Chapter Two

 

 

Carlie had just turned off the oven when the doorbell rang. She checked her makeup for the hundredth time five minutes earlier. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she started for the door. Ridiculous. It was ridiculous for her to feel this anxious. Derek Pierce was just... Well, he was just another patient, really. Someone she needed to take care of. Breathing treatments. Rest. Good food. Companionship...

She opened the door, her gaze going to him immediately. He stood beside her Uncle Rick on the front porch, looking none too happy to be here. A black duffle bag dangled beside him, his fingers gripping it tightly.

"Hi," she said, swallowing hard. "Come on in, you two." She smiled brightly, ignoring what she saw in Derek's steady gaze.

"You remember Derek, Carlie?" Rick asked as he followed Derek inside.

"Sure," Carlie said, putting her hand out as Derek did.

"Miss Thomas," Derek said in a low voice as he took her hand.

"How are you, Derek?"

He smiled and her heart almost stopped. Had there ever been a more gorgeous man in her living room? Had there ever been a more gorgeous man on the planet?

His dark eyes were suddenly lit with the warmth of suppressed laughter. No doubt he recognized her attempt at ignoring his bad humor. His hair, now that it was clean, was almost as dark as his eyes. His fingers lingered on hers in a firm handshake. His palm was warm and dry. No sign of nervousness on his part at all. In fact, he seemed at ease completely.

She was sorry he didn't want to be here, because once she'd gotten used to the idea, she'd begun to look forward to having him.

"I'm better than I was the last time I saw you."

She nodded and took a step into the living room as he released her hand. "You were sure lucky."

"Some would say."

Rick grinned. "He's got to start getting out a little bit sooner. He and Kevin both."

Derek smiled at the tease. "Where should I put this?"

"Oh, look at me—standing here talking. Follow me and I'll show you." Carlie turned away, flustered, glad for the chance to hide the rush of pink that she could feel flagging her cheeks. She'd been so mesmerized by him she'd completely forgotten any kind of manners.

She led him down the hallway to the spare bedroom. "Here we go. I hope this will be comfortable for you. It's probably not as big as you're used to, but it has its own bathroom, and—"

"Carlie."

She looked up at him, framed in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the opening. His dark hair was tousled, his eyes drinking her in. "It's fine." He looked past her as he glanced around the room. "It's...nice. And I want to thank you for letting me barge in like this."

"Oh, you're not. I mean—"

He shook his head, his lips curved upward. "I am. And I know it. But Rick was bound and determined to see that I had a keeper. Got some fool notion in his head that I wouldn't do my breathing treatments if left to my own devices." He gave a slight cough.

"Wonder where I got that idea, huh?" Rick's voice drifted to them from the living room. Carlie smiled, picturing him sitting forward in his chair, straining to hear what was being said between Derek and her.

"Let's have dinner. Then, we'll get that breathing treatment out of the way."

Derek set his duffel bag on the bed then shrugged out of his jacket. "Sounds great. Dinner, anyhow," he amended, pulling a wry face.

Carlie laughed. "I'll let you get your stuff unpacked while I finish setting the table. Knowing my uncle, I can't leave the food unguarded for long." She slipped past him and headed back for the kitchen.

****

"Everything okay?" Rick asked.

She nodded. "I'm going to finish setting the table. What will you be drinking tonight?"

"I'll get it. Just water." He patted his stomach. "Trying to get rid of this 'middle-aged' spread.'" He followed her into the kitchen and took some glasses from the cabinet. "Thanks again, Carlie."

She waved a hand at him. "It's fine. I don't like being alone at Christmas, either. At least, I'll have someone to help me put up the decorations. What few I kept." Odd how hollow that statement sounded, even to her own ears. She forced a smile as she carried a bowl of salad to the table. Then she returned for the bottles of dressing.

"Are you putting up a tree this year?" Rick's question sounded just a little too casual.

"Sure." She watched him carefully fill his glass with water. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Christmas Eve is tomorrow night." He glanced at her. "You're gonna have to hurry."

"I'm on vacation this week, remember? I didn't get to have a tree last year. I was working nonstop. The year before, I had that pitiful little artificial thing. Two feet tall. Sat on the dining room table." She rolled her eyes. "It was pathetic."

Rick laughed. "Easy to put up and take down."

Carlie placed the baked chicken breasts on a platter, carrying it to the table. "I know. But this year, I'm going to do it up right. I'm going to buy a real tree. And I'm going to decorate it and leave it up until after New Year's Day."

Rick's expression became serious, and he glanced quickly at the kitchen entry. "Carlie, honey," he said, lowering his voice, "don't be surprised if Derek doesn't share your enthusiasm."

She hadn't thought of that. Rick's words were like a slap in the face. Of course, it was purely understandable after what had happened last year. Maybe... Maybe she shouldn't even have a tree. "Oh...I didn't think."

"Nor should you have." Derek's voice sounded from the doorway. He stood glaring at Rick.

Rick cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I only meant—"

"Look. I know you're just trying to help, Captain. If Carlie wants a tree, she's gonna have one—with my help. I don't want to impose on anyone or change Carlie's holiday plans, and I sure as hell don't want to put a damper on Christmas for her or anyone else."

The room was filled with a tense silence.

"You aren't doing anything of the sort." Carlie resorted to her usual "take-charge-emergency-room-nurse" voice.

Derek's gaze swung to meet hers, and she felt the shock of his inner wounds roar through her. His emotional scars were deep, and, Carlie could see, much more painful than the fractured ribs and raw lungs he'd suffered on the job. The agony that flared in his midnight-dark eyes took her breath away. She thought of her older brother, Allen. Losing him as Derek had lost his brother was something she couldn't bear to think of. How could she even begin to comfort Derek? It wasn't possible.

For a moment, their gazes were locked, Carlie's words hanging in the air. Finally, she glanced away, then turned back toward the cabinet where the bowls of mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans sat. "Will you—will you help me put these on the table?" She tried to steady her voice.

Derek took the bowl of potatoes and put it on a trivet, and Carlie came behind him with the gravy and green beans. She took a deep breath as he sat in the chair Rick indicated and Carlie sat across from him.

"Well," Rick said jovially, trying to change the subject. "This looks wonderful, Carlie." He winked at her. "I shoulda known you wouldn't forget to work mashed potatoes in somehow. My favorite."