Miracle for the Neurosurgeon

by Lynne Marshall

  She was his museum, the person who knew his past, who was the one woman who had seen him completely vulnerable in all his paralyzed glory, yet who’d still seen something worth wanting in him. With her around, he felt confident and alive. He could see his future. The question was, how would he get along without her?

  He had to. Otherwise all her efforts would be for naught and she’d have failed. He owed her his success. And so much more. She’d reawakened his sleeping soul. She’d showed him step by step how to flourish. He’d even learned a magic trick or two thanks to her unorthodox approach to rehab for fine motor skills. But most of all, with her PT regimen, she’d ensured he’d have a long and healthy life as a paraplegic. He couldn’t let her down.

  He’d go back to work and pick up where he’d left off. He’d already ordered the special stand-up wheelchair, and expected to be doing neurosurgery again within the next few months. He’d prove to her, his family and the world he could go on, and quit hiding out in his comfortable cave. He’d join the living again and make a life for himself. That was the only way he knew how to repay her.

  “I’m done,” she said, clicking off the self-guided tour and removing the headphones.

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  “Totally. I’d like to come here again sometime.”

  “I’d be happy to bring you. Just say when.”

  She caught his gaze and he thought he saw a hint of longing in hers but knew he’d probably read into that look out of wishful thinking.

  Instead of replying, she took his hand and squeezed. All the answer he needed.

  “I thought we could have an early dinner out, if you’d like?”

  She glanced around thoughtfully, as if searching for the best way to say what she needed. “You know what I’d like? To go back to Malibu and cook dinner for you. I’ve been here almost two months and only cooked for you once.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “You’ll be dessert.” She winked and walked ahead, leaving him grinning and forgetting to push the forward button on his chair.

  CHAPTER NINE

  HOURS LATER, AFTER Mary had prepared a simple meal of chicken in lemon and herb sauce, quinoa and salad, because that was what he had handy in his kitchen, they took a stroll on the beach. He used his workout wheelchair that rolled easily along the wet, packed-down low-tide sand, like a bicycle would have.

  The chill of the night had Mary hugging herself, but she didn’t complain. The lapis lazuli sky was thick with stars, and frothy fluorescence-tipped waves rolled one after another to shore. Wes had to move quickly to avoid getting his chair wet more than a few times. But they carried on because the ocean always brought peace, and Wes needed peace of mind with that damned ticking clock hanging over his head, and the barrage of thoughts plaguing him. The foremost was that Mary would be leaving soon.

  Back at his house, Wes took Mary’s hand and kissed it. “Come with me.” He pulled her along the path to his porch, across his living room and into his private elevator. When the doors closed he grasped her hips and tugged her near, hugging her tight around the waist and resting his head on her breasts. “I’ve wanted you all day.”

  She ran her fingers over his freshly buzzed hair. “You must have read my mind.”

  Once in his bedroom, fighting the passion that threatened to take over, he helped her undress, taking time to lightly stroke and touch her skin as the layers of clothing came off, rather than ravish her as he longed to. When he removed her bra he tasted the velvet of each tip as she tensed and swayed under the touch of his mouth. His mind swirled with hunger for more, yet he held back, instead settling for the sensation of the bud as it peaked against his tongue.

  He edged her onto the bed, spreading her legs, running his fingers over the satin-smooth skin of the inside of her thighs, then leaned forward, mesmerized by her heady scent. He covered her with his mouth, at first only flicking his tongue, teasing her, hunting for that tiny nub, then using long strokes to soothe her into submission. She let loose a long quivery sigh. Her sweet taste made him feel drunk with desire. She purred for him, and he kept her floating in that special state of bliss for as long as she’d let him. This was all about her, and his need to show how much he wanted to make her happy. Hoping she’d never forget him.

  Soon she arched her back and he delved deeper and flattened his tongue, rubbing and licking, enjoying the whimpering sounds and squirming under his touch. He clutched her bottom and went deep, bringing her to the brink then pushing her over with a cadence of stiff strokes and one endless swirl. She gasped and her belly quaked. Unrelenting, he drove her to bucking and crying out, until she’d gone completely, lost to his wizardry. And even then he hadn’t begun to come close to showing her the depth of how much he needed her.

  *

  Morning broke through the edges of the window and Mary tried to open her eyes to the glare.

  “What time is it?” She sat up, searching for the nearest bedside clock.

  Wesley slept peacefully beside her. They’d made love like the world had been ending last night, and she was sore to prove it, but in a wonderfully contented way. She stroked his cheek and he began a long, meandering journey toward waking up. Then it hit her. She was leaving in two days. She’d never have the chance to see him like this again, and her chest gripped like a vise.

  His eyes now opened, obviously not having clicked in with the living quite yet, Wes smiled sleepily and blissfully at her. She wanted with all of her being to stay with him, wished it was possible, but knew better. If he realized how much she wanted him in her life, he might think she’d trapped him with a baby bargain. Why further complicate his life with her mistake of falling in love?

  They’d risked it all with that crazy bargain—first proving he could have satisfying sex again, and, boy, oh, boy, had they proved that beyond any doubt, and, second, trying to get her pregnant. Well, half of the bargain was better than nothing. And life would be far less complicated this way.

  “Let’s skip the gym workout today and stay right here,” he said, stroking her arm.

  It would be so easy to do that, to get lost in his body, to hold him close, but she might never want to let him go and, worse yet, she might tell him how she really felt.

  That wouldn’t be fair, and would be far beyond what he’d bargained for. He’d call it sabotage. She couldn’t do that to Wes, not when his life was just beginning to get back on track.

  “Sounds great, but to make up for taking yesterday off, I’ve got to finish up my packing. And don’t you have a meeting with the head of neurosurgery later?”

  “Ah, damn, yes. But that’s not until noon. Let’s stay here a little longer, at least.”

  She couldn’t get lured into making love with him again. After last night, giving him everything she’d had, and he still hadn’t uttered a word about loving her, she needed to start protecting herself. It would be hard enough to leave. Why set herself up to rip out an even bigger piece of her heart? No. She had to toughen up, accept that where men were concerned she’d yet to measure up. First with Chuck, who’d walked away from her, and now with Wes, who was letting her leave. Yeah, she needed to harden her heart, and it may as well begin right now.

  “I’m pretty sure I’ve met my end of the bargain. I proved you could have sex. Great sex, may I remind you.”

  He grabbed her hip and rolled her closer. “Since we’re talking about our bargain, then your half hasn’t been met. I promised to make you pregnant. I don’t think you should leave until we’ve achieved that goal.”

  She laughed with him, keeping things light yet seeing something careful going on behind his casual mask. Oh, yes, aren’t we so grown up and worldly with our bargain. “Theoretically, that sounds great, but I hate to remind you I’ve got a new job to start on Monday, and it’s going to take me the weekend to drive to Oregon.”

  She was probably reading into his look, but she could have sworn she saw panic flash inside those caramel-tinted dreamy eyes. “All t
he more reason to take the morning off. Let’s give it one last try. I owe you. Right?”

  It certainly wasn’t a flowery proposition, but he was being honest. She wanted a baby, had risked her heart for it, so shouldn’t she do whatever it took to know she’d done her best? Taking cold, hard logic into consideration, how could she refuse?

  She moved into his open arms, loving the heat of his body and the feeling of home she’d recently found in his embrace. Maybe this time he’d admit how he really felt about her. Should she be the first to say the L word?

  *

  Mary had been wrong. Yes, they’d made love like they hadn’t seen each other in weeks, but Wes hadn’t confessed any special feelings for her beyond, “Wow, was that as good for you as it was for me?”

  She’d let herself down, too, by not having the guts to tell him how she felt. What was the use? She was leaving. Telling him she loved him would ruin everything they’d worked so hard on the last two months. All it would do was prove to Wes that he should never have let her in his house in the first place. Damn, she’d fouled up.

  They weren’t meant to be together, or they would have taken that chance ten years ago, at his sister’s wedding. Everything had been perfect then. She could have taken a job near him as he hadn’t yet been officially engaged. The timing had been perfect. Yet they hadn’t even had the nerve to find out what it would be like to have sex. That said it all, didn’t it? And things were so, so different now.

  She had a life to go back to. Her own little home. He was still picking up the pieces of his, but it was a start, and his future, once again, looked bright.

  “Just to let you know, I’ll be sleeping at my place tonight,” she said, beginning her exit strategy, if she could call it that. Because she was nowhere near ready to say goodbye to Wesley Van Allen. “I want to get an early start on the road, and—”

  “Wait a minute. What? You’re leaving tomorrow? I thought—”

  “I’ve changed my mind. I’d like to get there a day early so I can set up my house and be ready to start the job full out on Monday.”

  He shook his head, not looking in the least bit pleased. “I’ve got this meeting this afternoon, and you’re messing with my concentration. Can’t you leave on Saturday, like you originally said?”

  She let hurt and an aching heart speak unedited for her. “It’s not always all about you, Wesley. Sorry, I can’t accommodate you this time.”

  She turned to leave his bedroom, after having taken only a minute to put on her clothes.

  “Harris, that’s not what I meant.”

  Too late. Instead of looking back, she strode to the door, knowing he couldn’t catch her.

  *

  Mary stood her ground and refused to rush back to Wes that night. He owed her an apology. But he hadn’t come crawling to her door, like she’d expected. Beyond the argument, she’d been dying to hear how his meeting had gone, but figured if he wanted her to know, he’d come and tell her.

  It turned out he was as stubborn as she was, but she already knew that. So why did it hurt so much?

  As she lay in her loft, still angry but realizing she could have spent one last night with Wes if she hadn’t gone all emotional and let hurt do her talking, she broke down. Feeling raw, hormonal and completely mixed up, she cried until her eyes swelled shut.

  Her gut assured her she really never had been good enough for him. Even now, with their playing field somewhat leveled. Because he was still rich. He’d been raised like a prince, the Prince of Westwood—it was in his blood to be proud. In his parents’ eyes, the universe truly did revolve around him. They’d convinced him of it, too. She’d come from a trailer park, not one of those upscale versions around these days but the last-ditch, park-what-you’ve-got kind of place. Starting humble like that, everything else was a step up. Now she lived like a vagabond, traveling around the country in her tiny portable house. Owning that house was the best she could do for herself and, damn it, she was proud of what she’d accomplished after starting from nothing. And yet she still didn’t feel good enough for Wes.

  He’d sat there stoically in his bed, like the world owed him something, like she owed him something. Her early departure hadn’t worked for his timeline. Seriously? Well, to hell with him!

  But she loved him. Damn it. She picked up her cellphone and brought up his number, ready to call and tell him everything she felt. Why not? She was leaving. Say it and go. Let him figure out the rest. But the next second she stopped and, chickening out, she never pressed “call”.

  The next morning, after several rounds of cold compresses on her eyes, feeling she finally looked decent enough to face him without giving herself away, she set out to say goodbye. And pride be damned, a swarm of butterflies seemed to take over her stomach.

  *

  Wes had hardly slept. His meeting at the hospital had gone well, and he’d be returning to work in two weeks, but the way things had been left with Mary yesterday morning had nagged at his peace of mind all night. She’d acted out of character, surprising him about leaving early, then had gotten all moody and snide when he’d blundered his immediate response. He’d given a knee-jerk reaction and an equally adolescent reply—“You’re messing with my concentration. Can’t you leave on Saturday?” Good Lord, what an ass. It had come off like a hurt child taking his toys and going home.

  In other words, he’d blown it. Big time. He should have apologized on the spot, but his damn pride had tripped him up and, having a deep grasp on him, that same pride had kept him from going to see her last night. Instead, he’d waited for her to come to her senses.

  And he considered himself a fairly well-adjusted adult, how?

  Today he’d woken up with a double helping of remorse, but couldn’t for the life of him figure out how to make things right. Though he knew one thing, he needed to go to her and apologize.

  In the kitchen, Wes put together something to eat. His stomach was in knots and he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to get anything down. Then the doorbell rang. Over the last two months, Mary had made herself at home, coming and going any time she wanted. He’d made a point to leave the door unlocked for her today, too.

  But the doorbell rang again.

  He wheeled himself to answer, wondering if it might be someone else, but there she stood, looking beautiful and heartbreakingly sad.

  “I’m all packed and ready to go,” she said. Her hair pulled back in a ponytail, without a stitch of makeup on, wearing cut-off jeans and an old T-shirt, she looked like he remembered her at fifteen. He detected some puffiness around her eyes, and they looked far less clear than usual. Knowing he’d been responsible for that made his gut twist tighter.

  “Come in. Don’t stay on the doorstep. Let’s have a proper goodbye.” He moved back, making room for her. She hesitated, then cautiously stepped inside.

  He tugged her hand and pulled her close, wanting nothing more than to kiss her. She resisted. So he bussed her cheek. No, they couldn’t separate under these circumstances. “What have I done, Harris? I apologize for being a jerk yesterday, okay? Why are you acting this way?”

  She shook her head. “You haven’t done anything, Wes.”

  Why did he get the distinct feeling there was a whole lot more to that answer? “Yes, I have. I’ve made you angry, and I can’t stand you leaving under these circumstances.”

  She studied her feet. “Well, it’s not like we have the gift of time to work things out, right?”

  For a lady who always named the elephant in the room, she was sure dodging the issue. Since he might never see her again, he needed to say what he’d been thinking all night, beyond giving an apology. “I know we agreed to use each other, but this leaving on such bad terms seems so cold.”

  “Use each other?”

  Damn, he’d chosen the wrong words again. “You know what I mean.”

  “We made a bargain.”

  “Yes.” Sadness enveloped him, topped off with old anger that still managed to trip him up
when he wasn’t careful. “I foolishly thought we actually had something.” A devastating thought landed like a hatchet to his chest. He’d hoped she’d get pregnant because he knew without a doubt that if she had, he wouldn’t let her walk away. It had turned out his slow sperm hadn’t done the trick after all, and he felt sorry for himself. “I get that it’s time for you to move on, that I’ll always just be another guy in a wheelchair that you’ve helped.”

  “Stop it right there!”

  He’d obviously hit a sore spot.

  “First of all, it’s unlike you to feel sorry for yourself, so quit it. Second, how dare you make all these assumptions about me?” She’d given up staring at her feet and now impaled him with anger he’d seen often enough in the mirror. “How could we have something when you’ve never once told me you love me?”

  Was that the problem? He didn’t think they’d been in this bargain for love, so he’d kept his feelings at bay, and now she was blaming him? “I never heard those words from your mouth either,” he fired back, feeling far too defensive, and immature, and knowing it was a pitiful comeback. Nevertheless, it was how he felt.

  “You wouldn’t have believed me if I’d said them,” she said, so quietly he almost couldn’t hear her. “You had things all wrapped up long before I arrived. You’d never trust anyone who dared fall for you in that chair. Why would I be so foolish to beat my head against that wall around your heart?”

  In other words, he was the one who needed to have said it first. “I knew it was stupid to make that agreement. We played with fire, and now we’ve both been burned.”

  “You’re the one who challenged me to prove it. Remember?”

  What could he say? He’d challenged her—begged her, actually—and she’d given in to his demands. Show me I’m still a man. She’d asked for something in return, and he’d foolishly thought that would make their deal acceptable. All for sex. They’d owe each other nothing beyond the terms of their agreement. Wrong! Now he’d hurt her, and his mind was so messed up he didn’t have a clue how to make things right. Yet one thought held firm. If she were pregnant, everything would be different. She watched him as he sat there without a single word to say beyond “I’m sorry, Mary.”