Added to that, would talking get her fifty thousand to help support her family?
No. So she wasn’t going to waste her time pouring her heart out. Yes, she was bitter, and yes, she was going to lash out at whoever tried to pry inside her heart right now. She just didn’t have that chipper energy she was known for. She feared she might never be that happy girl again. Even the spark of attraction they’d had before was out of her reach. And there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.
“Have you called your family?” he asked as he maneuvered through the traffic.
“No.”
Their phone was probably still shut off, but she would send her brother a text in a few days. Even though he was away at college, he usually went home on weekends if he was able to get off work from his part-time job.
On the other hand, she might not text him at all. Why would she want them to know she’d failed? She’d been so, so close and had lost it all. She refused to text her sister, whom she rarely talked to, anyway. The woman was too busy with her perfect family in Texas to be bothered with helping.
She tried to swipe at the moisture in her eyes, reaching up with her right arm.
“Ouch. God,” she groaned.
“Take it easy.” Noah reached over and patted her leg. “I know it’s habit to use your right arm, but try to hold it still. The more you rest it, the sooner it will heal.”
“I don’t care about my arm,” she told him. “That’s the least of my concerns.”
He drove for a moment before breaking the silence again. “This will get better, Callie. I know you don’t see that proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, but it’s there. We need to give this some time.”
“We?” she mocked. “I’m positive your career will go on, Noah. You have everything you could ever want.”
His hands tightened around the steering wheel. “We all have our own hell, Callie. I’ve just learned to live with mine.”
Callie doubted very much his hell was life-changing. He probably had to pay more property taxes or didn’t get invited to some of his clients’ glamorous parties. No matter what the so-called darkness in his life was, Callie knew it couldn’t compare to having her dreams slide through her fingers like sand. She’d held that reality for such a short time and now she would have nothing to show for it.
“I don’t mean to argue with you,” he told her softly. “I’m here to help you and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“I still don’t think staying with you is the answer,” she told him.
“If you have a better suggestion, I’m all ears.”
She sighed and ignored the twinge of pain in her shoulder at the deep breath. “I hate being someone’s responsibility and an inconvenience.”
“Callie, you’re neither of those things. If I didn’t want to help, I wouldn’t have volunteered. Besides, you need assistance and I’m a doctor. You’re getting the best free of charge.”
She never dreamed if she ever got an invitation to Noah’s Beverly Hills home it would be for him to play doctor in the literal sense. There would be no way he’d ever want to date her now. What man would find a woman with a slash down her face attractive? She hadn’t even talked to Noah about surgery, but she highly doubted she’d ever look the same again.
She’d worked in his office long enough to know that scars could never be fully removed—minimized, yes, but it would still be there. Even with microdermabrasion or, God forbid, a skin graft, there would still be a slight imperfection on her face. And Noah Foster was used to perfection—that was his job, for crying out loud.
She rested her head against the back of the seat and let the silence of the car surround her. She didn’t feel like chitchatting, didn’t feel like thinking positively as he’d suggested. Surely she was entitled to a pity party, right? Entitled or not, she was throwing one for herself. Hopefully, when they arrived at his house, he’d leave her alone to wallow in her misery.
A short while later he pulled into a gated drive, rolled down his window and punched in a sequence of numbers until the wrought-iron gate slid to the side, allowing them through. A large, two-story, beige stucco home, with white trim and white columns surrounding the arched entryway, took center stage in the circular drive. Noah hit the garage-door opener and eased the car inside.
“I’ll come around and help you out.”
Since Callie didn’t have the energy or the will to fight, she allowed Noah to escort her into the house. Normally she would’ve taken the time to marvel at the spacious, pristine kitchen, but she just wanted to go to her room…wherever it was located.
“You’ll be upstairs with me.” He led the way as he rolled her small suitcase behind him. “I meant, beside me.”
Fantastic. Now she was not only in his house out of pity and obligation, she was going to have to sleep with one wall separating them. As if any lingerie would override her mummified state. Sheer material was sexy…sheer gauze, not so much.
“I can show you where your room will be, then you can do what you want.” He moved up the wide, curved staircase that circled around a low-hanging chandelier. “I can fix lunch while you unpack, if you’d like.”
Once at the top of the steps, she stopped. “Noah,” she said, waiting until he turned. “You don’t have to do this. Other than changing my bandages and helping me with basics because of my collarbone, pretend I’m not here. You don’t have to feed me or entertain me.”
He left the suitcase and stepped toward her. Placing his hand on her good shoulder, he looked into her eyes. There was that mesmerizing gaze that had made her toes curl, her belly tingle, so many times. And now was no different. But in so many ways, the important ways, this instance was nothing like the others.
The last time he’d touched her and looked into her eyes. he’d kissed her with so much passion, so much desire….
“Pretending you’re not here would be impossible,” he told her, holding her gaze. “I know you aren’t comfortable, but it’s me, Callie. We’ve worked together long enough, and went quite a big step beyond friendship in my car the other day, that I’d hoped you would be comfortable here. This doesn’t have to be difficult. Let me care for you. Please.”
She couldn’t keep looking at him. She almost felt like a kid, like if she looked away, maybe he couldn’t see her. Her eyes darted to the V in the neck of his black T-shirt.
“What are you thinking right now?” he asked.
With her one working shoulder, she shrugged beneath his touch.
He took his free hand and tipped her chin up so she was looking at him once more. “Talk to me, Callie. I won’t let you go through this alone, even though you want to.”
Blinking back tears, she sighed. “I just don’t know how you can look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like…like you care for me.”
His head tipped to the side as he smiled. “Callie, I do care for you or you wouldn’t be here. You’re hurt and it’s my fault.”
Confused, Callie stepped to the side, away from his touch. “What do you mean, your fault?”
“If I hadn’t asked you to model, you wouldn’t have been on that freeway and you wouldn’t have been in the accident.”
She hadn’t thought it possible to hurt more, but pain sliced through every fiber of her being. His declaration just proved she was at his house, under his care, because he felt pity. And not just pity, but obligation and guilt, and not because they’d begun something in the car the other day.
She closed her eyes, forcing the tears back until she was alone. “Just show me to my room. I’m tired.”
He looked as if he wanted to say more, but after hesitating a brief moment, he nodded and moved farther down the wide hallway. Callie prayed her collarbone would recover fast so she could go home.
For so long she’d been such a fighter. But right now, she wasn’t so sure she had any fight left in her.
She wanted to have something to push toward, to look forward to
after her healing was over. But she knew the odds of living out her dream had more than likely died the second her car slammed into that semi. And Callie would replay that hellacious moment in her head over and over until she died. Of that she was dead sure.
She headed to bed, praying somehow things would look better in the morning.
Five
Noah put the towels away in his master suite and glanced at the small picture of Malinda and him during one of their earlier, carefree times that sat on a shelf beside the window. This was the only picture in the house he hadn’t stored in a box on a shelf in the back of his closet. One last reminder of the happiest moments of his life.
He still had a closet full of clothing from Malinda’s job as a personal shopper; most of them still had tags. But for some reason he still couldn’t let go.
Some reason? No, he knew the reason. How could he let go? If he let go of the past, he’d be finalizing the fact that he had failed the one person he’d loved more than life itself. If he severed all ties with that portion of his life, the finality of the truth would settle in deeper, and quite possibly cripple him.
He just couldn’t bear to face the truth. Not only was Malinda gone, he hadn’t been able to do anything to stop her swift spiral down to the depths of her drug overdose.
And Callie thought he knew nothing of hell on earth? He lived it every single day. The reminder of the life he thought he’d have with Malinda was always in the forefront of his mind. Between the picture he just couldn’t take down and tending to Thelma’s needs, the past just wouldn’t let him go. He was caught in the vise of this damn nightmare and he had no way of getting out and moving on. And he feared he’d always be on this roller-coaster ride of emotions.
As he moved into his bedroom, he sighed. He was getting frustrated with Callie and he didn’t want to go all alpha male on her and take over, but he would if he saw she wasn’t taking care of herself. Stubbornness had no place in the healing process.
Since they’d arrived, she hadn’t come out of her room. He’d asked her about eating and she’d claimed she wasn’t hungry and just wanted to rest. Well, that was nearly five hours ago.
Now it was time for her medicine, so she was going to have to open the door and let him in. She had to eat something because she couldn’t take these heavy pain meds on an empty stomach or she’d feel a whole lot worse. He’d also apply more ointment to her face, though that was really just an excuse to get close to her.
Callie’s self-esteem and bubbling energy seemed to have been a casualty in the accident, and he intended to make them come back to life. More than likely that would take time, but Noah couldn’t watch another woman destroy herself whether it be via drugs or depression.
As a doctor, he’d vowed to protect and heal people. But as a man, he just couldn’t sit by and see Callie beat herself up and let her anger and frustrations fester. If she didn’t open up, she might end up worse than she was now.
And yeah, the irony of him thinking someone needed to open up was not lost on him. Looked as if the pot and the kettle would be spending a lot of time butting heads over the next few weeks.
Noah kept Callie’s medicine in his room so he could have easy access, but also so it wouldn’t be with her. The risk of her becoming addicted was too great. He would let her have the prescription painkillers for the next two days, but after that it would be over-the-counter meds. He needed to wean her off the narcotics.
Just the thought of Callie hooked on painkillers sickened him. But the fact they were back in his house only made him have flash upon flash of another woman, another drug.
Of course, before Callie’s accident he’d wondered where all her money was going and he’d even considered the possibility of her using, but he wanted to dismiss those tainted thoughts. His past with Malinda just made him skeptical, and where Callie was concerned, he had a gut feeling what he saw was what he got. Perhaps that was why he found her so refreshing. She’d never tried to be fake and she tended to wear her heart on her sleeve.
Grabbing the antibiotic and the mild painkiller from the top of his chest of drawers, he headed next door to her room. There were five spare bedrooms in his house and for some reason he’d chosen to put her right beside him.
There were so many underlying reasons. He’d told her it was because he wanted to be near in case she needed help, but in actuality, he wanted to be close because this was Callie, and he’d envisioned something more intimate between them. He had ever since she’d come to work for him six months ago.
Now, though, his rational mind told him he had to put that desire on a back burner. It wasn’t that the accident had diminished his attraction; he simply realized the timing was off. The man in him, however, could hardly ignore the desire he felt for her.
And now that she was under his roof, he could choose to either be a man and potential lover or be her doctor and caring friend.
His sense of responsibility made that decision for him.
With the bottles in one hand, he tapped on her door with the other.
* * *
Callie looked away from her breathtaking view from the window seat toward the door when Noah knocked. He’d been trying to get her to come out, but she just wasn’t in the mood. Besides, this bedroom was the size of her apartment and the view of the pool complete with waterfall and hot tub was rather relaxing to stare at.
“I’m fine, Noah,” she called without getting up.
“I need to look at your bandage and I have something for your pain.”
Of course he would have to come in. She glanced down to her less-than-sexy attire of black yoga capris and a T-shirt, She only had one arm through because she refused to call for Noah to help her dress. At some point, she feared she’d have to suck it up and let him assist her.
She crossed to the door and pulled it open to see Noah leaning against the doorjamb holding a small container with gauze, tape, ointment and pills. His eyes raked over her appearance.
“Why didn’t you tell me you needed help dressing?”
She tilted her chin up. “Because I didn’t.”
“Don’t start this arrangement off by being stubborn and ridiculous.”
Instead of retorting, because it would just cause an argument, she eyed his inventory.
“I was just dismissed this morning,” she told him. “Surely this doesn’t need to be looked at already.”
“I want to make sure there’s enough antibiotic on it. If it gets too dry, the scar can be harder to repair.”
Callie rolled her eyes. “You’re not actually thinking this is repairable, are you? I know the odds, Noah.”
Noah sat his stuff down on the desk a little harder than he should’ve and Callie jumped.
“Listen to me,” he said, taking her by her one good shoulder. “I am going into this with a positive attitude and you need to, as well. Until or unless I see that your scar is indeed irreparable, we will approach this as if everything is going to be fine. Understand?”
Callie refused to allow the warmth of his strong hand to seep in any farther than her T-shirt. She couldn’t let that fantasy of the two of them together come into play just because she was staying at his house…especially because she was staying at his house and he was taking care of her.
“If you want to stay optimistic, go ahead.” She stepped away and walked over to the window seat she’d just vacated. “I’m going to be a realist here and try to come up with a plan B.”
“What do you mean, plan B?” he asked.
Callie leaned her back against the warm glass and pulled her knees up to rest her feet on the cushion. “I can’t very well model for you, act or work in an office that promotes beauty and perfection. And going back home to Kansas is even more depressing, so I need to figure out where to go from here.”
Noah crossed the room and took a seat beside her. “The modeling and the acting might be out for now, but who said you can’t work in my office? I certainly never said, nor did I imply, that you were goin
g to be replaced. God, Callie, did you think because you have an injury that I’d ask you to leave? I’m sure Marie will be more than happy to cover for you until you’re ready to come back to work. Besides, with the other office opening there will be plenty of work.”
Callie stared back into those dark, sexy eyes. “I wasn’t talking about when my arm heals, Noah. Do you really want your clients to see this ugly, marred face as soon as they come in the door?”
Noah slid a stray hair behind her ear and ran a fingertip down her uninjured cheek. “What I want my clients to see is a woman with a bubbly personality who will put them at ease and make them feel welcome. That’s why I hired you to begin with.”
Callie rolled her eyes. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying, and I’m not going to let you stay in this room until you’re healed to your perfect standards.”
“That day will never come,” she muttered.
Noah came to his feet and took the hand on her good side. “Come with me.”
Callie hesitated until she realized Noah was relentless and he wouldn’t back down. The sooner she played his little charade, the sooner he’d leave and she could go back to her self-imposed solitary confinement.
He led her to the adjoining bath and stood her in front of the mirror that spread across the entire wall behind the double sinks. Yeah, as if she wanted to be shoved in front of a mirror.
“Noah, I don’t think—”
“Look,” he demanded. “Turn and look at your uninjured side.”
She moved her head so she could see her smooth, perfectly intact face void of any makeup, marks, scars.
“Now turn and look at the other side.”
With a sigh, she turned until she saw that hideous bandage that mocked her and the dreams she’d lost.
“Does this exercise have a point?” she asked.
Hollywood House Call Page 5
