Maybe he would let Wayne Berger keep his job, and he’d go back to doing what he had trained to do, practice medicine.
Mallory rushed into the dialysis unit with a smile like the first ray of light after a storm. Suddenly, for JT, all was right with the world.
“This is so exciting,” she said, squeezing his hand.
The dialysis nurse raised a brow and swabbed the antecubital fossa of his right arm with an iodophor solution to disinfect his skin.
“That’s easy for you to say,” he said with a grimace when he glanced the size of the needle the nurse intended to stick into his vein. “Catch me if I black out.”
“Quit watching,” she scolded, and used her hands on his cheeks to force his head in her direction. “You’ll just make it worse.”
Her grasp was so tight, his lips felt puckered up. “OK. OK. Let go.”
She laughed and eased up her grip.
“You’ll feel a pinch,” the nurse said.
“Ouch!” He jumped.
Mallory patted his hand. “It’s all over now.”
“That pinch felt more like a gunshot wound.”
“You are such a wimp,” Mallory said, and tapped his forehead with her middle finger.
“I’m not used to being on the receiving end, that’s all.”
“Welcome to the patients’ world.”
The dialysis nurse lifted her head just long enough to raise another brow before she went back to releasing the tourniquet and securing the IV catheter with a transparent dressing.
“So, tell me how this works,” Mallory said to distract him further.
“The blood goes through the tubing into that centrifuge and gets separated. The plasma is removed and replaced with frozen plasma or some other substitute if there is a shortage. It gets sent back into my body all fresh and clean of the immune complexes that have been attacking my nervous system.”
“Sounds like a plan. Why didn’t we think of this sooner?”
“Don’t get cute on me,” he said, taking the obvious jab in good humor. “I invited you here for moral support, not to aggravate me.”
When the dialysis nurse moved away to check on the machine, she gave them one last suspicious glance. When she was out of earshot, he leaned forward and whispered, “Though having to keep up a business façade with you is driving me insane. I’d much rather kiss you.”
His words had a devastating effect on Mallory. She turned the color of her gorgeous ruby-red toenails from the night before. As if she’d realized how their relationship had changed, she removed herself from any contact with him for public scrutiny.
Damn. He’d wanted to charm her, not send her running and screaming into the sunset. But he liked the wide-eyed stare she’d cast him just now. Her pupils were large and dark, what he liked to call bedroom eyes. He couldn’t resist teasing her more.
He gave a wry smile. “If I’m lucky, in no time I’ll be chasing you around the hospital bed in my room.”
She said “Ah” on a quick inhalation, and her lashes fluttered. “Will you be quiet?” she whispered. “Someone might hear you.”
Oh, he wanted to see that look again, but preferably when they were both naked. “Life is full of surprises, isn’t it, sunshine?”
By the expression on her face, no one could have been more astonished than Mallory.
CHAPTER FIVE
MALLORY rushed out OF the dialysis unit, her face on fire. So it wasn’t her imagination. She’d moved JT with her kisses. Now he wanted to take their flirting to a new level. If her memory served her correctly, she could tell he’d been somewhat aroused last night.
Oh, God, she’d behaved so unprofessionally with him. But she had been there on her day off, and he’d invited her to his home as a guest. Could she ever reconcile her misgivings about getting involved with a patient?
She hoped so, because JT was the man she’d always dreamed of—decisive, intelligent, kind, and sexy as hell, bedridden or not.
Though he was a captive audience, and she was most likely the only game in town. Her heart waved a little red flag over that bit of truth, but she ignored it. Hadn’t he assured her his attraction to her wasn’t out of gratitude?
If he wanted to pursue a relationship with her, she’d be there for him. After all the years of facing life alone as a mother and nurse, she owed herself a chance at romance.
*
Thursday, at work, Mallory sat at the bedside of a dehydrated and frail woman. She tied a tourniquet around her arm, cleaned the skin, and prepared to insert an intravenous line. Her co-worker, Jenny, had asked for her help after she’d tried twice to start the difficult IV, but had failed. The original ER admission IV had blown and left the patient’s hand swollen and bruised. Mallory hated any patient to be stuck more than three times, so she knew this one chance had to be successful.
She was just about to prick the surface of the patient’s skin when another nurse poked her head into the room.
“Dr. Prescott said to tell you he’s waiting in the dialysis unit.”
Her heart stumbled and she had to steady her hand before she started to insert the needle into the vein.
“OK. Thanks for the info,” she said, trying hard to sound blasé.
She took a cleansing breath and focused on the vein. With expert skill she managed to capture and puncture the rolling vein before it disappeared. Violà! The intravenous line was back in place, and Jenny’s patient could get her needed fluids and antibiotics on schedule.
“I owe you one,” Jenny said.
“Nah. We’ve got to help each other. We’re a team, remember?”
Jenny took over taping the IV tubing in place. “So what’s with you and Dr. Prescott? He called you yesterday, too, didn’t he?”
Mallory’s heart dropped. Had everyone noticed that he’d called? Should she tell the truth? Hell, no!
“I guess we’ve kind of become friends since I’ve been taking care of him on the weekends. He gets really lonely in that big old house. And you know what? I’d forgotten what a nice guy he can be, despite his gruff exterior.”
Worried about what rumors might be circulating around the hospital, she decided not to rush down to visit him today, though it was the most important thing she wanted to do. Instead, she skipped lunch, did a dressing change, admitted a post-op patient to the ward, and passed meds to distract herself.
On Friday, he didn’t call to tell her he was at Mercy Hospital, though she knew he was. Plasmaphoresis required several treatments, and today would be his third. She hoped he wouldn’t hold a grudge. She had a “date” with him that night—how could she forget? She would stop at her favorite Chinese restaurant on her way over to his house, in the hope of making up for not going to the dialysis unit. She planned to bring him some wonton soup as a peace offering, just in case he was miffed with her.
*
It seemed a bit silly at first, but the more Mallory thought about it, the more she liked the idea. From home she packed up her daughter’s forgotten electric keyboard for JT’s musical pleasure. She figured he’d enjoy playing some of his favorite sheet music while he was stuck in bed. She’d also remembered to bring the wheelchair she’d tucked away in the garage ever since the time Morgan had broken her leg, playing soccer, a few years back. Ever hopeful he’d notice some improvement since the plasmaphoresis, she wanted to be prepared. If she waited for Dr. Berger’s order and home health medical equipment delivery, it could take another week to get a wheelchair.
She tucked both items into the trunk of the car and took off for Chinois, the trendy Chinese-European bistro near his house.
She’d been smart and called her order in ahead. Once she arrived, she parked in one of the order pick-up spots and turned off her engine. Just as she was about to open the car door, she recognized two familiar faces approaching—Samantha Prescott and Wayne Berger. His arm rested snugly around her shoulders, and they cuddled in a familiar way. Samantha looked stunning, as always, and Dr. Berger appeared better than
usual, as if she’d dressed him. His smile was large and flirtatious and Samantha proffered a dainty giggle over something he’d whispered into her ear.
Feeling as though she were the one betrayed instead of JT, Mallory plopped back against her car seat, blew out her breath and attempted to recover. What the heck should she do now?
Wait it out. Once she’d given them plenty of time to find their dining table, she ventured into the side door of the restaurant to pick up her order.
As she paid, she peered between palm fronds over the divider into the dining room and found them head to head in deep conversation, looking like intimate lovers. Was she reading her own guilt into their friendly little dinner?
Then Dr. Berger dropped a kiss on Samantha’s lips.
*
JT had first become aware of the lack of heaviness in his legs earlier that Friday morning. After he’d completed his last plasmaphoresis treatment that afternoon, he’d noticed it even more. He couldn’t describe the subtle change, but welcomed it. Periodically throughout the afternoon he’d tested his mildly receding paralysis, but tried not to become overly optimistic.
While waiting for his favorite nurse at seven p.m., he practiced moving his feet beneath the covers. And they obeyed. He sent a mental message to bend one knee and discovered he could. He wanted to leap out of the bed and do a dance, but knew he’d fall flat on his face if he tried. Instead, he pumped the air with his fist. It was real progress, the first for a while.
Thanks to Mallory and her unyielding desire to get him well, he’d insisted on the treatment that could have helped him recover sooner from the very beginning. Hell, if it hadn’t been for her he never would have known they hadn’t tried this treatment. He’d been so out of it when he’d first become ill that he hadn’t had a clue what they’d tried or hadn’t tried for him.
What would he have done if she hadn’t been hired to be his nurse? Would he have insisted everyone follow his ridiculous list of rules and let him rot from the inside out in his own house?
Thank God for the adorable scalpel in his side, Mallory.
She burst through the bedroom door with arms loaded, a bag of food and a keyboard. He grinned at her, happier than he’d been in a while. A keyboard? He chuckled at the absurd sight.
“Hi!” She beamed. The balmy summer evening had put an alluring bloom on her face. Her eyes glowed with excitement as her gaze danced around the room.
Simply put, she looked beautiful…and glad to see him. How could he be upset with her for not going to the dialysis unit when he’d called yesterday?
She couldn’t possibly know how much her visit meant to him. He didn’t want to scare her off, so he’d keep his feelings to himself. “Hey, sunshine,” he said, taking a casual tone. “What do you have there?”
“Well, I brought you a blueberry and peach smoothie because of the antioxidants in blueberries, some wonton soup—didn’t the speech pathologist check out your swallowing and give you the green light to have thinner liquids this week? Oh, and I have a keyboard.”
She put her bags on the dresser near his bed and placed the keyboard on his lap.
“I’ll give you time to practice while I go back to my car. I’ve got another surprise to bring in. When I get back, I expect you to play me something.”
He shook his head at her thoughtfulness and fought off the desire to grab her, kiss her, and push his face into that gorgeous hair. But first he needed to scold her for letting him down yesterday.
She’d bent over, attempting to plug the keyboard into the nearest electrical socket, and all the admonishing thoughts raced out of his head. Nice…pants. She’d worn another pair of snug slacks, which were cropped above the ankle and were eggplant-colored. A dainty silver anklet glistened in the dim light.
She had the kind of shape that excited him. He liked a woman with a little something to grab onto, not the stick-thin women driving the fashion world. Her wispy olive-green top brought out the color of her eyes, making them almost look the color of pine trees tonight. And her hair, what could he say about the beauty of her silky, copper-colored hair? All he wanted to do was run his hands through it. That wasn’t exactly true. He also had a powerful urge to run his hands all over her, and kiss every freckle on her face and body—especially the hard-to-find ones.
But she’d plugged the keyboard in and rushed out of the room.
What was this about another surprise? He grinned, looking forward to what she’d do next, and realized he’d been doing a lot more smiling lately.
He forced himself to focus on the silly little instrument on his lap. How could it compare to his baby grand? But the thought was what counted, and he wouldn’t let her down. He pressed the “on” button and heard a strange warm-up sound. Poking around on the condensed keyboard, his fingers picked out a tune he thought she might enjoy—the simple yet haunting Erik Satie piece, “First Gymnopédie.”
When she returned, she left whatever her next surprise was in the hall and leaned respectfully against the doorframe listening, arms folded.
As he continued to play, she approached and sat primly at the foot of his bed, listening raptly to his improvisation.
When he’d finished, she applauded.
“That was lovely,” she said with soft eyes.
“Not nearly as lovely as you,” he said. “Now that I’ve earned it, I need a proper greeting.”
He saw the hesitation on her face. He knew what she must have been thinking.
“Look, Mallory, when I ask you here on your days off, I need to know you’re all mine. I don’t want you to battle your brain about what’s right and how we are breaking hospital rules. We’re not. This is our time, damn it, and I need a kiss before I go insane from not touching you.” OK, so he’d stoop to coercion. “And besides, you owe me for not holding my hand through plasmaphoresis. It was all your idea, you know.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head, but took his chastisement to heart. As though she were a gentle healing breeze, she leaned forward and greeted him with a soft, moist kiss on the lips. He inhaled her summery fragrance. The mere touch of her mouth sent a shiver down to his toes. Down to his toes! He’d felt it.
“Now, that’s what I’m talking about,” he said against her mouth, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer. “Who needs to eat when I have you to kiss?”
She gave a soft, throaty giggle and kissed him harder, then, just when he’d gotten carried away with wild thoughts of seducing her on his hospital bed, she pulled back. A serious-as-hell stare doused his fantasy.
“Too bad I’m famished. We’ll have to pick this up again after I’ve eaten,” she said.
“You’re a tease. That’s what you are.”
The aroma of Chinese food had filled his nostrils when she’d entered. He couldn’t deny it had awakened his appetite, but Mallory was something he wanted much more. He’d have to wait for the right time and place, and hope his body could catch up with his desires. In the meantime, there was always food. Delicious. Glorious. Food.
“So what’s the big surprise?” he asked later, between sips of salty noodles and pork.
Her eyes widened. She daintily bit into a spring roll, chewed and swallowed. “It’s a wheelchair. I thought we’d go for an evening spin to your back yard. There’s supposed to be meteor showers over the next few nights. Maybe we can catch some.”
“That’s a great idea.” He definitely had a few shooting-star ideas of his own for later, in the dark…with her…just to show his gratitude.
His regular weekday nurse, Gloria, had left for her dinner-break when Mallory had arrived, on JT’s instructions. But once Mallory had finished eating, she went searching for Gloria.
“I think, between you and me, we should be able to transfer J—uh, Dr. Prescott, to the wheelchair. What do you think?”
“I’m game.”
Anxious to try out his newfound strength, JT nodded with agreement.
Mallory had him sit up straight, then swiveled his
legs to the edge of the bed before dropping his feet to the floor.
“Now, just sit there a minute and dangle while you adjust to standing up.”
“We’ll be holding you up, so don’t worry about not being strong enough,” Gloria chimed in.
Mallory moved the wheelchair parallel to the bed, and stood directly in front of JT. “You be on standby, Gloria. I’m going to pull him up and pivot him around to back into the chair. If his feet buckle, I’ll need you to help me lift him in.
“Are your legs still feeling like wet noodles?” Mallory glanced into his face before grabbing him in an around-the-waist bear hug.
“Not really.”
“Great!” She pulled back and searched his eyes for the meaning of what he’d just said.
He gave her an I’m-not-telling smile.
“Put your arms around my shoulders,” she said.
“Gladly, but don’t forget Gloria is watching,” he said with a deadpan face.
“Get over yourself, big guy. Now, stand on the count of three. One, two, three!”
Mallory pulled him up to a standing position and for the first time he was able to will his legs to stay straight. The soles of his feet felt the hard cold floor when she swiveled him. Hallelujah! Gloria stayed nearby to support him from the side. His knees didn’t buckle. Before he could finish thinking three, Mallory had him settled in the wheelchair.
A startled look widened her eyes. “That went really smoothly.”
He grinned at her. “I think the plasmaphoresis is doing its job. I can feel my feet again.”
“Oh, my God!” She took his face in her hands and gave him the sweetest, most triumphant smile he’d ever seen. “It worked?” Her comforting fingers sent electricity across his neck and shoulders. The moisture in her eyes sent another message altogether.
He nodded, marveling at the inner beauty he’d come to adore about Mallory. Was the swell of euphoria from the receding paralysis or from the look of love in her eyes?
He swallowed the emotion. When had he last felt this way about anyone? He needed time to digest the rush of feelings snapping to life in his head and heart. He’d have to sort them out later.
In His Angel's Arms Page 7
