is a long way from physical therapy, huh?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she answered. “They both have their rules. I think people should do what they enjoy.”
She tipped her mug up and drank the last of her cocoa. Mesmerized, Will stared at her slender neck as she swallowed, and then at her mouth as she flicked her tongue across her upper lip. She’d said people should do what they enjoyed. He’d enjoy tasting the chocolate on her lips.
His heart began to hammer in his chest and his breathing deepened as he said, “It would probably be against one of those rules to kiss you.”
She nodded. A second later, she started to laugh. She’d laughed this way earlier today, spontaneous and throaty. Then, like now, the sound sneaked into his senses, reminding him of how her laughter used to trail away when he touched her. His body heated from the memories alone. How he’d love to touch her again, to slide his hands into the V-neckline of her shirt and glide it down her body. He’d love to cover her breasts with his palms, then bend to take each peak into his mouth. And then he’d swing her into his arms and stride with her to the bed....
He came back to his senses in the nick of time. He couldn’t take her in his arms and carry her off to bed. He couldn’t even walk without crutches. Besides, if kissing his therapist was against the rules, he had no doubt that making love with her was, too.
He finished his own hot chocolate, aware that she was watching him intently. He replaced his mug on the counter and reached for his crutches. She looked a little surprised, as if she’d expected him to kiss her anyway, or at least to try. He’d have loved to do just that. But he wouldn’t, at least not yet.
She followed him as he made his way to the front door. Moving ahead of him, she opened it. Will turned on the top step, loving the surge of adrenaline pumping through his body.
“Will,” she said. “I don’t think I like what you’re thinking.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking?” he asked, the picture of innocence.
“Because I’ve seen that look in your eyes before,” she replied. “If I remember correctly you always looked like that when you had something dirty on your mind.”
He gave her a thorough once-over, silently giving her credit for being absolutely right. Rather than admitting it out loud, he said, “If you know what I’m thinking, I’m not the only one with a dirty mind.”
He saw the surprise in her eyes, and the sensuality, too. What a combination.
He glanced into her living room behind her, at all the textures she loved. She had changed in many ways, but in that way she was still the same. She’d always loved to touch.
Memories of Krista’s touch scattered his thoughts much like the late-night breeze was fluttering across the wet leaves on the sidewalk behind him. Like moisture soaking into those leaves, one thought soaked into his mind. In that instant, he began to wonder if maybe there had been more than one reason for his arrival in Pennsylvania.
Will had never believed in fate. He preferred to think that a person carved out his own future. But maybe fate had played a role in this, after all. Maybe fate had sent him to Krista’s house tonight. One thing he knew for sure: he’d gone there with panic tied around his windpipe. Now the panic was gone and desire was pumping through his body.
He wanted Krista Wilson. He wondered if it was against the rules to shout it at the top of his lungs. Whether it was or not, he wouldn’t do that. Sure, he wanted her, but if he was ever going to have her, he knew he’d have to be a lot more subtle than that.
Will suddenly felt as if this was the first inning of a brand-new game. The stands were full and the sun was shining. Billy the Kid was up to bat, and the sky was the limit. Will Sutherland was back in the game. In more ways than one.
“Good night, Krista,” he said before turning around, purposefully using his deepest tone of voice.
“Will?” she asked, drawing his gaze back to hers. “I just want you to know that you’re welcome to call or stop by whenever the walls start to close in on you.”
He felt as if his blood were thickening to molasses, swelling his chest and heating his body. “Thanks,” he said softly. “There’s something I’d like you to know, too.”
“What’s that?”
“Miss July and I never—” He clamped his mouth shut without finishing. Where in the world had that declaration come from?
“Oh, Will,” she murmured. “I’m sorry.”
Will felt the adrenaline leak out of him like air from an open valve. Krista had tipped her head to one side and was looking at him as if she was genuinely sympathetic. He wanted to tell her that he wasn’t sorry, that he could have made love with the other woman if he’d have wanted to. He just hadn’t wanted to.
Turning away from the sympathy in her expression, he clenched his jaw and began to make his way to his car. Moments ago he’d felt as if he was standing at bat in the first inning of a brand-new game. Now it seemed as if, in the blink of an eye, the game had been rained out.
He didn’t want anyone’s pity, least of all Krista’s. Okay, he thought to himself as he stuffed his crutches into the car and drove away. Maybe she hadn’t looked at him with pity in her eyes, but there had been sympathy. And that was almost as bad.
Will tried to imagine that he was lacing up his cleats and stepping up to home plate. In his imagination, he gripped the bat in his hands, measuring its weight. Unbidden came the image of Krista’s satin-covered skin filling his palms.
Scowling, he flipped on the radio and turned up the volume. He let his mind go blank as he drove back to his plain gray apartment.

Three
“Look out. Here they come!” Tommy called from the back door.
Krista tweaked Tommy’s nose as her best friend, Gina Harris, somehow managed to get all three of her daughters through the door and into the kitchen. Since Krista’s schedule was open until her ten o’clock session with Will, she’d offered to watch the triplets while Gina went to the dentist first thing this morning. In return, Gina would drop Tommy off at school.
The next few minutes were a flurry of activity as three bonnets were removed and three toddlers scampered around the kitchen, then darted into the next room, three pastel streaks of lace, ribbons and perpetual motion.
Krista, Tommy and Gina all poked their heads into the living room where the triplets began pulling Tommy’s old baby toys from a cardboard box. Other than Tommy, Gina’s twenty-two-month-old girls, Sarah, Beth and Abby, were the most adorable children Krista had ever seen.
“Did I really used to play with those toys?” Tommy whispered.
“You sure did,” Krista answered, smoothing her fingers over a stubborn lock of hair near the back of her son’s head. The instant she lifted her fingers, the hairs sprang up again.
“Wow,” Tommy whispered in awe. “Three babies at once. That is so cool.”
Cool was Tommy’s favorite word.
“Tommy,” Krista said. “Have you brushed your teeth?”
The boy nodded. “I just have to get my backpack and I’ll be ready to go.”
Instead of turning toward his bedroom, he looked up at Gina and said, “Did you know that only one out of every nine thousand, two hundred and seventy-three babies born is a triplet?”
Gina and Krista exchanged a smile before Gina answered, “No, Tommy, I didn’t know that.”
“I saw this really long equation in the Professor’s Book of Formulas at the library the other day, and the librarian said that’s what it meant. I thought it was cool and I thought you might want to know.” With that, he hurried toward his bedroom, those few stubborn hairs on the very top of his head swaying to and fro with every step he took.
Leaning toward Krista, Gina whispered, “I don’t think that professor figured Taylor’s stamina into that equation, do you?”
Krista shook her head and rolled her eyes. Ever since her best friend had met and married Taylor Harris, little innuendos about sex had become commonplace.
“I doubt they could have figured in your stamina, either, Gina. Now, why don’t you tell me what the girls are going to need while you’re gone.”
She listened intently as Gina listed everything the triplets might require, from the location of diapers and a change of clothes to the crackers and apple juice she removed from the bag on the counter. Krista wasn’t aware of anything amiss, but halfway through, Gina stopped talking and eyed her critically.
“What?” Krista asked.
“It just occurred to me that you’re in an awfully good mood this morning and the coffee isn’t even on.” Without another word, Gina strode across the kitchen and inspected a used mug.
“There are two mugs here, and I happen to know that Tommy is allergic to chocolate,” Gina said shrewdly.
“Oh, that one’s Will’s.”
“Will?”
“Will Sutherland.”
“You mean a man was here?” Gina asked, her voice rising an octave.
“Yes,” Krista answered. “But not the way you’re thinking.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking?”
“Because I know you. Ever since you met Taylor, you’ve had an X-rated mind.”
Gina smiled and pushed her chin-length blond hair out of her face. “Maybe you’re the one with the X-rated mind, Krista.”
Will had said something similar last night. For heaven’s sakes, was it really that obvious?
Even now she was a bit surprised by the ease with which she and Will had talked last night. After eight years, she would have thought they’d be a little uncomfortable with each other. She had no intention of allowing their relationship to go beyond patient-therapist-friend, but she had enjoyed his company.
He’d looked tired when he’d left. Why wouldn’t he? He’d driven across two states, settled into a new apartment and had begun a new therapy program. He’d always had incredible stamina, but his fatigue, along with the fact that he’d confided in her about what didn’t happen between him and his former therapist, made her feelings toward him shift, swell, soften. She’d gone to bed humming last night, and she woke up the same way. For the first time in years, she hadn’t needed a cup of coffee to clear her mind and begin a new day.
“Krista, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many sparks in your eyes,” Gina declared.
“These are sparks of battle,” she said. “I’m a little surprised by them myself.”
“This guy must really be sexy to have you in this good a mood first thing in the morning.”
“For heaven’s sakes, Gina. Our children are in the next room.” Krista glanced around. Finding the coast clear, she smiled grudgingly and said, “As a matter of fact, he is. But I’m not going to give in to the attraction. Forewarned is forearmed.”
“I don’t know,” Gina declared. “Maybe you should give another man a chance.”
Krista didn’t mind Gina’s candor. These conversations were as natural to them as the friendship they’d formed five years ago. Caring people made the world go round. They also made life worth living. Besides, Krista enjoyed teasing Gina just as much.
The voice of a singing dinosaur carried to their ears. Evidently, Tommy had turned the television on for the girls.

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