It had been almost a month now that Francine had been working with Tim, and in all that time she hadn’t dreaded a morning more than this one.
She wasn’t sure she could look Tim in the eye. Wasn’t sure she could pretend he hadn’t touched her, hadn’t kissed her, hadn’t told her he wanted to make love to her. At first she was tempted to call in sick and arrange for a substitute, but that was a coward’s way out. Sooner or later she was going to have to face her patient again. The way she figured it, she’d prefer to get this over with as quickly as possible.
After some deliberation, Francine decided she was going to walk into his bedroom the way she always did. She would greet him the same way she did every morning and pray to high heaven he didn’t mention what had happened in the pool.
“Good luck with the beastmaster,” Greg told her when she let herself into the house. “He’s in one bear of a mood.”
Francine was afraid of that, but prepared. She walked down the hallway to his bedroom, feeling very much like Marie Antoinette facing the guillotine.
She knocked lightly, and after squaring her shoulders and gathering her composure, she let herself into the bedroom. “Good morning,” she said as if nothing had changed between them. It hadn’t, because she wouldn’t allow it.
Tim was sitting in his wheelchair, dressed and ready. He raised his head expectantly when she walked inside. He seemed surprised to see her.
“Morning,” he murmured. “I didn’t know if you’d be here.”
“Why not?” Which was a ridiculous question, and one she immediately regretted. “We have work to do,” she said, not giving him the opportunity to answer.
“I expect you want me to apologize,” he said in the same gruff-affectionate tone he often used with her. “If you do, then you’ve got a long wait.”
“The only thing I expect of you, Tim Mallory, is for you to walk again. It’s the reason I was hired, and by all that’s holy that’s what I intend to see happen.”
“I have a vested interest in walking myself.”
“Good,” she answered, relieved. “Then we’re on the same wavelength.”
“What about yesterday?” His gaze held hers.
Her cheeks felt hot, but she ignored the ready way in which her body betrayed her. “What about it?”
“I suppose you want to forget about it.”
“I…think that would be best.”
“Fine,” he said, but he didn’t sound pleased.
“Good.”
“When will I start walking again?” he demanded with thick impatience.
“We need to take this one step at a time, no pun intended. First we’ve got to get your leg strong enough to support your weight. For the last month I’ve been working at building up your muscle strength. You’re gaining weight and getting stronger every day, but we have a ways to go.”
“When can I stand?”
It was true that he’d gained weight, but he remained weak, and she hated to take any chances. Physically he could handle a setback, but emotionally…she wasn’t so sure. Thus far everything had been going along smoothly.
“You think you’re ready now?” she asked.
“I was ready last week.” A hint of a smile touched the edges of his mouth.
Francine couldn’t keep from smiling herself. “All right, big boy, let’s see what you can do.”
She started out with the rubdown, the way she did every morning, massaging his muscles, warming them up for the more strenuous work out that would follow.
He was sprawled across the top of his mattress as she kneaded the thick muscles of his injured leg. She worked hard, preoccupied with the task.
“You aren’t talking,” Tim muttered.
“Not talking?”
“You’re usually a regular chatty Cathy. In the beginning I would have sold my soul to shut you up, but I’ve grown accustomed to your prattle.”
It was true Francine generally made a point of chatting to put him at ease. But all at once she didn’t seem to have anything to say. She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d been telling him all these weeks.
“It’s your turn to entertain me,” she suggested.
“Me, talk? I’m not much good at that sort of thing.”
“I’m all out of stories.”
“Tell me about the time your brother locked you out of the bathroom and then jumped down the laundry chute so you couldn’t get ready for your date.”
“I was all of sixteen, and fighting mad.”
“And this was the night of your first real date,” he said, filling in the details for her. “You had to answer the front door with hot curlers dangling from your forehead, and it was your date, fifteen minutes early.”
“So you think that’s funny, do you?” She swatted him playfully across the butt.
“Ouch.”
“Listen, big boy, you don’t know what pain is until I’m finished with you.”
Tim chuckled, and to the best of her knowledge it was the first time Francine could remember hearing him laugh. It surprised her to realize how much she liked him. As he was being slowly freed of his disability, she was seeing more and more of the man he’d been before the accident. The more she saw, the better she liked him.
A knock against the door was followed by Greg, letting himself into the bedroom. He was carrying the portable phone.
“It’s McClellan,” Tim’s attendant told her patient.
“Thank God.” Tim sighed with relief, and Greg handed him the receiver.
“Do you want me to leave?” Francine asked.
He shook his head.
Although Francine could hear only one side of the conversation, it was clear that Cain had been out on some kind of mission. At first Tim seemed worried, but he became more and more relieved as the conversation continued.
“He wants to talk to you,” Tim said when he’d finished. He handed Francine the phone.
“This is Francine Holden,” she said, although an introduction wasn’t necessary.
“How’s the patient?” Cain’s voice sounded as if it were coming from the bottom of a deep well. She wasn’t sure if it was from a poor connection or the distance.
“Cranky. Stubborn. Impatient. Better.”
“I like the last part best. It seems he thinks he’s ready to stand.”
“We’ll see. If matters progress the way they have, it’s possible for him to be walking within another month.”
Her prediction was met with stark silence. “I don’t believe it,” Cain said after a tense moment. “I didn’t dare believe it would happen.”
That had been Tim’s mistake as well. He didn’t dare to believe it, either. “Wait until you see the changes in him.”
“I have to be in San Francisco next week,” Cain announced. “I’ll be by the house to see this amazing transformation myself. I didn’t think it was possible. Thank you, Francine.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” It was much too soon for that. They had a long way to go and almost all of it was uphill.
When she was finished, she handed the telephone back to Greg, who was waiting outside the door. Tim’s attendant left, and she returned to his bedside.
“They did it,” Tim said, sounding jubilant.
“Did it?”
“Rescued some poor kid who was being held as a political prisoner. Cain said everything that could go wrong did, but they managed to pull it off. The teenager’s back with his family, and Deliverance Company is taking an all-expenses-paid trip to the Bahamas, recuperating in the sunshine.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“Only minor injuries.” Tim clenched his fist. “Damn, but I wish I’d been there. I’d give my eyeteeth to be in the thick of it again. They could have used me, too.”
“It appears to me,” Francine said stiffly, “that you’ve been in the thick of one too many missions as it is.”
“Hey, don’t go all soft on me. Fighting is what I do best. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m damn good at it.
”
“I can tell,” she muttered sarcastically.
Tim was silent for a moment. “If I didn’t know better, I might think you actually cared.”
“What I care about is seeing you whole and healthy, but I’ll tell you right now, I’m not working this hard for you to go off like some white knight to get yourself shot up again.”
Tim slapped his hands together. “You do care!”
“I don’t,” she said in what was a blatant lie. And Tim knew it.
“You know,” he said, sounding almost gleeful, “I just might grow on you. I wouldn’t be a bad lover, you know. Fact is, I’ve never had any complaints. We could have some good times, you and me. Some real good times. What do you say, Francine?” He waited for a response, and she answered him with a blistering look. Tim burst out laughing.
“I don’t think you’re the least bit amusing.”
“I wasn’t trying to be. I’m dead serious.”
“Tim, please, don’t.”
“Has anyone ever told you how expressive your face is?”
“I think you’re ready for the pool.”
“I’m ready all right.” He jiggled his eyebrows. “And after a few kisses you’d be ready, too.”
“Would you stop?” she demanded, sterner this time. She didn’t know how to react to his teasing. He seemed bent on making her blush, on seducing her with words.
“You know what I wish?” he said, rolling onto his good side and elevating his head with his elbow. “Just once I’d like for you to wear one of those swimsuits with a zipper up the front.”
“That is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said to me, Tim Mallory.”
“Just once.”
“Exactly why would you care what style of suit I wear?”
“Because, my sexy Amazon, I’d take great delight in opening that zipper.”
Her face filled with raging color.
Tim laughed boisterously. “My guess is you’ve got a pair of the most beautiful breasts I’m ever going to find. Someday you’re going to show them to me, and then I’m going to show you how a man satisfies a woman.”
He was saying these things just to fluster her, just to disconcert her. “Unless you stop right this minute, I’m walking out and calling for a replacement.”
“No, you won’t,” he said confidently.
Francine seethed inwardly. “What makes you so certain?”
“Because,” he said, smiling with a grin that would rival that of the Cheshire cat, “you’re crazy about me. Only you don’t know it yet.”
9
It was one of those winter evenings that Linette referred to as a Sherlock Holmes night, when San Francisco and the Bay Area were shrouded in a thick fog. Linette closed up the shop for the day, tired and lonely. Bonnie had left an hour earlier, leaving her to an endless stack of paperwork. Now she was ready to head home.
The lights along the pier glowed as through a lacy veil as she ambled along, mentally listing chores. The cashmere yarn a customer had ordered had arrived, and she’d forgotten to have Bonnie phone her. She needed to pick up stamps in the morning. Her dry cleaning was ready.
As she came to the end of the pier, Linette hesitated. There, silhouetted against the fog, against the glow of a fading lamp, stood Cain. He was waiting for her, his hands buried deep inside his pockets.
“Hello,” he said.
Linette’s throat closed up on her. She wasn’t prepared for this, hadn’t believed it would be necessary to prepare herself. Cain had assured her she wouldn’t see him again.
It had taken her far longer than necessary to accept the truth of this. Far longer to accept the reasons why.
“I figured I owed you an explanation.”
Still she didn’t move, didn’t speak.
“Can I buy you dinner?” He glanced down the waterfront to the restaurant they’d gone into when they’d first met.
“I have an appointment,” she said when she found her voice.
“A date?” His eyes narrowed with the question.
“No, an appointment.”
He looked as if he weren’t sure he should believe her.
“I do volunteer work at City Hospital two nights a week, counseling families of cancer patients.”
It took him a moment to digest this information. “How long before you need to be at the hospital?”
She checked her watch, hardly able to believe that they were having this civilized discussion. It was all she could do not to scream at him for deceiving her, for the cruel way in which he’d said good-bye.
By all that was right, she should ask him to get the hell out of her life. She’d been perfectly content until he’d come along. All right, not perfectly content, but close to it. By all that was right, she should tell him that. Unfortunately, it demanded every ounce of self-control she possessed not to hurl herself into his arms.
“I’m due at the hospital in forty minutes.”
“That’s time enough.” He motioned toward the restaurant. “Will you have a drink with me, Linette?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were a mercenary?” she demanded.
“Would you have come to Montana with me if you’d known?”
“No.”
“That’s why.”
“Was having me with you that important?”
He waited a moment before answering. “Yes.”
Linette closed her eyes, fighting the urge to go to him. She didn’t know what had brought him back to San Francisco. Didn’t want to know, because she was afraid he’d returned for her.
“All right,” Cain admitted with a sigh. “It was selfish of me, I’ll admit that. If you’re looking for an excuse to hate me, then you’ve got one.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“That’s the problem,” he said roughly. “Maybe you should.”
He held out one arm to her, and without hesitation Linette walked into his embrace.
Cain’s eyes slowly drifted closed. He’d dreamed of this moment for weeks. Of holding her against him, of savoring her softness. He was tired of fighting a battle he couldn’t win. Tired of pretending he was strong when he wasn’t. Tired of waiting. He rubbed his jaw against the softness of her hair and breathed in the fresh scent of her.
Linette buried herself in his embrace and inadvertently moved against the tender flesh of his injury. Cain swallowed an involuntary moan.
“You’re hurt?” Linette abruptly moved away from him, which produced an even greater pain for him. He’d waited too long for this moment to have it cut short.
“A flesh wound,” he said, making light of the pain. He held out his good arm to her once more, but she ignored the unspoken invitation.
“How’d it happen?” she pleaded, and then shook her head. “I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me. I don’t think I could bear it.”
Bright tears glistened in her eyes. She struggled to hide the emotion from him as if this weakness embarrassed her. Her tears had a curious effect upon Cain. A curious need reached deep inside him and tightened like a clenched fist.
“It’s nothing,” he said, longing to reassure her enough to bring her back into his arms. “Come on, let’s go have that drink.”
She hesitated but didn’t protest when he reached for her hand. He cupped her fingers around his elbow, which was an excuse to have her close. It felt right to have her there. Powerfully right.
Instead of going inside the restaurant the way they had previously, Cain stepped up to the fish and chips stand and ordered two beers. When he turned around, he found Linette had taken a seat at one of the brightly colored picnic tables situated next to the stand. Fog swirled around the area, muting the lights.
Cain handed her the Styrofoam cup and sat across the table from her. The simple pleasure of studying her, watching her expression, fed his need.
Keeping her head lowered, she asked in what appeared to be a casual tone, “So what brings you to San Francisco this time?”
He could have
lied, could have made up a song-and-dance about some business venture. Mallory was a convenient excuse, and he could have told her about the two-hour meeting with his friend. He hadn’t openly lied to her yet, didn’t plan on sugar-coating the truth, even at the risk of her anger.
The stark truth was that he hadn’t taken the first available flight out of the Bahamas because of Tim Mallory. He’d returned to the Bay Area because he couldn’t stay away from Linette another minute.
“I came to see you.”
Her eyes drifted closed, and she whispered, “I wish you hadn’t.”
This woman wasn’t good for his ego, Cain could see that. He wasn’t keen to play the role of the fool.
“We don’t have to decide anything right now,” he said. “Let me take you to dinner tomorrow night and we can talk this out.”
“I can’t.”
She was making this damned difficult. “Another appointment?”
“No, a date.”
Cain felt as if he’d been sucker punched. Years of training enabled him to conceal his reaction.
“I can’t believe this,” Linette muttered, and her hand fussed nervously with her purse clasp. “You misled me. You eluded the truth, knowing how I’d feel about a man who kills for a living. You said I wouldn’t see you again, and then bingo, you pop back into my life just when I’ve accepted a blind date.”
A blind date. Cain felt better. Mildly better. But then she could date a hundred men at one time and it wouldn’t be any of his damn business. He had no claim on her.
He’d been involved with other women over the years. Several of them had had an active social life when he was away. It had never troubled him. Why should it now? He wasn’t looking for someone to sit by a window and wait for his return. What came as an emotional blow was how possessive he felt toward Linette.
“Then of course you should go on your date.” She’d never know what it cost him to make that suggestion. The thought of another man holding her, another man kissing her, another man making love to her, was enough to set his teeth on edge. Yet he sat across from her as if he hadn’t a care in the world, when in reality he was damn near having a stroke.
Someday Soon Page 12
