Husband: Some Assembly Required

by Marie Ferrarella

  With any luck, Shawna thought, she’d have a dreamless night. A swift shaft of pain pierced her soul as she recalled the last dream she’d had. They were theme and variations of the same thing.

  She sighed, pushing it all out of her mind. Taking the brand-new chart from the holder on the door, she didn’t look at the name as she turned the knob and walked into examination room number three.

  And saw her new patient sitting there.

  Murphy.

  He turned and smiled at her. “You said you could squeeze me in.”

  Chapter Three

  Feeling an uncustomary flutter of nerves that had its roots in the girl she had once been more than a decade ago, Shawna dropped her eyes to the folder she held in her hand. Mechanically she glanced at the name written across the tab on the file before opening it.

  There were only two sheets in it. Her assistant’s notations were on the right. Neatly clipped to the left leaf was a patient history Murphy had filled out not fifteen minutes ago.

  It looked, Shawna thought, particularly sparse. There wasn’t anything in the space reserved for the name of his family physician. A host of ailments had been left blank or checked “no.” Either Murphy Pendleton had a phobia about going to doctors or he was incredibly healthy.

  Shawna mused that it was probably a combination of both. Except for the bandage on his temple, he certainly looked healthy. Almost too healthy, if there was such a thing.

  She closed the folder and held it against her chest as she crossed to Murphy. Her heels gave off a rhythmic cadence as they hit the highly polished wooden floor. “I must say that you surprise me.”

  The lady looked even more attractive now than when he had first seen her in the emergency room, Murphy mused, successfully burying his restlessness about being here. Yes, a great deal more attractive. And just a tad defensive, he noted. Or was that his imagination?

  “Why?” The grin came easily to his lips as he tried to make himself comfortable in the padded chair. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

  “But you have.” Shawna saw his brow quirk slightly above eyes the color of particularly exquisite turquoise jewelry. It took effort to keep her gaze steady, linked to his and still remain free of the almost hypnotic effect they had. “You came in much sooner than I thought you would.” She would have easily bet that she would never see him again.

  His amusement deepened the curve of his mouth. Shawna summoned an expression of professional concern to mask any extraneous thoughts she might have in reaction to it. It was best to get down to the business at hand as quickly as possible. Judging by his lack of patient history, he wasn’t the type of man who entered a physician’s office casually or often. He had to be deeply motivated.

  She looked intently into his eyes, searching for signs. “Has the pain increased?”

  It had, for a short time, right before he’d made the call. But now that it had receded he felt almost emasculated admitting the momentary panic when a cloudy curtain had descended over his left eye.

  “No. Actually, except for one small incident, if anything it’s probably gotten a little better.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she picked up the nuance in his voice. “Probably?”

  He lifted a shoulder and let it fall carelessly. She was looking at him as if he were something squirming beneath a microscope. “I’m not paying strict attention to it.”

  Shawna was having a difficult time following him. Her hectic pace, she thought, was catching up to her and muddying up her mind. “And why is that?”

  Her eyes looked like bright blue pebbles lying at the bottom of a very shallow spring with the morning sun shining on them. He vaguely recalled that she’d worn nondescript glasses in high school. Or had that been someone else? “Well, I’ve been busy...”

  He didn’t strike her as a workaholic, but she had been wrong before. “As I remember, you were supposed to take it easy.”

  Murphy held up his hand. “Before you castigate me, there was no physical labor involved.” He saw a line of impatience deepen between her eyes. Despite her calm exterior, if he didn’t miss his guess, the lady took life a little too seriously. “I was busy racking my brain, trying to remember who you were.”

  So he did recognize her. Well, there was nothing to be gained by a stroll down memory lane. “The ophthalmologist who examined you in the emergency room.”

  She didn’t remember him, he guessed, which probably was to be expected. Twelve years was a long time. “Before that,” he prompted.

  She didn’t want to discuss the past. Her life was here and now and she preferred it that way.

  “Before that, I was who I am now.” She squared her shoulders stubbornly. “A slightly harried doctor who has a very busy schedule, so let’s get on with this, shall we?”

  If he didn’t know any better, he would have said that she was deliberately shying away from him. “Your nurse told me I was the last patient of the day.”

  Shawna flipped open his folder again. There were a few notations on the snow white page Jeanne had clipped in. Her assistant had done a preliminary visual fields test on him.

  “She’s my assistant,” Shawna corrected. “And when did she tell you that?” She asked the question casually without looking up.

  The room was small, windowless and as cozy as a room could be with an army of lenses sequestered in neat rows along a small wooden cubby on the left and an assortment of instruments used to probe the accuracy of a patient’s vision on the right.

  She looked so terribly solemn, he thought, studying her expression. She was also taking an inordinate amount of time looking at a few scribbles. “In between the third and fourth row of letters on the eye chart.”

  Shawna ran her fingertip along the last line of writing. “Speaking of which, you have twenty-twenty vision in your right eye.” She looked up at him. “You didn’t score as well with your other eye.”

  He shrugged. She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t know, but he had every confidence that it would clear up soon. “I’ll study harder for the exam next time.”

  Shawna dropped the folder onto the small side table as she sat down on the three-legged stool. He was obviously reluctant to discuss his problem. But if that was the case, then what was he doing here? This was certainly a great length to go to for a flirtation.

  She was misreading the signs, she told herself, and tried again. Taking a breath, she studied his face for a moment. “You didn’t get the test I prescribed, did you?”

  He had toyed with the idea for a moment, then dismissed it. It had been a bump on the head, nothing more. No reason to panic and overreact. “No.”

  She struggled to curb her impatience. People didn’t realize just how precious eyesight was. And how quickly and easily it could be lost. “Do you plan to?”

  He could smell a lecture coming on. “If I have to.”

  Shawna counseled herself to retreat. She wasn’t responsible for everyone. What this man did was his own business. She could only advise him.

  “Meaning?” Shawna leaned back to adjust the dimmer.

  Shadows took over the room, swallowing up the light. The projection of the eye chart on the back wall became more visible again. He’d been in the darkened room with Shawna’s assistant a few minutes ago, yet it seemed somehow far more intriguing being in the semidark with the very serious Dr. Saunders.

  It took a beat to unscramble his thoughts. “Meaning that if it gets worse, I will.”

  Shawna paused and pressed her lips together. “Worse. That means it’s not good now.”

  He was a lawyer. Words were his stock-in-trade. He knew the value of weighing them and the penalty of carelessly misusing them. He frowned at his own error. “That means I have a headache and a slight blurriness of vision, which, under the circumstances, I believe you would say was warranted.”

  The man had a silver tongue, which undoubtedly served him well in court. And in the bedroom. But she was too busy for games. Shawna crossed her arms before her, mom
entarily abandoning the tools of her trade. “Then why are you here?”

  It was easy enough to fall back on the excuse he’d given himself. He’d come to see her. If the woman who had caught his attention also happened to be a doctor and could say a few words to assuage the slight unease he felt about his condition, so much the better. But first and foremost, she was an attractive woman who had definitely aroused his interest. That was what had brought him here.

  Murphy leaned forward. “I wanted to find out if I was right about who you are.”

  She wasn’t buying his reasons. Perhaps a remote part of her was leery of buying it. “And that’s all?”

  No, but that was all he’d admit to at the moment. Leaning back in the padded examination chair, he linked his fingers before him and studied her face. He attempted to relate the woman before him to the girl she’d been and couldn’t quite succeed. Still, Thomas wasn’t usually wrong and there was a faint, nagging memory in his mind, as well.

  “That’s all,” he assured her. “So, are you Shawna Rowen?”

  There was no point in denying the truth. He could find out easily enough if he really wanted to, although why he would want to bother didn’t seem logical to her. It wasn’t as if they had dated, or for that matter had even been friends back then.

  “Yes.”

  He grinned. Score one for Thomas. “You don’t remember me, do you?” He thought it prudent to refrain from mentioning that he didn’t exactly remember her, either. At least, not vividly.

  “Oh, yes, I do.” He might want to play games, but if he was going to sit here in her chair, she was going to go through at least a minimal exam. If nothing else, it would satisfy her own concerns.

  Shawna swung the arm of Murphy’s chair forward, bringing around a small examining device that looked like a cross between a head brace for people who’d broken their necks and a miniature guillotine.

  “Rest your chin here.” She indicated the small, tissue-covered chin rest. “And lean your forehead here.” Shawna tapped the horizontal metal bar above it. It amused her that there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “Don’t worry, it’s not lethal.”

  Following her instructions, Murphy leaned forward. He didn’t much care for the sensation sitting here like this generated within him. He felt like a prisoner looking through bars. “I don’t like not feeling in control.”

  “Not many of us do.” There was a shade more feeling in her voice than she had intended. To Shawna, control was everything. And fate enjoyed stepping in every so often to taunt her with the knowledge that it held all the cards and she none.

  Shawna realized that Murphy was looking at her oddly. She shook off the feeling that was threatening to take hold of her and reached for the ophthalmoscope.

  “Look straight ahead,” she instructed as she shone the blue-and-white light into his left eye.

  Murphy strained to keep his eye open as lights seemed to burst upon him. “What did you mean by that?”

  “Look straight ahead? I rather thought it was self-explanatory.” She switched positions, peering into the other eye. “Look straight ahead with the other eye, please.”

  He tried not to blink, but it was damn hard. Murphy could feel his eyes begin to tear. “No, when you said you remembered me.”

  Shawna peered intently. Everything looked fine, yet instincts nagged at her, contradicting what she saw. “That I remembered you.”

  No, there was more to it than that, he thought. “You said it with a bit more feeling, as if you knew something about me that wasn’t entirely flattering.” He’d searched his mind for any encounters that they might have had and had drawn the proverbial blank.

  She wanted him to have that test, but doubted if she could bully him into it. With a sigh she shut off the beam and leaned back. A hint of a smile curved her mouth as she allowed herself to think back to when life was, if not simple, at least less complex.

  “Flattering was probably a good choice of words. As I recall, you were ‘flattered’ by every girl who came your way.”

  She had a nice smile, he thought. Too bad she didn’t show it more often. He winced lightly as she turned the lights back up. The accompanying pain surprised him, but he managed to keep it from registering on his face.

  Murphy raised his hands as if to ward off the accusation. “Innocent until proven guilty.”

  He was flirting with her, she thought. Actually flirting. What man in his right mind would pay for an office visit in order to flirt with his doctor? “Your guilt or innocence is not the question here. I have no interest in your activities as long as they don’t affect your medical condition, which, I might add, is still very much up in the air.”

  He stubbornly clung to the belief that he was all right. The time he’d been tackled by Rod Parnell on the football field in his junior year in college and had had the wind knocked out of him, he’d seen two of everything for more than a day. In comparison, this was a walk in the park.

  Leaning forward again, he summoned his most persuasive smile. “How about dinner tonight?”

  Talk about a fast worker! Shawna thought. But then, he’d had a reputation for that. A ladies’ man who had managed never to antagonize a single girl he’d gone out with in high school. No easy feat, she’d imagine. Still, it didn’t change anything. “I don’t date patients.”

  Murphy nodded. “I can see how that might complicate things. All right, you’re fired.”

  It took Shawna a moment to realize that her mouth was open and nothing was coming out. The world she dealt with, while not usually immersed in life-and-death matters, was still etched in seriousness. She just wasn’t accustomed to Murphy’s sort of laid-back attitude. “Is everything a joke to you?”

  He paused for a moment and his expression became so grave that Shawna almost doubted that he was the same man. “No, injustice isn’t a joke. Destruction isn’t a joke. Hurting someone isn’t a joke.” And then, just as quickly, he smiled again and the twinkle that had glimmered in his eye returned. “But I find that humor sees me through a great many of the rough spots that seem to have a nasty habit of popping up in life.” If he was any judge, the lady could use a little laughter in her own life. Maybe more than a little. “The way I see it, if you can’t laugh, you’re dead.”

  Shawna inclined her head. “An interesting philosophy, but...”

  She was going to say no and he didn’t want her to. Whether it was male pride or something else that pushed him on, he didn’t know. But he did know that he would regret the opportunity lost if he let it slip away.

  “I thought we’d catch up on old times, nothing serious.” His tone was light, as if to underline his assurance.

  Things probably did get serious with Murphy, Shawna mused. For possibly an hour. Or two. But no more than that. She was definitely not in the market for that brand of “seriousness.” She wasn’t in the market for anything at all.

  “We have no old times.” She smiled again, more to herself than to him. She’d been a mouse of a girl back then, given to daydreams and secret hopes in between her studies. “You probably couldn’t even pick me out of the yearbook.”

  “Sure I could.” Then, in case she thought him too cocky, he added, “Everyone’s labeled.”

  His manner had her smiling even though she knew better. All charm, no substance, wasn’t that the way it always was with incredibly good-looking men? Her mother had certainly been through enough of them to teach her that, if nothing else. “You’re very persistent.”

  It came with the territory. “I’m a lawyer.” But he would have been persistent even if he’d been a bricklayer. It was his nature. Persistence covered with a blanket of laissez-faire.

  “And I’m a very tired physician,” she countered. She realized that she hadn’t risen to her feet, even though she’d ceased examining him.

  That wasn’t the reason she was saying no, he thought. If it had been, she would have at least paid lip service to a rain check. But he played along.

  “I promi
se I won’t make you run laps before dinner.” It seemed only natural to take her hand. “I won’t even take you dancing. That way you won’t even have to stand up.”

  She’d bet even money that he did most of his entertaining horizontally. Twelve years ago she would have been tempted. Tempted? If she was being honest with herself, she would have said yes immediately at the first hint of an invitation, and breathlessly so. She’d been shy, awkward and eager then. As introverted as her mother was extroverted.

  But twelve years had passed. And a lifetime with them. Two lifetimes, she amended silently.

  Politely but firmly she extricated her hand. “Sorry, no.”

  Murphy glanced at her hand. Long, slender fingers capped with unpolished nails. And completely without the twinkle of jewelry. “You’re not married.”

  “No.”

  It wasn’t that he couldn’t believe a woman would turn him down. It was that something in her manner suggested her reluctance was for reasons other than taste. “Taken?”

  Yes, she thought, she was. Taken by a memory, but she wasn’t about to explain that to him. Lying was easier. “Yes.”

  He was pretty astute when it came to reading body language and nuances. She wasn’t being honest, not completely. “You know, one of my eyes is a little blurry.” He tapped the folder on the table. “But as your assistant noted, I have perfect vision in the other.”

  “Your point?”

  “You hesitated.”

  “I was taking a breath.” He was crowding her and she didn’t appreciate it. “Counselor, you’re heading for a mistrial here.”

  Shawna reached into her lab coat and took out an almost depleted prescription pad. Without looking at him, she wrote out instructions for the imaging department. Again. With a flourish she tore the paper off and held it out to him. “Now, about your eye. We’d both feel better if you’d have that test done.”

  He took the paper from her. “I don’t know about that, but one of us would feel a great deal better if we could get to know the doctor.”