Dare

by Glenna Sinclair

  “If I go out with you, just once, will you leave me alone?”

  “I can’t make promises.”

  She groaned…but the groan ended in a soft giggle.

  “Okay. One date. But I’m not making promises, either.”

  ***

  I ran up to the nurses’ station the moment I got off the elevator, a little breathless as I slammed my hands on the counter to get their attention.

  “Harley Alistair?”

  “Are you Mr. Boggs?”

  I nodded, watching the short, overweight nurse come toward me.

  “If you’ll follow me,” she said, gesturing over her shoulder, as she pushed through the little gate that blocked the area behind the desk from unauthorized access. She walked slowly down the hall before she stopped and gestured for me to enter a door on the left. I thought it would be a patient room, that Harley would be lying in a bed, a little bruised but basically okay, annoyed with all the fuss being made over her. But it wasn’t. It was a small break room with hulking vending machines overshadowing the small table set in the center.

  “What’s going on?” I demanded the moment the nurse joined me in the little room and closed the door.

  “As I said on the phone, the accident was quite serious.”

  “Where’s Harley?”

  The nurse pressed her lips together and gestured toward the table, making it clear that she wasn’t going to tell me what I wanted to know until I calmed a little. I took a deep breath, trying to remind myself that this woman was in control here, not me. But it was a difficult thing to concede.

  I took a seat, crossing my legs and locking my fingers together in my lap. She sat, too, sighing as she flexed her feet in their clunky white nurse’s shoes.

  “Ms. Alistair was brought into the ER via ambulance about three hours ago. The paramedics said that she was jogging on Third Street when a car apparently veered out of control and hit her. She was unconscious when they arrived.”

  I stared down at my hands, anger and fear and hatred and a million different emotions I couldn’t even begin to decipher filling my chest. I didn’t look up, didn’t speak. I was afraid if I did, I would say something I shouldn’t and this nurse would have me escorted out by security. I needed to see Harley. I needed to know she was okay.

  “Ms. Alistair has a broken leg, three cracked ribs, and a dislocated shoulder. There are also many cuts and bruises, but the injury that doctors are most concerned with is the head injury.”

  “Head injury?”

  “It appears that Ms. Alistair was pushed forward by the impact of the car and landed head first against some sort of object. The paramedics thought it was likely a tree or a fence post.”

  The image that conjured in my mind was horrific. Again, I bit my lip to keep from speaking because I was afraid what I had to say was not appropriate.

  But, what the hell? What kind of paramedics couldn’t determine…but then, that wasn’t really important right now, was it?

  “CAT scans show that she has what is called a subdural hematoma. What it is, essentially, is bleeding on the brain.”

  My heart sank. That didn’t sound good.

  “The doctors are with her now, trying to determine a course of action. As soon as they are available, I’ll send them in to speak to you.”

  The nurse stood with a heavy sigh.

  “Wait,” I said, leaning forward with the intention of snagging hold of the bottom edge of her sweater. However, I stopped myself just in time, instead resting my hands on my knees.

  She turned and regarded me; the hard, no-nonsense expression she’d maintained from the moment I got her attention softened just slightly. She touched my shoulder ever so lightly and said, “I know it seems overwhelming at the moment, Mr. Boggs, but you should be assured that she is in the best of hands.”

  She smiled softly, then walked away, closing the door with barely a sound. I stood and began pacing the small room, barely able to take two steps before I was forced to turn around again.

  What would I do if Harley didn’t make it through this?

  ***

  “You look absolutely amazing.”

  “You’re just saying that.”

  I let my eyes move slowly over her, lingering here and there as my eyes settled on things that were particularly fascinating to me.

  “No,” I said, letting the word drag as it slipped from my lips. “You are pretty amazing.”

  She laughed, tossing a soiled napkin at me.

  She was wearing more paint than she was clothing. She was in her art studio, and the time had gotten away from her as she worked on a new project. While I was standing there in a dark suit that cost more than I cared to admit, she was dressed in denim shorts and a thin little tank top, both of which were covered in splatters of paint, as were her arms and legs. I think there was even a splash of sunny yellow paint in her hair.

  “It’ll only take me a few minutes to shower,” she said, brushing past me as she rushed up the little path that led to the back door of her house. “You can wait in the living room. There’s tea in the fridge.”

  “Sweet tea, I assume.”

  “Of course. Is there any other kind?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at me, laughter written in every angle of that amazing face. I could have just stood there and stared at her all day.

  “Do you want company in the shower? I could scrub your back.”

  “I think I can handle it.”

  “Are you sure? It looks like you rolled in the paint.”

  She looked down at herself as though she’d only just realized how much paint had adhered to her body. A slight blush colored her cheeks, bringing out the natural bronze of her skin in a most alluring way. And then she shook her head, brushing off the embarrassment that inspired that blush.

  “I’ll be down in a minute.”

  She disappeared up the narrow staircase. I watched her go, finding it a real struggle to keep from chasing after her. Instinct told me that I didn’t want to rush things with her. Harley was different from any other woman I’d ever been with. I didn’t want to screw things up before they’d even begun. So I was a good boy, sitting on her overstuffed couch, looking through an art magazine that didn’t interest me in the slightest. But it was well worth it when she returned nearly forty minutes later, her curves highlighted by a simple but elegant black dress.

  I would never forget how beautiful she looked in that moment, the black a perfect contrast to her light hair and freshly scrubbed bronze skin.

  ***

  “Mr. Boggs?”

  A short, handsome man came into the room a good hour later, his lab coat announcing that he was a doctor. I crossed the room in three steps and took his proffered hand.

  “I’m Dr. Caliendo. I’m a neurologist on staff here at Cedars.”

  “You’re treating Harley.”

  “I am.”

  Dr. Caliendo gestured toward the table. Once again, I took a seat, waiting impatiently for him to explain what the hell was going on. He sat, too, taping his fingers against the frame of the iPad he was holding.

  “As I’m sure Nurse Franklin told you, Harley has multiple injuries from the accident. The most concerning is the head injury. Her skull has several fractures. Those fractures have caused a hematoma, or a bleed, on her brain. This is causing pressure within her skull.” He paused, studying me as though he were trying to measure how much I was comprehending. Apparently satisfied, he continued, “We’ve placed Harley in a drug-induced coma to allow her brain to rest while it heals. We’ll monitor the swelling for the next twenty-four hours before determining our next step.”

  “And what would the next step be?”

  Dr. Caliendo shrugged. “It depends. If the swelling doesn’t increase, then we’ll simply continue to monitor her. If it does increase, and increases significantly, we will have to take her to the OR and see if we can repair the hematoma surgically.”

  I nodded, my thoughts whirling. If they had to opera
te, what would that mean for Harley?

  “At this point,” Dr. Caliendo continued, “it’s touch and go. We really just need to wait and see what happens.”

  “Will she recover?”

  Dr. Caliendo hesitated and that—all on its own—sent shivers of fear through me.

  “We’ll just have to wait and see,” he repeated.

  Chapter 2

  Xander

  They let me see her after I spoke to the doctor. Nurse Franklin came and led the way down the hall to a room situated just a few feet from the nurses’ station. She touched the door, then turned to look at me.

  “She’s got a cast on her right leg and bandages on her arms. There’s an IV and a heart monitor that’s attached to a machine that’s set to notify us if her heart rate changes.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  “And her head is wrapped in bandages. Her eyes are bruised, and there is a significant amount of swelling to her face.” She touched my arm lightly. “She won’t be recognizable.”

  “I’ll know her.”

  I’d know Harley anywhere.

  ***

  “You know absolutely nothing about me.”

  “I know you’re an amazing artist.”

  “You use that word a lot.”

  “What word?”

  “Amazing.”

  “Only with you.”

  She glanced back at me as she picked up the pace, disappearing around the corner of a tall, brick building. I followed, but she was gone. Just vanished. I stopped and turned in a circle, trying to figure out where she could have gone. And then I spotted the door.

  It was one of those doors tucked into the side of the building at the base of a thin set of stairs. I started to descend the steps, convinced that someone would appear and tell me I was trespassing. But when I stepped through the door—and my vision adjusted to the dim light—I realized it was some sort of underground nightclub.

  It was crowded. There was a long bar along the back wall that was four deep and a dance floor that was barely big enough for its occupants to move. They were packed in like sardines, allowing for lovers to make the most of public affection, but not doing much for those without a suitable mate.

  Despite the crowd, despite the noise and the dim light and the sense of claustrophobia that was beginning to overtake me, I spotted her in the center of the dance floor. She was moving to the music, shaking those incredible hips and running her hands over her own body, her eyes closed as she let the rhythm overcome her. It had to have been the most erotic sight I’d ever had the pleasure of viewing. I just stood there and watched, sliding my hands into the pockets of my pants to avoid a little public humiliation.

  I think it was in that moment that I knew she was the only woman I would ever desire for the rest of my life.

  ***

  “They cut her hair.”

  “It was necessary to repair the laceration.”

  “Laceration?”

  “There’s a five-inch gash that goes from just past her hairline to behind her left ear.”

  I nodded as I walked slowly to the hospital bed that held the woman I loved.

  Just as the nurse had warned, her eyes were swollen and blackened, her cheeks were puffy, and her lips were three times their usual size. She was wearing one of those gaudy hospital gowns that no one likes, but it was just draped over one shoulder to allow access to the many wires and tubes that snaked underneath. Her right arm was covered in bandages and immobilized by a sling. Her right leg was covered in plaster from her ankle to mid-thigh. Where she wasn’t bruised, she was so pale that the natural bronze of her skin was just a distant memory.

  This wasn’t my Harley. My Harley was vibrant and beautiful. This was just a shell of that.

  It killed me to look at her in this state. But I bent and kissed her forehead lightly, the familiar scent of her shampoo just barely recognizable under the hospital scents that radiated from all around her.

  “I’m here, babe,” I said.

  “If you need anything,” Nurse Franklin said, “just ask.”

  I nodded without moving my eyes from Harley. I heard the door close as I settled in the chair beside the bed. I took her hand in mine and sat back to wait for her to wake up.

  ***

  “Do you dance?”

  “It depends on what kind of dancing you’re talking about.”

  Harley smiled as she took my hand. “The kind where you keep your clothes on.”

  “Oh. The boring kind.”

  She laughed, the sound so much better than the pounding bass beat that was threatening to give me a headache. And then she was in my arms, pressing her body against mine as she moved in a decidedly cruel shimmy. I slid my arms over her back, cradling her gently so as not to scare her away with my eagerness. But that didn’t seem to be enough for her. She moved closer, a teasing light coming into her eyes as she brushed her lower belly against the evidence that I was enjoying her closeness.

  “You do like to dance.”

  “With the right partner.”

  “Do I make the cut?”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  I grabbed her hand and pushed her away from me, then turned her into a spin, catching her against my chest before she could trip and fall into the guy doing something like a jig next to us. She laughed as she caught herself, moving closer to me than she’d been before, if that was even possible.

  “You’re a tease,” she said softly.

  “I don’t know who’s teasing whom.”

  “I’m not a tease. I’m quite blunt with my intentions.”

  She slid her hand up my chest to my jaw, then rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips softly to mine. I sighed, as I slid my hand around her neck and pulled her closer, a little surprised that she was the first to part her lips just slightly, the first to deepen what began as a chaste little kiss. I was usually the aggressor, the one who was unafraid to take things as far as they could go. But Harley needed to be in control. At least, she needed to feel as though she were in control. And I was most willing to let her have that.

  It was our first kiss. The first of many.

  ***

  “How is she?”

  I glanced at the electronic monitor that showed Harley’s steady heartbeat.

  “Stable. I think.”

  “Wow.” I could hear Jonnie shuffling papers on the other end of the line. “Is there someone I can call? What about her parents? Her brother?”

  “Not yet. I want to have something positive to tell them.”

  “You don’t think they should know now?”

  “There’s no reason to upset them until there’s something to upset them about. The doctors don’t even know what’s going to happen in the next twenty-four hours. I’d hate to get her parents on a plane if it turns out she’s going to be home, safe and sound, by the time they get here.”

  Jonnie was quiet for a long minute. “Okay,” she finally said. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “No. Just keep things running smoothly at the office. I’ll stay in touch.”

  “Okay. Tell Harley we’re all rooting for her.”

  I disconnected the call and stared at my contacts list, wondering if I should call Margaret. I probably should. She would be worried when Harley didn’t show up for work tomorrow. But then she would want to be here, and I wasn’t sure I could do that. I wasn’t sure Harley would want that.

  I knew Harley wouldn’t want that.

  I set the phone on the side table and rested my elbows on the edge of the bed, Harley’s hand caught between both of mine. I pressed my mouth against her palm.

  “I love you, Harley.”

  ***

  “What do you want out of life?”

  I laughed. It seemed like such a college career assessment kind of question that I wasn’t sure she was serious at first.

  She set the cup of coffee she’d been blowing on down very carefully, her fingers playing along the edge of the rim.

&n
bsp; “I’m just curious if you’re the kind of guy with commitment issues or not.”

  “Are we talking commitment already? This is only the first date.”

  “Yes, well, first implies more to come.”

  “I hope so.”

  I sat back and studied her across the table. We’d left the club and wandered into this little diner that was quiet now, but would probably be overrun with drunks and rowdy college kids as soon as the bars closed. She ordered coffee in a proper cup with a saucer while I picked at the flaky crust of a piece of apple pie.

  “What about you?” I asked. “We’ve been so focused on my playboy ways, but you’ve never mentioned anything about your dating history.”

  “It’s not like you’ve actually admitted to a dating history, either.”

  “I do have a history. But most people do, don’t they?”

  “Most.”

  “So, how about a game of I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.”

  She smiled slowly. “And I guess I get to go first.”

  “Of course. Ladies first.”

  She studied her mug of coffee for a long minute. “Okay,” she said on a sigh. “My dating history. Well…” A blush burned over her cheeks. “There’s really not that much to tell. I grew up in a very small town where there were maybe three eligible boys to date. Needless to say, none of them really struck up much interest for me. And then I came to the big city for college.” She kind of gestured toward the windows, drawing my attention to the darkened campus of the University of Texas at Austin that began across the street.

  “And there you met the guy who broke your heart.”

  “There I met many guys who had the potential to break my heart.” She smiled softly, as though remembering something somewhat amusing. “But, yes, I met that one guy.”

  “What was his name?”

  “Philip.”

  “Very mundane.”

  She looked up, surprised amusement again making those big, green eyes even bigger. “Not everyone can have a name as exotic sounding as yours.”