MALLORY rushed out OF the dialysis unit, her face on fire. So it wasn’t her imagination. She’d moved JT with her kisses. Now he wanted to take their flirting to a new level. If her memory served her correctly, she could tell he’d been somewhat aroused last night.
Oh, God, she’d behaved so unprofessionally with him. But she had been there on her day off, and he’d invited her to his home as a guest. Could she ever reconcile her misgivings about getting involved with a patient?
She hoped so, because JT was the man she’d always dreamed of—decisive, intelligent, kind, and sexy as hell, bedridden or not.
Though he was a captive audience, and she was most likely the only game in town. Her heart waved a little red flag over that bit of truth, but she ignored it. Hadn’t he assured her his attraction to her wasn’t out of gratitude?
If he wanted to pursue a relationship with her, she’d be there for him. After all the years of facing life alone as a mother and nurse, she owed herself a chance at romance.
* * *
Thursday, at work, Mallory sat at the bedside of a dehydrated and frail woman. She tied a tourniquet around her arm, cleaned the skin, and prepared to insert an intravenous line. Her co-worker, Jenny, had asked for her help after she’d tried twice to start the difficult IV, but had failed. The original ER admission IV had blown and left the patient’s hand swollen and bruised. Mallory hated any patient to be stuck more than three times, so she knew this one chance had to be successful.
She was just about to prick the surface of the patient’s skin when another nurse poked her head into the room.
“Dr. Prescott said to tell you he’s waiting in the dialysis unit.”
Her heart stumbled and she had to steady her hand before she started to insert the needle into the vein.
“OK. Thanks for the info,” she said, trying hard to sound blasé.
She took a cleansing breath and focused on the vein. With expert skill she managed to capture and puncture the rolling vein before it disappeared. Violà! The intravenous line was back in place, and Jenny’s patient could get her needed fluids and antibiotics on schedule.
“I owe you one,” Jenny said.
“Nah. We’ve got to help each other. We’re a team, remember?”
Jenny took over taping the IV tubing in place. “So what’s with you and Dr. Prescott? He called you yesterday, too, didn’t he?”
Mallory’s heart dropped. Had everyone noticed that he’d called? Should she tell the truth? Hell, no!
“I guess we’ve kind of become friends since I’ve been taking care of him on the weekends. He gets really lonely in that big old house. And you know what? I’d forgotten what a nice guy he can be, despite his gruff exterior.”
Worried about what rumors might be circulating around the hospital, she decided not to rush down to visit him today, though it was the most important thing she wanted to do. Instead, she skipped lunch, did a dressing change, admitted a post-op patient to the ward, and passed meds to distract herself.
On Friday, he didn’t call to tell her he was at Mercy Hospital, though she knew he was. Plasmaphoresis required several treatments, and today would be his third. She hoped he wouldn’t hold a grudge. She had a “date” with him that night—how could she forget? She would stop at her favorite Chinese restaurant on her way over to his house, in the hope of making up for not going to the dialysis unit. She planned to bring him some wonton soup as a peace offering, just in case he was miffed with her.
* * *
It seemed a bit silly at first, but the more Mallory thought about it, the more she liked the idea. From home she packed up her daughter’s forgotten electric keyboard for JT’s musical pleasure. She figured he’d enjoy playing some of his favorite sheet music while he was stuck in bed. She’d also remembered to bring the wheelchair she’d tucked away in the garage ever since the time Morgan had broken her leg, playing soccer, a few years back. Ever hopeful he’d notice some improvement since the plasmaphoresis, she wanted to be prepared. If she waited for Dr. Berger’s order and home health medical equipment delivery, it could take another week to get a wheelchair.
She tucked both items into the trunk of the car and took off for Chinois, the trendy Chinese-European bistro near his house.
She’d been smart and called her order in ahead. Once she arrived, she parked in one of the order pick-up spots and turned off her engine. Just as she was about to open the car door, she recognized two familiar faces approaching—Samantha Prescott and Wayne Berger. His arm rested snugly around her shoulders, and they cuddled in a familiar way. Samantha looked stunning, as always, and Dr. Berger appeared better than usual, as if she’d dressed him. His smile was large and flirtatious and Samantha proffered a dainty giggle over something he’d whispered into her ear.
Feeling as though she were the one betrayed instead of JT, Mallory plopped back against her car seat, blew out her breath and attempted to recover. What the heck should she do now?
Wait it out. Once she’d given them plenty of time to find their dining table, she ventured into the side door of the restaurant to pick up her order.
As she paid, she peered between palm fronds over the divider into the dining room and found them head to head in deep conversation, looking like intimate lovers. Was she reading her own guilt into their friendly little dinner?
Then Dr. Berger dropped a kiss on Samantha’s lips.
* * *
JT had first become aware of the lack of heaviness in his legs earlier that Friday morning. After he’d completed his last plasmaphoresis treatment that afternoon, he’d noticed it even more. He couldn’t describe the subtle change, but welcomed it. Periodically throughout the afternoon he’d tested his mildly receding paralysis, but tried not to become overly optimistic.
While waiting for his favorite nurse at seven p.m., he practiced moving his feet beneath the covers. And they obeyed. He sent a mental message to bend one knee and discovered he could. He wanted to leap out of the bed and do a dance, but knew he’d fall flat on his face if he tried. Instead, he pumped the air with his fist. It was real progress, the first for a while.
Thanks to Mallory and her unyielding desire to get him well, he’d insisted on the treatment that could have helped him recover sooner from the very beginning. Hell, if it hadn’t been for her he never would have known they hadn’t tried this treatment. He’d been so out of it when he’d first become ill that he hadn’t had a clue what they’d tried or hadn’t tried for him.
What would he have done if she hadn’t been hired to be his nurse? Would he have insisted everyone follow his ridiculous list of rules and let him rot from the inside out in his own house?
Thank God for the adorable scalpel in his side, Mallory.
She burst through the bedroom door with arms loaded, a bag of food and a keyboard. He grinned at her, happier than he’d been in a while. A keyboard? He chuckled at the absurd sight.
“Hi!” She beamed. The balmy summer evening had put an alluring bloom on her face. Her eyes glowed with excitement as her gaze danced around the room.
Simply put, she looked beautiful…and glad to see him. How could he be upset with her for not going to the dialysis unit when he’d called yesterday?
She couldn’t possibly know how much her visit meant to him. He didn’t want to scare her off, so he’d keep his feelings to himself. “Hey, sunshine,” he said, taking a casual tone. “What do you have there?”
“Well, I brought you a blueberry and peach smoothie because of the antioxidants in blueberries, some wonton soup—didn’t the speech pathologist check out your swallowing and give you the green light to have thinner liquids this week? Oh, and I have a keyboard.”
She put her bags on the dresser near his bed and placed the keyboard on his lap.
“I’ll give you time to practice while I go back to my car. I’ve got another surprise to bring in. When I get back, I expect you to play me something.”
He shook his head at her thoughtfulness and fought off the desire to grab her, kiss her, and push his face into that gorgeous hair. But first he needed to scold her for letting him down yesterday.
She’d bent over, attempting to plug the keyboard into the nearest electrical socket, and all the admonishing thoughts raced out of his head. Nice…pants. She’d worn another pair of snug slacks, which were cropped above the ankle and were eggplant-colored. A dainty silver anklet glistened in the dim light.
She had the kind of shape that excited him. He liked a woman with a little something to grab onto, not the stick-thin women driving the fashion world. Her wispy olive-green top brought out the color of her eyes, making them almost look the color of pine trees tonight. And her hair, what could he say about the beauty of her silky, copper-colored hair? All he wanted to do was run his hands through it. That wasn’t exactly true. He also had a powerful urge to run his hands all over her, and kiss every freckle on her face and body—especially the hard-to-find ones.
But she’d plugged the keyboard in and rushed out of the room.
What was this about another surprise? He grinned, looking forward to what she’d do next, and realized he’d been doing a lot more smiling lately.
He forced himself to focus on the silly little instrument on his lap. How could it compare to his baby grand? But the thought was what counted, and he wouldn’t let her down. He pressed the “on” button and heard a strange warm-up sound. Poking around on the condensed keyboard, his fingers picked out a tune he thought she might enjoy—the simple yet haunting Erik Satie piece, “First Gymnopédie.”
When she returned, she left whatever her next surprise was in the hall and leaned respectfully against the doorframe listening, arms folded.
As he continued to play, she approached and sat primly at the foot of his bed, listening raptly to his improvisation.
When he’d finished, she applauded.
“That was lovely,” she said with soft eyes.
“Not nearly as lovely as you,” he said. “Now that I’ve earned it, I need a proper greeting.”
He saw the hesitation on her face. He knew what she must have been thinking.
“Look, Mallory, when I ask you here on your days off, I need to know you’re all mine. I don’t want you to battle your brain about what’s right and how we are breaking hospital rules. We’re not. This is our time, damn it, and I need a kiss before I go insane from not touching you.” OK, so he’d stoop to coercion. “And besides, you owe me for not holding my hand through plasmaphoresis. It was all your idea, you know.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head, but took his chastisement to heart. As though she were a gentle healing breeze, she leaned forward and greeted him with a soft, moist kiss on the lips. He inhaled her summery fragrance. The mere touch of her mouth sent a shiver down to his toes. Down to his toes! He’d felt it.
“Now, that’s what I’m talking about,” he said against her mouth, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer. “Who needs to eat when I have you to kiss?”
She gave a soft, throaty giggle and kissed him harder, then, just when he’d gotten carried away with wild thoughts of seducing her on his hospital bed, she pulled back. A serious-as-hell stare doused his fantasy.
“Too bad I’m famished. We’ll have to pick this up again after I’ve eaten,” she said.
“You’re a tease. That’s what you are.”
The aroma of Chinese food had filled his nostrils when she’d entered. He couldn’t deny it had awakened his appetite, but Mallory was something he wanted much more. He’d have to wait for the right time and place, and hope his body could catch up with his desires. In the meantime, there was always food. Delicious. Glorious. Food.
“So what’s the big surprise?” he asked later, between sips of salty noodles and pork.
Her eyes widened. She daintily bit into a spring roll, chewed and swallowed. “It’s a wheelchair. I thought we’d go for an evening spin to your back yard. There’s supposed to be meteor showers over the next few nights. Maybe we can catch some.”
“That’s a great idea.” He definitely had a few shooting-star ideas of his own for later, in the dark…with her…just to show his gratitude.
His regular weekday nurse, Gloria, had left for her dinner-break when Mallory had arrived, on JT’s instructions. But once Mallory had finished eating, she went searching for Gloria.
“I think, between you and me, we should be able to transfer J—uh, Dr. Prescott, to the wheelchair. What do you think?”
“I’m game.”
Anxious to try out his newfound strength, JT nodded with agreement.
Mallory had him sit up straight, then swiveled his legs to the edge of the bed before dropping his feet to the floor.
“Now, just sit there a minute and dangle while you adjust to standing up.”
“We’ll be holding you up, so don’t worry about not being strong enough,” Gloria chimed in.
Mallory moved the wheelchair parallel to the bed, and stood directly in front of JT. “You be on standby, Gloria. I’m going to pull him up and pivot him around to back into the chair. If his feet buckle, I’ll need you to help me lift him in.
“Are your legs still feeling like wet noodles?” Mallory glanced into his face before grabbing him in an around-the-waist bear hug.
“Not really.”
“Great!” She pulled back and searched his eyes for the meaning of what he’d just said.
He gave her an I’m-not-telling smile.
“Put your arms around my shoulders,” she said.
“Gladly, but don’t forget Gloria is watching,” he said with a deadpan face.
“Get over yourself, big guy. Now, stand on the count of three. One, two, three!”
Mallory pulled him up to a standing position and for the first time he was able to will his legs to stay straight. The soles of his feet felt the hard cold floor when she swiveled him. Hallelujah! Gloria stayed nearby to support him from the side. His knees didn’t buckle. Before he could finish thinking three, Mallory had him settled in the wheelchair.
A startled look widened her eyes. “That went really smoothly.”
He grinned at her. “I think the plasmaphoresis is doing its job. I can feel my feet again.”
“Oh, my God!” She took his face in her hands and gave him the sweetest, most triumphant smile he’d ever seen. “It worked?” Her comforting fingers sent electricity across his neck and shoulders. The moisture in her eyes sent another message altogether.
He nodded, marveling at the inner beauty he’d come to adore about Mallory. Was the swell of euphoria from the receding paralysis or from the look of love in her eyes?
He swallowed the emotion. When had he last felt this way about anyone? He needed time to digest the rush of feelings snapping to life in his head and heart. He’d have to sort them out later.
Before him, Mallory did the bugaloo celebration dance he’d wanted to do himself earlier. He liked her version much better.
After she’d calmed down she hung his IV on a portable pole and connected to the wheelchair, placed a light blanket across his lap and rolled him outside to his patio. How long had it been since he’d seen his own house?
Jake had kept the yard in perfect order, with the tall bushes well trimmed and the flowers flourishing. One particular hibiscus bush was covered in bright single-layer red blooms, each open like a five-petal smile.
The night sky was a shadowed blue, yet several stars already shone brightly. The yard accent lights would have to be turned off if they were to star-gaze.
Gloria had followed them both outside.
“Gloria? As Mallory is here, I’m going to let you leave early tonight—full pay, of course.”
“Why, thank you, Dr. Prescott.”
She left almost before he could say goodnight. “Oh, and on your way out, can you turn off the accent lights?”
Once the coast was clear and the yard was dark, he reached for Mallory’s hand.
“It’s beautiful out tonight, isn’t it?” she said.
“Fantastic. And only one thing will make it perfect.”
Playing along, she looked coyly at him. “Why, Dr. Prescott, what could that possibly be? Do you want the keyboard so you can serenade me?”
He tugged her closer. “What I really want is for you to sit on my lap.”
After a surprised glance she obliged him. She felt all female across his thighs, and when she circled her arms around his neck, he thought he’d been reborn.
High on life and Mallory, he gazed into her fathomless eyes, smiled richly, and kissed her.
They kissed like teenagers in the back seat of a car, all hot and eager to thrill each other, easily aroused. He wished there were no blanket barriers between them. She grasped his head, fingers diving into his hair, and held him close as her tongue explored his lips. It made him growl and kiss her back—deeper. The sweet taste of almond cookies lingered in her mouth. Her warm breath sent a direct signal across his flesh, all the way down to his groin.
When had a woman last done that to him? He couldn’t remember any of their faces, except for Mallory’s. Right here. Right now.
His hand ran from her waist up her side, and was about to sample the soft flesh of her breast when he heard the familiar shuffling gait of Jake coming around the corner of the house.
Would he ever have his privacy back? He gave one quick squeeze and flick of his thumb then backed off. A cheap thrill, he’d admit, but enticing all the same.
Mallory quickly rose to a standing position, and for the first time that night he was glad he had a blanket across his lap.
“Hiya, boss. Beautiful night. I came to see why the back-yard lights were turned off.”
Mallory subtly smoothed her clothes and hair, and gave the guiltiest smile he’d ever seen for Jake. It almost made JT chuckle.
“Pull up a chair and join us. We were just star-gazing,” JT said.
“Sure thing, but where is Mallory sitting?”
A mischievous glance from his dream date made him sputter a laugh. “How about on my lap?”
“Oh, you,” Mallory said, with a friendly cuff to his shoulder, as though the idea was preposterous.
“Right,” Jake said, all business. “Let me get a chair for her, too.”
Not having a clue how he’d dampened their passion, Jake sat in staid silence, staring at the cobalt sky. Occasionally, he’d clear his throat.
JT decided he’d had enough, and asked to be wheeled inside. Fortunately Jake didn’t follow them back into the house. It was twenty to nine and there were a few minutes remaining until his night nurse, Carlos, arrived. He hoped to have a chance to kiss Mallory again tonight, but this time the way he really wanted to.
* * *
Shaken by the passion she’d felt between them in his back yard, Mallory was grateful for Jake having barged in earlier. Where would their kisses have led? And when JT had caressed her breast, she’d almost called out with the surge of desire.
It had to stop.
“Let’s get you back to bed, shall we?” Mallory said, all business. Oh, damn. That hadn’t come out like she’d meant it.
“I like that idea, but only if you’ll join me.”
She cast him a shocked stare.
Her mind had wandered back to the Samantha and Wayne sighting from earlier that evening, and she wondered how best to broach the subject, or whether to let it be.
JT’s brow knitted with a perplexed look. “What happened to little miss wildcat from outside? I liked her better.”
She gave him the sincerest expression she could conjure up. “I’m just not sure what to do about us. Are we just playing around? Or are you really interested in me?”
He took her hand in his and stared into her eyes. “I trust you more than anyone I know—besides myself, of course. Please, believe me when I say I’m definitely interested in you. Hell, I think about you all the time. This isn’t warped gratitude for everything you’ve done for me. Not that I’m not grateful. It’s just so much more than that. Please, get that through your beautiful head. Now, put me to bed. And, if you’d like, you can join me.”
She sighed over her outburst of nerves. The sincerity in his eyes took her breath away. He’d pretty much laid it on the line, and now it was up to her how she wanted to reciprocate.
“At least tuck me in,” he whispered in a husky voice.
Mallory fought to ignore the chills running rampant on her skin. She locked the wheelchair in place, used her thighs and a straight back to lower herself to his level, and reached behind his waist. His arms naturally wrapped around her shoulders sending, a warm wave over her back.
“On the count of three we’ll stand. Pivot to the right, I mean your left, then you can sit on the edge of the bed while I get the wheelchair out of the way. Then I’ll help lift your legs. OK. One…two…three!”
He managed to make it to standing with little effort and her help. They did a dance of three short steps until the backs of his knees were pushed up flush to the bed. He was supposed to sit, but momentum from the sitting-to-standing movement must have made him lose his balance. He fell backwards onto the bed and, having never released her, she tumbled on top of him.
Now sprawled across his body, on his bed, still firmly in his embrace, she pushed up onto her hands to figure out what had happened. He smiled devilishly up at her, his blue eyes blazing with desire. He pulled her back down flush to his body and she became urgently aware that their hips were together in a most provocative place.
Shock coursed through her. She tried with all her resistance not to move, but she felt him throb to life beneath her. His mouth found hers in a hot, wet kiss, and in a mind-numbing response she straddled him.
They’d picked right up where they’d left off outside. Wild kisses and nibbles on the neck, each with a sweet wake-up message sent directly to her core. His hands found her breasts again—this time they explored her shape and feel. Her flesh tightened and pebbled beneath his fingers, and she grew wet between her legs. And, oh, that connection at the hip—the firm bulge was too much to resist.
She moved over him in sweet, deep undulations, their lips never losing contact. His hands made their way up the back of her blouse and managed to unclasp her bra. He released her, and she marveled at the feel of his warm hands on her flesh. She threw her head back and arched into his grip, savoring the feel. A tiny moan escaped her lips.
One of his hands pressed her tightly down on top of him. She gasped her pleasure. He pulled her close and ran a tingling course across her neck, and found a spot to kiss that sent fireworks throughout her belly. He kissed harder and she thought she might cry out. She pressed deeper onto him with a slow shimmy, while she lifted his hospital gown and ran her fingers over the crinkly curls of his chest. God, he felt good.
Stomach to stomach, her hand slipped down his ribs to his waist and finally to embrace his length, and savor the tight and smooth skin, hard and ready.
Driven with desire, she said, “I want you,” though she was shocked to hear herself say it.
In a flash his hands were at her zipper, pulling her slacks down over her hips. He’d gotten them just low enough to where the tip of him found her wet flesh. She pressed against him, overcome with excitement, unable to wait another second to feel him inside her.
She rose to her knees to help remove the rest of her slacks when a rap on the front door brought her to her senses.
Oh, my God. What was she doing? The night nurse was here!
* * *
On Saturday morning Mallory blushed at the thought of seeing JT again. He’d given her the sexiest smile she’d ever seen when she’d left the night before. And after all they’d done, and had almost done, how could she face him? Maybe she should give up the job. But she needed the money. It was just all too confusing.
She brushed her hair with hard strokes and pulled it so firmly back into a ponytail that her eyes slanted upward. She wrapped the hair around and around into a tight little bun. Next she put on her most unbecoming nursing uniform and thick white support hose, even though it was summer. She topped things off with a drab beige sweater. Nothing, absolutely nothing would be exposed.
Off to work she’d go, business before pleasure, completely doubtful of her resolve.
When she arrived, JT had done just the opposite. He’d had the night nurse help him clean up; he’d shaved but left a sexy-as-hell Zen patch beneath his lower lip. He’d put on a summery Hawaiian shirt instead of the hospital gown. There was fire in his deep blue eyes when she walked in. She couldn’t survive the day under that heat.
“Good morning, Carlos. Dr. Prescott.” She nodded without making eye contact. “I’m back on duty,” she said with a prudish smile. “On duty, got that?”
She flitted around the room, opening curtains, straightening books on tabletops, odds and ends on bookcases, adjusting pictures on walls.
Not betraying an ounce of disappointment, JT shook hands with Carlos, bade him goodday and waited for Mallory to face him.
“OK. I get it. You can relax now.” He sat taller in bed and crossed his arms. “Put me in the chair. I want to visit my real piano.”
“Let me take your vital signs first.”
Relieved to have a purpose, and hoping she wouldn’t crack under JT’s alluring spell, Mallory brought him upright and performed the three-step pivot dance until he’d settled into the wheelchair. Though the feel of his body so close to hers was torture, today the move had gone even more easily. Was it possible to recover so quickly from GBS after such a long plateau? Soon he wouldn’t need her or anyone to care for him.
“I’ll change the linen and get your meds ready while you’re in the living room.”
“Fine.”
Though wanting to explain her confusion to him, she chewed her lower lip and rolled him out the door in silence. He sat straight and stared ahead.
She pushed the piano bench aside and rolled him up to the keys, then dutifully lifted the lid and set up the support.
“Can I get you anything before I go?”
One hand fingered a couple of keys. He stared in reserved concentration.
Taking his reticence as a no, she turned to leave.
“The woman I held in my arms last night,” he said softly as she walked away.
Her crêpe sole tangled on the throw rug but she caught herself and faced him.
A nervous hand ran over her hair. “Look, JT, I’m totally confused about how to behave around you. I’m here to work today. We can’t maintain the sort of relationship we had last night when I’m on duty. It’s not acceptable to me.”
“I understand. Just admit that you feel something for me. I want to hear it.” He stared so deeply into her eyes she thought she might lose her balance.
“I can’t go to sleep at night without seeing your face. I think about you all week at work. You jump into my mind at the oddest times. I’ve lost any hope of hiding it, or resisting you. What more do you need to know?”
“That you take me seriously when I tell you I want you in my life.”
This was too much to face on a Saturday morning. She had eleven hours more to face JT. He’d just dropped a bombshell, which under other circumstances would have had her dancing in the street. But she was at work, and it was of utmost importance to maintain a professional attitude. And she was so confused. Could she trust that he wouldn’t lose interest in her once she’d given in and let herself feel everything brewing in her heart for him?
“I do, JT. It’s just now isn’t the time to talk about it.”
With that, she turned and left the room.
Mallory worked furiously to distract herself. She prepared his morning medicine and changed the bedlinen. She couldn’t help stopping from time to time to sway with the beauty of the sonata coming from the living room. She fantasized about a lifetime of hearing him play the piano—a lifetime with him. Dared she dream such a thing?
When she came to his pillow, she pulled off the case and a photo fell out—the one of her with her blouse off her shoulder, trying to look sexy but falling far short. The gesture of him keeping her photograph under his pillow cracked her hard resolve and she smiled for the first time that morning. She did mean something to him, though she had yet to sort it all out. She placed the photo on the bedside table and finished her job. She wanted JT back in bed before Dr. Berger arrived for his daily visit. She’d tell him all about her fears and worries then.
She’d just finished fluffing the pillow and smoothing the bedspread when she heard a crash from the other room. She ran out the door and into the living room to find JT sitting on the floor, his hand covering his eye. She rushed to his side.
“Are you all right?”
“Dammit!” he said. “I shouldn’t have tried to stand on my own, but I wanted to get some other music.”
“Let me have a look.” She eased his hand away and saw blood oozing from his brow. She knew that heads and brows bled more easily than other parts of the body, but this looked bad. He must have caught it on the corner of the table on his way down to the floor.
“Stay right there, and press on it,” she said. “I’m going to get something to clean it with. You may need a stitch or two.”
Mallory lunged for the supplies while drops of blood stained his shirt. She flew back into the hallway just as Dr. Berger arrived.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Dr. Prescott has fallen. I’m going to clean him up.”
He followed hot on her heels. “What the hell is he doing out here? Was he left alone?”
JT spoke up. “I made the decision to stand on my own, and I fell. That’s all there is to it.”
Dr. Berger squinted and tossed Mallory an incredulous look. “You left him alone?”
“Look, I’m not an invalid without a brain. She had nothing to do with my stupidity.”
Ignoring the doctor to tend to her patient, Mallory dropped to her knees and pressed gauze to his brow. “Wipe your hands on this.” She gave him a damp washcloth. “Does it hurt?”
“I’m fine.”
“He wanted to play the piano, so I went back to change his bedlinen. I’m so sorry this happened.”
“Get the wheelchair,” Dr. Berger commanded, placing his medical bag on the couch. “And where did he get a wheelchair? I haven’t ordered one. Once again, I’m astounded by your poor judgement, Nurse Glenn. You consistently overstep your bounds.”
“Knock it off, Wayne. I already told you this was my decision. Now, either shut up or get out.”
Strained silence followed as they all worked to put JT back into his chair. Once everything was in order, Mallory rolled him into his bedroom.
In the bright sunlight, after washing his hands, Dr. Berger examined JT’s eye. “I think a stitch and a couple of butterfly bandages should do it. Nurse Glenn, clean this area with Betadine.” He fished through his bag and found what he needed while she did as she was told. When he’d finished his job, he said, “Let’s get him back to bed.”
Mallory rolled the wheelchair to the bedside and locked the brakes. She noticed the picture of herself on the table and thought quickly about slipping it into her pocket as soon as JT was back in bed. “OK, just the way we’ve practiced before, Dr. Prescott. On the count of three.”
JT stood and Wayne Berger watched without offering a hand. Mallory danced him around and sat him on the edge of the bed. Her mind couldn’t help remembering what had happened the last time they’d attempted this maneuver together. A hot flush snaked up her neck. JT worked the muscle in his jaw, but kept silent. Was he recalling their near sex, too?
Mallory stepped back to remove the wheelchair and pick up the picture, but it was too late. She’d caught Dr. Berger’s gaze firmly on the photo. He lifted his eyes with a slow accusatory glare. Oh, how she wanted to bust him and his little fling, too. But she was the underdog here, and until she figured out how JT felt about his ex-wife, she’d keep her mouth shut.
“Is there something going on here?” Dr. Berger asked.
JT lifted a brow and glanced at the photo in Mallory’s hand halfway from table to pocket.
“I got bored. I took some pictures. That’s all.”
“Since when does your nurse dress like that to come to work?”
“She came on her day off, at my invitation. Whatever we do on our own time is none of your business.”
Dr. Berger gave Mallory a cold glance, judgement glinting in his eyes. “This is highly unethical, Ms. Glenn. If you insist on seducing your patients, you have no place in home health, or the hospital for that matter.”
“Back off, Wayne. Mallory is an excellent nurse and a boon to Mercy Hospital. We need more nurses like her.”
The rest of the examination took place in cool silence and thick tension. Mallory left the room to get a drink of water and regroup. She’d have to be very careful with her personal time and involvement in JT’s life from now on if she wanted to keep her job. And after today, because she needed the money, she promised to keep things strictly businesslike. But how was she supposed to do that when she had the rest of the day and several hours’ worth of physical therapy exercises to take him through?
Being a nurse for fifteen years, she’d had to learn to shut down the attraction or growing friendships with patients. She knew how to do it, and she’d use every evasive skill in her repertoire to make it through the day.
“He has a lot of nerve, chastising you when he’s the biggest flirt I’ve ever seen at work. He used to think the nursing staff was his own personal dating pool,” JT said later that day while she assisted with his leg exercises.
“I don’t think he’s interested in nurses any more.” It slipped out before she could catch herself.
“You mean the fact that he has a thing for my ex-wife? Is that the hospital gossip?”
“No. I’ve never heard anything about it at work.”
“What are you getting at, Mallory? Do you know something I don’t?”
“No.” She tried to keep busy, fussing with things near his bed to distract her gaze, but his large hand wrapped around hers and put a quick end to it.
“I know Samantha sees other men, if that’s what you’re getting at. I also know she wants full custody of Corey.”
OK, why not? He had his suspicions anyway. “Actually, last night when I picked up the food, I saw them together at Chinois. They looked…involved.”
“Involved as in conversation?”
“Involved as in…kissing.”
An expression of complete understanding burned on his cheeks. “That leech wants my job and my ex-wife.”
* * *
On Sunday morning Samantha delivered Corey for the all-day visit, as she’d promised. She kissed him goodbye and reminded him she’d be back in four hours.
“Any plans for your free time, Sammy?” JT asked.
She looked uneasy, and maybe a bit surprised. “I’ll probably go shopping.”
“Ah. Don’t forget the credit card. Oh, have you changed it to your own name yet?”
She shot daggers from narrow angry eyes, turned on her heel and left without a word.
Oblivious, or at least pretending to be unaware of the tension between his parents, Corey came bounding up to his father, who was sitting in the wheelchair near the window.
“Hey, bud,” JT said, opening his arms.
“Dad, I’ve told you not to call me that.”
“Oh, right. Hey, dude, check this out.” He lifted a knee and kicked out his foot.
“Wow! You’re getting better.”
They hugged.
“You bet I am. Pretty soon you’ll be able to spend the whole weekend with me, just like before.”
“Cool. What happened to your eye?”
Early shades of blue-green and purple painted his brow beneath the tiny bandages. “A brow piercing gone wrong.”
“Ah, come on, Dad. You’d never get your eyebrow pierced.”
“OK. I was stupid and tried to stand by myself. I guess I’m not quite ready to do that yet.”
“It’s a good thing your nurse was around.”
“Hi, Corey,” Mallory said. “Remember me?” She’d noticed the boy had combed his hair down instead of in the trendy faux Mohawk hairdo from last weekend.
“Yeah, you’re the think-fast nurse.”
She giggled and handed him another gizmo. “Yep. And today I’ll need your help with this. Your dad has to squeeze it twelve times in each hand four different times. I need you to make sure he doesn’t cheat or quit.”
“I’m on it,” he said, snatching it up. “This looks like a pair of pliers.” He tried pressing it shut. “Wow. This is really stiff.”
Later, when she’d put JT back on the bed, she showed Corey how to work his father’s right leg while she exercised the left one. Corey never complained. In fact, he worked earnestly to help his dad. Father and son carried on a relaxed banter throughout, and in the strangest way she felt a part of their little family.
“Am I helping you get well, Dad?”
“You bet you are.”
“And Nurse Think Fast is too.”
“Right again.”
Against her better judgement, but wanting Corey to see more progress with his father’s recovery, Mallory summoned Jake to assist with getting JT into the wheelchair again. Dr. Berger be damned.
“Listen, boss, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take the afternoon off.”
“Sure. You should do that more often, Jake. You have a hot date?”
The old man laughed. “A friend got me some tickets to the Dodgers baseball game.”
“Enjoy.”
After lunch, Mallory could tell that Corey was getting a little restless so she suggested they all go out back and take in some sunshine. Corey ran to his own bedroom in the house and found two baseball mitts and a large soft ball. JT brought his camera.
“Hey, Dad, will you play catch?”
“Sure thing, dude. But first, want me to show you how to take really good pictures?”
“Yeah!”
An hour later JT gave Mallory a beseeching look. “You know what I’d really like about now?”
Oh, God, please, don’t say “a kiss” in front of your son.
“An ice-cream cone.”
“Me, too. Me, too,” Corey chimed in.
“But we don’t have any cones here, I don’t think,” she said.
“There’s an ice-cream store three blocks away. If I pay, will you drive?”
“I can’t leave you alone. I’m on duty!”
“Please, Nurse, please, bring us ice creams.”
She glared at JT for planting the thought in his son’s head. He perceived her message.
“Listen, Mallory, I promise not to move or try to get up. One fall for the week is enough. Corey will hold me to it. Right, Corey?”
“Yeah. I promise to look after my dad.”
How could she resist the huge blue eyes of Corey, the image of his father when he looked at her like that?
Assessing the situation, father and son playing catch in the back yard—one of them a mature adult who was no longer completely helpless, the other a good, though occasionally rambunctious kid—she decided it would be OK to make a quick ice-cream run.
“Oh, OK. But I’m leaving your cellphone with you. I’ll only be gone fifteen minutes. Not a second longer, I promise. Now what flavors do you want?”
* * *
The ice-cream store was packed, and it took closer to thirty minutes to buy the treats and drive back to the Prescott house. Mallory’s heart sank when she arrived and recognized Dr. Berger’s car, and in front of it Samantha’s Jaguar.