“She’s not a nurse, and cut the jokes,” he muttered to his irreverent brother. “Did you call for a reason?”
“I take it I’m interrupting something,” he said with delight. “Did you share a cozy dinner of Jell-O? Maybe some fruit cocktail?”
“You always were the perceptive one. Why aren’t you hanging up?”
“You’ve got me mixed up with Tim.” Jared went blithely on, refusing to take the hint. “Want to talk about what color you’d like me to paint your house? I thought I’d take a couple of days off work and work on it. We’ve been talking about it for a while now. I was thinking something cheery, maybe bright yellow.”
The thought horrified Frank sufficiently to draw his attention away from the fascinating way Jenny’s dress clung to her curves. He knew that Jared was perfectly capable of slapping on the most outrageous shade of paint he could find. The walls in his own apartment were the color of tangerines. The year before his bedroom had been neon green until his girlfriend rebelled. Frank did not want Jared near his house with a paintbrush unless he was on hand to watch every move and to inspect the bucket of paint.
“You paint my house yellow and it will seriously impair any plans you might have for a future family life,” he warned as emphatically and discreetly as he could. Jenny’s eyes danced with merriment.
“Okay, no yellow,” Jared said agreeably. “How about mauve? Maybe with green trim.”
Frank groaned. “And have the place look like a damned bouquet of violets? You’ve got to be kidding. Do we have to discuss this now?”
“Absolutely not. We don’t have to discuss it at all. I can choose.”
“Good God, no! How about white? Simple, straightforward, normal.”
“Boring,” Jared retorted succinctly.
Frank glanced at Jenny. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Blue,” she said without hesitation. “Why?”
“The lady says blue. Bring the paint chips by tomorrow and we’ll decide on the shade. Now go away.”
Jared chuckled. “Your seduction technique has taken a fascinating turn, big brother. I wonder how Ma’d feel if she knew you were painting your house to impress a woman. She’d probably start ordering wedding invitations. Should I pass on this startling development?”
“Go to hell.”
“Night, pal.”
This time Jenny was slow to hang up the phone. Her expression was a mix of curiosity and astonishment. “You’re going to paint your house blue on a whim?”
“Actually Jared’s going to paint it.”
“You know what I mean.”
“It needs to be painted. Blue’s as good a color as any,” he said, determinedly making light of his decision to pick a color that might please her. He wasn’t entirely sure himself why he’d done it. “With white trim. What do you think?”
“I think you’re nuts.”
“Don’t say that to Dr. Wilding. He’ll find some shrink and send him in for a consult.”
The night nurse poked her head in just then. “You want anything to help you sleep tonight?”
Frank shook his head. “Nope,” he said, glancing straight at Jenny. “Something tells me I’m going to have very pleasant dreams.”
He held her gaze until he could see the slow rise of heat that turned her cheeks a becoming shade of pink. For some reason he enjoyed the thought that he could fluster the usually unflappable therapist.
“Maybe I’d better get out of here and let you rest,” she said, clearly nervous at the intimate turn the conversation had taken.
Instinctively he reached for her hand, then realized he couldn’t grasp it in his gauze-covered mitts. He drew his hand back, but held her in place with the sheer force of his will. “Don’t go, please. It gets too damned lonely around here.”
She shook her head. “I can’t stay.”
“You have plans?”
“No, not exactly.”
She looked so miserable, he finally relented. “I’m sorry. It was selfish of me to ask. You probably can’t wait to shake this place at the end of the day.”
“It’s not that. It’s just that this…”
“This?”
“Being here with you, it’s not such a good idea. I should never have stayed.”
“Will it make the other patients jealous?” he teased.
Suddenly she looked angry. “Don’t act as if you don’t know what I mean,” she said, marching toward the door. He could read the conflicting emotions warring on her face as she cast one last helpless look at him and left.
“Sweet dreams,” he murmured.
Frank’s dreams, however, were anything but sweet. He awoke in the early hours of the morning to the slow return of sensation in his hands. At first there were just tiny pinpricks of feeling. In no time, though, his hands felt as if someone had stripped off the skin and dipped them in acid. The excruciating pain blocked out everything else.
In agony he fumbled for the call bell and tried to press it. The effort cost him all his reserves of energy, and he wasn’t even sure he’d succeeded in rousing anyone at the nurses’ station. As he waited, he sank back against the pillow and tried to fix a picture of Jenny in his mind. Her image brought him some small measure of comfort as he fought to hypnotize himself against the pain.
He couldn’t say that Dr. Wilding hadn’t warned him. He’d always held the mistaken notion that healing meant an end to pain. In the case of burns, however, he was just discovering that the healing of the nerve endings brought with it a nearly unbearable torture.
The door opened and one of the night nurses peeked in. “You okay?”
“I’ve had better nights,” he said, his teeth gritted together.
Her relaxed, middle-of-the-night composure was instantly transformed into alert briskness. “Pain,” she said at once. “I’ll be right back. There’s an order in your chart.”
The five minutes it took her to get the medication and bring it back were the longest of Frank’s life. Even the shot, with its promise of relief, brought no immediate change. Nor did the nurse’s soothing words. He tried to remember all those spills from his bike that he’d survived so stoically, but none had affected him like this. Nothing had ever hurt like this.
The door whispered open, but with his eyes clamped shut he couldn’t tell if someone had come in, or if the nurse had simply left. Suddenly the scent of spring flowers seemed to fill the room. Jenny!
He opened his eyes. “What are you doing here at this hour? It must be three or four in the morning.” He winced as his hands throbbed.
Still wearing the same bright silk dress she’d had on earlier, she came closer. With cool, soothing fingers, she caressed his brow. “It won’t be long now before the shot kicks in. Think about something quiet and peaceful.”
Her voice was low, hypnotic, but he fought the effect. He had to tell her…something. His aching hands kept interfering. He fought the pain as he tried to capture the elusive thought.
“You knew, didn’t you?” he said finally.
“Knew what?”
“That the pain might start tonight. That’s why you stayed.”
She didn’t bother denying it, just pressed a finger to his lips. “Quiet. Close your eyes.”
Frank didn’t want to close his eyes. He wanted to keep staring at the woman who cared so much that she’d spent the night at the hospital on the off chance she might be needed. Despite his efforts, though, the medication began to take hold and he found himself fading out. He fought for one last glimpse of Jenny, who’d drawn the chair close beside him and was gently rubbing his arm. Maybe his own weary eyes were playing tricks on him, but it seemed for just an instant that he could see tears shimmering on her lashes.
He reached out to her, found her hand and touched her gently. “Thank you.”
At last he was able to relax into the pain, rather than fight it. Finally, thankfully, the pain dimmed and he fell asleep. This time his dreams were sweet indeed.
* * *
/>
Every therapy session over the next couple of days was torture for the both of them. It made the fire and those first days of exercise seem like child’s play. Though Frank was in agony, he was stubborn. His therapy sessions were scheduled right after the dressing changes when the medication was in full force, and he was determined not to miss one. Jenny was equally unrelenting. She pushed, and pushed some more. He had to admire her spunk, even as he sometimes cursed her dedication and his own weakness.
He couldn’t have pinpointed the precise moment when his feelings for Jenny began to change into something more than respect, when her magnificent, gentle spirit invaded his soul and made him whole again. Maybe it was when she was giving him hell. Maybe it was when she touched his bandaged hands with a gentleness that took his breath away. Maybe it was when he caught the glitter of tears in her eyes, when his pain was just this side of unbearable and neither of them backed away from it. Maybe it was simply when she sat by his bed and talked him through the endless nights. He didn’t know quite what to make of the new feelings, but they were there and growing hour by hour.
“Go home,” he said after the third night, when she’d stayed with him yet again. “You look lousy.”
“Flattery will win me over every time.” Her tone was light, but there was no mistaking the exhaustion in her eyes, the pallor of her skin. Even her bouncy red curls seemed limp.
“I’m not interested in flattering you. I’m interested in seeing you get some sleep. You can’t stay awake with me and then turn around and work all day.”
“I’m okay. I get home for an hour or so in the morning to take a shower and change. Then I sneak in naps in the staff lounge.”
“Well, that certainly eases my mind,” he said dryly. “Jenny, go home. If you don’t, I’ll skip therapy, my hands will heal like this and you’ll be to blame.”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” she countered. “I’m not falling into that trap. I didn’t burn you and I’m not responsible for your recovery. My only obligation is to show you the way to get your strength and dexterity back. What you do with that information is up to you.”
“Tell me, does this treatment you’re obliged to provide include being mean and nasty?”
“When it’s called for.”
He grinned. “You think you’re pretty tough, don’t you?”
“Tough enough.”
“Oh, Jenny, I hope you never figure out what a marshmallow you really are.”
“A marshmallow?” she said indignantly. “You’re not in here wallowing in self-pity anymore, are you?”
“No.”
“And who badgered you out of it?”
“You did,” he said dutifully. “But, lady, you don’t know the meaning of badgering until you’ve seen what I’m capable of. Go home.”
Her chin rose a stubborn notch. “And if I don’t?”
“I have the name and number of the director of physical therapy right here.” He patted the pocket of the pajamas he’d had Jared bring him when he could stand the flapping, indecent hospital gown no longer.
Those impudent, saucer eyes of hers widened. “You wouldn’t dare,” she said.
He folded his arms across his chest and grinned. “Just try me.”
“That’s blackmail.”
“I prefer to think of it as tough love.”
At the mention of love, Jenny went absolutely still. Her previous serene eyes were filled with a riot of emotions. “You’re breaking that vow.”
“What vow? I don’t remember any vow. You must be hallucinating. Due to lack of sleep, no doubt.”
“In this very room. Two nights ago. You were muttering in your sleep.”
“Ahh,” he said knowingly. “So, now I’m the one who was asleep. You can’t hold me accountable for what I said then.”
She glared at him. “You woke up and said…something.”
“And what did you say to this incredible declaration of… something?”
“I told you that all patients feel that way.”
His gaze narrowed. “All patients? I am not just any old patient, Jennifer Michaels.”
She sighed heavily. “I didn’t mean it that way. Why are you doing this?You swore you’d drop this crazy idea that you…” She hesitated, stumbling over the obvious word. “That you like me.”
Frank did not recall a single word of the conversation she was describing, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t happened. The words seemed to reflect all too clearly the thoughts that had been on his mind a lot the past few days.
“Like?” he repeated. “Now there’s a word without much oomph. No, Jenny Michaels, I can’t say I like you.” His low, suggestive tone left no doubt as to an alternative word choice.
“I’m leaving,” she said at once.
His grin broadened. “Now I know the trick,” he said smugly. “Mention love and you run like a scared rabbit.”
“Nobody in this room mentioned love,” she retorted. “And no one will, if they have a bit of sense.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Frank said as she stalked from the room.
But it was pretty damned hard not to fall in love with a woman with that much sheer audacity. He’d just have to keep his feelings to himself until it suited him—and her—to make them perfectly clear. While he was still in the hospital was not the time, but soon, though. Very soon.
Chapter Five
“Hey, Otis! You got a break coming up?” Frank called out as the orderly passed his room pushing Pam to her therapy session. Otis paused, and the teenager gave Frank one of those wobbly smiles that came close to breaking his heart. He winked at her.
“In thirty minutes, why?” Otis said.
“I’ve got a deck of cards. Care to try a little five-card stud?”
Otis’s eyes lighted up. “Stakes?”
“Matchsticks. Aspirin. Nickle-dime. Whatever.”
A little of the gambling enthusiasm waned. “Better than nothing, I guess. Where’d you get the cards?”
“My sister. I told her I wanted to play gin rummy.”
“Ah, a devious man after my own heart.”
Frank shook his head. “No, a man who is bored to tears. Do you know how outrageous daytime television is? I’m not sure I could watch one more talk show deal with men who like to wear ladies’ panties or women who’ve been tortured by drug-addicted kids. It’s giving me a very peculiar and very depressing view of society. I will even stoop to luring you into a poker game to escape watching another one of those illuminating discussions. God will no doubt punish me for my sins and for my shortsightedness about society’s ills.”
“I don’t know about God, man, but Jenny’s gonna have your hide.” Otis chuckled. “Mine, too. I’ll be back in a flash.”
“Wait a sec,” Pam said, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “I want to play, too.”
Frank and Otis exchanged a look. “I don’t know,” Frank said. “Leading Otis down the road to perdition is one thing, but you’re just a kid.”
“A kid on her way to therapy,” she reminded them pointedly, her dark brown eyes very serious.
“Meaning what?” Frank countered, trying to contain a grin at her blatant blackmail tactics.
“Meaning she’ll blab her head off if we don’t say yes,” Otis grumbled. “She and Jenny are thick as thieves.” He peered down at her. “You know, Pam-e-la, I just might decide to park you in a linen closet and forget where I’ve left you.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she said knowingly. “If Doc Wilding found out, he’d make you pay him back that ten you borrowed to bet on the Giants’ opening-day game. A game they lost, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“For a skinny kid who’s confined to a bed, you sure know a lot,” Otis grumbled.
“Enough,” she said proudly. “This place has more gossip than General Hospital.”
“Okay, say we let you play,” Frank said, studying the teenager. “You any good?”
“I can hold my own,” she said with what was probably sheer bravado. Even
wrapped in gauze bandages, she managed a jaunty demeanor.
“You know a straight from a full house?”
“I know the full house wins. Four of a kind and straight flush beat that.”
Frank grinned and relented, which he’d known he was going to do from the moment she’d asked. Nobody could refuse a kid like Pam, who was trying so hard to be brave and upbeat. “Be in my room in thirty minutes.”
Pam beamed. “You bet. Otis, don’t you dare forget to pick me up in the therapy room.”
The orderly shook his head. “No, ma’am. Wouldn’t dream of it.” He looked at Frank. “Something tells me the kid here is gonna mop the floor with the two of us.”
“I’m not worried,” Frank said. Not about Pam, anyway. However, he was just the teensiest bit concerned about what Jenny was going to have to say if she ever found out about the card game.
There was approximately ten dollars in change piled in front of Pam when he found out exactly how Jenny would react. His own neat stacks of nickels and dimes had been dwindling almost as rapidly as Otis’s. It didn’t matter since Jenny sent the entire supply of change flying with one sweep of her arm. The coins rained down like sleet, tinkling on the linoleum and rolling every which way.
“You two should be ashamed of yourselves,” she said, glaring from Frank to Otis and back again, her hands on her hips.
“What about her?” Otis grumbled, turning an indignant look on Pam.
“I was winning!” the teenager protested accusingly to Jenny. “Why’d you do that? I almost had enough to buy a new magazine and a box of candy from the gray ladies this afternoon.”
Jenny looked defeated and miserable. She sank down on the side of the bed. “I don’t believe this. You’ve corrupted her.”
“Corrupted her?” Frank said. “I’d like to know how. The girl has the instincts of a Las Vegas house dealer. She’s a shark.”
Pam looked pleased. Jenny didn’t.
“And that makes it right?” Jenny snapped. “Couldn’t you have played just for fun?”
“This was fun,” Frank countered reasonably.
“But you lost how much?”
Dream Mender Page 5
