Tina’s shoulders slumped, and Tom’s heart pounded. Tina was sorry he was leaving! She didn’t want him to go.
“That’s great news,” he heard her say, and when he looked over at her, he saw a forced cheerfulness in her face.
“It’s wonderful,” he said dutifully, but he was disappointed. He was going to miss Tina.
“I’ll have instructions for you before you leave, and I’ll want to see you frequently, but your lung has healed and your head injury is no longer life-threatening. There’s no reason you have to stay here.”
Tom nodded. “Thank you.”
Tina gripped the bed rail, and Tom saw her knuckles turn white. “I’ll go get the paperwork started. You probably want to talk to Dr. Wilson.” She turned and hurried out of the room, letting the door close firmly behind her.
Tom watched her go. He missed her already.
But he didn’t have to miss Tina. There was no reason he couldn’t keep on seeing her after he was out of the hospital. His heart lightened until he remembered one very good reason. He didn’t have a thing to offer her. Not even his real name.
Chapter 5
Tina maneuvered her car to the curb and watched the orderly push Tom’s wheelchair over to the passenger door. Then the young man opened the door and helped Tom slide onto the seat.
Tina’s heart fluttered as the orderly shut the door and Tom looked at her. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Taking me to my hotel goes above and beyond the call of duty.”
“Don’t mention it,” she said, her breath fluttery and her hands sweating on the steering wheel. “It’s on my way home anyway.”
“But this is your day off. You didn’t even have to come to the hospital.”
“Do you think I would have let my favorite patient leave without saying goodbye?” She tried to keep her voice light and teasing, and had a feeling she failed miserably.
“You could have said goodbye yesterday.”
“All right, I’ll admit it. I’m a sucker for men who can’t remember anything.” She glanced over at him and tried to give him a bright smile. “It makes it so much easier to tell them what to do.”
She kept her eyes on the road in front of her, but she could feel Tom’s eyes on her. “You can tell me what to do any time,” he said, his voice low and intimate in the cocoon of the car.
“Be careful,” she warned. “I might take you up on that.”
“Be my guest.”
It was time to change the subject, she thought, her heart thumping. “Does anything look familiar?” she asked as they drove through the town of Grand Springs.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw him glance out the window. “I haven’t been paying attention.”
“I thought you couldn’t wait to get out of the hospital and look around?”
“I was distracted.”
“Oh.” Her skin burned where his gaze touched her, and she swallowed hard. “Well, look around now.”
“Yes, ma’am. Is this what you mean about being able to tell me what to do?”
“This is exactly what I mean.”
Finally he looked away and stared out the window. “Is this the downtown area?” he asked.
“Yes, it is.” She was so relieved to be talking about an impersonal subject that she talked too fast. “The hospital is on one side of town, and your hotel and my house are on the other side.”
“Where was the ball?”
“On the same side of town as the hospital.”
“Can we drive past the building where it was held?”
“Not now,” she said firmly. “We can look at the hotel where the ball was held anytime. Right now you need to get to your apartment so you can take it easy.”
“That’s all I’ve been doing for the last five days,” he protested. “I don’t need to take it easy.”
“I’m sorry to contradict you, but as your nurse, I have to tell you that you’re full of it.” She glanced over at him. “Tell me that your ribs don’t hurt.”
“Hardly at all.”
“You’re not a very good liar, Flynt.” She flashed him a grin. “There’s another piece of information for you.”
“That’s funny,” he said idly. “I’ve always thought I was a very good liar.”
She glanced at him sharply, and saw him tense. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice neutral.
“I have no idea.” He looked over at her, his face stricken. “It just popped into my head that I’m a good liar.”
“It doesn’t mean anything,” she finally said.
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“Maybe you’re an actor,” she said desperately. “Actors have to be good liars. Or maybe you’re a writer. They make things up all the time.”
“Or maybe I’m a criminal.”
Tina pulled into the parking lot of Tom’s hotel and killed the engine. “You’re awfully determined to think the worst of yourself. You need to stop being so stubborn. I thought you said that tiny bits of information don’t mean a thing until you put them together. The same thing is true for this bit of information. Don’t jump to conclusions.”
He didn’t move to get out of the car. Instead, he shifted in his seat so he was looking at Tina. “You’re being pretty stubborn yourself, Tina. Why can’t you face the facts? The chances are pretty good that I’m involved somehow in the Steele murders.”
“That remains to be seen.” She gripped her hands together and leaned toward him. “Maybe you ran out of the ball in order to catch the killer. Did you ever think of that?”
“Then why was I carrying a gun? And why did I have a fake driver’s license and a fake address at my P.O. box?”
“I’m sure there was a good reason.”
Tom laughed as he opened the door. “See? You’re as stubborn as they come.”
“Wait a minute,” she said, scrambling out of the car. “Let me help you.”
She hurried around to the passenger side of the car and wrapped her arm around Tom’s waist. He leaned heavily against her as he pushed himself out of the car. Then he slowly straightened, but she knew he was still in pain from the stiff way he held himself.
“Maybe you should have stayed in the hospital for another day or two,” she said, worried.
“I’ll be fine. I’m just stiff because I was in bed for so long. Once I have a chance to move around a little, I’ll be as good as new.”
“I hope so.” She looked at the impersonal facade of the hotel. She hated to think about him staying here, alone. What if he needed help during the night?
“I’ve got the key in my pocket,” he said, reaching for it. “Stone came by this morning and gave it to me.”
“Let me get the door for you.”
“I hate feeling helpless,” he muttered.
“Somehow I could have guessed that about you.” She fitted the key into the lock and pushed the door open. The apartment had the stale, untouched air of a house left empty for a while. Flicking on the lights, she stepped back and let him walk inside first.
“Not very exciting, is it?” he said after a moment.
She had to agree with him. One glance told her that there were very few personal belongings. The apartment didn’t tell her a thing about its occupant. A stack of newspapers sat neatly on the coffee table. Nothing was out of place in the kitchen, and there were no pictures or mementos of any kind in the tiny living room.
“It’s pretty basic,” she said cautiously.
“Let’s take a look around,” he finally said. “Maybe we’ll get some ideas.”
They looked through the living area first, but aside from the stack of newspapers and a few paperback novels, there was nothing to give the room any hint of a personality.
“Well, at least we know you like to read,” Tina said, holding the books. “And you have good taste in fiction.” Tina smiled as she nodded at one book, a suspense thriller. “This woman started out writing romance novels. I’ve read every one of her books.”
Tom stared at
the books for a moment, then shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t remember buying those books.”
“Why don’t we take a look in the kitchen?” she said.
The kitchen was even more dismal. The freezer held several microwave meals, and there was a package of cheese, a few eggs and some beer in the refrigerator.
“This is really depressing,” Tina finally said. “What the heck did you eat?”
“I have no idea.” Tom looked around, and the desolate expression on his face tugged at Tina’s heart. “But this doesn’t feel right,” he said slowly. “This doesn’t feel like home.”
“It isn’t your home,” she pointed out. “The manager said you’ve only been here for a couple of weeks.”
“That’s long enough to make a place feel lived-in. Where’s the clutter? Where’s all my stuff?”
“Maybe you traveled light.”
“So I could make a quick getaway?” He quirked an eyebrow at her.
“For heaven’s sake,” she snapped, “that’s not what I meant.”
“I know that. But maybe it’s why there’s nothing in this apartment.”
“Or maybe it was because you were working long hours and were never home.”
He smiled, and for the first time since they’d walked into the apartment, his eyes softened. “You’re determined to look on the bright side, aren’t you?”
“Someone has to do it,” she retorted. “You’re determined to see the worst.”
“I have to be prepared for the worst,” he said in a low voice. “Too many things point to my being involved in the Steele murders.”
She shook her head. “You’re not a criminal, Tom.”
“You’re the only one who doesn’t think so,” he said dryly, gesturing to the pile of unread newspapers that someone, probably the maid, had on the coffee table. “Even the papers have me pegged as a suspect.”
The story on the front page was about Tom, the mystery patient at Vanderbilt Memorial Hospital. Tina picked it up. She hadn’t seen that story. As she skimmed it, she saw with a sinking heart that the paper speculated that Tom was somehow connected to the murder of David and Lisa Steele.
“They don’t know what they’re talking about,” she said, tossing the paper back onto the table.
He watched her for a moment, an unreadable expression in his eyes. Then he turned away. “I’m going to take a look in the bedroom.”
Tina followed him to the door, then stood and watched him look around. She felt uncomfortable watching Tom search through his belongings in the bedroom. This was Tom’s private space. He must feel as if everything about him was open to public scrutiny. He couldn’t even recover from a serious car accident without everyone watching him, waiting to see what he remembered.
“Why are you standing there?” he said. “Come on in and take a look.”
“I thought you might want a little privacy,” she said.
“Why?” His voice was blunt. “You know as much about me as I do.”
“That’s exactly why. You must feel as if you’re in a fishbowl. Everyone is watching you. This is your bedroom. I thought you might want some privacy.”
He looked up from the dresser, where he was going through the drawers. “That’s very considerate of you, Tina.” He shook his head. “It just proves what I’ve been telling myself for the last few days. You’re too good and too kind to get involved with someone like me. You don’t need this kind of trouble.”
“What kind of trouble would that be?”
“The kind of trouble I might bring down on you,” he said bluntly. “There might be warrants out for me in ten states.”
“You might also be a very good man,” she said. “That’s the truth I’m betting on.”
“The evidence doesn’t point that way.”
“The evidence can be taken more ways than one.”
“Tell that to Detective Jones,” he said, finally looking away.
“Detective Jones is doing his job,” she said firmly. “You said so yourself.” She watched him as he stepped away from the dresser. “Did you find anything in there?”
“Nothing but some clothes. There isn’t anything that could give me a clue about my life before I came to Grand Springs. It’s almost as if it were deliberate.”
Her heart ached for him, standing in the middle of his cold, sterile apartment, nothing there that could give him a clue about his identity. “Come over to my house for dinner,” she said impulsively. “Maybe a change of scenery will help.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted them. What was she thinking? She had never had a man over to her house. Her house was her refuge from the world, her safe haven.
But she couldn’t leave him here by himself, in these depressing surroundings. So she took a deep breath. “We’ll stop at the grocery and you can pick out something to eat. After five days of hospital food, you’re probably ready for some real food.”
“That does sound tempting.” He looked over at her, and she could see the longing in his eyes. “But are you sure? I’m as close to a stranger as you can get.”
Oddly enough, his reservations erased all of hers. “Of course I’m sure. And you’re not a stranger. I’ve spent a lot of time with you in the last five days.”
“All right then, I’d love to come to dinner.” His mouth curved up in a smile. “Even a trip to the grocery store sounds exciting.”
“You must be desperate,” she said lightly. She wouldn’t think about Tom in her house. Even the thought of it was too intimate and somehow disturbing. “Why don’t we get going, then?”
“All right.” He looked around the room one more time, then shook his head. “There’s no reason to keep looking here. I don’t feel any kind of connection to this apartment, or anything in it.”
“Then let’s get out of here.”
They headed back to her car, and Tom bent to get into the passenger seat again. Already he moved more easily. Maybe he was right. Maybe all he needed was a little exercise to get his muscles moving again.
An hour later they pulled into the driveway of her home, and she turned off the engine and gathered herself. She had tried not to think about bringing Tom here, but she was nervous.
“I like your house,” he said softly, staring out the window.
“Thank you.” The small, two-story house was painted white with black shutters. A porch extended across the front of the house, complete with a swing. She loved to sit there in the summer and enjoy her garden, but now the only flowers remaining were a few mums, the last bit of color bravely holding its own against the approaching winter.
“You’ve spent a lot of time on the house and the garden,” he said.
“I love working in the garden.”
“It shows.” He turned to look at her. “You take care of your garden like you take care of your patients.”
“Thank you.” His eyes heated as he looked at her, and she hurried to get out of the car. “Come on in.”
She stood in the doorway, watching him walk inside. He looked around for a moment, then turned to her. “It’s great. Very peaceful and welcoming.”
“Thank you,” she said again, feeling foolish and very nervous. “You’re welcome to sit down, or you can come into the kitchen while I get dinner ready.”
“I’ll help you get dinner ready.”
“From the looks of that apartment, I’m not sure you can be trusted in the kitchen.” It felt better to tease him. It lightened the atmosphere and took away some of the tension that seemed to stretch between them.
“Put me to work,” he said. “I’ll show you what I can do.”
They talked easily while she prepared steaks and potatoes and Tom fixed a salad. She didn’t say anything, but it was obvious he knew his way around a kitchen. Clearly, he had cooked before.
As they ate, he asked questions about Grand Springs, and she told him about the town. His questions were specific and detailed, and she thought that he seemed to be used to asking questi
ons.
She mentioned that to him. “Do you think you might be a reporter of some sort?”
He thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know. It doesn’t sound familiar, but who knows?”
“Just a thought,” she said lightly, and got up to get dessert. They had picked out an apple pie at the store, and she served them slices with vanilla ice cream.
“Do you want some coffee?” she asked.
“I’d love some.”
She poured two cups, then said, “Why don’t we have dessert in the living room?” She’d noticed that he’d shifted in his chair a couple of times. “The couch is probably more comfortable than these chairs.”
“Thanks,” he said, standing up slowly. “I guess I was stiffer than I realized.”
“Your ribs will feel better every day. Don’t forget, it’s been less than a week since you were injured.”
“I like having my own personal nurse,” he teased.
“That means you have to do what I tell you,” she shot back.
“Have you always been this bossy, or do I get special treatment?”
She watched him settle onto the couch, then set his coffee and pie down on the table next to him. “I’m not in the habit of feeding dinner to my patients.”
“I didn’t think so,” he said quietly. “Thank you, Tina. I appreciate this, more than I can tell you.”
“It’s not a big deal.” She spoke quickly. “I had to fix dinner anyway.”
“It’s a very big deal.” His eyes warmed, and she thought he was going to say something, but then he looked away. When he looked back at her, there was only polite interest in his eyes. “Did you say you’d lived in this house all your life?”
The frustration that flooded in was a surprise to her. She should be grateful that he’d chosen safer conversational waters. So she swallowed once and nodded. “I grew up in this house. I lived here with my mother until she died eight months ago.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, sympathy in his eyes. “That wasn’t very long ago.”
“No, it wasn’t. We were very close.”
He touched her hand. “What about your father?”
A Thanksgiving To Remember Page 6
