Tender Loving Care

by Susan Mallery

  He squinted, as if trying to bring her in focus, but didn’t speak. Why didn’t he say something, or look away…anything?

  “Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said finally.

  She groaned and ducked her head. “After almost a week, that’s the best you can come up with?”

  Behind her the doctor chuckled. She spun around, having forgotten the other two men in the room.

  “Let’s take a look.” He clicked on the light and tilted Logan’s face up. “Good reactions. Infection seems cleared up. Remember, no close work and wear sunglasses to protect your eyes from the light. Indoors also, for at least a week. Come to the office in about ten or twelve days and I’ll see if you’re ready to go back to work.” He put his equipment away. “Well, John, what about that lunch?”

  Mr. Anderson grinned. “Logan, you follow orders. I can’t afford any more of these house calls.” He winked at Melissa. “Hang in there, Nurse VanFleet. Don’t let him get away with anything.”

  “Me?” Logan asked as he slipped on dark glasses. “I’m the perfect patient.”

  He turned and gave her that lethal grin. She felt her heart begin to melt. Dear God, she was going down for the third time and there wasn’t a lifeboat in sight.

  Chapter Four

  Melissa shut the front door behind the two men and drew in a steadying breath. She’d barely survived the past five minutes, how on earth would she get through the next two weeks? Between the raging dance her hormones performed every time she and Logan were in the same room and her overactive imagination, she didn’t have a prayer of escaping unscathed. She’d probably end up ripping off her clothes, pleading with him to take her and be forced to deal with the ignominy of being thrown out on the street. No job, no references, no money. By the end of the month, she’d be a bag lady on Sunset Boulevard.

  A giggle escaped her lips as she pictured herself, dressed in a white nurse’s uniform, complete with starched hat, pushing a shopping cart filled with all her earthly possessions. Okay, so that scenario was the tiniest bit extreme. But the possibility of her making a fool of herself over Logan wasn’t at all unlikely.

  There was only one solution: pretend she didn’t care. How hard could that be?

  By the time she’d prepared lunch, Melissa had convinced herself that dealing with Logan would be a snap. Then he came out of his room.

  The footsteps on the hallway’s hardwood floor were the first warning. “When do we eat?” he asked, leaning against the door frame.

  His arms were crossed over his broad chest stretching the blue T-shirt indecently. Who was it, she wondered, who designed men’s clothing? Couldn’t they add an extra inch or two in the shoulders and chest? But no, there he stood, all six feet of tall, lean man. With the dark glasses on his eyes, he looked like a model for a teen magazine. Rock Star At Home would be the photo’s caption. Only Logan looked better than any unshaven singer she’d ever seen.

  “In about ten minutes. I thought you might be tired of finger food, so I’m making a Chinese chicken salad.”

  Her gaze lingered on his face. The welts had faded. In another week, they’d be healed, leaving behind faint lines on his cheeks. The scars of battle would only add to his charm. She sighed. Everything was different now. If only…

  He grinned suddenly. “You’re staring. Do I look that different?”

  Oh, no! He could see! “Ah, no. I was just…” She spun back to face the counter and started to chop the green pepper she was holding. The staccato sound of the blade against the cutting board didn’t block out his low chuckle. Stay calm, she told herself. This is not a crisis. This is a manageable situation. She was an adult. Only no one had explained that to her racing heart.

  “Melissa?”

  “What?” She glanced up at him, but forgot to stop moving the knife. Honed steel nicked her left index finger. “Ouch!” Jumping back, she turned and stuck her hand under the faucet, then turned on the tap.

  Before she could draw a breath, he was at her side and reaching for her wrist. “Let me see.”

  “No.” She tried to pull away from his touch, but he held on tightly. “I know for a fact that your sight hasn’t fully returned. Go play doctor somewhere else.”

  “You might need stitches.” Concern furrowed his brow.

  “Don’t even think about it. You’d probably sew my hand to my knee.”

  “I meant we could get my doctor back.”

  “D-don’t be silly.”

  He was so close, she could feel the heat from his body. It didn’t matter that the wound continued to drip into the sink; the sensation of his hand holding hers was worth the discomfort.

  The front door slammed. Wendi’s “Hi, I’m home” seemed louder than any warning bell. Melissa wrenched her arm away and grabbed a paper towel.

  “There. The bleeding’s already slowing down. I’ll go find a bandage and be right back.” She ran out of the kitchen before he could stop her.

  She heard Wendi’s question about what had happened and Logan’s low response. As she shut the bathroom door behind her, she wondered how long it would take until she gave herself away.

  Logan sat in the shade by the pool. The umbrella overhead kept out most of the sun’s strong rays, but he still had to squint as he watched his daughter frolic in the water. Light was painful and his vision was fuzzy at times, but it was a hell of a lot better than being blind.

  “Watch, Daddy. I can do a back flip.” Wendi climbed out of the water and ran to the diving board. Wet hair clung to her shoulders in a tangled mess. The one-piece bathing suit was more conservative than she had wanted and about half a yard less than the one he’d picked out, but compromise was the first rule of parenting. Or was it discipline? He never got them straight.

  She stood proud and tall on the edge of the platform. Shading his eyes, he watched her bounce one, twice, then spring free in a wobbly arc that ended when she entered the water knees first.

  “It wasn’t supposed to look like that,” she said as she broke the surface. “Kelly’s a better swimmer than me.”

  “I,” Melissa said as she walked onto the patio.

  Wendi swam to the side and rested her chin and forearms on the deck. “I what?”

  Melissa planted her hands on her hips. “Kelly’s a better swimmer than I.”

  Wendi rolled her eyes. “Melis-sa!”

  “Wen-di. Learn to speak right and I won’t have to correct you. Comprendez?”

  “Oh, great. It’s not enough I have to learn English. Now you expect me to understand a foreign language.” She slipped under the water.

  Logan laughed and gave Melissa a thumbs-up. When their eyes met, her smile faltered and she fled the patio as though hounds were at her heels. She’d been acting strangely ever since lunch. Not unpleasant, but distant, as though she didn’t want to be around him. Was it something he’d said or done?

  The wind picked up slightly, stirring the fresh flowers in the vase on the table. Plucking out a single rose, he touched his fingers to the leaves. To see the deep red, as well as feel the softness of the petals and the points of the thorns, was glorious. There had been times, mostly at night when the pain had disturbed his sleep, that he’d wondered if he’d ever see again. Those times, when fear and panic threatened to overwhelm him, Melissa had silently appeared beside his bed. Her quiet voice and gentle touch always calmed him enough to allow sleep to claim him once more. They were private moments, never discussed or even acknowledged. Inhaling the fragrance of the rose, he smiled. Life was good.

  “I’m going to get a soda,” Wendi said as she stepped out of the pool and wrapped a towel around her. “Do you want anything?”

  “Tell Melissa to get a bottle of cabernet sauvignon out of the wine rack. Tonight we celebrate my return to the land of the living.”

  “Do I get a glass?”

  Logan held open his arms. His daughter stepped into his embrace and sat on his lap. Her arms curled around his neck as he squeezed her. “You can have a sip o
f mine.”

  “Cool. Be right back.”

  She dropped the towel onto a chair and stepped toward the French doors. The bottom of her swimsuit had crept up and she pulled it down with a quick tug. The movement caught Logan like a kick in the gut. His little girl was growing up. There were curves that hadn’t been there last year. Every day she seemed older, more assured. She was turning into a younger version of Fiona right before his eyes, and he didn’t know how to make it stop.

  “But I will,” he said fiercely.

  “Excuse me?” Melissa stood in the doorway. “You will what?”

  “Talking to myself. Feel free to ignore me.”

  “Oh.”

  She walked over to the table and stood across from him, then put down three place mats. Logan waited, but there wasn’t any snappy comeback. Maybe she was tired.

  “Did Wendi tell you about the wine?” he asked.

  “Yes. But I should warn you that you can’t have alcohol and then a painkiller.” Her hands made quick work of smoothing the napkins and setting up the silverware, but she didn’t meet his eyes.

  “I’m not in any pain.”

  “Good.”

  He tried to study her face, but wisps of blond hair fell forward as she worked and hid her expression from view. Medium, she’d said that first night. There were other words he would have chosen to describe her.

  The beginnings of a tan colored her shoulders and arms. His gaze dropped to the pink cotton tank top she wore tucked into denim shorts. As she leaned forward to shoo away a fly, he was treated to a flash of pale, creamy flesh. In the past he’d preferred women who were tall and slender, but there was something to be said for a woman who could fill out a shirt. He clenched his fist against the sudden itch to discover those curves firsthand.

  She picked up the flower he’d been examining and placed it back in the vase. “I’ll bring out the wine. Where’s the corkscrew?”

  “In the dining room. Top drawer of the buffet.”

  Before she could run off, he touched her arm. She jerked away from the contact. “Yes?”

  “Melissa, are you feeling all right?”

  “I’m fine. Why?”

  He shrugged. “No reason. What are we having for dinner?”

  She murmured something under her breath.

  “What?” He felt a smile tugging at his lips. “Could you please repeat that?”

  She glared down at him, her brown eyes flashing fire. “Spaghetti. Okay? We’ve made such a big deal about it all week that I thought you might have a taste for it.”

  “I’m not complaining.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’d just like to point out we haven’t made a big deal out of it. You kept threatening me with it. But hey, I’m just the guy who pays the bills.”

  “If you’d prefer something else, it’s not too late to change the menu.”

  He sighed. As quickly as she’d arrived, the old Melissa was gone and the efficiently subservient automaton was back in place.

  “‘…and knew the killer had been there not three hours before.”’

  Melissa turned the page and continued to read. Logan leaned back against the headboard and studied his companion. In deference to his weak eyes, she’d insisted on sitting across the room and using the reading lamp in the corner. He appreciated the concern, but the ritual of being read to had lost much of its charm.

  The king-size mattress was too big without her next to him. Now that he could see, there weren’t any whispery noises for him to wonder about. No sudden dips as she shifted her position on the bed, no brief touches to remind him of where she was.

  And worst of all, the chair was so far away, he couldn’t smell her perfume. He stirred restlessly, thrusting another pillow behind his back.

  Melissa looked up from the book. “Are you in pain?”

  “No.”

  “Would you like me to read something else?”

  He sighed. “I’m fine.” He moved again and waited for some smart remark about his inability to sit still.

  She bowed her head and picked up the book. “‘Three gray threads were pushed into the corner of the…”’

  The light from the incandescent bulb turned her medium blond hair to gold. The shimmering strands moved with each breath, fluttering around her face like soft feathers. Compared to Fiona, she was ordinary to the point of being plain, but he’d been dazzled by beauty enough times to know it was only a temporary spell. There was an honesty in Melissa’s face that had been lacking in his ex-wife’s. While her features, taken in all at once, wouldn’t cause a second glance, her skin was like porcelain. She wore a small amount of makeup, but it didn’t conceal the flawless finish and gentle color that naturally stained her cheeks. Brown eyes, so careful to avoid his, allowed brief glimpses of her secret self.

  As she read, she licked her bottom lip. The full curve hinted at a passionate nature, something he might not have expected from his efficient nurse—if they hadn’t shared that kiss. There were secrets in Melissa VanFleet, and he intended to discover every one.

  “You’re staring at me.”

  He grinned. “You’ve had a week to get sick of looking at me, but today is my first chance to put a face to the person I know. It’s interesting.”

  “Mmm.” She slipped off her shoes and tucked one foot under her. “Do you want me to stop reading?”

  He shrugged. “I’m perfectly content.”

  “You look tired.” She set the book on the coffee table and walked over to the bed. “It’s getting late. You should rest.”

  “Bossy as usual.” But his comment didn’t even get a blink in response.

  Melissa picked up a bottle from the nightstand. “You need to use eyedrops. Do you want to put them in or shall I?”

  He scooted over on the bed and patted the space next to him. “You do it. I’d probably end up pouring half the liquid down my face.”

  She hesitated as if about to protest, then unscrewed the bottle top and lowered herself next to him. Logan pulled off his glasses.

  The only light in the room was in the far corner. Melissa’s face was blurred, but he inhaled the familiar fragrance of her perfume. She leaned close and used one hand to tilt his chin up. The touch on his face was gentle and warm. She’d been changing the bandages on his eyes every day for a week, yet, tonight was different. Sight added intimacy. In the past he’d always had to imagine how close her breasts were to his chest, but now he only had to glance down and see.

  The round curves were a scant inch from his side. With a deep breath he could force contact.

  “Look up,” she said.

  He complied. Two drops of cool liquid were expertly released into his eyes. She straightened up and recapped the bottle. “How do you feel?”

  “Great.”

  “Any pain?” She took his wrist in her hand and found his pulse.

  “No,” he said when she released him.

  “Your pulse is a little elevated. Do you feel hot?”

  A burst of laughter escaped. He coughed, then grinned at her confused look. “I’m sure it’s the excitement of finally being able to see again.”

  “If you’re sure. Do you need anything?”

  With one hand, he reached out to cup her cheek. She raised her head but didn’t pull away. Her skin was smooth beneath his palm, her hair tickled against the backs of his fingers. Soft, so damn soft. Inside and out.

  He wanted her. Here, now, in his bed—tumbling together until the heavy throbbing in his groin was buried deep within her…until the pleasure shattered the distance she’d constricted between them.

  He wanted her, but there’d be no loving. Not this night, not ever. There was a code to be followed, and it clearly stated that only those who knew the rules played the game. Melissa wasn’t the type for play. When she gave her body, her heart trailed along. And he wasn’t interested in hearts anymore. Not after he’d seen what was in Fiona’s.

  “Go to bed, Melissa.” He swallowed against the raspiness in his t
hroat. “Go to bed now.”

  Her eyes darkened. The tip of her pink tongue swept across her lower lip. Need, stronger than honor, flared and threatened. His fingers moved down her jaw.

  “Good night,” she whispered, and then was gone.

  “Hi.”

  Melissa looked up and saw Wendi standing in the doorway of her bedroom. “Hi, yourself. What’s going on? Aren’t you going over to one of your friends later?”

  “Yeah, but I thought…I mean, if you aren’t busy…” Wendi shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. With typical disregard for the fact that summer had officially arrived two weeks before, the weather had turned foggy and cool. Wendi’s cotton shirt was rolled up at the sleeves and her dark hair flowed loose down her back.

  Melissa put her book on the bed. “I’m not doing anything special. What do you need?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “Now, why don’t I trust that evil grin of yours? Does this involve something slimy?”

  “No, silly. Just something I want to show you.” She moved into the room. “What are you reading?”

  “A college catalogue.”

  “Why? You’re old…I mean, you’re a nurse. You’ve already been to college, haven’t you?”

  Melissa patted the bedspread and picked up the book so Wendi could join her. “Yes. But I was thinking of going back and studying something else.”

  “Like?”

  “Maybe psychology.”

  “Cool. You could be a shrink. And when my dad’s driving me crazy, I’d have someone to talk to.”

  “You can talk to me now.”

  Wendi grinned. “Yeah, but my friends have warned me that when we get to high school, parents totally lose it. Did that happen to you?”

  “Not really. My parents were busy with my two sisters. I was pretty much left alone.” A sense of regret for times lost sifted down through her body.

  “I wish my parents would leave me alone, but I’m the only one and they’re just so intense.”

  Melissa hugged the girl. “Your dad loves you very much.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just…” She shrugged and stretched out on the bed. “Have you always taken care of people in their homes?”