by Ivy James
“You need to take it easy today. If you’re sore, a dose of ibuprofen should take care of the pain.”
Now that he mentioned it, her legs and back ached and she had that weak-jittery feel you get after you exercise too much. “Thanks. I’ll do that after I eat and shower. I feel like a stale gym sock.”
The dimple flashed again. “That was the fever. You can take a quick shower, then it’s back to bed and more rest.”
You can take a quick shower? “Are you always this bossy?”
The complaint slipped out before she could stop it and Megan waited for the fallout. How rude. Sean’s mouth would’ve pinched into that line that said he was angry and then he would’ve come over to her with a tight smile on his handsome face before he set out to show her exactly who was boss.
But Ethan—She blinked when her comment brought out a full-fledged smile and chuckle that eased the tension on his face. He wasn’t angry his rude houseguest couldn’t keep her mouth shut?
“Just being cautious. You might be feeling better, but you’re still sick. I don’t want you to overdo it too soon.”
Oh. She relaxed, a tad. See? Not Sean. “Thanks. I won’t overdo it. I’m not a person to just sit around, though, you know? I hate being sick. And let me say now that I appreciate your letting me stay here and taking care of me. Truly.”
“So you’ve already said. It’s not a problem. Do you know how long you plan to be in town?” He held up his hand. “Let me clarify that. I’m not asking you to leave or indicating you should, merely curious. You’re welcome to stay until you’re well and you and Jenn have made up. You’re using the spare bedroom so you’re not putting anyone out.”
She tugged at the end of the jersey he’d given her to wear when they’d first arrived and realized it made her feel like a schoolgirl again, not a time of her life she wanted to revisit. “That’s, um, very generous of you, but if I stay until Jenn and I work things out, I might be here forever.”
Ethan’s dimple reappeared. “The point I was trying to make is that you don’t have to be in a rush. You need time to recover. I don’t expect you’ll have the energy to get back on the road for a while yet.”
Back on the road…Her car! Either Ethan or Nick had been in her car. Had she had the sense of mind to move the blanket and pillow in the backseat? She couldn’t remember.
Ethan drummed his fingers against the countertop and Megan found herself studying him more closely. Nick and his brother shared the same black hair and sharp features, but she remembered Nick looking…larger, more brutish. Ethan was just as tall but he appeared to be a kinder, gentler version. Ethan’s profile was sharp, distinctly defined with a longish nose that had been broken at least once, a strong chin and a dusting of morning stubble on his cheeks.
Sexy, very sexy. Not that she was interested. Sticking around wasn’t really an option.
The best-case scenario would’ve been for Jenn to forgive her and ask her to stay for a little while, but she knew that was asking for the moon. Jenn wanted Megan nowhere near Nick. How could she convince Jenn she wasn’t here to cause trouble?
Maybe by finally telling her the truth?
But what about the strange car following her in Dallas? Or the guy asking about her in San Francisco? She’d changed jobs three times there and he’d shown up every time. No, there had been too many coincidences, things she couldn’t ignore. “Yeah, well, maybe Jenn will talk to me soon and then you and Simon can turn this place into a bachelor pad again.”
“Ça va mieux?”
Megan’s attention was snagged by Simon’s lyrical little boy voice. “Yes, Simon. Much better. Thank you for asking.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ethan’s head turn, but before he could comment the telephone rang.
Ethan picked up a portable handset and glanced at the face. “It’s the hospital. Would you mind watching him for a few minutes?”
“Not at all. We’ll be fine.” The moment Ethan was out of the kitchen, she turned to Simon and nudged his plate. “I wouldn’t eat it, either. Would you like something else?” she asked in French.
Simon looked more than a bit apprehensive but nodded hesitantly, his gaze flicking to the door. Anger filled her. She knew that look. She’d worn it too many times herself not to recognize it. Fear, unease. Leeriness of making someone bigger and stronger angry.
“Simon? The food is burned. It isn’t edible. It’s okay to say you don’t like it,” she told him, wrinkling her nose and sending a disgusted look at the plate.
Simon lowered his head and mumbled something that sounded like, “Dr. Ethan made for me. I eat.”
Getting a fresher, newer whiff from the toaster, she got to her feet and hurried to the appliance, popping the bread up just in time. Only a little crisp and she could scrape off the edges. Did the guy have a thing for carcinogens? What was the deal with burning everything?
Conscious that Simon watched her, she lowered the setting, grabbed the bagged bread and put two more pieces in, pushing the lever down with a defiant little click. Determined to give Ethan the benefit of the doubt for his earlier grumpiness with Simon because the guy was under a lot of pressure from all sides, she tossed Simon a reassuring smile and earned a shy one in return. “Simon, Dr. Ethan wouldn’t want you to make yourself sick. He’s a bad cook,” she said, winking as though sharing a secret. “I’m not too hot at it myself, and that’s okay. I’m sure Dr. Ethan did his best. But it doesn’t mean…It doesn’t mean we’ll be punished if we say we don’t like it. We’re allowed to not like it.”
The toast popped up and she quickly buttered it, adding a little of the strawberry preserves she found in the refrigerator.
Minutes later Megan was glad she’d gone foraging in the fridge because it was so cute the way Simon’s eyes lit up when he tasted the preserves. They looked to be homemade and were probably full of sugar, but they tasted wonderful. So much so she made them each two more slices of toast topped with the gooey, delicious fruit.
Licking fingers free of sugar and sharing secret grins, she asked Simon about his favorite things to do. Getting answers out of the child was like pulling teeth, but before they were finished, Simon was smiling and nodding when she phrased her questions the right way, and Megan realized she was worn-out. Her stomach was full but instead of a shower all she wanted was to crawl back into bed. What was taking Ethan so long? She didn’t want to leave Simon unsupervised.
“Come on,” she murmured after washing their plates and chugging Simon’s original breakfast down the disposal. “Let’s go plant ourselves in front of America’s favorite babysitter.”
And while Simon settled down in front of the television, she could check out the window one more time. Better safe than dead.
WHEN ETHAN EMERGED from his bedroom he found Megan asleep on the couch and Simon snuggled beside her, wide-eyed at the sight of Jerry beating the daylights out of Tom. He’d limited Simon’s TV watching so as to not overexpose him, but Megan obviously didn’t know any better—and was so exhausted she’d needed an extra hand in entertaining the boy.
“Do you like it?” he slowly asked in French, tongue twisting as he stumbled over the words.
Simon looked up at Ethan from beneath his long lashes then quickly looked away.
Ethan sighed. He’d thought a month would be enough time to get Simon settled and comfortable, but the boy seemed to be withdrawing more day by day, going in the opposite direction Ethan needed Simon to go.
He’ll come around, give the kid time. That’s what the counselors said, what the day-care manager had said both times he’d had to go to the hospital-based facility to pick Simon up early. And at Jenn’s…
How could Simon run away from day care and throw such a fit at Jenn and Nick’s, yet act so remote and removed when they were together?
Sighing, Ethan bent and gently shook Megan’s shoulder. “Megan? Megan, come on, let’s get you back to bed.”
She smiled a slow smile that punched him in the gut an
d sent his blood coursing through him, her long lashes fluttering open sleepily.
“That’s what all the boys say.”
Reining himself in, he tugged her to her feet. “I’ll bet they do.”
Chapter 8
ETHAN STARED DOWN at the worn piece of paper he’d pulled from his pocket, the ink from his latest notation drying in front of his eyes. His list of attributes he wanted in a wife, when and if he ever found one, was a source of amusement for his family, but the list served as a reminder of the things he found appealing and kept him from focusing on the surface aspects and carnal responses a guy felt when faced with sex on heels. A good body turned a guy on but a woman with a good body and a sense of humor? That was sexy.
How was it that he’d missed listing that quality until now? Megan’s sense of humor came out at the oddest times, catching him off guard and making him laugh. Like yesterday when he’d pulled her to her feet off the couch. Her comment had not only earned a chuckle, but it had made him hot for her in a totally unprofessional way. And he liked it. A lot.
Jenn would no doubt kill him if he got tangled up with her sister, but if Megan Rose was as intriguing when she was well and healthy as she was when she was sick, it might be worth the tongue-lashing he’d get.
Tucking the list back into his wallet, he finished up his notes on Mrs. Darlington’s chart, upset with himself and his leg’s healing progress. His first surgery since coming home from Niger had gone well, but the short, sixty-minute procedure was nothing like those he’d have to perform on a regular basis. As it was, his leg throbbed.
He glanced at his watch and frowned. He should’ve been home two hours ago. When she’d called about Simon he’d told Jenn he’d be back by ten this morning, begging, pleading and promising her that Megan would sleep late and Jenn wouldn’t have to see her sister if she’d take Simon home to familiar surroundings. But here it was nearing eleven and Ethan wondered how many calls Nick had received from Jenn to come save her.
“I hope you’re not in a hurry to leave.”
Ethan looked up to see Jonathan Morrow walking toward him. The fifty-something man had been appointed by the board as the new hospital president after the takeover had forced the former president into retirement.
The hospital had merged with a Nashville-based university hospital at the beginning of the year, but apparently the board hadn’t been pleased with the former president’s decisions. Ethan hadn’t been pleased with them, either. Harold Pierson was the one who’d given the promotion of chief of surgery to a doctor with more attitude and ego than skill, so in Ethan’s opinion, the changeover was a good start for things to come.
“Mr. Morrow,” Ethan greeted, holding out his hand to greet the man, careful not to limp or show signs of pain. Any hesitation on his part that he wasn’t ready to return to the O.R. would be noted and discussed by the board, and he had no intention of giving them any ammunition. “What are you doing down here on the floor?”
“Looking for you. First surgery since you’ve been back, eh? It went well?”
“Yes. The patient is resting comfortably.” If only he was.
“Good, good.” The man flashed Ethan a smile. “But I’m sure you know that’s not why I’m here.”
Ethan kept his gaze off his watch and forced himself to wait patiently, wondering where this conversation was headed. He set the file on the desk to be recorded and leaned against the counter to take the weight off his leg.
“I suppose you’ve heard that Dr. Dixon is leaving our employ?”
Shock rocketed through him. Leaving? Already? “No, I hadn’t heard.” He wanted to ask the circumstances, but knew to speculate wouldn’t leave a good impression.
“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what this means.”
The shock faded and awareness dawned. Ethan straightened. No, he didn’t need to be told. “What’s the timeline?” Don’t sound so eager. Play it cool.
“We need someone immediately. Dr. Dixon left with his things this morning.”
Whoa. To say Dixon had given notice was one thing, but if he was gone—that meant Dixon had been fired. Doctors, especially the heads of departments, didn’t leave like that unless forced. What had Dixon done?
Ethan hadn’t liked the guy, held no respect for Dixon as a person, and as Jenn’s cheating ex-husband, Dixon earned even more disgust from the family because of how he’d treated Jenn. Still, Ethan didn’t wish anyone out of a job. “I see.”
“The board is going to open the job to applicants once more and post the position as required. In the meantime we need an interim chief. We’re also looking at other factors in our candidates, and considering how well-rounded our doctors are. Your service in Niger, for instance. We like knowing our doctors are compassionate to those in need. It looks good for the individual and for the hospital to have doctors willing to go into the field to perform humanitarian work.”
So they’d been watching. He tried hard not to get too enthusiastic, not to let his thoughts run wild because he’d been disappointed once.
“Dr. Tulane, we’d like you to take on the role as interim chief until a final decision is made. It could take several months, but, of course, if you accept, weighted consideration will be given to your application.”
A flash flood of satisfaction and pride surged through him. It was the job he’d worked toward since the start of his career, being handed to him on a silver platter. Finally.
“I’m sure you understand quite a few administrative duties are involved,” Morrow continued. “The board thought it would give you more time to recover from your wound, but I see that’s not needed. Your leg has healed?”
“Nearly one hundred percent, sir.” His thigh throbbed in complaint.
“Good, good. Glad to hear it.”
“Thank you.” He smiled, unable to stop the grin forming on his lips. “I’m honored.”
“But do you accept?” Mr. Morrow challenged, a twinkle in his eye. The man knew how badly Ethan wanted the position.
“I’ve been after the position for a long time, as I’m sure you know. Of course I accept.”
Morrow dipped his head in acknowledgment and clapped one hand on Ethan’s back, holding out his free hand to shake. “Then congratulations, Chief. I’ll send out the notification this afternoon.”
Ethan continued to smile as Morrow walked away, unable to believe the sudden change. Chief of surgery. It was the next step, the final step, to mark his career. The top of the ladder as he saw it. Some people in his position might want to move on to other, bigger hospitals, but not him. He wanted to be chief at this hospital, in his hometown.
He turned back to the desk to pick up the phone to call Jenn, and winced when his leg protested with a stab of pain. He needed to go relieve Jenn, needed to go do the therapy his physiotherapist had recommended. Needed to stay and get a feel for the new position he was about to take on. But what he really needed…was a plan on how to pull it all off.
MEGAN HAD GOTTEN UP earlier to shower and change, then returned to bed, her energy spent. Now she opened her eyes with a groan, aware that her body still ached in that flu type of way. But her chest didn’t hurt as much, she actually felt stronger and she was hungry again. Why was it when you’re sick all you want to do is eat and sleep?
A noise drew her attention. Simon was upset. His voice rose, high and shrill, and it sounded like it came from outside. But it was the tone responding to his upset that had Megan kicking the covers off her legs.
That wasn’t Ethan. The voice was female, familiar. Jenn’s.
Megan inhaled a steadying breath, and forced herself to a sitting position. The room wobbled as blood rushed to her head and she sat on the edge of the bed, coughing and hacking until the wooziness faded away.
On her feet, she finger-brushed her hair, got dressed and emerged from the bedroom wearing the freshly laundered jeans and sweatshirt she’d worn on the day of her arrival. Ethan or his housekeeper must have washed them for her.
&nbs
p; Out in the main part of the house the living room was clear, the hall and Simon’s bedroom, as well. Had she dreamed Jenn’s voice? She’d had some pretty vivid dreams since being sick, memories of Sean and those awful nights, of sleeping in her car with those creeps knocking on her car windows and trying to buy sex.
Megan stopped just inside the swing door in the kitchen, her gaze fastening on Jenn and Simon outside in the backyard. Why wasn’t her sister in school? Simon?
Jenn was trying to get Simon to color in a coloring book, but the kid stared morosely at the page, his head propped up on his palm in a way that made his cheek pull in a lopsided grimace. His cheeks were wet with tears and his shoulders shook with the force of his sobs. Oh, poor kid. He really was having a tough time of it.
Megan padded over toward the door only to pause. Simon was obviously safe and in good hands, but she needed an icebreaker with Jenn. No two ways about it.
The coffeepot beckoned and she blessed Ethan’s taste in dark, thick, corrode-your-stomach brews. Megan hurriedly poured two cups and continued out the back door, aware of Jenn’s panicked, leery expression when she looked up and saw Megan approaching. Hey, when opportunity knocked, you opened the door—and brought gifts. “I poured you a cup. Hey, Simon. What’s the matter, bud?”
Jenn’s mouth twitched. “No, thanks. I’m cutting back on caffeine.”
Great. Jenn glared at her, Simon wouldn’t look at her. Feel the love. Megan lifted a shoulder in a shrug. She wasn’t a morning person, either. “That’s okay. I usually have two cups. I’ll drink it.” Megan nudged Simon gently. “So, what’s the problem? You’re not having fun?” she asked in French.
“Leave him alone, Megan. Simon’s had a difficult morning. Ethan dropped him off at preschool and he got so upset that he threw up and wouldn’t stop screaming. The principal let me bring him home to stay until Ethan can get here from work. He’ll be home any minute,” she added, sounding a bit desperate. “We’re fine if you want to go back inside and rest.”
