"I'll take whatever help I can get. Maybe get started tomorrow after a good night's rest and I'll feel like my ol' self again. I'll be in touch."
He took one last solid look around the place, then gave a final nod of approval. He turned to leave, but not before tossing Shayne a knowing look with a glint in his eye. Willow ushered him out the door.
By the time she returned, Shayne prepared for the consequences of imposing himself into her life further. But she said nothing of his bold move. Instead, she looked about the bungalow, apparently distracted.
"Willow, are you okay? What is it?"
"I'm worried about that sweet man. He looked pale for someone who spends his days outside in the Florida sun."
"We can keep an eye on him."
"We?" She drew her expression up to him, searched his eyes for some meaning behind his statement. Something long-term, with deeper meaning, perhaps.
"At least for as long as I'm here," he amended, careful not to trip on his words.
Willow's light features shadowed. "Right, of course. For as long as you're here. But really, your stay here in the States is so short, you shouldn't waste your time here patching baseboards. It really isn't necessary." She spun away from him and slammed the kitchen window closed.
A bolt of heat shot through his chest, somewhere in the vicinity of his heart. Was she rejecting him? Angry at the reality that he presented before her? Yes and yes. He didn't blame her. Here he was behaving like he was part of her life but then saying he'd be out of there just as quickly. Definitely sending mixed messages.
"You don't want me here," he asserted. He followed her to the dining area where she closed off that window, too.
She turned to him.
"Shayne," she began, but the light in her eye didn't sparkle like it usually did when she referred to him. "It's not a good idea for you to be here helping me. Or kissing me. We both know you'll be leaving and going back to," she paused, as if to search for the right words. "Your usual way of life. All the glitz, the glamour. The fundraisers, the black-tie events, the women."
She marched into the great room. She slammed shut another window.
Her admission came as a surprise attack on his senses. He marched into the room behind her. "So this isn't just about my leaving. It's about my reputation?"
She brought her eyes up to his. "I don't want to be another conquest to you." Despite the defiant angle of her chin, she lowered her eyelashes now that she finally admitted the truth. She brushed past him like she always did when their conversation became too intense. She left behind a wave of heat—and a smattering of anger—as she marched out the front door.
Was that what she believed about him? That he only saw her as some conquest? He shouldn't be surprised. Shayne damned himself for allowing his reputation to get so out of hand. At first, he hadn't cared about the rumors. A cool playboy façade had given him the room to live his life with unaffected detachment, kept him from getting close to anyone. Kept him from getting hurt.
He deserved Willow's rejection and hated himself for it. He never considered how the falsehood behind his reputation might hurt someone like her along the way. Someone he cared more and more about each day.
He had to do damage control.
Shayne stalked out the front door after Willow. He found her pulling weeds out by the walkway. "A woman in every port, right? Is that what you think?" he asked.
She rose to meet his stare, not once backing down from his demanding question. Nor did she refute the allegation. The high angle of her eyebrow told him that.
"They're nothing but rumors," Shayne continued. "Whatever information you've gathered about me, whatever preconceived notions you've formed, they're based on fallacies."
She continued to stare at him with intense scrutiny, yet not a word came from her.
"Say something, damn it, or I'll kiss you again," he threatened.
Willow huffed. "See? That's the problem with you. You look at me like that and make these demands and say things to get me confused. You are a constant walking contradiction!"
"The stories are not true. Not one," he said.
"Which stories? The ones about your womanizing or the one that you're returning to London, leaving me behind in this port?" She planted her hands on her hips and remained firmly rooted to the walkway.
Shayne stepped back, shaken by the sting of her last question. The hurt and anger on her face couldn't be missed.
"Willow, London is my home."
"And Florida is my home."
"I never know where my tomorrows will take me."
"My tomorrows are right here. And I was perfectly happy with them before you came along."
"Were you?"
"Happy enough."
"Don't you think there's more to me than my reputation? That perhaps I might want more in life? Like being a husband and loving a wife? Having children with the woman I love? Raising a family? My own flesh and blood? What if I told you I wanted those things more than anything in the world? Do those desires sound like a man with a real playboy reputation?"
While he tried to convince her, the hurt only deepened on her face. She looked like she was about to cry. But she didn't. How could telling a woman that he wanted a wife and children more than anything in the world cause pain? Couldn't she believe him?
"I'm glad you want those things, but it doesn't change the facts... it only cements them." She shook her head. Although the fight in her deflated, she remained stubborn in her resolve to accept their circumstances—they were at a geographical and emotional stalemate.
She tried to say something more, but then clamped those perfectly arched lips closed. Her eyes flared with fierce intensity until dampness finally lined them.
"There's more than what you're telling. Talk to me, Willow. Is it about your ex-husband?"
"I, I can't... Look, you might be able to walk in here and fix a baseboard. Or walk into the operating room and fix a heart. But no one, not even you, can fix my situation. And that's something I have to live with the rest of my life."
"Whatever your situation, I can certainly try..."
"No, don't you see—"
"I see a woman who's holding back. Please, Willow."
Before Shayne could demand—or beg—to know what she meant, a low moan came from the side of the house. Willow caught her breath and set her gaze on Shayne. "That's my landlord. Something's wrong."
* * *
Willow bolted around the corner of the house, the sense of dread propelling her legs to pump hard. She found her landlord standing against the side of the house with one hand clutching his chest. Shayne came too, and helped the man sit on the ground. Willow sat on the ground with him to lean the man back at a safe angle against the side of the house.
"Mr. Langdon, what is it? Can you breathe? Are you in pain?" she asked.
The grisly old man took a short breath. "Just some indigestion. Some pressure." He lightly thumped his chest.
Willow shared a worried look with Shayne.
"Have you taken your angina medicine?" she asked the older gentleman.
"I never miss a dose." He rubbed his left arm as he mumbled about his wife's heavy cooking.
"Okay, Mr. Langdon, let's have a look," Shayne announced. "Willow tells me you've haven't been feeling right lately." As Shayne spoke, he stared deeply into the man eyes, seeking out any telltale signs of cardiac distress.
"Been a little run down." The man rubbed his jaw. "Feels like I been punched in the chops."
Willow exchanged another furtive glance with Shayne. Not a good sign. With worried fingers, she checked the man's pulse in time with her watch. "A hundred-twenty, Doctor."
"I'd like for Mr. Langdon to go to the hospital so we can get a handle on what we're dealing with. Just to be on the safe side." Shayne's voice came across soothing and calm, but the words carried a dire weight; her landlord was in distress.
"I'll call a paramedic." Willow pulled out her cell phone to make the call while Shayne c
ontinued his assessment of her landlord.
The man scowled. "Oh, now, I'm strong as an ox. I don't need no fussin' or no hospital. I just need more medicine, is all."
"Yes, perhaps," Shayne said to him, "but if you're having trouble despite your medicine, we can't take it lightly."
As Mr. Langdon listened to what the doctor had to say, alarm flared in his eyes. "Fine, fine, I'll go, but I'm telling you, it ought to pass," he huffed, saving face.
"I have medical equipment in my Toyota. I'll get it."
Shayne gave a curt, appreciative nod. He lowered himself to the ground to trade places with Willow. He allowed the old man to lean more comfortably against him in a recovery position. Willow sprinted to her Toyota to retrieve her stethoscope and first aid kit.
Several minutes later, paramedics had Mr. Langdon secured inside the ambulance with Shayne by his side.
"I'll take care of your landlord, Willow. I'm catching a ride back to the hospital with these blokes." With a lopsided smile, Shayne gestured to the two paramedics.
She smiled back despite her concern. "And I'll let Mrs. Langdon know what's going on."
Mr. Langdon responded with a weak salute from his stretcher.
The ambulance doors closed; the vehicle bounded off.
Willow found herself alone with her thoughts and a pounding in her rib cage. Whether her heart raced from the drama with her landlord or from Shayne's magnetizing presence in her life, she couldn't be sure. But one question perplexed her. How had she allowed herself to be attracted to a man with a guarded heart who proclaimed he didn't know where tomorrow would take him?
Chapter 10
For the next few days, Willow worked hard to maintain a respectable distance from Shayne during their shifts together. All the while, the memory of his tender kisses and caresses loomed in the back of her mind. The way Shayne held her, their moment together was more than physical attraction, Shayne harbored an emotional intensity so rare for a reserved surgeon. She'd seen it in his eyes. She'd felt it in his touch.
Simply electrifying.
Therein lied the problem.
Which brought her to their argument. She'd set him straight on the reality of their plight and yet it did nothing to quell the unease beating through her. They shouldn't be entertaining the idea of sharing intimate moments like kisses and caresses. And she'd told him so. Made herself perfectly clear they shouldn't. She'd hoped he would agree. Instead he pressed for more, demanding the reason why.
Oh, she had so many reasons to keep him away. An entire ocean between them. He, a world traveler; she, a homebody. But most of all, her physical challenges preventing her from having children. Something he admitted wanting more than anything in the world. She'd be more than happy to give them to him... but couldn't.
Keeping Shayne at arm's length proved fruitless when having to rub elbows with him on a daily basis. His constant nearness, along with his mischievous glances, made it all but impossible to keep her wits about her. They'd grown tight as a team, worked in sync, and Willow found herself looking forward to work more and more each day in spite of her hands-off efforts.
Today, however, she was particularly tense. Shayne had scheduled an emergency procedure for Baby Jack that afternoon. While she was on edge about the procedure, Shayne itched to get into surgery to fully understand the infant's condition and help him survive.
With no time to prepare emotionally, Willow had scrubbed in, slipped into surgical garb, and was now assisting with the procedure. Despite her experience as a nurse, she couldn't help her feeling of pulse-pounding intensity as Shayne began the surgery and assessed the patient's condition. Willow caught herself holding her breath. She might as well have been working on her own child. She had indeed become a mother to this baby and like any mother, she fretted over the outcome, even though he couldn't be in better hands.
Dr. Edwards, in his usual cool manner, got to work repositioning the greater vessels in the baby's heart.
Willow tried to remain calm and collected, determined not to make a single error. She studied Shayne as he completed the arterial switch and finished the case, never once breaking his concentration.
Baby Jack came through beautifully.
Willow gave a silent, prayerful thanks.
Not until the infant was sent to recovery did she feel confident he had a good chance at surviving. But they weren't out of the woods yet. He would require long-term care, meds, and therapies. She intended to help him every step of the way. Where Shayne helped the baby with his current medical situation, she could help with his future medical situations—as only a mother could.
Following the surgery, Willow pushed through the doors into the Call Room. She barely entered before tugging off her surgical cap and peeling off the surgical gown. She had an appointment with Connie in Social Services to discuss adopting Baby Jack. She tingled with excitement over the prospect of motherhood.
She was disposing of her garb when Shayne sidled up beside her.
"In a hurry?" he asked.
She smiled up at him but offered no explanation of her heartiness. She may not be able to fully hide her excitement, but she still chose to keep her decision to adopt Baby Jack to herself for now. At least until she spoke to Connie.
"I assume you're in good spirits now that our littlest patient has survived surgery," Shayne asked.
"Oh, yes."
"Could have been a lot worse for him." Shayne removed his cap, his thick dark locks tumbling out. He pulled off his disposable surgical clothes, forcing her to notice those strong cords in his forearms. Those same arms that had saved Baby Jack's life, but had also held her close.
"I have every confidence his recovery will go well," Willow sang out.
"You seem in good spirits that go beyond a successful surgery. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're up to something." He looked at her as if trying to mentally put the pieces together.
"Oh?"
"You're keeping a secret. I can tell by your impish grin."
Yes, she was floating on air, and no, she couldn't hide it. But she still kept the truth close to her heart. "Yes, I'm in good spirits. After all, my landlord is home on bed rest, doing well on adjusted meds. And Baby Jack came out of surgery fine. I'd say it's been a good day." And it's only going to get better.
"Mr. Langdon and Baby Jack might be good. But not your bungalow. I still have work to do, sanding more baseboards and such. I'll come by this week."
With the gleam in Shayne's eye, the man actually looked forward to working on her place. He'd been so insistent on helping her so far, she knew he wouldn't stop until he got his way. Like he always did. Willow marveled at his tenacity for imposing himself in her life. She should fend him off. But her good mood kept her from resisting him.
"If you must," she quipped.
"Just like that?"
"Just like that."
* * *
Willow entered Social Services to visit Connie, the social worker on Baby Jack's case. Her heart hummed with excitement about becoming a mom.
"Thanks for seeing me today." Willow assumed the seat across the desk from Connie.
"How did the surgery go?" Connie asked while pulling together various documents.
"The procedure couldn't have gone better." Willow spoke professionally. "Of course, the baby will need regular follow-up attention by cardiac specialists probably into adulthood. He's certainly a trooper."
Connie smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. It's noble you're filing for custody for the infant. However, the process won't be easy, since you're going to be a single parent."
"Yes." Willow's heart dipped. She wasn't single by choice. She never expected her husband's sudden departure to have such far-reaching effects, including impacting a decision as huge as this. She prayed her unmarried status wouldn't hurt her chances. "But single parents take care of sick children all the time," she asserted.
"True. And you're the nurse who's taken care of the baby since the moment he entered this hospital
. Given his medical status and your impeccable work, I'm sure these two factors will work in your favor."
"I hope so."
"Those factors aside, my concern lies first and foremost with the welfare of this child. This is a commitment of a lifetime, Willow. I have to be assured you're up for the task."
"I'll do whatever it takes. I want this, Connie. You know how much I want this."
Connie pursed her lips in a tight smile and pulled out more forms. "Yes, I got it loud and clear from each of our phone conversations and your three follow-up voicemails." She chuckled as she assimilated various documents.
"I did all the preliminary research online. Downloaded every guide necessary to get started on filing," Willow offered.
"Good. Documents and a detailed journal of his medical care are a must. You'll meet with a counselor on a regular basis. And you'll still need to take a class on how the statewide operational plan works so you meet all criteria for the baby. Here's more paperwork you won't find online." Connie handed over booklets, forms, and legal papers requiring signatures.
"Wow, this makes it so real."
"This is just the beginning. You know the expression, It takes a village? It has never been more true than for a child with a lifelong illness. You are an excellent nurse with a good head on your shoulders. But working with any state agency can leave you overwhelmed. Remember, you're not alone. Help is out there for you. Promise you'll take advantage because you're going need it."
"I promise."
"I'll expedite the process the best I can through the Children's Medical Services Network, petitioning for temporary custody. At the very least, you'll serve as the medial foster care parent. The MFC status will go into effect fast due to the baby's urgent care status while we wait until the forms funnel through all the right channels."
"Thank you for pushing this through, Connie."
"I'm pushing this through because I am pushing for you. But remember, I make no promises of the outcome."
Chapter 11
By the next day, Willow must have checked her phone for messages at least a hundred times in the hopes she'd hear from Connie. While sitting in the cafeteria during her lunch break, she kept her cell phone on the table beside her, willing it to ring. Of course, it was too soon to hear back, but she kept the phone near nevertheless.
Playboy Doctor (Heartthrob Heroes, Book 2) Page 9
