by Jo Leigh
He turned on the kitchen light and went to the fridge. Once opened, he remembered that he hadn’t stocked up on anything. There were a couple of bottles of water, some bacon, no eggs. Apples that had been there a long time. He shifted the mayonnaise jar, but nothing great was lurking behind it.
He’d have to shop. He hated shopping. And it would be crowded everywhere because of the holiday.
He cursed. Loudly. Then he took a deep breath, got a bottle of water and headed back to the guest room. Halfway there, he turned around, went back to the kitchen for a notepad and this time he made it all the way.
She had gotten herself comfy with her back against the pillows, but adjustments needed to be made. He opened the cap on the water bottle before he handed it to her, then he went to the closet and brought out a pillow and a comforter.
When he turned, she was still downing her pills. She hadn’t taken off her tights, but she had removed her other boot. Her dress had been tugged down demurely, but he remembered too well the sight of her in his arms on the steps leading to her apartment. The way her hem had come all the way to the top of her thighs, teasing him with what was still hidden. Had she known his breathing had changed because of that and not exertion?
“Here,” he said, spreading the comforter over her legs. “Let’s get that ankle elevated.” He flipped back the cover so only the bottom of one leg was bared. “And I need to change your ice pack.”
“I can do that.”
“No, you just relax. There’s a TV in that armoire. It’s got cable. I have lots of books and I’m sure I can pick up any I don’t have in my library.” He took off the ice pack and put the pillow under her foot. The swelling looked about the same, thanks to the ice, but tomorrow the ankle would really blossom. “I don’t have anything to eat in the house, so I’m going shopping. What can I pick up for you?”
She put the water bottle on the bedside table and didn’t look back at him for a while. “I don’t need much. Mac and cheese would be good. You know, the blue box? And maybe some noodle soup?”
“I guess you weren’t kidding about being a starving student. We can do better than that.”
She pulled the comforter up over her waist. “Actually, those are the opposite of foods I regularly eat. Being a dancer means mostly I eat vegetables. Fish. Some fruit. Basically, nothing fun.”
“Mac and cheese is fun?”
“It’s comforting.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed, not wanting to disturb her leg, but this was better. Willow was more relaxed, which meant he could relax. At least for now. “You sure you want the blue box, huh? There’s a restaurant a couple blocks from here that makes great noodles. I think I have a menu in the kitchen. And they deliver.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
He handed her the notepad and pen. “Write down everything you want. I mean it. I have nothing here. Soda, tea, coffee, milk, whatever. You might as well get what you like. I’m going to get another ice bag.”
She nodded. As he walked away, he wondered if it was a good idea to leave so soon. The nervous energy was leaving her and she was going to crash. He’d seen enough patients to know the pattern, and letting her sleep uninterrupted would be the best thing for her. But he didn’t know Willow. Maybe she’d get frightened, or be too upset to conk out. His instincts leaned toward letting her be while he shopped. He’d give her his cell number and make sure she knew she could call him.
Once back in the kitchen he traded ice packs, then stopped to check his voice mail. Of course Andy had called. Flynn dialed him as he put together a pot of coffee. He wasn’t going to turn the thing on until he was back from shopping and by then he’d have milk.
“Where the hell are you?” His old college buddy and fellow resident was as direct as ever.
“Take three guesses.”
Andy gave him the usual lecture about needing breaks and not being such a sap.
“It’s complicated. Anyway, it means less competition for you.”
And then came the Overachievers Burn Out Young Speech. Eventually, things got quieter on the phone and Flynn gave his friend the digest version of his day. Of course, that led to many, many sound reasons he was insane for asking a stranger into his home, and a chick at that.
“It was my fault. She can’t work for weeks. What was I supposed to do, have the cab slow down near the hospital and shove her out the back door?”
“You’re paying her medical expenses. Jeez, what else could she hope for?”
“An attorney could think of quite a few things, I’d imagine.”
Andy sighed. “Is she hot at least?”
“She’s a patient.”
“So? Is she?”
It was Flynn’s turn to sigh. “Yes, dammit, she is hot. But she can’t do anything but keep her leg on a pillow. She’s hurt. Nothing’s going to happen.”
“My man, it’s New Year’s Eve. I don’t care if she’s in a complete body cast, if you can’t get some tonight, you’re out of the club. Forever.”
“I was never in the club.”
“And this,” Andy said, “is why.”
“Go find a cold woman with a dark heart and leave me my dignity.”
“Dignity be damned, man. You haven’t been laid in months.”
“Thanks for announcing that to the mountain.”
“I’m in the lodge. Hold on.”
Flynn heard more chatter as Andy did something with the phone. Then, from a slight distance, “I’m talking to Flynn Bradshaw, M.D. He hasn’t been laid in months. Just so y’all know.”
Andy came back on, and Flynn could practically see his gloating grin. “Okay, then. My work is done. The woman is hot, you fool. Don’t screw it up.”
A click, and it was just Flynn and an ice pack and a hot stranger in his guest room.
5
WILLOW WISHED SHE’D CHANGED clothes before getting on the bed. Tiredness had swooped in like a wraith and stolen not only her energy, but her swagger, leaving her feeling awkward as hell.
She clearly hadn’t thought things through.The notepad was still empty. Charity, it turned out, didn’t fit well. She didn’t mind him paying for the medical things, but him buying her food? Him actually nursing her? Him in general? Too much. Too scary. Too intimate.
There wasn’t really any fear fear. The scary part was that she was in his home, in his bed. Not where he slept, sure, but he did own the actual bed. Okay, that wasn’t the scary part. Uncomfortable, yes, but not technically scary. The scary was that she liked him.
He was nice. And he’d cancelled his vacation. In spite of his excellent ass and being handsome, he was more than a decent guy. He was pretty terrific.
She wasn’t used to more than decent. In her experience, the guys she liked the best tended to be gay. The men she dated—Greg, for example—hadn’t been stellar. High school had been filled with a series of popular kids as she’d been more concerned with fitting in than fitting well. College had been Matt, the sax player. He’d been okay, just not very attentive unless sex was on the menu. Then came New York and actors. Whoa, talk about a learning curve. Turns out she wasn’t a great sycophant. Who knew? So the auditions, the classes, the occasional hookup with a friend of a friend. The major lesson being that she needed to take care of herself.
Then this. Him. It was disorienting, to say the least.
He walked into the room carrying another ice pack. He seemed kind of dazed.
“Flynn?”
He sat down at the foot of the bed. “Yeah?”
“This is weird.”
“What?”
“Being here. I can tell you’re as uncomfortable as I am. We need to rethink this.”
“I’m not uncomfortable,” he said as he avoided her gaze. “I’m sorry you are.”
“Want to try that again?”
“Okay, it’s different.” He flipped back the comforter and pointedly looked at her ankle. “I don’t see an alternative, at least for now.”
“I can go home
.”
“Nope. However weird this feels, it will be a lot worse if I let you do that.”
“Noble, but unnecessary. I’ll make do.”
He put the ice pack back, circling her ankle, Velcro-strapping it in place. His hands were cold, but he was careful, gentle. When he put her foot down on the pillow, his palm brushed over her foot before he covered her leg. The gesture was sweet. Almost like a kiss to make it better.
He met her gaze this time, his face more relaxed. “Let’s see how we feel tomorrow. For tonight, just think of this as a hotel room. Fill out your meal request and I’ll get you the remote for the TV. Sleep. Heal. Bring in the New Year as well rested as possible. That’s what I plan to do.”
“One night. Then we regroup.”
“Yep.”
She could do that. “Then do me a favor.” She held out the pad and paper. “I don’t care what you get. I’ll eat almost anything. Just no eggplant. Or cilantro.”
His laugh sounded great, all relaxed and easy. “Nothing special?”
“Does this store have a bakery?”
“No, but the bakery next door to it does.”
Her own smile was easy, too. Tired, though. “If that bakery had a chocolate éclair, that would be amazingly great.”
“Ah. Pastry. Good choice.”
“Not just any pastry.” She held out her hand. Flynn took it, and she pulled herself forward so she could fix the pillow behind her head. When it felt right, she let go of him.
He didn’t let go of her.
“What?” she asked, not at all sure how to read his current expression.
“You don’t want to sleep in your dress.”
Eyes widening, all she could think to say was, “Probably not.”
He let go of her hand. “I just meant if you need any help before I leave…”
“Yeah, sure. I mean, if you could bring my duffel bag, I could get out my, you know…”
“Right.”
A moment later, the big green bag was on the bed next to her. She turned to grab her nightgown, but it was awkward and she winced as her foot slipped off the pillow.
“Easy.” Flynn grabbed her right wrist and eased her back to her sitting position. Then he straightened out her leg and the comforter. “Now, let me help you.” He walked around the bed and dove into the duffel bag as if it contained presents.
“Bathroom, right?” He held up her makeup bag and her toothbrush case.
A nod, and he was gone into the connecting room. She hadn’t seen inside it before and ducked her head for a look. It was as decked out as the rest of the house. She also realized she needed to get acquainted with the facilities.
He was back in a flash. “What else goes in there?”
“Uh, me.”
“We can arrange that.”
She grinned at the fact that while he sounded like it was no big deal at all, his darting eyes told the real story. “Just help me on to the crutches. I can take it from there.”
He hustled to get her squared away, and she decided she’d consider this pampering—going along with the whole hotel metaphor. He was her Jeeves. She’d always wanted one. As she closed the door behind her, she wondered if he’d be willing to speak with a British accent. Just for tonight, of course.
It took a little more time than she was used to, but she managed to take care of business without breaking any bones or porcelain tchotchkes, of which there were many, including a tissue dispenser, a soap thingie, a dish that held cotton balls and another that held potpourri. Even the sink was porcelain. It reminded her of her grandmother, although thankfully nothing was painted with little hearts and flowers.
A gentle tap on the door almost made her lose her footing, but the counter came to the rescue. “Yes?”
“I have your nightgown here,” he said. “I thought you might like to change while I’m still around, just in case.”
“Oh, good idea. Hold on.” She hopped the two steps to the door and opened it a crack. The nightgown appeared and her hand stilled inches from grabbing it.
It wasn’t the nightgown she would have chosen. She had a flannel thing that was old and ugly and had a tear along the hem.
This one was definitely not flannel. It was red. Silk. Short. See-through.
“Is something wrong?”
He sounded innocent. But even he had to know this was a nightgown for sex, not sleeping. It was that damn comment she’d made earlier. That and the way she’d ogled.
The question was, did she mind? She’d gone back and forth so many times today she barely knew which end was up. There was no way she was going to make a sex decision while she was this wiped out.
“Willow?”
“No, nothing’s wrong. Did you happen to bring my robe with you?”
“I’ll go get it.”
Problem solved, at least for the moment.
He was back in a sec with both garments. She ended up doing most of her undressing and dressing from a seated position, but finally she was safely tucked in her robe and ready for sleep.
She opened the door to find the bed turned down, her duffel bag put away, the TV remote next to her water and the foot pillow under the covers. Flynn stood near the armoire looking pleased with himself.
“Nicely played, Dr. Bradshaw.”
“The Bradshaw Inn strives to meet all our guests’ needs.”
She used the crutches to cross to the bed. “Well, that’ll have to wait till I get some sleep.” Now that she was at the bed, she wasn’t sure if she should take off the robe or wait for him to leave.
She turned to look at him, surprised to see him gaping at her. Cheeks flushed, right eyebrow crooked so high it almost met his hairline.
Then it hit her. What she’d said. Shit.
Putting on her most casual smile, she said, “You know, I’m good. I’ve got everything under control here, so hey, you go do what you need to and don’t even think about…anything. And, um, could you make that two éclairs? No, three. No, two. Two is enough. More than enough. Two éclairs is a huge amount of…”
“Yeah. Two it is. Get some rest and I’ll…”
She turned her back and winced until she heard him close the door. After counting to ten to make sure he’d really gone, she got out of her robe, made it under the covers and nearly wept with the effort it took to get her stupid leg up on the pillow.
All she needed was sleep. Sleep and a time machine. She closed her eyes, knowing she’d never sleep now. Dammit.
FLYNN PUT DOWN the two big bags of groceries he’d picked up at the corner market and took a number from the dispensing machine on the bakery counter. He’d dawdled while shopping, debating his moves upon returning to the house.
On the one hand, Andy was right. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman. Hell, it had been a long time since he’d been with his good pal Lefty. Work had swallowed him whole, making him a very dull boy, indeed. Which he’d expected. He’d decided on surgery as his career with the full understanding it would mean putting his life on hold. Still, Willow was someone he’d have pursued if he’d had the time, if they’d met under different circumstances. And that scenario could have involved sex as a jumping-off point.The fact that she was thinking along similar lines was a major plus.
On the other hand, she had a bad sprain, which he’d caused. She’d been exhausted, so nothing she’d said could mean anything, not really.
On the other-other hand, she was hot, she was nice and it was New Year’s Eve.
His number was called and he turned to the harried woman behind the counter. “You have éclairs?”
“Yes,” she said, and while her voice was steady and almost cheerful, her eyes begged him to hurry and go.
“I’ll take a dozen,” he said, throwing caution to the wind. “And a loaf of French bread.”
The woman went off to box and bag and he laughed at his own stupidity. A dozen? Compensating much? Ah, who cared. It was pastry. He’d already splurged on champagne. Along with milk
and eggs and other necessities, he’d picked up some good soft cheese and an assortment of fruit. Even if Willow slept until tomorrow, he’d treat himself to some goodies. This was his holiday, too. He wouldn’t miss having sex so much if he was drunk and full.
The woman returned and he paid her in cash. He wished her a happy New Year, then headed back down the street, watching all the other pedestrians hurrying to get home, to get to parties, to get laid, to finish off the year with something that was special, something different. Maybe even to mark a new beginning, as well as a solid farewell.
An arbitrary date on an arbitrary calendar, but people gave it meaning. For him, it was another year of his residency under his belt. Another step taken toward his ultimate goal. No, make that career goal. His ultimate objective was a full, well-rounded life. A healthy marriage. A practice, sure, but one with reasonable hours and time for any kids that might come along. Flynn would be a good surgeon, perhaps even a great one. But not at the cost of his soul.
6
FLYNN LISTENED AT THE guest room door, unsure whether to knock or peek in to check on Willow. She needed to sleep and the siren’s call of a nap tugged at him all the harder for thinking of it. He turned the knob and inched open the door until he could see the bed.
Ah, success. She had sacked out, and very prettily at that. Her right hand shared her pillow, curled in a loose fist, next to her jaw. That lovely, honey hair had spread around her peaceful face, and she looked so comfortable he was tempted to join her under the covers.Instead, he quietly closed the door and returned to the kitchen to put away the groceries. First up was to refrigerate the champagne along with the pastries. He didn’t even glance at the coffee, knowing he needed at least an hour of decaffeinated rest. Once everything was in order, he made the trek upstairs to his bedroom. His suitcase was still on the bed, ready for takeoff.
Without removing a single item, he tossed the suitcase on the floor and fell on the mattress like a dead thing. He had a moment to think of the woman downstairs, but only a moment.
