Tender Loving Care

by Susan Mallery

  “Is Wendi already gone?”

  “Yes. About ten minutes ago.”

  He grinned. “I overslept.”

  “You must have had a late night,” she said, not giving away the fact that she’d lain awake until she’d heard his key in the lock. It had been after two.

  The day before, he’d called in the afternoon to say he wouldn’t be home for dinner. The fact that he didn’t say where he was going—or with whom—had left a bitter taste in her mouth. Wendi’s speculations about her father’s string of women had made for a long and lonely evening.

  In all the weeks she had lived in his house and cared for him and his child, he’d never been on a date. That small piece of information had allowed her to dream. Oh sure, when the summer was up, she knew she was leaving. But sometimes it was easy to pretend that all this—the house, the child, the man—was hers. His empty seat at dinner had been a harsh reminder of reality.

  “The boss can really talk up a storm,” he said casually, leaning against the doorway.

  “What?”

  “John Anderson? Your former employer? He had all of us back to his house to talk about a new project. We got the go-ahead on the revitalization of the shopping district in Santa Barbara.”

  He’d been working? How nice. “What does that mean to you?” she asked.

  He grimaced. “It means I need about a thirty-hour day for the next six months. I’ll be working all weekend. What are your plans?”

  “I’m going to study.”

  “Study what?”

  “I’ve decided to go back to college and get my master’s degree in psychology. With my nursing background, I’m eligible to challenge courses. The tests are at the end of October.”

  Logan reached his arms up and clutched the top of the doorjamb. Stretching from side to side, he yawned. “I don’t have a clue as to what you’re talking about. And I can’t listen to another word without a cup of coffee. Come on.”

  He led the way into the kitchen. After pouring them both a mug of the steaming liquid, he motioned for her to sit next to him at the table. “Start at the beginning.”

  “I’ve been thinking of getting out of nursing for quite a while. The terminally ill children are very draining.”

  “I can imagine. You’re not the sort of person to hold back. When they finally—” he hesitated “-ah, pass on, it must be difficult.”

  “Sometimes.” She stared at her cup. “With others it’s a relief. I used to work in a hospital, but I don’t want to go back. I have some money saved so I applied to California University and was accepted.”

  “Congratulations.” He smiled. “When do you start?”

  “The end of September. Thanks to the generous salary I’m earning here, I’ll go to school full-time.”

  “You’re welcome. So what was this about challenging?”

  “I know you’re busy, Logan. You don’t need to listen to all this.”

  “Believe me, it’s much more exciting than checking the local fire code to figure out how many sprinkler heads we need to design into the stores.”

  If only there was a vaccine against his smile. Whenever he flashed that grin, she felt her insides melt. The little resolve she had was washed away, and she was left emotionally naked. One word, she thought. It would only take one word and she’d be his…forever.

  “If you qualify, there are certain courses you can challenge. That means you take a comprehensive exam. If you pass, you get credit without actually sitting for the course.”

  “What class are you going to do that for?”

  “There’s one on physiology. I have a lot of practical knowledge and…wipe that smirk off your face. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “Who? Me?” He put his hand on his chest in a gesture of innocence. “I’m simply listening to you talk about all your practical experience. Gee, Melissa. All this time I thought you were shy and retiring. I’m not sure you’re the kind of woman I want raising my daughter. Who knows what practical experience you might be passing on.”

  She stood up. “I meant with the children and you know it. I don’t have to sit here and take your abuse.”

  “You’re not sitting.”

  “I’m leaving now.”

  “Does this mean I don’t get any breakfast?”

  She opened the refrigerator and took out one egg, then tossed it in his general direction. “Bon appétit.”

  “I’ll remember this when you come looking for a reference,” he called after her.

  By eleven-thirty, the wonders of human anatomy had lost their thrill. Melissa placed the book onto the patio table and strolled inside. She could hear Logan typing away on his computer. He’d been busy working on the new project for the past two hours.

  There was laundry to do, a grocery list to compile, but neither sounded fun or remotely interesting. Across the living room, on the white mantel, sat several photographs. Most of the silver frames contained pictures of Wendi, from infancy to her current age. She’d always been a beauty. How proud Logan must have been, Melissa thought. He’d been a good father to the little girl.

  Responsibility and honor were his code. Fiona’s infidelity must have eaten away at his very essence. More than the breaking of vows, the betrayal would have defiled his masculinity. No wonder there was no long-term girlfriend. A man like that wouldn’t easily trust again.

  The urge to go to him, to tell him that all women weren’t like that—that she wasn’t like that—was overwhelming. Instead she picked up a picture of Wendi and her father. It had been taken several years before. Wendi looked about five. Her chestnut hair was tied into pigtails. Emerald eyes gazed up at her daddy with all the love in the little girl’s heart. The affection was returned in Logan’s smile.

  Melissa closed her eyes. If she concentrated with all her might, she could imagine Logan looking at her with the same expression. The vision crystallized for a second, then faded. Who was she kidding?

  “What are you up to now?”

  Logan’s voice washed over her like a thick velvet cape.

  “Spying,” she said casually as she replaced the picture. “You can’t have secrets from your housekeeper.”

  “I don’t imagine I have any left.”

  She turned slowly, steeling herself against his lazy grin. “We all have secrets.”

  “Even you?”

  “Especially me.”

  “What secrets do you have?”

  She planted her hands on her hips. “If I tell you, they won’t be secrets, now will they?”

  “You’re right. How about a swim?”

  “What?”

  “A swim.”

  She swallowed. “In the pool?”

  “It works better there than on dry land.”

  “I—I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

  He took her hand and tugged until she was forced to follow him. “You think too much.” When they reached her room, he pushed her inside. “The last one in the water has to cook lunch.”

  “Since when did you learn to cook?”

  He smiled. “It’s going to cost you a swim to find out.”

  With that he shut the door and she heard him run down the hall. Oh no, you don’t, she thought, pulling off her blouse. Her shorts and undergarments quickly joined the pile. Within two minutes, she’d pulled on her suit and was sliding her feet into thongs.

  But when her hand touched the doorknob, she paused. She couldn’t go out to the patio dressed in her bathing suit. Not in front of Logan. What would he think?

  The logical half of her brain reminded her he’d already seen her in exercise clothes and that the black yard or two of Lycra clinging to her body wasn’t any worse. The romantic half insisted that if he didn’t see her in a swimsuit, some illusions might be maintained.

  “Oh, the hell with it,” she said, and walked into the hall.

  After grabbing a beach towel from the linen closet, she walked out to the patio. Logan was already in the pool, doing a lazy backs
troke from the shallow to the deep end.

  “What took you so long?” he asked without looking up.

  “Indecision.” She dropped her towel onto the table and quickly moved over to the steps. “You must have tiptoed past my room. I didn’t hear you.”

  He chuckled and pointed at the open French door off his bedroom. “I took the shortcut. I guess we’ll never find out if I can cook or not.”

  She plunged under the water and surfaced, smoothing her hair out of her face. “I know you can’t.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “If you could cook, you wouldn’t have cheated to win.”

  “Cheated!” He pushed off the end of the pool and, in four powerful strokes, reached a depth he could stand in. The shimmering water reflected in the gold flecks sparkling in his deep brown eyes. “Nobody calls me a cheater and gets away with it.” He continued to move forward.

  “Logan, no. I was kidding.” She inched back until the rough edge of the pool pressed into her shoulders. “Honest. I know you didn’t cheat.”

  He stopped about a foot in front of her. The water lapped around his waist. Small droplets clung to the curling hair on his chest. He was six feet of ego-injured male. “Can you swim?”

  “Yes. Why—”

  The rest of her sentence was cut off when he dove under the water and captured her ankle. She tried to cling to the cement lip, but he was too strong. She took a breath just before she went under.

  He was pulling her toward the deep end. When she realized his game plan, she let herself go limp. Turning back to make sure she was all right, he was forced to loosen his grip on her foot. She twisted away and kicked to the surface.

  They broke through at the same time.

  “Very sneaky,” he said as he treaded water beside her.

  “Bully.” But she smiled so he’d know she was teasing.

  “Did your family have a pool?”

  “No, why?”

  “You do all right. For a girl.”

  “For a girl? You’re a chauvinist. I’ll have you know I’ve played pool tag with the best. And won.” Her smile faded as she remembered the circumstances.

  “With one of your kids?”

  “Yes.” She kicked over to the side. “One of my patients had three older brothers. She was too weak to go in the pool, but she liked to watch. I filled in for her and sometimes the boys let me win.”

  “I don’t believe in letting people win,” he said, wiping the water from his face.

  “Who says I’m going to play?”

  “Me.” He lunged forward and tapped her arm. “You’re it.”

  She reached out to tag him back, but he was gone and she only succeeded in swallowing a mouthful of water. By the time she was done coughing, he was at the far end of the pool.

  “Catch me, catch me. If you can.”

  “Go ahead and laugh, Logan Phillips, but I’m going to win this game.”

  Strategy, she thought. He was bigger and stronger and a better swimmer, but she had the brains. A plan began to form. The first step was to lull him into a sense of false security.

  She struck out toward him. When she was about three feet away, he dodged left and dove under her. The chase went on for several minutes. Logan was always one step or stroke ahead. Finally he stood in chest-deep water. She calculated the approximate downward slant and moved forward. He jerked back. She followed, then attempted to stand.

  Pretending to lose her footing, she fell backward under the water. Within a heartbeat, he was at her side and pulling her to the surface. To add to the effect, she coughed weakly.

  “Honey, are you okay? Did you get hurt?” Strong arms carried her to the steps in the shallow end. He sat on the second stair and settled her onto his lap. “Melissa?”

  She grinned and pushed back her hair. “Logan?”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re it.”

  His jaw dropped. “And you call me a cheater?”

  She shrugged. “Whatever it takes to win, sugar. Didn’t your mama teach you that?” Her faked Southern accent made them both chuckle.

  Hers faded first. Realizing that her arm was draped over his shoulder and around his back, she tried to pull away. He squeezed slightly to keep her still. Underneath her thighs, the dark hair on his legs tickled her skin. They were eye to eye…close enough for her to see the spiky length of his lashes, to count the individual slivers of gold staining his irises.

  Her free hand raised slightly, like a bird attempting flight, then fell back to the water. The line of his jaw was strong and smooth; it hadn’t been that many hours since his morning shave. Firm lips curved in a faint smile.

  His arm rested around her waist, his fingers kneaded her hip. Slowly he raised her hand from the water and placed it against his chest…just left of center…over his heart.

  She felt the cool crispness of his hair—rough velvet woven on satin. Felt the steady thud of his heartbeat, a whole lifetime slower than her own.

  Her lips parted. More air was needed to keep her alive. Every nerve was on fire…quivering with anticipation for his touch. She was not disappointed.

  He cupped her face with his free hand, then slid it back through her hair and pulled her closer. The last thing she saw was the satisfaction that filled his eyes, then her lids lowered and the world exploded into a kaleidoscope of colors.

  His mouth slanted against hers. The seductive assault stole her breath, then reached further for her heart. Masculine lips pressed, enticed, demanded. He tasted of chlorine and that essence she remembered from so many weeks before.

  His other hand joined the first, holding her head still, as though he were afraid she would resist. Her arms wrapped around him as she strained to get closer. Pulling her toward him, he shifted until she straddled him, her feet resting on the step on either side of his hips.

  Unintelligible phrases of need and desire were murmured against her lips. When she tried to reply, he plunged his tongue inside, making speech unnecessary and unwanted. She stretched forward to bid him welcome. The tentative touch made him stop his assault. She felt a shudder race through his frame, and it triggered an answering response in her.

  Gently, as though the journey had never before been taken, she explored. His teeth were smooth…he moaned when she tickled the roof of his mouth. His clean, sweet taste made her want more…made her need more. Like the water itself, the feeling was wet and insubstantial. It supported and released, saved and threatened. What had passed between them before had been a spark; this was a storm.

  She moved her hands across his back, tracing the ropes of muscles she’d only seen for so many weeks. She continued the journey around his sides, then ran her fingers through the hair on his chest, losing herself in the sensation, reveling in the way he grew still with pleasure. Hard under soft, rough over smooth. She rocked her hips gently on his legs.

  Then he began the dance. His strong hands slipped to her shoulders and then to her elbows. They took with them the straps of her suit. The wet material clung stubbornly to her breasts, even after she’d pulled her arms free.

  “I want to look at you.” His voice was husky, each word an effort.

  “Yes.”

  With infinite gentleness, he peeled down the Lycra. The warm summer air felt cool at first. She glanced down and watched her rosy nipples harden.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured as he raised his hands to cup the curves.

  His fingers investigated each pale inch, making smaller and smaller circles until they hovered over the straining flesh. Feather-light touches. Her head rolled back; she arched forward. The ache was part pleasure, part pain. Please, she thought. It was too much to bear.

  Heat pulsed down, settling uncomfortable between her thighs. She shifted, both to alleviate and to urge him on. The movement made her aware of the ridge pressing against the thin swim trunks.

  He reached down and touched the tip of his tongue to her right nipple. An audible gasp broke through her lips. Licking, s
ucking, tasting, he lavished attention upon each breast.

  Logan felt her rhythmic rocking. If she kept it up much longer, the debate over whether to consummate the relationship in the pool or his bedroom would be moot.

  He raised his head. The contrast between her pale round flesh and the tan above was tantalizingly erotic. Passion had darkened her eyes to black.

  “You’re a seductress,” he teased before trailing bites along her neck. “And all this time I thought you were just shy.”

  She glanced away. “I—I’m not usually like this.” A blush swept up her face.

  “I know.”

  A cold knot formed in his stomach, chasing out the heat that had erupted there. He knew who and what Melissa was. She was the kind of woman a man shouldn’t play games with or lie to. She was the kind of woman a man couldn’t take lightly. She was the kind of woman who didn’t understand the rules…his rules.

  Melissa placed a tentative kiss on his lips. Lord, he wanted her. In the pool, in his bed, in her bed, it didn’t matter. He wanted her with a fire that threatened to consume him. What was it his father had always told him? If you’re going to be a man, then act like a man. He pulled up the top of her suit until it covered her breasts.

  “What…” Her voice mirrored the confusion in her eyes.

  “This isn’t right.” Did that sound as stupid to her as it did to him? “I mean, I don’t want to do something that you’ll regret later.”

  “Oh. I see.” She slipped back into the water and stood up. Turning her back, she pulled the straps over her arms. “You’ve changed your mind. I understand.”

  The pain in her voice was like a blow to his gut. “No. You don’t understand. This isn’t about you, it’s about…other things.” How could he admit there wasn’t enough left inside to give her what she deserved? “Melissa, I—”

  She cut him off with a shake of her head. “Please don’t explain. It will only make things worse. I understand how easy it is for a…situation to get out of hand.” Her chin tilted up as pride straightened her shoulders. “If you want me to continue to work for you, you must promise this will never happen again.”