His Private Nurse
His Private Nurse
Arlene James
HER UNDOINGRoyce Lawler was dark and mysterious, movie-star handsome and dangerously seductive even when flat on his back. And prim and professional Merrily Gage was supposed to live alone with this man, tending to his every need as his private nurse? She didn't stand a chance.But then, neither did the single dad. Because Merrily was too good at what she did, too easy to like, to want…to need. Yet no matter how strong his desire, Royce couldn't bring the innocent beauty any further into the nightmare of his life–especially since his fall was no accident. Especially since Royce would do anything to keep sweet, sweet Merrily safe.
“Well, that was odd. He kept talking to me like I’m your personal nurse or something.”
Royce ducked his head sheepishly. “I, um, might have accidentally led him to believe that.”
“What? Why would you do that?”
“Because I’m not supposed to leave here unless I have someone who can take care of me.”
Merrily blinked at him. “Me? You want me to move in with you?” she asked disbelievingly.
“I know it’s selfish,” he said, taking her hand. She jumped, lightning flashing up her arm. “But I’m desperate. I’ll make it worth your while.”
She gaped at his handsome face. This gorgeous man wanted her to move in with him, at least temporarily. He didn’t have to just disappear out of her life, after all….
Dear Reader,
There’s more than one way to enjoy the summer. By picking up this month’s Silhouette Special Edition romances, you will find an emotional escape that is sure to touch your heart and leave you believing in happily-ever-after!
I am pleased to introduce a gripping tale of true love and family from celebrated author Stella Bagwell. In White Dove’s Promise, which launches a six-book spin-off—plus a Christmas story collection—of the popular COLTONS series, a dashing Native American hero has trouble staying in one place, until he finds himself entangled in a soul-searing embrace with a beautiful single mother, who teaches him about roots…and lifelong passion.
No “keeper” shelf is complete without a gem from Joan Elliott Pickart. In The Royal MacAllister, a woman seeks her true identity and falls madly in love with a true royal! In The Best Man’s Plan, bestselling and award-winning author Gina Wilkins delights us with a darling love story between a lovely shop owner and a wealthy businessman, who set up a fake romance to trick the tabloids…and wind up falling in love for real!
Lisa Jackson’s The McCaffertys: Slade features a lady lawyer who comes home and faces a heartbreaker hero, who desperately wants a chance to prove his love to her. In Mad Enough To Marry, Christie Ridgway entertains us with an adorable tale of that maddening love that happens only when two kindred spirits must share the same space. Be sure to pick up Arlene James’s His Private Nurse, where a single father falls for the feisty nurse hired to watch over him after a suspicious accident. You won’t want to miss it!
Each month, Silhouette Special Edition delivers compelling stories of life, love and family. I wish you a relaxing summer and happy reading.
Sincerely,
Karen Taylor Richman
Senior Editor
His Private Nurse
Arlene James
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ARLENE JAMES
grew up in Oklahoma and has lived all over the South. In 1976 she married “the most romantic man in the world.” The author enjoys traveling with her husband, but writing has always been her chief pastime.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Prologue
Royce leaned forward and placed his hands on the railing, staring into the silent darkness. On a warm summer night like this, nocturnal creatures usually kept up a steady chorus, crickets, coyotes and the occasional small owl on the prowl for an unwary field mouse or ground squirrel. Tonight, however, an unnatural silence reigned, and Royce knew why. Someone waited out there.
He gripped the squared edges of the wood railing. Rough and solid beneath his palms, it conveyed a sense of permanence, of ownership. Beyond the deck where he stood and the black, irregular skyline of scrubby forest that flowed down the hill upon which he had built his secluded home, San Antonio spread out in a rumpled quilt of white and amber lights, stitched together by the sinuously askew seams of major streets and highways. He often stood on the large, terraced deck, gazing out over the city he both loved and nightly escaped, a city he had helped to build, often with his own two hands. This night, however, he studied the ground below, the murky black shadows of lush forest cedar interspersed with spindly sprays of mesquite and squat, wicked cactus.
She was there. Somewhere. He could not see her, but she was there. He sensed her, still attuned even after these many, many months to his ex-wife’s volatile presence. Every time the kids slept over, she made some sort of scene, created some sort of crisis. He couldn’t believe that tonight would be the exception.
Quietly, so as not to disturb his daughter, whose room in the large, rambling house overlooked the deck, he turned and moved to the top of the steep, open stairs that would carry him down to the narrow drive that ran behind the house. The warm summer breeze made his T-shirt stick to his back and molded the thin pajama bottoms to his body. He did not want another confrontation, but this madness had to stop.
He was certain that she was there, stalking, watching, planning her next scene, her next outrageous demand, utterly determined to ruin his life, to punish him for failing to make her happy, for failing to make all her mad dreams come true. She was there, wanting, needing, his destruction. Most of all, she wanted to turn his children against him, to ensure that he did not see them if she could, to remove his influence from their sad, unstable lives and, if she could not manage that, then to ruin every visit, every cherished moment that he spent with them, because, more than she wanted money, control, someone to worship at her feet and make all her fears go away, she wanted to remove every vestige of the love she could not claim from his life.
Until he felt the hands at the small of his back, he did not realize that, even more than she wanted to punish him, she wanted him dead.
Chapter One
Pain swirled through his body, dull here, deep there, throbbing, pulsing, ambiguous. He floated on it, drifting blindly from one ache to another, trying to form thoughts, losing them. Then suddenly, hot pincers clamped his inner thigh and began slowly tearing the muscle from the bone. He heard a hoarse, agonized cry. A fellow sufferer or him? Him, he decided, dimly aware of trying to reach the source of his agony. His right arm felt as if it were nailed down, and when he tried to move it, a new pain flooded him.
Someone whom he couldn’t see said, “I’ve got it. I’ve got it.” It was an angel’s voice, melodic and female.
Small, cool hands kneaded away the anguish. The white-hot pinching faded. Ahhhhh. The relief felt magical. He was floating again, his whole being focused on the sensations aroused by those hands slowly working their way up his thigh, electrifying his flesh. A new sensation rose—literally. A roiling sea of contrasts tossed him from one extreme to another: shadows and light, heat and cold, pain and indulgence. The relief of unconsciousness and the greed of arousal beckoned with equal appeal.
Lyrical, that voice whispered in his ear again. “There. How’s that? Better? Cramp gone now?”
He tried to answer, but his tongue felt thick and unwieldly in his dry mouth. “Ungh.”
The wondrous hands vanished. He tried to bring them back, becoming aware of incapacitating weakness and muscles tight with soreness, of a dizzy head and confusion. Where was he? The unusual heaviness on his right side and in his groin weighed him down. Then he felt something brush against his lips. Ah, his erotic angel had not abandoned him. The heaviness in his groin grew more pronounced. He puckered his mouth around a small round something.
“Sip. Just a sip.”
Like honey, that voice. Cool, sweet water flowed into his mouth, and he gulped it greedily. Panting with relief, he squinted his eyes, trying to focus.
“Are you in pain? Use this.”
Something hard was pressed into his hand. He lifted his head, tried to look at the thing in his palm and got distracted by a new realization. A bed. He was in bed. But with whom? He tried to put a name, a face, a body to that voice.
“Like this.”
Slender fingers wrapped around and manipulated his own. The haze parted, and he looked up into a pretty, delicate face, one he had surely never seen before. Dark hair, a long, thick plait of it coiled beneath her ear. Soft, green eyes. The nose was almost too small, the chin almost too pointed, but the mouth… Oh, the mouth. A perfect, pink, beestung bow. A mouth waiting to be kissed. By him.
Heat pulsed in his groin, and instinctively he lifted his arm, the left one, since the right had turned to stone. The hard thing fell away, but he paid it no mind as he clasped his hand behind her head, his erotic angel with the dulcet voice and gentle touch. Straining upward and pulling down, he brought his mouth to hers. Her lips were soft and supple. They parted against his, and he used all his strength to press harder, to taste her. Sweet. So very sweet. He held on to that as long as he could, his only reality in a nightmare of torture and chaos.
Hums and squeaks swirled around him, fire and pain, need and delight. Where had he met her? What was her name, and why couldn’t he remember? Despite his best efforts, gloom eddied in the center of his mind, denying him answers and growing in rings of numbing shadow, darker, darker, until the world went black with a noisy clang.
An electronically generated bell donged in measured cadence. Merrily glanced away from the notation desk where she sat catching up on paperwork to check the alarm board. Room 18. At the thought of the patient there, color instantly bloomed in her cheeks. Royce Lawler was badly injured, movie-star handsome and dangerously seductive even when drugged out of his mind. Apparently, he had finally obtained full consciousness, poor guy.
Normally, with a patient in this much pain, Merrily would have jumped up and rushed to his aid, but this time, despite her sympathy for the man’s injuries, she hesitated long enough to look around for someone else to answer this particular call. In just the time it took to turn her head, however, she knew the search was pointless. Short-staffed as they were, every nurse was busy to the point of insanity. She was on her feet and moving before she could even tell herself that he wouldn’t remember a thing that had gone on earlier.
In her short career as an after-trauma nurse, Merrily had been groped, pinched, patted, hugged, leered at and propositioned, but she’d never been kissed like that. By anyone. Her heartbeat sped at the memory of it, the strength, the possession, the expertise. Had he sensed her awareness of him as a man rather than merely a patient? Somehow her usual cool detachment had deserted her when she’d bared his body and massaged the cramp from the thigh of his injured leg.
Cramps were a real problem with immobilized patients. The docs prescribed potassium and calcium to try to prevent them, as even an unconscious patient would try to move to alleviate the vicious pain. Lawler, however, had experienced more cramps than the average patient. He’d kept the ICU nurses hopping after his surgery until the attending physician had figured out the correct supplement levels for him. This morning’s cramp had undoubtedly been a result of the move from ICU to the floor.
Given the trauma and the drugs, Merrily told herself as she pushed through the door into his room, he could not possibly remember kissing her—or how she’d knocked over the trash can next to his bed afterward. Nevertheless, her pulse quickened and spots of color burned high on her cheeks even as she put on her most professional demeanor and prepared to assess and assist her patient. She turned toward the bed in the small, quiet, private room, then rushed forward, praying he hadn’t torn loose the stitches, dislodged the broken ends of bones or worse.
Royce gritted his teeth and mentally cursed himself. His arm shook with the effort required to brace his twisted body on his left palm, head dangling toward the floor. He was trapped by the traction device that kept his screaming right leg immobile several uncomfortable inches above the bed. The cast on his right arm and shoulder, though unwieldy, was at least maneuverable to an extent, though at the moment it weighed down on him like an anvil. Somehow the IV line tethering his left arm to the bags hanging over his head and the contraption clipped to the end of his left index finger remained intact, though his right hip felt as if it was being pulled from its socket. The nurse’s call button dangled from its cord next to the bed. He’d banged his head against it on his way down but had no way of knowing whether or not he’d managed to trigger the thing.
He’d really gotten himself into a fine mess this time, and he wasn’t thinking just about the fall he’d taken trying to reach the telephone, which some fool had placed out of his reach on the bedside table. Oh no, it was much more than that. Black memory spun through his head.
Shoving hands pitched him forward, and he fell, arms milling in cold fear. At the first impact on the sharp edges of the wooden stairs, a white hot snap in his right forearm blinded him and his right foot slipped between the open steps. Twisting, he fell forward in slow motion. Stars winked and whirled overhead. His leg wrenched, bones snapping. His shoulder and head impacted the steps in twin explosions of pain. Above him, the deck stairs loomed steep and dark, a pale figure hovering at the top. Deep, deep regret rushed through him in the instant before he died.
He’d really thought that he had fallen to his death. The same feelings he’d experienced then, pain, fear, regret, and now worry and sheer embarrassment moderated his relief at discovering that he’d been wrong. At the moment, worry surpassed all the others.
“Mr. Lawler!”
Rescue had arrived, but embarrassment beat out relief, at least temporarily, and as feet rushed toward him, rubber soles squeaking on clean floors, he closed his eyes. Arms locked around his dangling torso, small, short arms. He knew a moment of grave doubt as he felt a body crouch next to him. A woman, small and slight. He half recognized the smell, sensed the size and shape of her. Then her legs pushed upward and he found himself being lifted. He wrapped his arm about her back and tried to give her as much help as he could, contracting already strained and bruised muscles.
“What happened?” she grunted.
His stupidity and impatience had happened, but he was puffing too hard to gasp anything more than, “Telephone,” as he flopped back on the pillow. She tsked, and lifted the bed rail back into place, but the expected lecture did not materialize as she went about settling him and making sure he hadn’t done additional damage.
His rescuer didn’t know how much additional damage could be done, however, and how much his fault it was. Why hadn’t he seen how close his ex-wife, Pamela, was to the breaking point? Why hadn’t he known this could happen? Idiot. He had to do something before anyone else got hurt. The list of those with whom he needed to immediately speak was long: his kids, especially Tammy, his parents, Dale, his secretary, his foreman, doctors. Mentally, he moved Dale Boyd, his best buddy and personal attorney, to the top of the list. He had to get that phone. Head swimming, he opened his eyes and looked up into a surprisingly familiar face.
So it hadn’t been a dream. His angel was real. As her hands moved over him with practiced, efficient purpose, he observed that his angel wore flowered scrubs and an oversize lab coat. He saw, too, that she was young, too young, little more than a teenager, it seemed, albeit a very pretty teenager, too young to have been kissed by the likes of him. Surely that part of it had been a dream; yet the impulse to capture that lush little mouth rose in him even now, and he found that annoying. This was not the time for complications like sexual attraction.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like I fell down a flight of stairs,” he retorted, shifting in an effort to ease the insistent throb in his shoulder. His voice sounded rusty and hoarse even to him.
“You have a morphine pump attached to your IV,” she said, checking tubes, bags and monitors.
“No morphine,” he stated flatly. He knew what the small cylinder lying in his lap was. The line snaking up to the blue box of the IV regulator promised instant relief, but he couldn’t afford the clouded mind and lassitude it would bring.
“You can’t overdose,” she informed him briskly, pouring water into a blue plastic tumbler with a straw standing in it. “The machine won’t let you.” She lifted the straw to his mouth, and he gratefully sucked the small vessel dry.
“No morphine,” he repeated with a satisfied sigh. “Not yet. I need to make a telephone call.”
She ignored that. “Do you know where you are?”
He tamped down his impatience. “In a hospital. Not sure which one.”
“Big General,” she informed him, using the universal term for San Antonio’s hub hospital, the largest and most sophisticated in the city. “Room 18. I’m Nurse Gage.”
A nurse. “You don’t look old enough to be a nurse.”
She ignored that, too. “Do you remember how you got here?”
He rolled his head side to side in the negative. “I remember being…falling down the stairs at the back of my house.”
“You were brought in by ambulance,” she told him, reaching for the stethoscope draped about her neck. He noticed that her hands, though tiny, were long-fingered with short, oval nails. She listened to his chest, took his pulse, then asked matter-of-factly, “Do you need to empty your bladder? You dislodged the catheter in recovery, and it was decided to remove it.”
Recovery? He pushed that aside, along with the sudden need to do as she suggested. Everything else could wait. “I need to make a call. Now.”
“Your parents left their telephone number at the desk. If you want, I’ll give them a ring a soon as we’re finished here.”
He closed his eyes, frustration mounting. He didn’t want to feel the resentment that surged through him, but he couldn’t help thinking that most parents would be standing anxiously at the bedside of an injured son. Only his supremely self-absorbed parents would have more important things to do. Shoving that old anger away, he marshaled his reason and reached down deep for his usual easygoing demeanor.
“Listen, I don’t mean to be difficult, but this is important. If you could just hand me the receiver and dial a number for me, I’d be eternally grateful.” He opened his eyes, well aware of the impact those big, baby blues could have. He saw it in her face then, the full memory of that kiss. So it hadn’t been a dream, then. Damn. Suddenly the urge to empty his bladder became secondary to another.
She stepped back, bumped into the table and IV pole and flushed bright red. Busily righting everything, she said over her shoulder, “You should rest.”
“I can’t,” he pleaded, “until I make the call. Please.”
She glanced at him then picked up the telephone receiver, bobbled it and, eyes averted, tucked it into the crook of his neck. Punching two buttons she asked, “What’s the number?”
“Thank you,” he breathed, gratitude easing the physical need somewhat. He gave her the number and angled his head so he could hear the tones as she dialed. She moved out of sight, then appeared again at the foot of the bed, where she looked at his toes, which were all that the stiff cocoon of bandages encasing his right leg left visible.
Dale’s secretary answered on the second ring, exclaiming at the sound of Royce’s voice. He made himself answer her questions of concern before saying urgently that he had to speak to her boss. Nurse Gage moved to examine the fingers that extended beyond the cast on his right arm and shoulder, and a moment later, Dale came on the line.
“Royce? How are you?”
“Still among the living.”
“What the hell happened out there, man? I couldn’t believe it when Tammy called.”
Everything in Royce went on alert. “Tammy called you?”
“Yeah, right after she called 911. She probably saved your life, man.”
Emotion swamped Royce. He closed his eyes, tears welling behind them. Poor Tammy, caught between warring parents, not knowing whom to trust, what was betrayal and what was not. Her mother had undoubtedly wanted him to die, yet, Tammy had saved him. The great love that he felt for his nine-year-old momentarily choked him. He cleared his throat and said as smoothly as he could manage, “She’s a good girl, always has been.”
“Yeah. Must take after you,” which meant that they should all feel grateful that she didn’t take after her mother, Pamela.
What his ex had put those two kids through was enough to break Royce’s heart. He’d been fighting her for full custody since he’d filed for divorce two years ago, and the case was finally coming to court soon, though Pamela had used every trick in the book to block it. If he’d believed for an instant that she really wanted, needed her kids with her, he’d have relented, but to Pamela those kids were nothing more than a weapon to use against him. She’d told them hideous lies in an attempt to make them hate him, even that the only reason he wanted custody was so he wouldn’t have to pay child support. He hadn’t realized just how far she was willing to go, though. Until now.
“I’ve gotta see you, Dale. How quick can you get over here?”
“How’s an hour sound? I’ve got a conference call on hold. Give me thirty minutes to wrap it up, and I’ll head over your way.”
Weary to the bone, Royce figured he’d need that hour to regain his strength. “Thanks. I appreciate it, bud.”
“No problem. Can I bring you anything?”
“Just get over here.”
“Sure thing. And, Royce?”
“Yeah?”
“You don’t know how good it is to hear your voice.”
“Ditto.” He knew he didn’t have to say that he’d never expected to hear or speak to anyone ever again.
As Merrily took the telephone receiver from his hand to replace it in its cradle, she noted that he did not wear a wedding ring. The fact that she couldn’t resist looking for one disturbed her. Only the conclusion that he obviously didn’t remember that kiss he’d planted on her earlier enabled her to do her job.
“Your extremities look good. Full color, warm to the touch. Have you tried to move your toes?”
The question seemed to surprise him. “No.” He looked down at the bare toes poking up at the end of the bed. The faint twinge was not what Merrily had hoped for, but she put a good face on it.
“Don’t worry about it. The doctor will undoubtedly want to take a few more X rays, but given your condition they’ll probably bring the portable unit here.”
“What is my condition exactly?”
She looked straight into his eyes, noting the size of his pupils. “Good. The concussion worried them at first, but the CT scan was normal.”
“I’ve had a CT scan?”
“And an MRI, about a dozen X rays and surgery to set bones in your leg. They also put your shoulder back into its socket and set your arm.”
His eyes widened. A surreal blue, they were easily the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen, as beautiful as his face. Handsome seemed a lame term for such male perfection. Four shades of blond, from brass to platinum, streaked the thick, straight hair that flopped over one brow. The face itself was that of an archangel or a superhero straight out of the pages of a comic book, especially with that tortured look hovering just beneath the toasted gold of his skin. Tiny lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes, another testament to the time this man spent out of doors.
“Anything else?”
“Bruises and contusions. The miracle is that you didn’t break a rib and puncture a lung.”
“No internal injuries then?”
“Nothing serious, but don’t be surprised if you pass a little blood.”
He nodded, forehead creasing with a frown. “Guess I can be thankful for that.”
“I know it hurts,” she said. “I can back off the morphine dose if you like. It might give you some relief without putting you to sleep.” That boxy jaw set stubbornly, spurring her to explain. “It’s better to stay on top of the pain if you can. If you let it get too bad, your mind won’t be any clearer and it’ll take more meds to control it.”
Grimly he closed his eyes and nodded. She made the adjustment and depressed the pump herself before switching the pulse monitor on the end of his left index finger to his right hand. “That ought to give you a little more dexterity.”
“Thanks.”
“You don’t happen to be left-handed, do you?”
“No such luck.” He sent her a wry, lazy look that sped up her heart.
“Too bad.” She bent to pick up the plastic urinal, only to knock it under the bed. What was wrong with her? She hadn’t been this clumsy since Donald Popof had asked her to the prom. Disgustedly she got down on her knees and fished the large plastic jar from beneath the bed. Rising, she hooked the handle over the bed rail and asked, “Think you can manage by yourself?” His gaze met hers blandly, and she knew by his demeanor that the drugs were beginning to take effect.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“You can lie on your left hip if you keep your body aligned with the traction bar,” she advised matter-of-factly, “but don’t let the container get too full or we’ll wind up having to change your bed. Okay?”
He looked away. “Okay.”
She went to the sink and dampened a washcloth with antibacterial fluid, then draped it wordlessly over the bed rail within easy reach.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Can I get you anything?”
Those blue eyes settled on her again, and a small, appreciative smile flitted across his face. “Food.”
A good sign. She checked her watch. “Dinner trays will be up in about an hour. Meanwhile, I’ve got crackers, ice cream and popsicles, if you’re interested.”
“Forget the popsicles,” he said wryly, meaning that she should bring everything else.
Chuckling, she headed for the door, allowing him the privacy necessary to relieve himself.
Royce eased onto his back, more comfortable than he had been since he’d awakened nearly an hour earlier, and let his mind wander where it would. Not surprisingly, it went straight to Nurse Gage. She had displayed unusual sensitivity, first by refraining from scolding him for putting down the bed rail and trying to get to the phone on his own and then by allowing him to tend to his personal needs in privacy. He felt better just knowing that he wasn’t completely helpless, and he couldn’t help feeling grateful that she hadn’t mentioned that kiss.
He wondered if he ought to apologize for it, then upon reflection decided that it was best to let her think he didn’t remember kissing her, though in fact it was one of the first things he had remembered. At the time he’d assumed it was all a dream, and that was how he was going to treat it, like a freaky dream that had brought him a moment of pleasure in the midst of physical anguish. He suspected it would be easier for both of them that way, especially her.
What a strange little creature she was, his Nurse Gage, alternately clumsy and efficient, small but strong, brisk and professional but with a gentle sympathy warming the muted green of her eyes. He wondered what she would look like with that long braid unbound. Would it lie sleek and straight across her shoulders or wave and curl?
She either wasn’t married or didn’t wear a wedding ring while working. Somehow he figured it was the former. Youth aside, she just didn’t have the look of a settled, married woman.
He frowned disgustedly at the train of his thoughts. For one thing he had much more important matters to ponder. For another, he was in no position to pursue a woman, even if his health weren’t an issue, which it clearly was.
Deliberately he turned his mind to other things. When could he speak to his daughter?
He wasn’t married. The thought circled through her brain all the while she stuffed her pockets with saltines and plucked ice cream bars from the freezer. It was only at his door, however, that Merrily confronted the rise of enthusiasm inside her with a stern rebuke.
“Don’t be an idiot, Merrily,” she scolded under her breath. “He may not have a ring on his finger, but there’s a woman around somewhere.” No doubt she would ascend at any moment, miniskirt flapping and kohl-darkened eyes sparkling with tears of concern. Shoot, a man like that probably had them lined up to hold his hand and stroke his fevered brow.
That kiss had been nothing more than a drug-induced fluke. He wouldn’t be seriously interested in a woman who looked so much like a kid that, at twenty-six, she still had to buy her clothes in the junior department, which was pretty much why she stuck to uniforms, jeans and simple shirts. Nope, Royce Lawler was not for the likes of her, and to think otherwise would be, in the immortal words of her eldest brother, Jody, cruising for a bruising.
Hiding her own interest behind her nurse’s demeanor, she went in to play her chosen role of angel of mercy armed with crackers and rapidly softening ice cream.
Chapter Two
“So apparently she found you right away,” Dale said, speaking of Royce’s nine-year-old daughter Tammy.
Royce nodded and attempted a smile. “Lucky.”
“I’ll say. She called 911 and me, then tossed a blanket over you and sat with you until the paramedics arrived.”
Royce frowned. “I don’t remember any of that.”
“Pretty gutsy, if you ask me,” Dale commented. “She was terrified you were dead. I told her to stay with her little brother, but she said Cory was asleep and she didn’t want you to be alone. She was sobbing, poor kid. I tell you, I flew. Got there right after the ambulance. Guess she called her mom, too, ’cause Pam was there when I arrived. Pretty odd, since she lives farther from your place than I do.” He eyed Royce and added, “She said something about being at a restaurant on the south side of town. I asked her twice which one, but she never did say.”
Royce kept his expression carefully impassive. “Tammy knows I’m going to be okay, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah, the doctors told us so before Pamela sent her and Cory back to her house with that nanny she hired, but Pam stayed here until you were out of surgery and came around in ICU.”
I’ll bet she did, Royce thought cryptically, recalling the moment he’d opened his eyes in ICU to find three disembodied heads bending over him. He hadn’t known to whom they belonged or where he was, but when he’d been asked to cough, he’d done so. He’d grunted answers to questions he couldn’t remember now, but he clearly recollected when one unfamiliar voice had said, “You took a bad fall, Mr. Lawler. Do you remember anything about it?”
He’d known even then what he had to say, and if asked today, he would say the same thing. “No.”
“Huh?” The tall, lanky attorney with the dark-brown hair and eyes looked at Royce as if wondering whether or not he should call the nurse. He and Royce had been friends since high school, despite having attended different colleges. He was the one person in Royce’s life with whom Royce could be completely honest—until now.
Royce cleared his throat. “I mean, um, no doubt she was hoping I’d broken my neck.”
“She did ask what provisions you’d made in your will for her and the children,” Dale said wryly.
Royce sighed, guessing, “And she was some ticked off when you told her that as my ex-wife, emphasis on the ex, she was not entitled to be provided for.”
Dale chuckled. “She really went ballistic when I informed her that Mark Cherry and I are to be coexecutors of the trust you’ve established for the kids. Come to think of it, your parents weren’t best pleased, either.”
“You mean they were here?” Royce asked dryly.
Dale’s face went carefully blank. “Yeah, sure, till we knew you were going to be okay.”
“Meaning they didn’t stick around to be sure I came out of surgery all right,” Royce surmised correctly.
It was nothing more than he’d expected. He’d been at odds with his parents for as long as he could remember. Even as a kid he’d felt that he must’ve been switched at birth. He just didn’t seem to have anything in common with his socially prominent, appearance-driven parents. They’d never forgiven him for preferring to work with his hands rather than a calculator, and when his younger brother had eagerly embraced the family banking business, Royce’s fate as “the disappointment” had been sealed.
Dale, bless him, quickly changed the subject. “I want to ask for a postponement of the custody hearing. You’re in no shape to take on two kids by yourself now, anyway, and you know perfectly well that our position’s been iffy from the start.”
Royce nodded in reluctant agreement and rubbed his left hand over his face. His shoulder ached, his head felt heavy, and his leg throbbed above the knee. Shifting in a futile effort to find a more comfortable position on the narrow, lumpy mattress, he said what they both knew. “We’re no closer to proving she’s a threat to the children than we were when we started.”
“She’s crazy smart, that woman,” Dale said with a sigh. “She’s been real careful to make her threats in private to no one but you. The only thing we’ve ever had in our favor is the fact that she’s a proven adulteress.”
“Which means nothing when it comes to custody issues,” Royce said.
“Listen,” Dale said, shifting his chair closer to the bed, “if we could just get one of the kids to testify that Pamela has repeatedly lost her temper with them…”
Royce was shaking his head. Now he stated his position emphatically. “No. Absolutely not. I won’t have my children pressured to testify against their own mother.”
Dale sighed. “Well, Cory’s too young to be believable, and Tammy wouldn’t, anyway.”
“You don’t understand the pressure she lives under, Dale. No one can unless they’ve lived with Pamela. Everything that displeases her, no matter how slight, is a major betrayal to her. That means one emotional, irrational scene after another until your whole life becomes nothing more than a fruitless exercise in trying to please her, to stop the tirade. Eventually you realize that it’s impossible, but you can’t get out and you don’t dare give up. I know. I’m an adult, and after two years I’m still trying to fight my way free. Imagine what it must be like for a child. I tell you the truth, Dale, if Mark and I hadn’t walked in on her and Campo in the act, I’d still be married to that vampire.”
Dale knotted his hands into fists. “I still want to clobber that guy every time I think of him. You built his house, for pity’s sake, and not only does he try to cheat you out of your earnings, he sleeps with your wife—on the living room sofa, no less!”
“And I keep telling you,” Royce said, aware that he was beginning to slur his words, “it was the only way out for me. I can’t be anything but grateful to the creep.”
“Yeah, but if he hadn’t dumped Pamela,” Dale pointed out, “she’d have left the kids with you and beat a path with him to the Mediterranean.”
Royce closed his eyes, a smile quirking one corner of his mouth. “So Claude Campo is smarter than me. He sure wised up faster than I did. Can’t blame the fellow for that.”
“You were a senior in college when you married Pamela,” Dale argued. “You thought you’d nabbed a hot redhead to spend the rest of your life with. How were you to know she was a basket case that was slowly unraveling?”
Royce smiled. Trust Dale to defend him. “Anyway,” Royce said, getting the conversation back on track, “about Tammy. I don’t want anyone pressuring her, not about her mother and not about my fall. You got that?”
Dale nodded. “Sure, sure. Her animosity toward you is nothing more than an attempt to placate and please her mother. That’s what you’ve always said, and seems to me that her recent behavior reinforces it. I mean, she saved your life. If she hadn’t found you and called an ambulance, shock would have….”
“Finished what her mother started,” Royce muttered. To his chagrin, Dale pounced on that unwise statement.
“I knew it!” He came up out of his chair. “You’d never fall down your own deck stairs. She pushed you. The witch pushed you!” He punctuated the air with the jab of one forefinger, then dropped his hands to his waist. “We need a private investigator.”
“No.”
“We’ll punch holes in her alibi, sink her for good.”
Royce struggled up onto his left elbow to make himself understood. “No.”
“But you said—”
“You misunderstood.” Collapsing back onto his pillow, Royce massaged his temples with thumb and forefinger. “I only meant that Pam’s been punishing me for everything that has ever gone wrong in her life. No doubt she believes that if I died it would serve me right. That’s what she’s been teaching my kids ever since the divorce.”
Deflated, Dale turned the armless, molded plastic chair and straddled it. “And they’re too young to know that you divorced their mother because you caught her naked, humping a client in your own home.”
Royce cut his gaze sideways. “Succinctly put.”
Dale sighed and hunched forward, hanging his sharp chin on the edge of the chair back. “So that leaves us right where we’ve always been. Square one.”
“Not exactly,” Royce said, disciplining a yawn. Blinking, he fought off the drug-induced lethargy. “I want you to find a therapist for Tammy. She has to have been traumatized by all this.”
Dale fixed him with that no-nonsense, lawyer glare of his. “Royce, did Tammy see her mother push you? Is that what this is all about?”
“No. And even if she had, I wouldn’t let anyone badger her about it. She needs to talk to someone she can trust, someone neutral. I mean it, Dale, someone neutral. This isn’t part of the case. This isn’t discovery. This is my daughter. She needs help.”
Dale straightened and nodded. “Right. Sorry. I’ll get on it as soon as I leave here. You know, though, that Pamela’s going to fight us on it.”
Royce nodded wearily. “I’m going to ask my doctor and the kid’s pediatrician to recommend it.”
“That’ll help,” Dale said doubtfully.
The door swung open then, and Nurse Gage walked through bearing a green plastic tray. “Dinner.”
Despite his fatigue, Royce’s stomach rumbled and he smiled. “I think I’m hungry enough even for hospital food.”
“I didn’t know anyone got that hungry,” Dale quipped as the nurse slid the tray onto the bed table.
Apparently unamused, she pointed a finger at Dale and said bluntly, “You have been here long enough. He needs to eat, take his medicine and rest.”
Dale’s thin brows arched. With an amused glance at Royce he stood and threw his shoulders back, emphasizing his height. Executing a smart salute, he winked at the diminutive Nurse Gage. “Aye, aye, sarge.”
She barely spared him a glance as she elbowed him aside, lowered the bedside rail and rolled the table into place, positioning it over Royce’s lap. Royce chuckled. “Thanks for coming by, Dale.”
Defeated, Dale started toward the door, saying cheerily, “I’ll be back this evening.”
“See you then.”
Nurse Gage bent to depress the button that lifted the head of the bed. When his body was adequately contorted, semi-sitting with leg suspended and right arm propped on a stack of pillows, she shook out a thin paper napkin and tucked it into the too-high neck of his hated hospital gown. “Now, then,” she said briskly, “let’s get you fed.”
She lifted the domed cover off his plate, revealing grayish meat and limp, overdone vegetables. Taking knife and fork in hand, she began cutting up the meat. He wondered, with some amusement, right up to the moment she placed the fork in his left hand, if she was actually going to feed him.
Ping, ping, ping, ping.
Glancing at the alarm board, Merrily shrugged into the roomy lab coat she preferred to wear over her simple scrubs. Room 18, Royce Lawler. Lydia Joiner, the charge nurse, groaned.
“Not again.”
“What’s wrong?” Merrily asked, checking her voluminous pockets.
“Eighteen’s on a rampage,” Lydia said, rising from the desk. “Found out he’s got to have surgery again on that leg, and he’s taking it out on the whole nursing staff.”
“I’ll go,” Merrily said, aware that she didn’t have to, since she was early for her shift.
Lydia inclined her head appreciatively. “Thanks, kid.”
Kid. Always the kid. Lydia was no more than three years her senior, but due to her appearance, Merrily was “the kid.” Sighing with resignation, Merrily moved toward Royce’s room. The alarm board ping-ping-pinged again as she pushed through the heavy door.
“Thank God!” Royce Lawler exclaimed, tossing the bell remote into his lap. “It’s about time somebody with some sense showed up around here. Where the hell have you been?”
Merrily tamped down a surge of gratification at his greeting. “I just came on shift.”
“They’ve moved the damned phone again. Every time they come, they shove that table aside and leave it that way, then I can’t reach the phone!”
Merrily pulled the table closer to the left side of the bed and shifted the telephone to the far right edge, within reach. “How’s that?”
He dropped his head back onto his pillow. “Thank you. Thank you.”
“The problem,” she explained, squeezing behind the table to check his IV output, “is that the IV poles are fixed to the head of your bed. I’ll see if I can’t get a rolling pole in here and place it in front of the table.”
“Why didn’t they do that to begin with?” he grumbled.
Merrily bit her lip to quell a smile. “Because you are not ambulatory,” she explained patiently.
“And I’m not likely to be anytime soon,” he complained. “They’re going to put a metal rod in my leg. I won’t even be able to go through the metal detector at the airport!”
She laughed. She just couldn’t help it. He glared at her, but then the furrow in his brow eased and his mouth curved into a wry smile.
“Okay, okay. So it’s not that bad. And don’t you dare say that I did it to myself. My mother has already pointed that fact out to me—not that I wasn’t already aware of it.”
“I understand,” she said. “When did they remove the fingertip monitor?”
“They didn’t. I did,” he declared flatly.
“I see.” She checked his pulse with her fingers. He lay still and quiet as she counted the beats and marked time on her wristwatch. As she retrieved his chart to make the proper notation on it, he lifted his head from the pillow to watch.
“You aren’t going to scold me?”
She didn’t look up from the chart. “Would it help?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. But after a moment he asked bluntly, “How old are you?”
The clipboard bearing his chart fell to her side. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you have to be older than you look.”
She squared her shoulders beneath the crisp white lab coat, trying to conceal how sensitive the subject was. “I’m twenty-six.”
“Holy cow! I’d have guessed eighteen, twenty, younger before I got to know you.”
Chagrined, Merrily snapped, “What makes you think you know me?”
He shrugged his left shoulder and fell back on the pillow. “I know you’re the only one around here with an ounce of compassion. First they tell me to rest, then they keep me up all night with tests. What kind of sense does that make?”
“Fiscal,” Merrily answered succinctly. “The hospital labs are so busy with outpatient procedures during the day that they have little choice but to conduct inpatient tests at night. Hospitalized patients, after all, aren’t going anywhere.”
“Tell me about it,” he mumbled. Then suddenly he announced, “I’m hungry.”
Merrily folded her arms. She’d noticed the “no intake” sign on his doorside clip. “What time is your surgery scheduled for?”
He looked at the ceiling. “Three.”
“Tell me what you want for dinner, and I’ll make sure it’s here when you get back.” She didn’t have to tell him that it was the best she could do.
Sighing richly he seemed to consider, then his eyes narrowed and he said, “Pizza with chicken and shrimp, pesto sauce, black olives, pineapple and mozzarella.” He lifted his head to see how she’d taken that.
Smiling because she knew he thought he’d stumped her, she said, “Number six, Riccotini’s. There’s one around the corner. I’m having the salmon and sun-dried tomatoes myself.”
“Number nine,” he said, tussling with a grin.
“Anything else I can get you? Orange iced tea, maybe?”
“Mmm. About a gallon ought to do it.”
“A number six with a large orange iced tea.”
“And turtle cheesecake.”
“And turtle cheesecake,” she echoed. Chuckling, she headed for the door.
“Wait.” He waved her back toward the bed and indicated the bedside table with a nod of his head. “In the drawer.”
She opened the drawer to find his wallet. “Oh, don’t worry about that.” Ignoring that, he groped the drawer blindly with his left hand until he found the wallet. Flipping it open, he laid it in his lap and extracted a twenty-dollar bill.
“Dinner’s on me,” he said, thrusting the money toward her.
“Oh, no, that’s all right. I was planning on going out, anyway.”
A grin spread across his face. “So? What’s your name? Given name, I mean.”
“Merrily.”
The grin spread wider. “Well, Merrily, I insist on buying your dinner, since you volunteered to pick up mine. No arguments, now. It’s the least I can do.”
Suddenly he stuffed the bill into the breast pocket of her lab coat. Electricity flashed through her, so strong that she stumbled backward a step—and into the corner of the bedside table, rocking it enough to send the telephone sliding toward the floor. She grabbed for it at the same time he did, and while they managed to keep the phone from falling, their arms became entwined. Her gaze collided with his and stuck.
For a moment the world and everything in it stopped. The second hand on the clock of time froze as they stared into each other’s eyes. Then, slowly, he blinked and carefully extracted his arm from the loop of hers. Sinking back onto the pillow, he cleared his throat. Merrily settled the phone.
“What, uh, what time do you think I might get to enjoy that dinner?” he asked, his voice thick.
She tried to keep her tone level, normal. “Best guess, around eight.”
He grimaced and covered his eyes with his hand. “I trust you’ll still be on duty then.”
“Until ten,” she confirmed.
He said, “Good.”
Good. She tried very hard not to let that please her in any personal fashion.
“I’ll, um, be in later to perform the preop.”
He let his hand fall to his side. “Sure. Better you than Nurse Disjointer.”
Merrily ducked her head to hide her smile as she fled the room.
Katherine Lawler lifted her patrician chin and sniffed, silver hair swinging against her nape. “All I said is that it’s a pity he can’t sue himself.”
“That’s what’s wrong with this country!” Marvin, her husband and Royce’s father, proclaimed. “Everyone’s sue happy. Let the blasted insurance pay for it. That’s what it’s for. Not that it isn’t his own fault. He built the damned stairs.”
Royce groaned, wondering desperately where Merrily was with that pizza. He hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of her since he’d returned to his room nearly an hour ago. The piteous sound elicited not a glimmer from his parents.
“You sued your own partners,” Katherine pointed out.
“That was different! I had to get an accurate accounting, didn’t I?”
“You already had an accurate accounting.”
“How was I supposed to know that?”
The door opened, and to Royce’s immense relief, his angel swept into the room, carrying two small pizza boxes and a brown paper sack.
“Finally!” he exclaimed on a long sigh, relaxing at last.
Her soft, muted-green gaze skidded right past him. Smiling at his parents, she left the pizza and sack on the bedside table. Briskly, she lifted the head of his bed and moved to the sink to moisten a cloth with antibacterial solution so he could clean his hand, saying, “Your postop exam was fine, so you get to eat now.”
“It’s about time,” he said, though in truth he wasn’t nearly as hungry as he thought he would be. He chalked it up to the drugs that were keeping him comfortable. He’d had a much easier time coming out from under the anesthesia this time, fortunately.
“Excuse me,” Merrily said sweetly to his parents, wheeling the lap table into place. “These little rooms get awfully crowded. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind standing in the corner over there. Just in case. He’s a little awkward with one hand.”
It was all the excuse his parents needed to beat a hasty retreat. Royce could’ve kissed her. Again.
“We’ll let you enjoy your dinner in peace,” his father pronounced, lifting a hand toward his mother.
Katherine kissed the air next to Royce’s cheek and instructed in her long-suffering tone, “Try not to hurt yourself again.”
Then they both went out the door without so much as a glance for Merrily. Glad as he was to see them go, Royce frowned. The least they could have done was spare a word of thanks for the only person around here who actually made him feel better.
“Who do I speak to about getting you a raise?” he asked, closing his eyes in gratitude. “Your timing is perfect. I was contemplating a heart attack in order to get them out of here, but I’m not that good an actor.”
Merrily chortled and dug change from her shirt pocket, dropping it into the drawer of the bedside table. “The look on your face said it all. Who were they, anyway?”
“My parents.”
Her eyebrows shot up, slender, winged things with a hint of gold in their gentle brown coloring. “I guess I should have recognized them, their photos are in the paper so often.”
“Ah, you’ve made that connection, have you?”
“Who hasn’t? Listen, I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” he quipped wryly.
“I meant, I wouldn’t have chased them away if I’d realized they were your parents.”
“I use the term loosely,” he said. “They’re no fonder of me than I am of them. Don’t worry about it. You couldn’t chase them away with a pitchfork if they didn’t want to go. Now, where’s my pizza?”
She checked the first box, closed it again and set it aside. “Here it is.” She opened the box and arranged it on the adjustable table in front of him, then opened the sack. Plunking napkins down in front of him with one hand, she reached into the bag with the other and extracted a small cardboard triangle containing the cheesecake he’d been dreaming about since he’d first thought of it hours earlier. She set that aside and carefully lifted out first one and then another foam cup with plastic lids. Next she removed two straws, peeled one and pushed it into the hole in the top of the lid on one of the drinks. Sliding the large cup close to the pizza box, she picked up the other cup and reached for her own pizza. A moment ago he’d have given his house, his dream house, for a few minutes of solitary peace. Now the idea of eating alone, of being alone, seemed singularly unpalatable.
“You’re not going?” he said disapprovingly, catching her wrist in his one good hand. He realized as his fingers closed around her delicate, finely boned wrist that he wasn’t trying to detain her so much as he was looking for that jolt, that flash of carnal recognition that he’d felt before, when he’d stuffed the twenty-dollar bill into her pocket and discovered the unexpected bounty of her breast beneath the loose coat. It flashed through him, right up his arm to the center of his chest and straight down to his groin. It jolted the cup right out of her hand and sent it spilling across his clean, dry floor.
With a small cry, she leaped back, dismay shaping her pretty little mouth into a plump O. Royce craned his neck to glimpse the pale liquid spreading across the glossy tile, then he smiled at her, moved by a mischievous imp whose presence he hadn’t felt in far too long and said, “Be glad to share.”
But she just shook her head and ran out of the room. With a sigh Royce closed the lid on his pizza. Somehow it didn’t look nearly so inviting without Nurse Merrily Gage there to share it.
Chapter Three
“Lane, would it kill you to actually put your dirty clothes into the hamper?” Merrily asked, exasperated.
Her brother peered at her through the steam generated by the long, hot shower he’d gotten out of minutes before. “What difference does it make?”
Merrily stuffed the clothes into the hamper and straightened, brushing her ponytail off one shoulder. “It would save me the effort of picking them up.”
He shrugged and went back to combing his hair. “When you sort the laundry you’re gonna pile it on the bathroom floor, anyway.”
“That’s beside the point.”
Ignoring her, he tossed aside his comb and hitched up his jeans, admiring his bare chest in the mirror. “Hey, you ironed that red shirt of mine yet?”
“I haven’t had time.”
“Merrily, I’m going out tonight.”
“Wear another shirt.”
“I don’t wanna wear another shirt. That’s my chick-magnet shirt.”
“Then iron it yourself.”
“Yeah, right. You know I can’t iron.”
“Maybe it’s time you learned.”
He chucked her under the chin and grinned down into her upturned face. “Baby sister, that’s what you’re for.” Abruptly turning pitiful, he whined, “Come on, Merrily, I’ll ruin it if I try. You can whip it out in no time. Ple-e-ease.”
Merrily sighed. “Oh, all right, but from now on you put your dirty clothes in the hamper, agreed?”
Lane turned away. “Sure, sure. Make it quick, will you? The guys are picking me up in a few minutes.” He went out of the bathroom whistling.
Merrily bent and opened the cabinet beneath the sink. After extracting the steam iron as well as the cleanser for which she’d originally come into the room, Merrily straightened and looked around her. She’d spent the whole morning cleaning this one room, and now just look at it. Towels lay in a damp heap on the floor. One corner of the bath mat had been kicked up and left so that water pooled outside the shower. A wet washcloth that had been slung over the top of the shower dripped a trail down the pebbled glass wall. Why did she even bother? On every day off, she slaved to clean up this place, but not one of her brothers could be trusted to so much as straighten up after himself.
At twenty-eight, Lane ought to have been living on his own, possibly even married, but he wasn’t responsible enough for that. The older two were worse. Lane at least had a social life, if trolling the club scene with his equally immature friends could be called such. Kyle, at thirty, remained the next thing to a recluse. He considered himself superior to the others because he’d earned a master’s degree in English, but he hated his job as a high school teacher and had always been more comfortable with his books than people. Jody, on the other hand, had followed their father into the U.S. Postal Service, delivering mail. It was grueling work, but not grueling enough to have turned Jody into the old man he’d become at thirty-two. Since their parents had spent a large chunk of their retirement fund on a motor home and set off to see the country more than a year ago, Jody had virtually turned into their father, taking over the family home as if he owned it and attempting to order all their lives as their strict, conservative parents had done.
That proclivity created friction amongst the siblings. Jody parked himself in front of the television most evenings and issued edicts that his brothers both protested and ignored. Merrily herself operated on the periphery, functioning as housekeeper and cook while holding down a demanding full-time job of her own. The only thing the three brothers seemed to agree upon was that Merrily deserved whatever headaches and exhaustion her life brought her since she’d opted for a career instead of marriage and the protected existence of a housewife that her mother had chosen. They conveniently overlooked the fact that marriage had not really been an option for her. Even if some guy had been interested in her, he wouldn’t have braved the guard dogs her father and brothers had always become whenever anyone approached her. She knew it was their way of showing their love for her, but she also knew that if they had their way, she’d be stuck keeping house for one or all of them the rest of her life.
She’d been trying to work herself up to moving out on her own for some time now, but what was the point, really? Her own social life was nonexistent and would likely remain so. Certainly she had friends, but most of them were married with young families of their own. She was Aunt Merrily to a bevy of small children whom she often baby-sat, but their parents didn’t really have much time for her anymore, and because of her appearance it was difficult for her to make new friends her own age. She kept telling herself not to be so shy about it, but she couldn’t seem to overcome that first dismissive look she always received when she approached other adults. The only notable exception to the rule was Royce Lawler, and even he had thought at first that she was a candy striper or some other teen volunteer at the hospital.
She wondered how he was doing and suppressed a surge of guilt at having left work the evening before without checking in on him. Really, though, how could she have faced him after she’d spilled her drink all over the floor of his room? She hadn’t even gone back to clean it up. Instead she’d called housekeeping to take care of it. If she hadn’t gone in there thinking they could share dinner together, she wouldn’t have embarrassed herself like that. It was stupid, the way she’d started to fantasize about the man, especially since she would probably never see him again. Barring complications, he’d leave the hospital before she even returned to work. Disappointment welled up in her. She bit her lip, but then Lane yelled to get a move on with that shirt, and she shoved aside personal concerns to do what she seemed to do best, taking care of everyone else.
“What the hell do you mean she’s not coming in?” Royce demanded of the male nurse easing his bandaged leg down onto the pillows arranged to accept it. Knowing that he was going to lose the traction bar soon was a great relief, but it seemed secondary to the fact that Nurse Gage wouldn’t be tending to it. “She has to come in. She’s a nurse, and she has patients who depend on her.”
“She also has days off just like everyone else,” the man told him, his smile flashing white in his dark, squarish face. “I, Carlos, will take care of you today.”
Royce tamped down his impatience and forced a smile. “Great. That’s great. Uh, when did you say Merrily, er, Nurse Gage would be back?”
Carlos shrugged, saying off-handedly, “Day after tomorrow.”
The day after? But he was due to check out of here tomorrow! Wildly he thought of stalling that for a day, but the idea of spending one more night in this torture chamber made him shudder. He might have done it if he’d been able to see his kids, but Pamela had decreed the hospital too traumatic for them, and under the circumstances he was forced to agree, so his only contact with them had been by telephone, when he could convince that suspicious nanny that he was who he said he was and should be allowed to talk to them. No, he had to get out of here so he could schedule a real visit, and the sooner the better, but that brought up a whole other set of problems.
He really couldn’t manage on his own, but he would not go to his parents’ house. Dale was well-meaning but no one’s idea of a nurse, even if he could’ve spared the time from his busy practice to play that role. So Dale was calling home care agencies looking for someone to stay with Royce for the next few weeks. Royce grimaced at the thought of some stranger living in his house helping him tend to his most intimate needs, but what else could he do? Unless… He realized suddenly what had been in the back of his mind almost from the moment he’d been told he would be going home soon. It probably wouldn’t work, but he knew that he’d kick himself later if he didn’t at least try.
“Listen,” he said as the nurse turned away. “I have a favor to ask. It’s real important to me.”
The man shrugged good-naturedly. “Sure, as long as it is not against doctor’s orders.”
“It’s not against doctor’s orders,” Royce promised him. “I just need you to contact Merrily, I mean Nurse Gage, for me. Can you do that?”
Obviously surprised, the man stroked his chin. “I don’t know. Personally I hate to be called on my day off.”
“Please,” Royce said. “If you could just get her a message, tell her I need to see her… Look, I’ll pay you. It’s that important.”
The man seemed insulted. “You do not have to pay me. If it is that important to you, I will see what I can do.”
Royce relaxed slightly. “Thanks. H-how soon? I mean, how soon can you call her?”
Carlos Espinoza glanced at his watch. “I have a break in about forty minutes. I will try then.”
Forty minutes. Royce bit his tongue to keep from urging the fellow to make the call now, immediately, instantly. Forty minutes, and then how long before he heard from her? Would he hear from her at all?
Merrily sat in the kitchen thumbing through a magazine. When the phone rang, she didn’t even look up, knowing that Jody would prefer to get it himself. A moment later, when he yelled for her, she felt a mild spurt of surprise. Rising from the table, she walked to the end of the bar that separated the den from the kitchen. Jody sat in his recliner, staring at the television screen.
“What is it, Jody?”
He didn’t look away from the screen. “That call was for you.”
She folded her arms. “Why did you hang up, then?”
“Guy said that a Mr. Lawler wants to see you. I said I’d pass the message. That was it.”
Royce! For a moment she stood frozen in place. He wanted to see her. She didn’t stop to wonder what he wanted or why it was important enough to contact her at home. She didn’t question who had actually made the call or when or how she was supposed to make contact with Royce Lawler. She only knew that he wanted her, and that was more than enough at the moment.
“I’m going out,” she announced as she moved back through the kitchen. Jody shouted at her that it was too late to be going out, though in truth it was only a little past eight. Ignoring him, she grabbed her handbag from her room and, mindless of the sandals, shorts and simple tank top that she wore, darted out through the garage door.
Her small, two-door car sat curbside in front of the house. Lane, who was in construction, always got the garage because the tools piled in the back of his pickup were liable to be stolen if he left the truck out, or so he claimed. Merrily couldn’t help recalling that when their parents had been at home and their mother had parked her car in the garage, Lane’s truck had sat beside their father’s in the drive and nothing had ever disappeared from the back of his truck then. Now Jody parked in the drive, leaving one side free for Lane to come and go, and she and Kyle jockeyed for position curbside in front of the house.
For once, Merrily was glad that she didn’t have to back out of the garage past Jody’s SUV and ease between Kyle’s sedan and the neighbor’s minivan into the street. It was much easier just to jump behind the wheel and take off. By the time Jody figured out she wasn’t paying him any mind, heaved himself up out of the recliner and made it to the front door to yell at her again, she was already pulling away from the curb.
The hospital was less than ten minutes away from the house, which was one reason her parents had agreed three years earlier that she should take the job there. She had never regretted the decision. She loved nursing. She was good at it, and the money was generous enough to allow her to pay off her school loans in record time, make a substantial down payment on the sporty little economy car she was driving and stash a sizable amount in savings every month.
As she parked in the employee’s lot and hurried into the hospital, she thought again that she really ought to move out on her own. She could afford it. Why she should consider doing so now, however, was something she did not want to address. Instead, she concentrated on getting where she wanted to. The moment she entered his room, however, she realized that she could have chosen a more opportune moment to visit, since the room was already crowded with medical staff, all of whom clustered around the side and foot of his bed.
The traction rod had been removed, and they were in the process of replacing the heavy bandages on his right leg with a stabilizer, which was really just a heavy elastic bandage with steel rods attached and Velcro closures. It would serve in place of the old-fashioned plaster cast, such as the one on his right arm and shoulder, and allow the doctors to periodically check the surgery incisions required to properly set his leg bones. After counting four practitioners, including the doctor, his assistant and two nurses, Merrily knew that she didn’t need to be in that room at that moment.
All thought of beating a hasty retreat evaporated when Royce spotted her and exclaimed, “Merrily! Hey. Come on in.”
Carlos Espinoza glanced over one shoulder, grinned and said, “That was fast.”
So it was Carlos who had left that message.
Royce waved her over, exclaiming, “Free at last! Man, that traction stuff is for the birds.”
“If you don’t stay off this leg,” the doctor warned from the stool rolled close to the bed, “you’ll be right back in it.”
“Don’t worry,” Royce replied meaningfully. “I’m not going to do anything stupid.”
The doctor looked up at Merrily, who had moved to stand next to the head of the bed, and said, “See to it that he doesn’t.”
She thought it odd that he should direct his orders specifically at her, but she just nodded. The orderly at the doctor’s elbow slid the spread stabilizer beneath Royce’s leg, which the two nurses held suspended slightly above the bed. Bright red with white trim, the contraption would be hard to miss in the weeks it would have to be worn. The nurses gently lowered Royce’s leg, and though he winced when it met the padded lining of the stabilizer, he winked at Merrily and said softly, “Thanks for coming.”
She just smiled and shifted her weight self-consciously. At the exact same moment, Carlos started to turn away from the bed. The two bumped, and Carlos apologized cheerily, though Merrily felt her face glow red with the knowledge that it was her fault. What was it about Royce Lawler that turned all her fingers to thumbs and her feet to blocks of clay?
As Carlos left the room, Merrily grasped at something to say to deflect attention from her clumsiness. “I see the IV and morphine pump are gone.”
“He’ll be getting a shot of painkiller when we’re done here,” the doctor said, threading a strap through the metal loop opposite and carefully tightening it. “And he’ll have to continue taking those injections for a while. The anti-inflammatory and antibiotics can be taken by mouth. I’ll leave prescriptions at the nurses’ station. The leg should be kept dry and elevated as much as possible. I’ll see him again in about a week. You’ll have to call my office for an appointment.”
Again, it seemed as if the doctor was speaking directly to her, but Merrily dismissed that and said to Royce, “Did you get all that?”
“Got it,” he replied, smiling. Those heavenly blue eyes seemed to be trying to telegraph her a message, but she wasn’t receiving.
The doctor finished what he was doing and got up off the stool. “Okay, that about does it. Nurse Gage, would you lift the foot of his bed, please?” Merrily bent to activate that function of the bed. The doctor went on as the other two practitioners left the room. “I suggest you rent a wheelchair for use at home and when you have to be out in public, which you really should keep to a minimum for several more weeks. I’ll see to it that your dismissal packet has a list of equipment providers in it.” He peeled off his latex gloves and added, “I’ll see you in the morning about six, and you should be ready to go by ten. Takes a few hours to process the paperwork. Any questions?”
He looked first at Royce, then at her. Merrily just looked at Royce, who shook his head and said, “Nope. None I can think of at the moment. Thanks, Doc, for everything.”
The doctor smiled and nodded, then he pointedly addressed Merrily again, saying, “Do me a favor, will you? Keep him away from stairs. I don’t want to have to put him back together again.”
Merrily blinked and opened her mouth to reply, but she couldn’t think what to say to that, so she simply closed it again and nodded.
The doctor dropped his gloves into the appropriate waste receptacle. “I leave you in capable hands then,” he said, and with that walked out.
Merrily stared at the door as it slowly swung shut behind him. “Well. That was odd.” She turned her attention back to Royce. “He kept talking to me like I’m your personal nurse or something.”
Royce ducked his head sheepishly. “I, um, might have, like, accidentally led him to believe that.”
“What? Why would you do that?”
“Because I’m not supposed to leave here unless I have someone who can take care of me.”
“But you don’t,” she immediately deduced.
“Uh, not yet.”
Was this what he wanted to speak to me about? Disappointment skewered her. “Okay, well, I can recommend a couple of reputable agencies.”
He grimaced. “I thought of that already, but I can’t stand the idea of some stranger moving into my house with me.”
Merrily nodded sympathetically. “Maybe you should stay somewhere else for a while, with your parents, perhaps?”
His eyes grew wide with mock alarm. “I’d rather stay here, and believe me, I’d sooner jump out of that window over there than do that. Nope, I just see one option.”
“Which is?”
“You.”
She blinked at him. “Me?”
“Look, I know it’s an imposition, but I don’t trust anyone else.”
“You want me to move in with you?” she asked disbelievingly.
“I know it’s selfish,” he said, reaching across the bed with his left hand to take hers. She jumped, lightning flashing up her arm. “But I’m desperate,” he went on. “I’ll make it well worth your while. Whatever they’re paying you here, I’ll double it.”
Double? “No, that’s not right,” she said distractedly.
“Please, Merrily. I can’t get along by myself, and it’s a big house, lots of room, beautiful area. Did I say that you’re the only one I trust?”
At the moment she couldn’t do anything but gape at his handsome face. This beautiful man wanted her to move in with him, at least temporarily. He didn’t have to just disappear out of her life, after all. He trusted her.
“I know it’s asking a lot,” he said, squeezing her hand, “but Carlos says that because of the nursing shortage you can probably take a leave of absence and come right back here to your job when you’re ready.”
Her job was the least of it, actually. She could get another job. Nurses could pretty much write their own tickets these days, which was why Royce was going to have a difficult time finding someone with really good skills to take care of him. No, the job was the not the problem. The problems, plural, were her brothers. Jody would hit the roof if she told him she was moving out even temporarily, and the other two would lay on foot-deep guilt trips. They’d never taken care of themselves a day in their lives. Maybe it was about time they did.
Why shouldn’t she do this if she wanted to? They were all adults. It might do them some good to start acting like it, including her.
“Look,” Royce went on. “I wouldn’t even mind if you have company over. I mean, if you have a boyfriend or something…”
“No boyfriend,” Merrily murmured, already working out the logistics of it. She had to call her supervisor right away. No one was going to be happy about the short notice, but it couldn’t be helped. Then she had to pack, and it would be best to take everything she might need with her the first time, since any time she returned to the house she’d undoubtedly have to contend with one or all of her brothers. She’d get started tonight while Jody and Kyle slept and Lane was out with his friends.
“Maybe there’s someone else then?” she dimly heard Royce ask.
“Hmm? No, not really.”
He squeezed her hand again, and this time heat burned in her chest, creeping up her throat to her face. Professional, she reminded herself. This was purely professional. Nevertheless, her heart was beating like a big bass drum.
“Can you do it?” he asked, gazing at her with those blue, blue eyes.
Could she? Oh, yes. She nodded, afraid she might gush if she spoke.
“Will you?”
Merrily took a deep breath, drawing her composure around her.
“Please,” he added softly. “Merrily, I need you.”
Something inside her melted, and she said the only thing that she’d even thought of saying. “Yes. Yes, I will.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Jody demanded.
“It’s a job,” Merrily repeated for the third time, shoving toiletries into the small suitcase open on her bed. Since her announcement at breakfast all three of her brothers had been in a lather.
“You already have a job at the hospital!” Lane exclaimed.
“I’ve taken a leave,” she said, returning to the dresser for her hairbrush.
“You can’t move out of here!” Lane protested.
“It’s only temporary.”
“Who’s gonna take care of us in the meantime?” Kyle wanted to know.
Merrily stuffed her nightgown into the bag on top of everything else and closed the lid. “You’ll just have to take care of yourselves.”
“You’re not going,” Jody insisted angrily. “Mom and Dad—”
“—are off seeing America,” Merrily finished for him, straightening, “and even if they weren’t, I’d still be taking this job.”
“I forbid it!”
“Forbid away, but I’m an adult, Jody, and I’ll do as I please.”
“But you can’t,” Lane whined.
“Why not? You do.”
“That’s different.”
She gaped at him, though why she was surprised was beyond her. “It’s not different, Lane. It’s not at all different, and it’s time the three of you came to grips with that fact.”
Jody wagged a finger in her face. “You are my responsibility.”
“Oh, shut up. I’m twenty-six years old. I’m no one’s responsibility but my own, and if you want to be responsible for something, get a life and be responsible for that.” She grabbed the suitcase by the handle and hauled it off the bed while Jody stood there with his mouth open. For a moment she waited in the hopes that at least one of them would show a glimmer of understanding, but only seconds went by before she realized the folly of that. Taking a deep breath, she moved toward the door. She had hauled the rest of her things out to the car last night, leaving only those things she’d needed to dress this morning and the gown she’d slept in.
“Who’s gonna do my shirts?” Lane wanted to know.
“Take ’em to a laundry,” she suggested blandly.
“Who’s gonna cook?” Kyle groused.
“There are ten thousand restaurants in San Antonio,” Merrily said with a sigh.
“I wanna know who this guy you’re moving in with is,” Jody suddenly demanded.
That finally brought her to a halt. She glanced over her shoulder. “This ‘guy’ took a fall down a flight of stairs, dislocated his shoulder and broke his arm. He has compound fractures of the leg, not to mention torn ligaments, a concussion and various contusions. He is helpless and alone, and he offered me twice what I’m making at the hospital.”
Only Kyle had the nerve to block her path, whimpering, “But we already need you.”
She leveled a disgusted look at him and said drolly, “You may be helpless, Kyle, but at least you’re not alone.”
“I am not helpless,” he said, lifting his chin. “I have a college education.”
Merrily rolled her eyes. “So do I.” She began moving toward the door again. “I suggest you hire a housekeeper, but first get your lazy, college-educated butt out of my way.”
To her surprise he hopped aside. Without so much as a backward glance, she carried the suitcase through the door and out of the house. To freedom.
Chapter Four
“You’ll follow us?” Royce asked through the rear window of the SUV, knowing perfectly well that was the arrangement they’d made.
Merrily nodded and waved as she walked toward the employee parking lot, his paperwork tucked neatly beneath one arm. He rolled up the rear window and put his back to it, his injured leg propped on the seat. As the vehicle moved away, Royce put his head back and closed his eyes, disgusted with himself on several levels.
For one thing, just riding in a wheelchair down to meet Dale, who had retrieved his SUV from the house in order to pick him up in comfort, had his heart pounding as if he’d hopped down from the third floor on his one good leg all by himself. For another, he’d just robbed the hospital of a very fine nurse, and he knew that he’d done it for reasons that went far beyond the obvious medical need. The very idea of having Merrily Gage under his own roof, alone with him for weeks, had conjured the sort of dreams that disturbed a man’s sleep. And if that were not enough, at the root of it all was the poor exercise of judgment that had initially landed him in this predicament.
It helped a little to know that he’d already determined to hire Merrily away from the hospital even before she’d shown up in his hospital room wearing neatly cuffed little shorts that made her legs seem as long as she was tall and a top that left no doubt about the maturity of her form. Her breasts were small but high and firm. Their natural shape had been lovingly rendered by that clinging knit top with straps so tiny that she could not have possibly been wearing a bra. She had struck him then as the most natural beauty he’d ever seen. And he wanted her.
Merrily Gage was no girl: she was a woman. Suddenly the possibilities of having her in his employ seemed highly enticing, though pursuing even a semipermanent relationship with Merrily or any other woman was out of the question. He couldn’t deny that he wanted her, so he half hoped that by the time he was physically able to act upon his desires, Merrily would be gone. Hell, he should’ve hired some gargoyle to move in with him and tend to his needs, but he couldn’t be unhappy that Merrily had agreed to help him. His self-disgust didn’t reach that far apparently. For the first time he wondered if he might be the selfish monster Pamela had always claimed he was.
Merrily stopped her car and gaped. “Wow.”
The sandstone house sprawling across the hilltop awed her. The circular drive, arched car shelter and landscaped yard in front were impressive. Tall, arched, leaded-glass windows, the many hips of the copper roof and three soaring chimneys lent an unexpected grandeur to the rolling natural beauty of the setting. Obviously, Royce Lawler was no pauper.
Slowly she started the car forward again and followed the SUV. As she parked behind it under the drive-through, Dale got out and unloaded the wheelchair from the back of the SUV. Merrily went immediately to Royce’s side. He had opened the rear door and twisted around in his seat so that his legs were outside of the vehicle, and he was trying to slide down to stand on his left foot. Merrily quickly ducked under his left arm and slid an arm about his waist, trying to ignore the jolt of heated awareness that accompanied the contact. With Dale balancing his immobile right arm and her supporting the rest of his weight as much as possible, Royce eased out of the vehicle, turned and sat down heavily in the wheelchair. Merrily adjusted the footrests, extending the right to support his injured leg, while Dale unlocked the front double doors and pushed them open.
Moving behind the chair, she grasped the handles and turned Royce toward the house. Royce tilted his head back to look up at her, and though white-lipped, he smiled.
“I cannot tell you how good it is to be home again.”
“I can imagine,” she replied. With such a home, she would never want to leave.
She pushed him into the house, looking around her avidly. The floor of the wide entry hall was inlaid with stone. To the right, one could step up into a large, open dining room furnished with a long plank table and ladder-back chairs with padded seats upholstered in faded denim. Over the table hung an impressive rectangular fixture made of rusty wrought iron, and a large stone fireplace took up one entire wall.
The formal living room opened on the left. Plank floors, this time a step down, were scattered with tanned cowhide rugs and comfortable leather couches. Glass-topped occasional tables of the same wrought iron as the overhead fixtures stood at convenient intervals. Some supported small works of art, bronze sculptures and clay pots. Others held lamps with pierced tin shades. The center wall was composed of a massive double-sided fireplace, through which she caught glimpses of denim sofas in another room.
Farther down the central hall, a pair of steps led up to another hallway on the right. A ramp had been placed here to facilitate the wheelchair. On the left, another ramp had been installed over two steps that led down into a large den with bleached plank walls and floors. A recliner that matched the denim couches had been arranged in front of a large television screen recessed into the wall. At the very end of the entry hall and on the same level was another eating area and presumably the kitchen. The entire back wall of the house seemed to consist of enormous plates of glass and overlooked an expanse of terraced decks, a slope of forested ground and, far beyond, the city of San Antonio.
“Our Nurse Gage is suitably impressed, I see,” Dale commented dryly, and Merrily promptly snapped her mouth shut, aware only then that she was gaping like an untutored child. “Royce believes that a builder’s home ought to reflect the very best of his work.”
“Then I’d say he builds some magnificent homes.”
“You will notice that the house itself is designed and constructed so it contains many steps but no flight of stairs,” Dale told her.
Merrily furrowed her brow in confusion. “But I thought he fell down a flight of stairs here at home.”
Dale pointed toward the deck beyond the glass wall at the back of the house. “It’s outside. A very long, steep flight of stairs that leads down to the back driveway. That’s where he fell.”
“Hel-lo,” Royce said irritably. “In case it’s escaped your notice, I’m sitting right here. Stop talking about me like I’m not.”
Dale grinned and said to Merrily, “Obviously, the patient needs a nap. Let me help you get the chair up the ramp, then I’ll show you where to stash this character.”
“I can do it,” Merrily insisted, knowing that she would have to manage on her own sooner or later.
“I’m not helpless you know,” Royce muttered, seizing one wheel of the chair with his left hand and awkwardly turning the chair toward the ramp. He had no hope of getting that chair up that incline, though, and they all knew it. Merrily, however, waited until he had the chair lined up and aimed forward, then set her legs and pushed with her body until they were on level floor again.
Two doors opened off this level. As they passed them, Royce waved a hand to his left and said, “Through there is the powder room, cloak closet, linen storage and laundry room. That’s my office there on the right. Up ahead on the next level and overlooking the back of the house are the children’s rooms.”
Merrily hoped her shock did not communicate itself through her voice. “I wasn’t aware that you have children,” she said, after pushing the chair up the second ramp.
“Two,” Royce answered. “My son, Cory, is five, and my daughter, Tammy, is nine. They live with their mother.” That subject seemed to be closed, as he gestured to the right. “These two rooms are for guests. Take your pick. Each has its own bath.”
The third and final ramp led to a type of landing and a double door, which Dale hurried ahead to open. By the time Merrily got the chair into the master bedroom, her arms were trembling. Grateful to have a rest, she looked around. The room was huge and contained a sitting area and fireplace, as well as large leaded-glass windows. A door opened onto a bathroom of equally large proportion with similar windows. Another was closed, and she assumed that it led into a closet. A king-size bed with a heavy wrought iron headboard occupied the wall opposite the fireplace. Matching tables with matching lamps flanked it, with a third positioned in front of the window between two side chairs. A rocking chair stood in front of the fireplace, and colorful rugs had been placed strategically over the plank floors. The smooth walls had been painted and stippled to resemble old leather. A wall cabinet stood open, revealing an entertainment center. Bookcases contained not only many books but a number of framed photographs and several small objects of great interest to Merrily. One looked like a lumpy dog sculpted of plaster and colored with crayon.
She had no time to investigate, however, as her patient was showing signs of extreme stress. “Let’s get you undressed and into bed.”
He was wearing a pair of jeans split up one side all the way to the thigh and a T-shirt with one sleeve and most of that side cut out, as well as a single bedroom slipper. The fact that he didn’t argue with her was indicative of his state.
“Dale,” Royce said wearily, “would you get a pair of gym shorts out of the dressing room? It’s the third large drawer down. And get my robe out of the closet.”
As Dale went off to do as instructed, Royce pointed Merrily toward the bath. “You’ll find a pair of scissors in the cabinet opposite the mirror. Should be the top drawer.”
She went readily into the other room, fascinated by the luxury she saw there and what it said to her about Royce Lawler. Through a batwing door to her left, she glimpsed a huge, jetted tub of hammered copper and an equally impressive shower built of curving glass block. To her right was an area of cabinetry with double sinks back to back, mirrors above each, a built-in dressing table with chair and lighted mirror, and a wall of cabinets containing a pair of doors above a set of wide, shallow drawers, the top one of which came to about her shoulders. Between the dressing table and drawers, the dressing room door stood open, revealing walls lined with more drawers and two closet doors. A bench sat in the middle of the floor. As she watched, Dale extracted a pair of shorts from an open drawer, which he then closed before walking into the closet.
She had known, of course, that Royce Lawler was well out of her league. His family was among the most prominent in San Antonio, after all. This place proved that he was a man of rare good taste with the money to indulge himself in the very best. Obviously he would never be seriously interested in a completely average woman like her. As she opened the well-organized drawer and extracted the scissors, she told herself that knowing this fact liberated her from any foolish dreams. Now she could concentrate on her work and enjoy this rare moment of freedom from her family obligations in these surprisingly sumptuous surroundings.
When Royce instructed Merrily to literally cut the jeans from his body, he did so because exhaustion and pain simply precluded that he get out of them the same way he’d gotten into them. She worked without comment, cutting through the heavy denim fabric while he sat passively and Dale turned down the bed after returning to the room with a pair of loose, gray knit shorts and his Texas orange bathrobe. He wore nothing beneath those jeans but skin and could only feel grateful when she finished her job and turned away, allowing Dale to help him out of the mutilated T-shirt. She returned a moment later to drape the robe over his shoulders. Then she wisely stayed behind him as he rose, allowing the ruined jeans to fall to the floor at his feet, or rather foot, as he couldn’t put the right one on the floor, let alone stand on it.
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Arlene James
HER UNDOINGRoyce Lawler was dark and mysterious, movie-star handsome and dangerously seductive even when flat on his back. And prim and professional Merrily Gage was supposed to live alone with this man, tending to his every need as his private nurse? She didn't stand a chance.But then, neither did the single dad. Because Merrily was too good at what she did, too easy to like, to want…to need. Yet no matter how strong his desire, Royce couldn't bring the innocent beauty any further into the nightmare of his life–especially since his fall was no accident. Especially since Royce would do anything to keep sweet, sweet Merrily safe.
“Well, that was odd. He kept talking to me like I’m your personal nurse or something.”
Royce ducked his head sheepishly. “I, um, might have accidentally led him to believe that.”
“What? Why would you do that?”
“Because I’m not supposed to leave here unless I have someone who can take care of me.”
Merrily blinked at him. “Me? You want me to move in with you?” she asked disbelievingly.
“I know it’s selfish,” he said, taking her hand. She jumped, lightning flashing up her arm. “But I’m desperate. I’ll make it worth your while.”
She gaped at his handsome face. This gorgeous man wanted her to move in with him, at least temporarily. He didn’t have to just disappear out of her life, after all….
Dear Reader,
There’s more than one way to enjoy the summer. By picking up this month’s Silhouette Special Edition romances, you will find an emotional escape that is sure to touch your heart and leave you believing in happily-ever-after!
I am pleased to introduce a gripping tale of true love and family from celebrated author Stella Bagwell. In White Dove’s Promise, which launches a six-book spin-off—plus a Christmas story collection—of the popular COLTONS series, a dashing Native American hero has trouble staying in one place, until he finds himself entangled in a soul-searing embrace with a beautiful single mother, who teaches him about roots…and lifelong passion.
No “keeper” shelf is complete without a gem from Joan Elliott Pickart. In The Royal MacAllister, a woman seeks her true identity and falls madly in love with a true royal! In The Best Man’s Plan, bestselling and award-winning author Gina Wilkins delights us with a darling love story between a lovely shop owner and a wealthy businessman, who set up a fake romance to trick the tabloids…and wind up falling in love for real!
Lisa Jackson’s The McCaffertys: Slade features a lady lawyer who comes home and faces a heartbreaker hero, who desperately wants a chance to prove his love to her. In Mad Enough To Marry, Christie Ridgway entertains us with an adorable tale of that maddening love that happens only when two kindred spirits must share the same space. Be sure to pick up Arlene James’s His Private Nurse, where a single father falls for the feisty nurse hired to watch over him after a suspicious accident. You won’t want to miss it!
Each month, Silhouette Special Edition delivers compelling stories of life, love and family. I wish you a relaxing summer and happy reading.
Sincerely,
Karen Taylor Richman
Senior Editor
His Private Nurse
Arlene James
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ARLENE JAMES
grew up in Oklahoma and has lived all over the South. In 1976 she married “the most romantic man in the world.” The author enjoys traveling with her husband, but writing has always been her chief pastime.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Prologue
Royce leaned forward and placed his hands on the railing, staring into the silent darkness. On a warm summer night like this, nocturnal creatures usually kept up a steady chorus, crickets, coyotes and the occasional small owl on the prowl for an unwary field mouse or ground squirrel. Tonight, however, an unnatural silence reigned, and Royce knew why. Someone waited out there.
He gripped the squared edges of the wood railing. Rough and solid beneath his palms, it conveyed a sense of permanence, of ownership. Beyond the deck where he stood and the black, irregular skyline of scrubby forest that flowed down the hill upon which he had built his secluded home, San Antonio spread out in a rumpled quilt of white and amber lights, stitched together by the sinuously askew seams of major streets and highways. He often stood on the large, terraced deck, gazing out over the city he both loved and nightly escaped, a city he had helped to build, often with his own two hands. This night, however, he studied the ground below, the murky black shadows of lush forest cedar interspersed with spindly sprays of mesquite and squat, wicked cactus.
She was there. Somewhere. He could not see her, but she was there. He sensed her, still attuned even after these many, many months to his ex-wife’s volatile presence. Every time the kids slept over, she made some sort of scene, created some sort of crisis. He couldn’t believe that tonight would be the exception.
Quietly, so as not to disturb his daughter, whose room in the large, rambling house overlooked the deck, he turned and moved to the top of the steep, open stairs that would carry him down to the narrow drive that ran behind the house. The warm summer breeze made his T-shirt stick to his back and molded the thin pajama bottoms to his body. He did not want another confrontation, but this madness had to stop.
He was certain that she was there, stalking, watching, planning her next scene, her next outrageous demand, utterly determined to ruin his life, to punish him for failing to make her happy, for failing to make all her mad dreams come true. She was there, wanting, needing, his destruction. Most of all, she wanted to turn his children against him, to ensure that he did not see them if she could, to remove his influence from their sad, unstable lives and, if she could not manage that, then to ruin every visit, every cherished moment that he spent with them, because, more than she wanted money, control, someone to worship at her feet and make all her fears go away, she wanted to remove every vestige of the love she could not claim from his life.
Until he felt the hands at the small of his back, he did not realize that, even more than she wanted to punish him, she wanted him dead.
Chapter One
Pain swirled through his body, dull here, deep there, throbbing, pulsing, ambiguous. He floated on it, drifting blindly from one ache to another, trying to form thoughts, losing them. Then suddenly, hot pincers clamped his inner thigh and began slowly tearing the muscle from the bone. He heard a hoarse, agonized cry. A fellow sufferer or him? Him, he decided, dimly aware of trying to reach the source of his agony. His right arm felt as if it were nailed down, and when he tried to move it, a new pain flooded him.
Someone whom he couldn’t see said, “I’ve got it. I’ve got it.” It was an angel’s voice, melodic and female.
Small, cool hands kneaded away the anguish. The white-hot pinching faded. Ahhhhh. The relief felt magical. He was floating again, his whole being focused on the sensations aroused by those hands slowly working their way up his thigh, electrifying his flesh. A new sensation rose—literally. A roiling sea of contrasts tossed him from one extreme to another: shadows and light, heat and cold, pain and indulgence. The relief of unconsciousness and the greed of arousal beckoned with equal appeal.
Lyrical, that voice whispered in his ear again. “There. How’s that? Better? Cramp gone now?”
He tried to answer, but his tongue felt thick and unwieldly in his dry mouth. “Ungh.”
The wondrous hands vanished. He tried to bring them back, becoming aware of incapacitating weakness and muscles tight with soreness, of a dizzy head and confusion. Where was he? The unusual heaviness on his right side and in his groin weighed him down. Then he felt something brush against his lips. Ah, his erotic angel had not abandoned him. The heaviness in his groin grew more pronounced. He puckered his mouth around a small round something.
“Sip. Just a sip.”
Like honey, that voice. Cool, sweet water flowed into his mouth, and he gulped it greedily. Panting with relief, he squinted his eyes, trying to focus.
“Are you in pain? Use this.”
Something hard was pressed into his hand. He lifted his head, tried to look at the thing in his palm and got distracted by a new realization. A bed. He was in bed. But with whom? He tried to put a name, a face, a body to that voice.
“Like this.”
Slender fingers wrapped around and manipulated his own. The haze parted, and he looked up into a pretty, delicate face, one he had surely never seen before. Dark hair, a long, thick plait of it coiled beneath her ear. Soft, green eyes. The nose was almost too small, the chin almost too pointed, but the mouth… Oh, the mouth. A perfect, pink, beestung bow. A mouth waiting to be kissed. By him.
Heat pulsed in his groin, and instinctively he lifted his arm, the left one, since the right had turned to stone. The hard thing fell away, but he paid it no mind as he clasped his hand behind her head, his erotic angel with the dulcet voice and gentle touch. Straining upward and pulling down, he brought his mouth to hers. Her lips were soft and supple. They parted against his, and he used all his strength to press harder, to taste her. Sweet. So very sweet. He held on to that as long as he could, his only reality in a nightmare of torture and chaos.
Hums and squeaks swirled around him, fire and pain, need and delight. Where had he met her? What was her name, and why couldn’t he remember? Despite his best efforts, gloom eddied in the center of his mind, denying him answers and growing in rings of numbing shadow, darker, darker, until the world went black with a noisy clang.
An electronically generated bell donged in measured cadence. Merrily glanced away from the notation desk where she sat catching up on paperwork to check the alarm board. Room 18. At the thought of the patient there, color instantly bloomed in her cheeks. Royce Lawler was badly injured, movie-star handsome and dangerously seductive even when drugged out of his mind. Apparently, he had finally obtained full consciousness, poor guy.
Normally, with a patient in this much pain, Merrily would have jumped up and rushed to his aid, but this time, despite her sympathy for the man’s injuries, she hesitated long enough to look around for someone else to answer this particular call. In just the time it took to turn her head, however, she knew the search was pointless. Short-staffed as they were, every nurse was busy to the point of insanity. She was on her feet and moving before she could even tell herself that he wouldn’t remember a thing that had gone on earlier.
In her short career as an after-trauma nurse, Merrily had been groped, pinched, patted, hugged, leered at and propositioned, but she’d never been kissed like that. By anyone. Her heartbeat sped at the memory of it, the strength, the possession, the expertise. Had he sensed her awareness of him as a man rather than merely a patient? Somehow her usual cool detachment had deserted her when she’d bared his body and massaged the cramp from the thigh of his injured leg.
Cramps were a real problem with immobilized patients. The docs prescribed potassium and calcium to try to prevent them, as even an unconscious patient would try to move to alleviate the vicious pain. Lawler, however, had experienced more cramps than the average patient. He’d kept the ICU nurses hopping after his surgery until the attending physician had figured out the correct supplement levels for him. This morning’s cramp had undoubtedly been a result of the move from ICU to the floor.
Given the trauma and the drugs, Merrily told herself as she pushed through the door into his room, he could not possibly remember kissing her—or how she’d knocked over the trash can next to his bed afterward. Nevertheless, her pulse quickened and spots of color burned high on her cheeks even as she put on her most professional demeanor and prepared to assess and assist her patient. She turned toward the bed in the small, quiet, private room, then rushed forward, praying he hadn’t torn loose the stitches, dislodged the broken ends of bones or worse.
Royce gritted his teeth and mentally cursed himself. His arm shook with the effort required to brace his twisted body on his left palm, head dangling toward the floor. He was trapped by the traction device that kept his screaming right leg immobile several uncomfortable inches above the bed. The cast on his right arm and shoulder, though unwieldy, was at least maneuverable to an extent, though at the moment it weighed down on him like an anvil. Somehow the IV line tethering his left arm to the bags hanging over his head and the contraption clipped to the end of his left index finger remained intact, though his right hip felt as if it was being pulled from its socket. The nurse’s call button dangled from its cord next to the bed. He’d banged his head against it on his way down but had no way of knowing whether or not he’d managed to trigger the thing.
He’d really gotten himself into a fine mess this time, and he wasn’t thinking just about the fall he’d taken trying to reach the telephone, which some fool had placed out of his reach on the bedside table. Oh no, it was much more than that. Black memory spun through his head.
Shoving hands pitched him forward, and he fell, arms milling in cold fear. At the first impact on the sharp edges of the wooden stairs, a white hot snap in his right forearm blinded him and his right foot slipped between the open steps. Twisting, he fell forward in slow motion. Stars winked and whirled overhead. His leg wrenched, bones snapping. His shoulder and head impacted the steps in twin explosions of pain. Above him, the deck stairs loomed steep and dark, a pale figure hovering at the top. Deep, deep regret rushed through him in the instant before he died.
He’d really thought that he had fallen to his death. The same feelings he’d experienced then, pain, fear, regret, and now worry and sheer embarrassment moderated his relief at discovering that he’d been wrong. At the moment, worry surpassed all the others.
“Mr. Lawler!”
Rescue had arrived, but embarrassment beat out relief, at least temporarily, and as feet rushed toward him, rubber soles squeaking on clean floors, he closed his eyes. Arms locked around his dangling torso, small, short arms. He knew a moment of grave doubt as he felt a body crouch next to him. A woman, small and slight. He half recognized the smell, sensed the size and shape of her. Then her legs pushed upward and he found himself being lifted. He wrapped his arm about her back and tried to give her as much help as he could, contracting already strained and bruised muscles.
“What happened?” she grunted.
His stupidity and impatience had happened, but he was puffing too hard to gasp anything more than, “Telephone,” as he flopped back on the pillow. She tsked, and lifted the bed rail back into place, but the expected lecture did not materialize as she went about settling him and making sure he hadn’t done additional damage.
His rescuer didn’t know how much additional damage could be done, however, and how much his fault it was. Why hadn’t he seen how close his ex-wife, Pamela, was to the breaking point? Why hadn’t he known this could happen? Idiot. He had to do something before anyone else got hurt. The list of those with whom he needed to immediately speak was long: his kids, especially Tammy, his parents, Dale, his secretary, his foreman, doctors. Mentally, he moved Dale Boyd, his best buddy and personal attorney, to the top of the list. He had to get that phone. Head swimming, he opened his eyes and looked up into a surprisingly familiar face.
So it hadn’t been a dream. His angel was real. As her hands moved over him with practiced, efficient purpose, he observed that his angel wore flowered scrubs and an oversize lab coat. He saw, too, that she was young, too young, little more than a teenager, it seemed, albeit a very pretty teenager, too young to have been kissed by the likes of him. Surely that part of it had been a dream; yet the impulse to capture that lush little mouth rose in him even now, and he found that annoying. This was not the time for complications like sexual attraction.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like I fell down a flight of stairs,” he retorted, shifting in an effort to ease the insistent throb in his shoulder. His voice sounded rusty and hoarse even to him.
“You have a morphine pump attached to your IV,” she said, checking tubes, bags and monitors.
“No morphine,” he stated flatly. He knew what the small cylinder lying in his lap was. The line snaking up to the blue box of the IV regulator promised instant relief, but he couldn’t afford the clouded mind and lassitude it would bring.
“You can’t overdose,” she informed him briskly, pouring water into a blue plastic tumbler with a straw standing in it. “The machine won’t let you.” She lifted the straw to his mouth, and he gratefully sucked the small vessel dry.
“No morphine,” he repeated with a satisfied sigh. “Not yet. I need to make a telephone call.”
She ignored that. “Do you know where you are?”
He tamped down his impatience. “In a hospital. Not sure which one.”
“Big General,” she informed him, using the universal term for San Antonio’s hub hospital, the largest and most sophisticated in the city. “Room 18. I’m Nurse Gage.”
A nurse. “You don’t look old enough to be a nurse.”
She ignored that, too. “Do you remember how you got here?”
He rolled his head side to side in the negative. “I remember being…falling down the stairs at the back of my house.”
“You were brought in by ambulance,” she told him, reaching for the stethoscope draped about her neck. He noticed that her hands, though tiny, were long-fingered with short, oval nails. She listened to his chest, took his pulse, then asked matter-of-factly, “Do you need to empty your bladder? You dislodged the catheter in recovery, and it was decided to remove it.”
Recovery? He pushed that aside, along with the sudden need to do as she suggested. Everything else could wait. “I need to make a call. Now.”
“Your parents left their telephone number at the desk. If you want, I’ll give them a ring a soon as we’re finished here.”
He closed his eyes, frustration mounting. He didn’t want to feel the resentment that surged through him, but he couldn’t help thinking that most parents would be standing anxiously at the bedside of an injured son. Only his supremely self-absorbed parents would have more important things to do. Shoving that old anger away, he marshaled his reason and reached down deep for his usual easygoing demeanor.
“Listen, I don’t mean to be difficult, but this is important. If you could just hand me the receiver and dial a number for me, I’d be eternally grateful.” He opened his eyes, well aware of the impact those big, baby blues could have. He saw it in her face then, the full memory of that kiss. So it hadn’t been a dream, then. Damn. Suddenly the urge to empty his bladder became secondary to another.
She stepped back, bumped into the table and IV pole and flushed bright red. Busily righting everything, she said over her shoulder, “You should rest.”
“I can’t,” he pleaded, “until I make the call. Please.”
She glanced at him then picked up the telephone receiver, bobbled it and, eyes averted, tucked it into the crook of his neck. Punching two buttons she asked, “What’s the number?”
“Thank you,” he breathed, gratitude easing the physical need somewhat. He gave her the number and angled his head so he could hear the tones as she dialed. She moved out of sight, then appeared again at the foot of the bed, where she looked at his toes, which were all that the stiff cocoon of bandages encasing his right leg left visible.
Dale’s secretary answered on the second ring, exclaiming at the sound of Royce’s voice. He made himself answer her questions of concern before saying urgently that he had to speak to her boss. Nurse Gage moved to examine the fingers that extended beyond the cast on his right arm and shoulder, and a moment later, Dale came on the line.
“Royce? How are you?”
“Still among the living.”
“What the hell happened out there, man? I couldn’t believe it when Tammy called.”
Everything in Royce went on alert. “Tammy called you?”
“Yeah, right after she called 911. She probably saved your life, man.”
Emotion swamped Royce. He closed his eyes, tears welling behind them. Poor Tammy, caught between warring parents, not knowing whom to trust, what was betrayal and what was not. Her mother had undoubtedly wanted him to die, yet, Tammy had saved him. The great love that he felt for his nine-year-old momentarily choked him. He cleared his throat and said as smoothly as he could manage, “She’s a good girl, always has been.”
“Yeah. Must take after you,” which meant that they should all feel grateful that she didn’t take after her mother, Pamela.
What his ex had put those two kids through was enough to break Royce’s heart. He’d been fighting her for full custody since he’d filed for divorce two years ago, and the case was finally coming to court soon, though Pamela had used every trick in the book to block it. If he’d believed for an instant that she really wanted, needed her kids with her, he’d have relented, but to Pamela those kids were nothing more than a weapon to use against him. She’d told them hideous lies in an attempt to make them hate him, even that the only reason he wanted custody was so he wouldn’t have to pay child support. He hadn’t realized just how far she was willing to go, though. Until now.
“I’ve gotta see you, Dale. How quick can you get over here?”
“How’s an hour sound? I’ve got a conference call on hold. Give me thirty minutes to wrap it up, and I’ll head over your way.”
Weary to the bone, Royce figured he’d need that hour to regain his strength. “Thanks. I appreciate it, bud.”
“No problem. Can I bring you anything?”
“Just get over here.”
“Sure thing. And, Royce?”
“Yeah?”
“You don’t know how good it is to hear your voice.”
“Ditto.” He knew he didn’t have to say that he’d never expected to hear or speak to anyone ever again.
As Merrily took the telephone receiver from his hand to replace it in its cradle, she noted that he did not wear a wedding ring. The fact that she couldn’t resist looking for one disturbed her. Only the conclusion that he obviously didn’t remember that kiss he’d planted on her earlier enabled her to do her job.
“Your extremities look good. Full color, warm to the touch. Have you tried to move your toes?”
The question seemed to surprise him. “No.” He looked down at the bare toes poking up at the end of the bed. The faint twinge was not what Merrily had hoped for, but she put a good face on it.
“Don’t worry about it. The doctor will undoubtedly want to take a few more X rays, but given your condition they’ll probably bring the portable unit here.”
“What is my condition exactly?”
She looked straight into his eyes, noting the size of his pupils. “Good. The concussion worried them at first, but the CT scan was normal.”
“I’ve had a CT scan?”
“And an MRI, about a dozen X rays and surgery to set bones in your leg. They also put your shoulder back into its socket and set your arm.”
His eyes widened. A surreal blue, they were easily the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen, as beautiful as his face. Handsome seemed a lame term for such male perfection. Four shades of blond, from brass to platinum, streaked the thick, straight hair that flopped over one brow. The face itself was that of an archangel or a superhero straight out of the pages of a comic book, especially with that tortured look hovering just beneath the toasted gold of his skin. Tiny lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes, another testament to the time this man spent out of doors.
“Anything else?”
“Bruises and contusions. The miracle is that you didn’t break a rib and puncture a lung.”
“No internal injuries then?”
“Nothing serious, but don’t be surprised if you pass a little blood.”
He nodded, forehead creasing with a frown. “Guess I can be thankful for that.”
“I know it hurts,” she said. “I can back off the morphine dose if you like. It might give you some relief without putting you to sleep.” That boxy jaw set stubbornly, spurring her to explain. “It’s better to stay on top of the pain if you can. If you let it get too bad, your mind won’t be any clearer and it’ll take more meds to control it.”
Grimly he closed his eyes and nodded. She made the adjustment and depressed the pump herself before switching the pulse monitor on the end of his left index finger to his right hand. “That ought to give you a little more dexterity.”
“Thanks.”
“You don’t happen to be left-handed, do you?”
“No such luck.” He sent her a wry, lazy look that sped up her heart.
“Too bad.” She bent to pick up the plastic urinal, only to knock it under the bed. What was wrong with her? She hadn’t been this clumsy since Donald Popof had asked her to the prom. Disgustedly she got down on her knees and fished the large plastic jar from beneath the bed. Rising, she hooked the handle over the bed rail and asked, “Think you can manage by yourself?” His gaze met hers blandly, and she knew by his demeanor that the drugs were beginning to take effect.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“You can lie on your left hip if you keep your body aligned with the traction bar,” she advised matter-of-factly, “but don’t let the container get too full or we’ll wind up having to change your bed. Okay?”
He looked away. “Okay.”
She went to the sink and dampened a washcloth with antibacterial fluid, then draped it wordlessly over the bed rail within easy reach.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Can I get you anything?”
Those blue eyes settled on her again, and a small, appreciative smile flitted across his face. “Food.”
A good sign. She checked her watch. “Dinner trays will be up in about an hour. Meanwhile, I’ve got crackers, ice cream and popsicles, if you’re interested.”
“Forget the popsicles,” he said wryly, meaning that she should bring everything else.
Chuckling, she headed for the door, allowing him the privacy necessary to relieve himself.
Royce eased onto his back, more comfortable than he had been since he’d awakened nearly an hour earlier, and let his mind wander where it would. Not surprisingly, it went straight to Nurse Gage. She had displayed unusual sensitivity, first by refraining from scolding him for putting down the bed rail and trying to get to the phone on his own and then by allowing him to tend to his personal needs in privacy. He felt better just knowing that he wasn’t completely helpless, and he couldn’t help feeling grateful that she hadn’t mentioned that kiss.
He wondered if he ought to apologize for it, then upon reflection decided that it was best to let her think he didn’t remember kissing her, though in fact it was one of the first things he had remembered. At the time he’d assumed it was all a dream, and that was how he was going to treat it, like a freaky dream that had brought him a moment of pleasure in the midst of physical anguish. He suspected it would be easier for both of them that way, especially her.
What a strange little creature she was, his Nurse Gage, alternately clumsy and efficient, small but strong, brisk and professional but with a gentle sympathy warming the muted green of her eyes. He wondered what she would look like with that long braid unbound. Would it lie sleek and straight across her shoulders or wave and curl?
She either wasn’t married or didn’t wear a wedding ring while working. Somehow he figured it was the former. Youth aside, she just didn’t have the look of a settled, married woman.
He frowned disgustedly at the train of his thoughts. For one thing he had much more important matters to ponder. For another, he was in no position to pursue a woman, even if his health weren’t an issue, which it clearly was.
Deliberately he turned his mind to other things. When could he speak to his daughter?
He wasn’t married. The thought circled through her brain all the while she stuffed her pockets with saltines and plucked ice cream bars from the freezer. It was only at his door, however, that Merrily confronted the rise of enthusiasm inside her with a stern rebuke.
“Don’t be an idiot, Merrily,” she scolded under her breath. “He may not have a ring on his finger, but there’s a woman around somewhere.” No doubt she would ascend at any moment, miniskirt flapping and kohl-darkened eyes sparkling with tears of concern. Shoot, a man like that probably had them lined up to hold his hand and stroke his fevered brow.
That kiss had been nothing more than a drug-induced fluke. He wouldn’t be seriously interested in a woman who looked so much like a kid that, at twenty-six, she still had to buy her clothes in the junior department, which was pretty much why she stuck to uniforms, jeans and simple shirts. Nope, Royce Lawler was not for the likes of her, and to think otherwise would be, in the immortal words of her eldest brother, Jody, cruising for a bruising.
Hiding her own interest behind her nurse’s demeanor, she went in to play her chosen role of angel of mercy armed with crackers and rapidly softening ice cream.
Chapter Two
“So apparently she found you right away,” Dale said, speaking of Royce’s nine-year-old daughter Tammy.
Royce nodded and attempted a smile. “Lucky.”
“I’ll say. She called 911 and me, then tossed a blanket over you and sat with you until the paramedics arrived.”
Royce frowned. “I don’t remember any of that.”
“Pretty gutsy, if you ask me,” Dale commented. “She was terrified you were dead. I told her to stay with her little brother, but she said Cory was asleep and she didn’t want you to be alone. She was sobbing, poor kid. I tell you, I flew. Got there right after the ambulance. Guess she called her mom, too, ’cause Pam was there when I arrived. Pretty odd, since she lives farther from your place than I do.” He eyed Royce and added, “She said something about being at a restaurant on the south side of town. I asked her twice which one, but she never did say.”
Royce kept his expression carefully impassive. “Tammy knows I’m going to be okay, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah, the doctors told us so before Pamela sent her and Cory back to her house with that nanny she hired, but Pam stayed here until you were out of surgery and came around in ICU.”
I’ll bet she did, Royce thought cryptically, recalling the moment he’d opened his eyes in ICU to find three disembodied heads bending over him. He hadn’t known to whom they belonged or where he was, but when he’d been asked to cough, he’d done so. He’d grunted answers to questions he couldn’t remember now, but he clearly recollected when one unfamiliar voice had said, “You took a bad fall, Mr. Lawler. Do you remember anything about it?”
He’d known even then what he had to say, and if asked today, he would say the same thing. “No.”
“Huh?” The tall, lanky attorney with the dark-brown hair and eyes looked at Royce as if wondering whether or not he should call the nurse. He and Royce had been friends since high school, despite having attended different colleges. He was the one person in Royce’s life with whom Royce could be completely honest—until now.
Royce cleared his throat. “I mean, um, no doubt she was hoping I’d broken my neck.”
“She did ask what provisions you’d made in your will for her and the children,” Dale said wryly.
Royce sighed, guessing, “And she was some ticked off when you told her that as my ex-wife, emphasis on the ex, she was not entitled to be provided for.”
Dale chuckled. “She really went ballistic when I informed her that Mark Cherry and I are to be coexecutors of the trust you’ve established for the kids. Come to think of it, your parents weren’t best pleased, either.”
“You mean they were here?” Royce asked dryly.
Dale’s face went carefully blank. “Yeah, sure, till we knew you were going to be okay.”
“Meaning they didn’t stick around to be sure I came out of surgery all right,” Royce surmised correctly.
It was nothing more than he’d expected. He’d been at odds with his parents for as long as he could remember. Even as a kid he’d felt that he must’ve been switched at birth. He just didn’t seem to have anything in common with his socially prominent, appearance-driven parents. They’d never forgiven him for preferring to work with his hands rather than a calculator, and when his younger brother had eagerly embraced the family banking business, Royce’s fate as “the disappointment” had been sealed.
Dale, bless him, quickly changed the subject. “I want to ask for a postponement of the custody hearing. You’re in no shape to take on two kids by yourself now, anyway, and you know perfectly well that our position’s been iffy from the start.”
Royce nodded in reluctant agreement and rubbed his left hand over his face. His shoulder ached, his head felt heavy, and his leg throbbed above the knee. Shifting in a futile effort to find a more comfortable position on the narrow, lumpy mattress, he said what they both knew. “We’re no closer to proving she’s a threat to the children than we were when we started.”
“She’s crazy smart, that woman,” Dale said with a sigh. “She’s been real careful to make her threats in private to no one but you. The only thing we’ve ever had in our favor is the fact that she’s a proven adulteress.”
“Which means nothing when it comes to custody issues,” Royce said.
“Listen,” Dale said, shifting his chair closer to the bed, “if we could just get one of the kids to testify that Pamela has repeatedly lost her temper with them…”
Royce was shaking his head. Now he stated his position emphatically. “No. Absolutely not. I won’t have my children pressured to testify against their own mother.”
Dale sighed. “Well, Cory’s too young to be believable, and Tammy wouldn’t, anyway.”
“You don’t understand the pressure she lives under, Dale. No one can unless they’ve lived with Pamela. Everything that displeases her, no matter how slight, is a major betrayal to her. That means one emotional, irrational scene after another until your whole life becomes nothing more than a fruitless exercise in trying to please her, to stop the tirade. Eventually you realize that it’s impossible, but you can’t get out and you don’t dare give up. I know. I’m an adult, and after two years I’m still trying to fight my way free. Imagine what it must be like for a child. I tell you the truth, Dale, if Mark and I hadn’t walked in on her and Campo in the act, I’d still be married to that vampire.”
Dale knotted his hands into fists. “I still want to clobber that guy every time I think of him. You built his house, for pity’s sake, and not only does he try to cheat you out of your earnings, he sleeps with your wife—on the living room sofa, no less!”
“And I keep telling you,” Royce said, aware that he was beginning to slur his words, “it was the only way out for me. I can’t be anything but grateful to the creep.”
“Yeah, but if he hadn’t dumped Pamela,” Dale pointed out, “she’d have left the kids with you and beat a path with him to the Mediterranean.”
Royce closed his eyes, a smile quirking one corner of his mouth. “So Claude Campo is smarter than me. He sure wised up faster than I did. Can’t blame the fellow for that.”
“You were a senior in college when you married Pamela,” Dale argued. “You thought you’d nabbed a hot redhead to spend the rest of your life with. How were you to know she was a basket case that was slowly unraveling?”
Royce smiled. Trust Dale to defend him. “Anyway,” Royce said, getting the conversation back on track, “about Tammy. I don’t want anyone pressuring her, not about her mother and not about my fall. You got that?”
Dale nodded. “Sure, sure. Her animosity toward you is nothing more than an attempt to placate and please her mother. That’s what you’ve always said, and seems to me that her recent behavior reinforces it. I mean, she saved your life. If she hadn’t found you and called an ambulance, shock would have….”
“Finished what her mother started,” Royce muttered. To his chagrin, Dale pounced on that unwise statement.
“I knew it!” He came up out of his chair. “You’d never fall down your own deck stairs. She pushed you. The witch pushed you!” He punctuated the air with the jab of one forefinger, then dropped his hands to his waist. “We need a private investigator.”
“No.”
“We’ll punch holes in her alibi, sink her for good.”
Royce struggled up onto his left elbow to make himself understood. “No.”
“But you said—”
“You misunderstood.” Collapsing back onto his pillow, Royce massaged his temples with thumb and forefinger. “I only meant that Pam’s been punishing me for everything that has ever gone wrong in her life. No doubt she believes that if I died it would serve me right. That’s what she’s been teaching my kids ever since the divorce.”
Deflated, Dale turned the armless, molded plastic chair and straddled it. “And they’re too young to know that you divorced their mother because you caught her naked, humping a client in your own home.”
Royce cut his gaze sideways. “Succinctly put.”
Dale sighed and hunched forward, hanging his sharp chin on the edge of the chair back. “So that leaves us right where we’ve always been. Square one.”
“Not exactly,” Royce said, disciplining a yawn. Blinking, he fought off the drug-induced lethargy. “I want you to find a therapist for Tammy. She has to have been traumatized by all this.”
Dale fixed him with that no-nonsense, lawyer glare of his. “Royce, did Tammy see her mother push you? Is that what this is all about?”
“No. And even if she had, I wouldn’t let anyone badger her about it. She needs to talk to someone she can trust, someone neutral. I mean it, Dale, someone neutral. This isn’t part of the case. This isn’t discovery. This is my daughter. She needs help.”
Dale straightened and nodded. “Right. Sorry. I’ll get on it as soon as I leave here. You know, though, that Pamela’s going to fight us on it.”
Royce nodded wearily. “I’m going to ask my doctor and the kid’s pediatrician to recommend it.”
“That’ll help,” Dale said doubtfully.
The door swung open then, and Nurse Gage walked through bearing a green plastic tray. “Dinner.”
Despite his fatigue, Royce’s stomach rumbled and he smiled. “I think I’m hungry enough even for hospital food.”
“I didn’t know anyone got that hungry,” Dale quipped as the nurse slid the tray onto the bed table.
Apparently unamused, she pointed a finger at Dale and said bluntly, “You have been here long enough. He needs to eat, take his medicine and rest.”
Dale’s thin brows arched. With an amused glance at Royce he stood and threw his shoulders back, emphasizing his height. Executing a smart salute, he winked at the diminutive Nurse Gage. “Aye, aye, sarge.”
She barely spared him a glance as she elbowed him aside, lowered the bedside rail and rolled the table into place, positioning it over Royce’s lap. Royce chuckled. “Thanks for coming by, Dale.”
Defeated, Dale started toward the door, saying cheerily, “I’ll be back this evening.”
“See you then.”
Nurse Gage bent to depress the button that lifted the head of the bed. When his body was adequately contorted, semi-sitting with leg suspended and right arm propped on a stack of pillows, she shook out a thin paper napkin and tucked it into the too-high neck of his hated hospital gown. “Now, then,” she said briskly, “let’s get you fed.”
She lifted the domed cover off his plate, revealing grayish meat and limp, overdone vegetables. Taking knife and fork in hand, she began cutting up the meat. He wondered, with some amusement, right up to the moment she placed the fork in his left hand, if she was actually going to feed him.
Ping, ping, ping, ping.
Glancing at the alarm board, Merrily shrugged into the roomy lab coat she preferred to wear over her simple scrubs. Room 18, Royce Lawler. Lydia Joiner, the charge nurse, groaned.
“Not again.”
“What’s wrong?” Merrily asked, checking her voluminous pockets.
“Eighteen’s on a rampage,” Lydia said, rising from the desk. “Found out he’s got to have surgery again on that leg, and he’s taking it out on the whole nursing staff.”
“I’ll go,” Merrily said, aware that she didn’t have to, since she was early for her shift.
Lydia inclined her head appreciatively. “Thanks, kid.”
Kid. Always the kid. Lydia was no more than three years her senior, but due to her appearance, Merrily was “the kid.” Sighing with resignation, Merrily moved toward Royce’s room. The alarm board ping-ping-pinged again as she pushed through the heavy door.
“Thank God!” Royce Lawler exclaimed, tossing the bell remote into his lap. “It’s about time somebody with some sense showed up around here. Where the hell have you been?”
Merrily tamped down a surge of gratification at his greeting. “I just came on shift.”
“They’ve moved the damned phone again. Every time they come, they shove that table aside and leave it that way, then I can’t reach the phone!”
Merrily pulled the table closer to the left side of the bed and shifted the telephone to the far right edge, within reach. “How’s that?”
He dropped his head back onto his pillow. “Thank you. Thank you.”
“The problem,” she explained, squeezing behind the table to check his IV output, “is that the IV poles are fixed to the head of your bed. I’ll see if I can’t get a rolling pole in here and place it in front of the table.”
“Why didn’t they do that to begin with?” he grumbled.
Merrily bit her lip to quell a smile. “Because you are not ambulatory,” she explained patiently.
“And I’m not likely to be anytime soon,” he complained. “They’re going to put a metal rod in my leg. I won’t even be able to go through the metal detector at the airport!”
She laughed. She just couldn’t help it. He glared at her, but then the furrow in his brow eased and his mouth curved into a wry smile.
“Okay, okay. So it’s not that bad. And don’t you dare say that I did it to myself. My mother has already pointed that fact out to me—not that I wasn’t already aware of it.”
“I understand,” she said. “When did they remove the fingertip monitor?”
“They didn’t. I did,” he declared flatly.
“I see.” She checked his pulse with her fingers. He lay still and quiet as she counted the beats and marked time on her wristwatch. As she retrieved his chart to make the proper notation on it, he lifted his head from the pillow to watch.
“You aren’t going to scold me?”
She didn’t look up from the chart. “Would it help?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. But after a moment he asked bluntly, “How old are you?”
The clipboard bearing his chart fell to her side. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you have to be older than you look.”
She squared her shoulders beneath the crisp white lab coat, trying to conceal how sensitive the subject was. “I’m twenty-six.”
“Holy cow! I’d have guessed eighteen, twenty, younger before I got to know you.”
Chagrined, Merrily snapped, “What makes you think you know me?”
He shrugged his left shoulder and fell back on the pillow. “I know you’re the only one around here with an ounce of compassion. First they tell me to rest, then they keep me up all night with tests. What kind of sense does that make?”
“Fiscal,” Merrily answered succinctly. “The hospital labs are so busy with outpatient procedures during the day that they have little choice but to conduct inpatient tests at night. Hospitalized patients, after all, aren’t going anywhere.”
“Tell me about it,” he mumbled. Then suddenly he announced, “I’m hungry.”
Merrily folded her arms. She’d noticed the “no intake” sign on his doorside clip. “What time is your surgery scheduled for?”
He looked at the ceiling. “Three.”
“Tell me what you want for dinner, and I’ll make sure it’s here when you get back.” She didn’t have to tell him that it was the best she could do.
Sighing richly he seemed to consider, then his eyes narrowed and he said, “Pizza with chicken and shrimp, pesto sauce, black olives, pineapple and mozzarella.” He lifted his head to see how she’d taken that.
Smiling because she knew he thought he’d stumped her, she said, “Number six, Riccotini’s. There’s one around the corner. I’m having the salmon and sun-dried tomatoes myself.”
“Number nine,” he said, tussling with a grin.
“Anything else I can get you? Orange iced tea, maybe?”
“Mmm. About a gallon ought to do it.”
“A number six with a large orange iced tea.”
“And turtle cheesecake.”
“And turtle cheesecake,” she echoed. Chuckling, she headed for the door.
“Wait.” He waved her back toward the bed and indicated the bedside table with a nod of his head. “In the drawer.”
She opened the drawer to find his wallet. “Oh, don’t worry about that.” Ignoring that, he groped the drawer blindly with his left hand until he found the wallet. Flipping it open, he laid it in his lap and extracted a twenty-dollar bill.
“Dinner’s on me,” he said, thrusting the money toward her.
“Oh, no, that’s all right. I was planning on going out, anyway.”
A grin spread across his face. “So? What’s your name? Given name, I mean.”
“Merrily.”
The grin spread wider. “Well, Merrily, I insist on buying your dinner, since you volunteered to pick up mine. No arguments, now. It’s the least I can do.”
Suddenly he stuffed the bill into the breast pocket of her lab coat. Electricity flashed through her, so strong that she stumbled backward a step—and into the corner of the bedside table, rocking it enough to send the telephone sliding toward the floor. She grabbed for it at the same time he did, and while they managed to keep the phone from falling, their arms became entwined. Her gaze collided with his and stuck.
For a moment the world and everything in it stopped. The second hand on the clock of time froze as they stared into each other’s eyes. Then, slowly, he blinked and carefully extracted his arm from the loop of hers. Sinking back onto the pillow, he cleared his throat. Merrily settled the phone.
“What, uh, what time do you think I might get to enjoy that dinner?” he asked, his voice thick.
She tried to keep her tone level, normal. “Best guess, around eight.”
He grimaced and covered his eyes with his hand. “I trust you’ll still be on duty then.”
“Until ten,” she confirmed.
He said, “Good.”
Good. She tried very hard not to let that please her in any personal fashion.
“I’ll, um, be in later to perform the preop.”
He let his hand fall to his side. “Sure. Better you than Nurse Disjointer.”
Merrily ducked her head to hide her smile as she fled the room.
Katherine Lawler lifted her patrician chin and sniffed, silver hair swinging against her nape. “All I said is that it’s a pity he can’t sue himself.”
“That’s what’s wrong with this country!” Marvin, her husband and Royce’s father, proclaimed. “Everyone’s sue happy. Let the blasted insurance pay for it. That’s what it’s for. Not that it isn’t his own fault. He built the damned stairs.”
Royce groaned, wondering desperately where Merrily was with that pizza. He hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of her since he’d returned to his room nearly an hour ago. The piteous sound elicited not a glimmer from his parents.
“You sued your own partners,” Katherine pointed out.
“That was different! I had to get an accurate accounting, didn’t I?”
“You already had an accurate accounting.”
“How was I supposed to know that?”
The door opened, and to Royce’s immense relief, his angel swept into the room, carrying two small pizza boxes and a brown paper sack.
“Finally!” he exclaimed on a long sigh, relaxing at last.
Her soft, muted-green gaze skidded right past him. Smiling at his parents, she left the pizza and sack on the bedside table. Briskly, she lifted the head of his bed and moved to the sink to moisten a cloth with antibacterial solution so he could clean his hand, saying, “Your postop exam was fine, so you get to eat now.”
“It’s about time,” he said, though in truth he wasn’t nearly as hungry as he thought he would be. He chalked it up to the drugs that were keeping him comfortable. He’d had a much easier time coming out from under the anesthesia this time, fortunately.
“Excuse me,” Merrily said sweetly to his parents, wheeling the lap table into place. “These little rooms get awfully crowded. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind standing in the corner over there. Just in case. He’s a little awkward with one hand.”
It was all the excuse his parents needed to beat a hasty retreat. Royce could’ve kissed her. Again.
“We’ll let you enjoy your dinner in peace,” his father pronounced, lifting a hand toward his mother.
Katherine kissed the air next to Royce’s cheek and instructed in her long-suffering tone, “Try not to hurt yourself again.”
Then they both went out the door without so much as a glance for Merrily. Glad as he was to see them go, Royce frowned. The least they could have done was spare a word of thanks for the only person around here who actually made him feel better.
“Who do I speak to about getting you a raise?” he asked, closing his eyes in gratitude. “Your timing is perfect. I was contemplating a heart attack in order to get them out of here, but I’m not that good an actor.”
Merrily chortled and dug change from her shirt pocket, dropping it into the drawer of the bedside table. “The look on your face said it all. Who were they, anyway?”
“My parents.”
Her eyebrows shot up, slender, winged things with a hint of gold in their gentle brown coloring. “I guess I should have recognized them, their photos are in the paper so often.”
“Ah, you’ve made that connection, have you?”
“Who hasn’t? Listen, I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” he quipped wryly.
“I meant, I wouldn’t have chased them away if I’d realized they were your parents.”
“I use the term loosely,” he said. “They’re no fonder of me than I am of them. Don’t worry about it. You couldn’t chase them away with a pitchfork if they didn’t want to go. Now, where’s my pizza?”
She checked the first box, closed it again and set it aside. “Here it is.” She opened the box and arranged it on the adjustable table in front of him, then opened the sack. Plunking napkins down in front of him with one hand, she reached into the bag with the other and extracted a small cardboard triangle containing the cheesecake he’d been dreaming about since he’d first thought of it hours earlier. She set that aside and carefully lifted out first one and then another foam cup with plastic lids. Next she removed two straws, peeled one and pushed it into the hole in the top of the lid on one of the drinks. Sliding the large cup close to the pizza box, she picked up the other cup and reached for her own pizza. A moment ago he’d have given his house, his dream house, for a few minutes of solitary peace. Now the idea of eating alone, of being alone, seemed singularly unpalatable.
“You’re not going?” he said disapprovingly, catching her wrist in his one good hand. He realized as his fingers closed around her delicate, finely boned wrist that he wasn’t trying to detain her so much as he was looking for that jolt, that flash of carnal recognition that he’d felt before, when he’d stuffed the twenty-dollar bill into her pocket and discovered the unexpected bounty of her breast beneath the loose coat. It flashed through him, right up his arm to the center of his chest and straight down to his groin. It jolted the cup right out of her hand and sent it spilling across his clean, dry floor.
With a small cry, she leaped back, dismay shaping her pretty little mouth into a plump O. Royce craned his neck to glimpse the pale liquid spreading across the glossy tile, then he smiled at her, moved by a mischievous imp whose presence he hadn’t felt in far too long and said, “Be glad to share.”
But she just shook her head and ran out of the room. With a sigh Royce closed the lid on his pizza. Somehow it didn’t look nearly so inviting without Nurse Merrily Gage there to share it.
Chapter Three
“Lane, would it kill you to actually put your dirty clothes into the hamper?” Merrily asked, exasperated.
Her brother peered at her through the steam generated by the long, hot shower he’d gotten out of minutes before. “What difference does it make?”
Merrily stuffed the clothes into the hamper and straightened, brushing her ponytail off one shoulder. “It would save me the effort of picking them up.”
He shrugged and went back to combing his hair. “When you sort the laundry you’re gonna pile it on the bathroom floor, anyway.”
“That’s beside the point.”
Ignoring her, he tossed aside his comb and hitched up his jeans, admiring his bare chest in the mirror. “Hey, you ironed that red shirt of mine yet?”
“I haven’t had time.”
“Merrily, I’m going out tonight.”
“Wear another shirt.”
“I don’t wanna wear another shirt. That’s my chick-magnet shirt.”
“Then iron it yourself.”
“Yeah, right. You know I can’t iron.”
“Maybe it’s time you learned.”
He chucked her under the chin and grinned down into her upturned face. “Baby sister, that’s what you’re for.” Abruptly turning pitiful, he whined, “Come on, Merrily, I’ll ruin it if I try. You can whip it out in no time. Ple-e-ease.”
Merrily sighed. “Oh, all right, but from now on you put your dirty clothes in the hamper, agreed?”
Lane turned away. “Sure, sure. Make it quick, will you? The guys are picking me up in a few minutes.” He went out of the bathroom whistling.
Merrily bent and opened the cabinet beneath the sink. After extracting the steam iron as well as the cleanser for which she’d originally come into the room, Merrily straightened and looked around her. She’d spent the whole morning cleaning this one room, and now just look at it. Towels lay in a damp heap on the floor. One corner of the bath mat had been kicked up and left so that water pooled outside the shower. A wet washcloth that had been slung over the top of the shower dripped a trail down the pebbled glass wall. Why did she even bother? On every day off, she slaved to clean up this place, but not one of her brothers could be trusted to so much as straighten up after himself.
At twenty-eight, Lane ought to have been living on his own, possibly even married, but he wasn’t responsible enough for that. The older two were worse. Lane at least had a social life, if trolling the club scene with his equally immature friends could be called such. Kyle, at thirty, remained the next thing to a recluse. He considered himself superior to the others because he’d earned a master’s degree in English, but he hated his job as a high school teacher and had always been more comfortable with his books than people. Jody, on the other hand, had followed their father into the U.S. Postal Service, delivering mail. It was grueling work, but not grueling enough to have turned Jody into the old man he’d become at thirty-two. Since their parents had spent a large chunk of their retirement fund on a motor home and set off to see the country more than a year ago, Jody had virtually turned into their father, taking over the family home as if he owned it and attempting to order all their lives as their strict, conservative parents had done.
That proclivity created friction amongst the siblings. Jody parked himself in front of the television most evenings and issued edicts that his brothers both protested and ignored. Merrily herself operated on the periphery, functioning as housekeeper and cook while holding down a demanding full-time job of her own. The only thing the three brothers seemed to agree upon was that Merrily deserved whatever headaches and exhaustion her life brought her since she’d opted for a career instead of marriage and the protected existence of a housewife that her mother had chosen. They conveniently overlooked the fact that marriage had not really been an option for her. Even if some guy had been interested in her, he wouldn’t have braved the guard dogs her father and brothers had always become whenever anyone approached her. She knew it was their way of showing their love for her, but she also knew that if they had their way, she’d be stuck keeping house for one or all of them the rest of her life.
She’d been trying to work herself up to moving out on her own for some time now, but what was the point, really? Her own social life was nonexistent and would likely remain so. Certainly she had friends, but most of them were married with young families of their own. She was Aunt Merrily to a bevy of small children whom she often baby-sat, but their parents didn’t really have much time for her anymore, and because of her appearance it was difficult for her to make new friends her own age. She kept telling herself not to be so shy about it, but she couldn’t seem to overcome that first dismissive look she always received when she approached other adults. The only notable exception to the rule was Royce Lawler, and even he had thought at first that she was a candy striper or some other teen volunteer at the hospital.
She wondered how he was doing and suppressed a surge of guilt at having left work the evening before without checking in on him. Really, though, how could she have faced him after she’d spilled her drink all over the floor of his room? She hadn’t even gone back to clean it up. Instead she’d called housekeeping to take care of it. If she hadn’t gone in there thinking they could share dinner together, she wouldn’t have embarrassed herself like that. It was stupid, the way she’d started to fantasize about the man, especially since she would probably never see him again. Barring complications, he’d leave the hospital before she even returned to work. Disappointment welled up in her. She bit her lip, but then Lane yelled to get a move on with that shirt, and she shoved aside personal concerns to do what she seemed to do best, taking care of everyone else.
“What the hell do you mean she’s not coming in?” Royce demanded of the male nurse easing his bandaged leg down onto the pillows arranged to accept it. Knowing that he was going to lose the traction bar soon was a great relief, but it seemed secondary to the fact that Nurse Gage wouldn’t be tending to it. “She has to come in. She’s a nurse, and she has patients who depend on her.”
“She also has days off just like everyone else,” the man told him, his smile flashing white in his dark, squarish face. “I, Carlos, will take care of you today.”
Royce tamped down his impatience and forced a smile. “Great. That’s great. Uh, when did you say Merrily, er, Nurse Gage would be back?”
Carlos shrugged, saying off-handedly, “Day after tomorrow.”
The day after? But he was due to check out of here tomorrow! Wildly he thought of stalling that for a day, but the idea of spending one more night in this torture chamber made him shudder. He might have done it if he’d been able to see his kids, but Pamela had decreed the hospital too traumatic for them, and under the circumstances he was forced to agree, so his only contact with them had been by telephone, when he could convince that suspicious nanny that he was who he said he was and should be allowed to talk to them. No, he had to get out of here so he could schedule a real visit, and the sooner the better, but that brought up a whole other set of problems.
He really couldn’t manage on his own, but he would not go to his parents’ house. Dale was well-meaning but no one’s idea of a nurse, even if he could’ve spared the time from his busy practice to play that role. So Dale was calling home care agencies looking for someone to stay with Royce for the next few weeks. Royce grimaced at the thought of some stranger living in his house helping him tend to his most intimate needs, but what else could he do? Unless… He realized suddenly what had been in the back of his mind almost from the moment he’d been told he would be going home soon. It probably wouldn’t work, but he knew that he’d kick himself later if he didn’t at least try.
“Listen,” he said as the nurse turned away. “I have a favor to ask. It’s real important to me.”
The man shrugged good-naturedly. “Sure, as long as it is not against doctor’s orders.”
“It’s not against doctor’s orders,” Royce promised him. “I just need you to contact Merrily, I mean Nurse Gage, for me. Can you do that?”
Obviously surprised, the man stroked his chin. “I don’t know. Personally I hate to be called on my day off.”
“Please,” Royce said. “If you could just get her a message, tell her I need to see her… Look, I’ll pay you. It’s that important.”
The man seemed insulted. “You do not have to pay me. If it is that important to you, I will see what I can do.”
Royce relaxed slightly. “Thanks. H-how soon? I mean, how soon can you call her?”
Carlos Espinoza glanced at his watch. “I have a break in about forty minutes. I will try then.”
Forty minutes. Royce bit his tongue to keep from urging the fellow to make the call now, immediately, instantly. Forty minutes, and then how long before he heard from her? Would he hear from her at all?
Merrily sat in the kitchen thumbing through a magazine. When the phone rang, she didn’t even look up, knowing that Jody would prefer to get it himself. A moment later, when he yelled for her, she felt a mild spurt of surprise. Rising from the table, she walked to the end of the bar that separated the den from the kitchen. Jody sat in his recliner, staring at the television screen.
“What is it, Jody?”
He didn’t look away from the screen. “That call was for you.”
She folded her arms. “Why did you hang up, then?”
“Guy said that a Mr. Lawler wants to see you. I said I’d pass the message. That was it.”
Royce! For a moment she stood frozen in place. He wanted to see her. She didn’t stop to wonder what he wanted or why it was important enough to contact her at home. She didn’t question who had actually made the call or when or how she was supposed to make contact with Royce Lawler. She only knew that he wanted her, and that was more than enough at the moment.
“I’m going out,” she announced as she moved back through the kitchen. Jody shouted at her that it was too late to be going out, though in truth it was only a little past eight. Ignoring him, she grabbed her handbag from her room and, mindless of the sandals, shorts and simple tank top that she wore, darted out through the garage door.
Her small, two-door car sat curbside in front of the house. Lane, who was in construction, always got the garage because the tools piled in the back of his pickup were liable to be stolen if he left the truck out, or so he claimed. Merrily couldn’t help recalling that when their parents had been at home and their mother had parked her car in the garage, Lane’s truck had sat beside their father’s in the drive and nothing had ever disappeared from the back of his truck then. Now Jody parked in the drive, leaving one side free for Lane to come and go, and she and Kyle jockeyed for position curbside in front of the house.
For once, Merrily was glad that she didn’t have to back out of the garage past Jody’s SUV and ease between Kyle’s sedan and the neighbor’s minivan into the street. It was much easier just to jump behind the wheel and take off. By the time Jody figured out she wasn’t paying him any mind, heaved himself up out of the recliner and made it to the front door to yell at her again, she was already pulling away from the curb.
The hospital was less than ten minutes away from the house, which was one reason her parents had agreed three years earlier that she should take the job there. She had never regretted the decision. She loved nursing. She was good at it, and the money was generous enough to allow her to pay off her school loans in record time, make a substantial down payment on the sporty little economy car she was driving and stash a sizable amount in savings every month.
As she parked in the employee’s lot and hurried into the hospital, she thought again that she really ought to move out on her own. She could afford it. Why she should consider doing so now, however, was something she did not want to address. Instead, she concentrated on getting where she wanted to. The moment she entered his room, however, she realized that she could have chosen a more opportune moment to visit, since the room was already crowded with medical staff, all of whom clustered around the side and foot of his bed.
The traction rod had been removed, and they were in the process of replacing the heavy bandages on his right leg with a stabilizer, which was really just a heavy elastic bandage with steel rods attached and Velcro closures. It would serve in place of the old-fashioned plaster cast, such as the one on his right arm and shoulder, and allow the doctors to periodically check the surgery incisions required to properly set his leg bones. After counting four practitioners, including the doctor, his assistant and two nurses, Merrily knew that she didn’t need to be in that room at that moment.
All thought of beating a hasty retreat evaporated when Royce spotted her and exclaimed, “Merrily! Hey. Come on in.”
Carlos Espinoza glanced over one shoulder, grinned and said, “That was fast.”
So it was Carlos who had left that message.
Royce waved her over, exclaiming, “Free at last! Man, that traction stuff is for the birds.”
“If you don’t stay off this leg,” the doctor warned from the stool rolled close to the bed, “you’ll be right back in it.”
“Don’t worry,” Royce replied meaningfully. “I’m not going to do anything stupid.”
The doctor looked up at Merrily, who had moved to stand next to the head of the bed, and said, “See to it that he doesn’t.”
She thought it odd that he should direct his orders specifically at her, but she just nodded. The orderly at the doctor’s elbow slid the spread stabilizer beneath Royce’s leg, which the two nurses held suspended slightly above the bed. Bright red with white trim, the contraption would be hard to miss in the weeks it would have to be worn. The nurses gently lowered Royce’s leg, and though he winced when it met the padded lining of the stabilizer, he winked at Merrily and said softly, “Thanks for coming.”
She just smiled and shifted her weight self-consciously. At the exact same moment, Carlos started to turn away from the bed. The two bumped, and Carlos apologized cheerily, though Merrily felt her face glow red with the knowledge that it was her fault. What was it about Royce Lawler that turned all her fingers to thumbs and her feet to blocks of clay?
As Carlos left the room, Merrily grasped at something to say to deflect attention from her clumsiness. “I see the IV and morphine pump are gone.”
“He’ll be getting a shot of painkiller when we’re done here,” the doctor said, threading a strap through the metal loop opposite and carefully tightening it. “And he’ll have to continue taking those injections for a while. The anti-inflammatory and antibiotics can be taken by mouth. I’ll leave prescriptions at the nurses’ station. The leg should be kept dry and elevated as much as possible. I’ll see him again in about a week. You’ll have to call my office for an appointment.”
Again, it seemed as if the doctor was speaking directly to her, but Merrily dismissed that and said to Royce, “Did you get all that?”
“Got it,” he replied, smiling. Those heavenly blue eyes seemed to be trying to telegraph her a message, but she wasn’t receiving.
The doctor finished what he was doing and got up off the stool. “Okay, that about does it. Nurse Gage, would you lift the foot of his bed, please?” Merrily bent to activate that function of the bed. The doctor went on as the other two practitioners left the room. “I suggest you rent a wheelchair for use at home and when you have to be out in public, which you really should keep to a minimum for several more weeks. I’ll see to it that your dismissal packet has a list of equipment providers in it.” He peeled off his latex gloves and added, “I’ll see you in the morning about six, and you should be ready to go by ten. Takes a few hours to process the paperwork. Any questions?”
He looked first at Royce, then at her. Merrily just looked at Royce, who shook his head and said, “Nope. None I can think of at the moment. Thanks, Doc, for everything.”
The doctor smiled and nodded, then he pointedly addressed Merrily again, saying, “Do me a favor, will you? Keep him away from stairs. I don’t want to have to put him back together again.”
Merrily blinked and opened her mouth to reply, but she couldn’t think what to say to that, so she simply closed it again and nodded.
The doctor dropped his gloves into the appropriate waste receptacle. “I leave you in capable hands then,” he said, and with that walked out.
Merrily stared at the door as it slowly swung shut behind him. “Well. That was odd.” She turned her attention back to Royce. “He kept talking to me like I’m your personal nurse or something.”
Royce ducked his head sheepishly. “I, um, might have, like, accidentally led him to believe that.”
“What? Why would you do that?”
“Because I’m not supposed to leave here unless I have someone who can take care of me.”
“But you don’t,” she immediately deduced.
“Uh, not yet.”
Was this what he wanted to speak to me about? Disappointment skewered her. “Okay, well, I can recommend a couple of reputable agencies.”
He grimaced. “I thought of that already, but I can’t stand the idea of some stranger moving into my house with me.”
Merrily nodded sympathetically. “Maybe you should stay somewhere else for a while, with your parents, perhaps?”
His eyes grew wide with mock alarm. “I’d rather stay here, and believe me, I’d sooner jump out of that window over there than do that. Nope, I just see one option.”
“Which is?”
“You.”
She blinked at him. “Me?”
“Look, I know it’s an imposition, but I don’t trust anyone else.”
“You want me to move in with you?” she asked disbelievingly.
“I know it’s selfish,” he said, reaching across the bed with his left hand to take hers. She jumped, lightning flashing up her arm. “But I’m desperate,” he went on. “I’ll make it well worth your while. Whatever they’re paying you here, I’ll double it.”
Double? “No, that’s not right,” she said distractedly.
“Please, Merrily. I can’t get along by myself, and it’s a big house, lots of room, beautiful area. Did I say that you’re the only one I trust?”
At the moment she couldn’t do anything but gape at his handsome face. This beautiful man wanted her to move in with him, at least temporarily. He didn’t have to just disappear out of her life, after all. He trusted her.
“I know it’s asking a lot,” he said, squeezing her hand, “but Carlos says that because of the nursing shortage you can probably take a leave of absence and come right back here to your job when you’re ready.”
Her job was the least of it, actually. She could get another job. Nurses could pretty much write their own tickets these days, which was why Royce was going to have a difficult time finding someone with really good skills to take care of him. No, the job was the not the problem. The problems, plural, were her brothers. Jody would hit the roof if she told him she was moving out even temporarily, and the other two would lay on foot-deep guilt trips. They’d never taken care of themselves a day in their lives. Maybe it was about time they did.
Why shouldn’t she do this if she wanted to? They were all adults. It might do them some good to start acting like it, including her.
“Look,” Royce went on. “I wouldn’t even mind if you have company over. I mean, if you have a boyfriend or something…”
“No boyfriend,” Merrily murmured, already working out the logistics of it. She had to call her supervisor right away. No one was going to be happy about the short notice, but it couldn’t be helped. Then she had to pack, and it would be best to take everything she might need with her the first time, since any time she returned to the house she’d undoubtedly have to contend with one or all of her brothers. She’d get started tonight while Jody and Kyle slept and Lane was out with his friends.
“Maybe there’s someone else then?” she dimly heard Royce ask.
“Hmm? No, not really.”
He squeezed her hand again, and this time heat burned in her chest, creeping up her throat to her face. Professional, she reminded herself. This was purely professional. Nevertheless, her heart was beating like a big bass drum.
“Can you do it?” he asked, gazing at her with those blue, blue eyes.
Could she? Oh, yes. She nodded, afraid she might gush if she spoke.
“Will you?”
Merrily took a deep breath, drawing her composure around her.
“Please,” he added softly. “Merrily, I need you.”
Something inside her melted, and she said the only thing that she’d even thought of saying. “Yes. Yes, I will.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Jody demanded.
“It’s a job,” Merrily repeated for the third time, shoving toiletries into the small suitcase open on her bed. Since her announcement at breakfast all three of her brothers had been in a lather.
“You already have a job at the hospital!” Lane exclaimed.
“I’ve taken a leave,” she said, returning to the dresser for her hairbrush.
“You can’t move out of here!” Lane protested.
“It’s only temporary.”
“Who’s gonna take care of us in the meantime?” Kyle wanted to know.
Merrily stuffed her nightgown into the bag on top of everything else and closed the lid. “You’ll just have to take care of yourselves.”
“You’re not going,” Jody insisted angrily. “Mom and Dad—”
“—are off seeing America,” Merrily finished for him, straightening, “and even if they weren’t, I’d still be taking this job.”
“I forbid it!”
“Forbid away, but I’m an adult, Jody, and I’ll do as I please.”
“But you can’t,” Lane whined.
“Why not? You do.”
“That’s different.”
She gaped at him, though why she was surprised was beyond her. “It’s not different, Lane. It’s not at all different, and it’s time the three of you came to grips with that fact.”
Jody wagged a finger in her face. “You are my responsibility.”
“Oh, shut up. I’m twenty-six years old. I’m no one’s responsibility but my own, and if you want to be responsible for something, get a life and be responsible for that.” She grabbed the suitcase by the handle and hauled it off the bed while Jody stood there with his mouth open. For a moment she waited in the hopes that at least one of them would show a glimmer of understanding, but only seconds went by before she realized the folly of that. Taking a deep breath, she moved toward the door. She had hauled the rest of her things out to the car last night, leaving only those things she’d needed to dress this morning and the gown she’d slept in.
“Who’s gonna do my shirts?” Lane wanted to know.
“Take ’em to a laundry,” she suggested blandly.
“Who’s gonna cook?” Kyle groused.
“There are ten thousand restaurants in San Antonio,” Merrily said with a sigh.
“I wanna know who this guy you’re moving in with is,” Jody suddenly demanded.
That finally brought her to a halt. She glanced over her shoulder. “This ‘guy’ took a fall down a flight of stairs, dislocated his shoulder and broke his arm. He has compound fractures of the leg, not to mention torn ligaments, a concussion and various contusions. He is helpless and alone, and he offered me twice what I’m making at the hospital.”
Only Kyle had the nerve to block her path, whimpering, “But we already need you.”
She leveled a disgusted look at him and said drolly, “You may be helpless, Kyle, but at least you’re not alone.”
“I am not helpless,” he said, lifting his chin. “I have a college education.”
Merrily rolled her eyes. “So do I.” She began moving toward the door again. “I suggest you hire a housekeeper, but first get your lazy, college-educated butt out of my way.”
To her surprise he hopped aside. Without so much as a backward glance, she carried the suitcase through the door and out of the house. To freedom.
Chapter Four
“You’ll follow us?” Royce asked through the rear window of the SUV, knowing perfectly well that was the arrangement they’d made.
Merrily nodded and waved as she walked toward the employee parking lot, his paperwork tucked neatly beneath one arm. He rolled up the rear window and put his back to it, his injured leg propped on the seat. As the vehicle moved away, Royce put his head back and closed his eyes, disgusted with himself on several levels.
For one thing, just riding in a wheelchair down to meet Dale, who had retrieved his SUV from the house in order to pick him up in comfort, had his heart pounding as if he’d hopped down from the third floor on his one good leg all by himself. For another, he’d just robbed the hospital of a very fine nurse, and he knew that he’d done it for reasons that went far beyond the obvious medical need. The very idea of having Merrily Gage under his own roof, alone with him for weeks, had conjured the sort of dreams that disturbed a man’s sleep. And if that were not enough, at the root of it all was the poor exercise of judgment that had initially landed him in this predicament.
It helped a little to know that he’d already determined to hire Merrily away from the hospital even before she’d shown up in his hospital room wearing neatly cuffed little shorts that made her legs seem as long as she was tall and a top that left no doubt about the maturity of her form. Her breasts were small but high and firm. Their natural shape had been lovingly rendered by that clinging knit top with straps so tiny that she could not have possibly been wearing a bra. She had struck him then as the most natural beauty he’d ever seen. And he wanted her.
Merrily Gage was no girl: she was a woman. Suddenly the possibilities of having her in his employ seemed highly enticing, though pursuing even a semipermanent relationship with Merrily or any other woman was out of the question. He couldn’t deny that he wanted her, so he half hoped that by the time he was physically able to act upon his desires, Merrily would be gone. Hell, he should’ve hired some gargoyle to move in with him and tend to his needs, but he couldn’t be unhappy that Merrily had agreed to help him. His self-disgust didn’t reach that far apparently. For the first time he wondered if he might be the selfish monster Pamela had always claimed he was.
Merrily stopped her car and gaped. “Wow.”
The sandstone house sprawling across the hilltop awed her. The circular drive, arched car shelter and landscaped yard in front were impressive. Tall, arched, leaded-glass windows, the many hips of the copper roof and three soaring chimneys lent an unexpected grandeur to the rolling natural beauty of the setting. Obviously, Royce Lawler was no pauper.
Slowly she started the car forward again and followed the SUV. As she parked behind it under the drive-through, Dale got out and unloaded the wheelchair from the back of the SUV. Merrily went immediately to Royce’s side. He had opened the rear door and twisted around in his seat so that his legs were outside of the vehicle, and he was trying to slide down to stand on his left foot. Merrily quickly ducked under his left arm and slid an arm about his waist, trying to ignore the jolt of heated awareness that accompanied the contact. With Dale balancing his immobile right arm and her supporting the rest of his weight as much as possible, Royce eased out of the vehicle, turned and sat down heavily in the wheelchair. Merrily adjusted the footrests, extending the right to support his injured leg, while Dale unlocked the front double doors and pushed them open.
Moving behind the chair, she grasped the handles and turned Royce toward the house. Royce tilted his head back to look up at her, and though white-lipped, he smiled.
“I cannot tell you how good it is to be home again.”
“I can imagine,” she replied. With such a home, she would never want to leave.
She pushed him into the house, looking around her avidly. The floor of the wide entry hall was inlaid with stone. To the right, one could step up into a large, open dining room furnished with a long plank table and ladder-back chairs with padded seats upholstered in faded denim. Over the table hung an impressive rectangular fixture made of rusty wrought iron, and a large stone fireplace took up one entire wall.
The formal living room opened on the left. Plank floors, this time a step down, were scattered with tanned cowhide rugs and comfortable leather couches. Glass-topped occasional tables of the same wrought iron as the overhead fixtures stood at convenient intervals. Some supported small works of art, bronze sculptures and clay pots. Others held lamps with pierced tin shades. The center wall was composed of a massive double-sided fireplace, through which she caught glimpses of denim sofas in another room.
Farther down the central hall, a pair of steps led up to another hallway on the right. A ramp had been placed here to facilitate the wheelchair. On the left, another ramp had been installed over two steps that led down into a large den with bleached plank walls and floors. A recliner that matched the denim couches had been arranged in front of a large television screen recessed into the wall. At the very end of the entry hall and on the same level was another eating area and presumably the kitchen. The entire back wall of the house seemed to consist of enormous plates of glass and overlooked an expanse of terraced decks, a slope of forested ground and, far beyond, the city of San Antonio.
“Our Nurse Gage is suitably impressed, I see,” Dale commented dryly, and Merrily promptly snapped her mouth shut, aware only then that she was gaping like an untutored child. “Royce believes that a builder’s home ought to reflect the very best of his work.”
“Then I’d say he builds some magnificent homes.”
“You will notice that the house itself is designed and constructed so it contains many steps but no flight of stairs,” Dale told her.
Merrily furrowed her brow in confusion. “But I thought he fell down a flight of stairs here at home.”
Dale pointed toward the deck beyond the glass wall at the back of the house. “It’s outside. A very long, steep flight of stairs that leads down to the back driveway. That’s where he fell.”
“Hel-lo,” Royce said irritably. “In case it’s escaped your notice, I’m sitting right here. Stop talking about me like I’m not.”
Dale grinned and said to Merrily, “Obviously, the patient needs a nap. Let me help you get the chair up the ramp, then I’ll show you where to stash this character.”
“I can do it,” Merrily insisted, knowing that she would have to manage on her own sooner or later.
“I’m not helpless you know,” Royce muttered, seizing one wheel of the chair with his left hand and awkwardly turning the chair toward the ramp. He had no hope of getting that chair up that incline, though, and they all knew it. Merrily, however, waited until he had the chair lined up and aimed forward, then set her legs and pushed with her body until they were on level floor again.
Two doors opened off this level. As they passed them, Royce waved a hand to his left and said, “Through there is the powder room, cloak closet, linen storage and laundry room. That’s my office there on the right. Up ahead on the next level and overlooking the back of the house are the children’s rooms.”
Merrily hoped her shock did not communicate itself through her voice. “I wasn’t aware that you have children,” she said, after pushing the chair up the second ramp.
“Two,” Royce answered. “My son, Cory, is five, and my daughter, Tammy, is nine. They live with their mother.” That subject seemed to be closed, as he gestured to the right. “These two rooms are for guests. Take your pick. Each has its own bath.”
The third and final ramp led to a type of landing and a double door, which Dale hurried ahead to open. By the time Merrily got the chair into the master bedroom, her arms were trembling. Grateful to have a rest, she looked around. The room was huge and contained a sitting area and fireplace, as well as large leaded-glass windows. A door opened onto a bathroom of equally large proportion with similar windows. Another was closed, and she assumed that it led into a closet. A king-size bed with a heavy wrought iron headboard occupied the wall opposite the fireplace. Matching tables with matching lamps flanked it, with a third positioned in front of the window between two side chairs. A rocking chair stood in front of the fireplace, and colorful rugs had been placed strategically over the plank floors. The smooth walls had been painted and stippled to resemble old leather. A wall cabinet stood open, revealing an entertainment center. Bookcases contained not only many books but a number of framed photographs and several small objects of great interest to Merrily. One looked like a lumpy dog sculpted of plaster and colored with crayon.
She had no time to investigate, however, as her patient was showing signs of extreme stress. “Let’s get you undressed and into bed.”
He was wearing a pair of jeans split up one side all the way to the thigh and a T-shirt with one sleeve and most of that side cut out, as well as a single bedroom slipper. The fact that he didn’t argue with her was indicative of his state.
“Dale,” Royce said wearily, “would you get a pair of gym shorts out of the dressing room? It’s the third large drawer down. And get my robe out of the closet.”
As Dale went off to do as instructed, Royce pointed Merrily toward the bath. “You’ll find a pair of scissors in the cabinet opposite the mirror. Should be the top drawer.”
She went readily into the other room, fascinated by the luxury she saw there and what it said to her about Royce Lawler. Through a batwing door to her left, she glimpsed a huge, jetted tub of hammered copper and an equally impressive shower built of curving glass block. To her right was an area of cabinetry with double sinks back to back, mirrors above each, a built-in dressing table with chair and lighted mirror, and a wall of cabinets containing a pair of doors above a set of wide, shallow drawers, the top one of which came to about her shoulders. Between the dressing table and drawers, the dressing room door stood open, revealing walls lined with more drawers and two closet doors. A bench sat in the middle of the floor. As she watched, Dale extracted a pair of shorts from an open drawer, which he then closed before walking into the closet.
She had known, of course, that Royce Lawler was well out of her league. His family was among the most prominent in San Antonio, after all. This place proved that he was a man of rare good taste with the money to indulge himself in the very best. Obviously he would never be seriously interested in a completely average woman like her. As she opened the well-organized drawer and extracted the scissors, she told herself that knowing this fact liberated her from any foolish dreams. Now she could concentrate on her work and enjoy this rare moment of freedom from her family obligations in these surprisingly sumptuous surroundings.
When Royce instructed Merrily to literally cut the jeans from his body, he did so because exhaustion and pain simply precluded that he get out of them the same way he’d gotten into them. She worked without comment, cutting through the heavy denim fabric while he sat passively and Dale turned down the bed after returning to the room with a pair of loose, gray knit shorts and his Texas orange bathrobe. He wore nothing beneath those jeans but skin and could only feel grateful when she finished her job and turned away, allowing Dale to help him out of the mutilated T-shirt. She returned a moment later to drape the robe over his shoulders. Then she wisely stayed behind him as he rose, allowing the ruined jeans to fall to the floor at his feet, or rather foot, as he couldn’t put the right one on the floor, let alone stand on it.
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Arlene James
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: HER UNDOINGRoyce Lawler was dark and mysterious, movie-star handsome and dangerously seductive even when flat on his back. And prim and professional Merrily Gage was supposed to live alone with this man, tending to his every need as his private nurse? She didn′t stand a chance.But then, neither did the single dad. Because Merrily was too good at what she did, too easy to like, to want…to need. Yet no matter how strong his desire, Royce couldn′t bring the innocent beauty any further into the nightmare of his life–especially since his fall was no accident. Especially since Royce would do anything to keep sweet, sweet Merrily safe.