“YOU’RE SURE?” Hayden’s heart thudded against his ribs as if he’d just run across the city, not merely waltzed around an empty parking lot. “There’s no going back.”
She nodded, holding out the ticket.
Absentmindedly, he tucked it into his front pocket.
Then he took her face tenderly in both hands. She closed her eyes. He leaned down, lightly resting his forehead on hers. “I’ve waited forever for this.” Every other woman he’d ever kissed had been a dress rehearsal, a practice run for this moment.
It took supreme effort to relax, to open himself to Ronni. He began by brushing his mouth over hers, side to side, then circling. He kissed her top lip, her bottom lip—once, twice—then sucked gently.
She sighed, and he pressed his lips fully to hers, inhaling through his mouth to capture that sweet breath. Her first surrender, first gift, to him.
Her eyes fluttered open, revealing her surprise. He eased off on the pressure, feeling the edges of her mouth turn up. “Slow enough?” he drawled.
Her head eased up and down, providing another set of sensations against his lips.
“Good.” This time he started with the tip of his tongue, tracing the outline of her mouth, learning, memorizing its shape. One hand slid to the nape of her neck, the other stroked down her neck, shoulder, arm, then snaked around her waist to pull her flush against him.
She wiggled. Just enough to short-circuit his brain, as all the blood rushed south. “Mmm.” He hummed in pleasure as he switched tactics, plunging his tongue into the warmth of her mouth. Running the tip along her teeth. Tickling the roof of her mouth.
His pulse kicked up. His hand wandered to the seat of her jeans, exploring the curves he’d ached to touch. He needed to feel her without denim between them. Without anything between them.
He forced himself to pull back. Return to a softer, lighter kiss.
The sky chose that moment to open up and mimic a Panamanian rainstorm. A deluge. His already soggy clothes instantly adhered to his skin. Water dripped off the ends of her hair.
She glanced up at him, her eyes unfocused in a way that sent satisfaction coursing through him. He’d gotten to her as much as she’d gotten to him.
Ronni lifted a hand, shielding her eyes from the rain. “Do you think this is the universe’s way of telling us to knock it off? Putting out the fire, so to speak?”
He laughed as he scooped her into his arms and ran to the car. “Hell, no. I think this is the universe’s way of telling us we need to get indoors and out of these wet clothes as soon as possible.”
Beside the Camaro, he set her on her feet, quickly opening the door and tucking her into the passenger seat. If it hadn’t been wet, and this hadn’t been his new baby, he’d have slid across the hood. Because he could. And because it was faster.
Instead, he settled for racing around the front end. A moment later, he slid in, dripping all over the driver’s seat. In a hurry to get her home, he shoved the keys into the ignition, revved the engine.
As if his engine needed any more revving.
It would take at least ten minutes to get to her house. Hayden didn’t want to let the mood go, let her start second-guessing herself.
Car idling, he turned sideways. Crooked a finger at her.
“I’m sorry you got so wet.” She inched toward the center console.
“It was worth it. You’re worth it.” He beckoned her closer still, then mentally cursed the console and gear-shift between them. For an alleged chick magnet, the car wasn’t designed for making out.
Hayden toed off his sneakers, dropping them on the mud mats. Then he spun and knelt on his seat, pulling her into his arms despite the obstacles between them. Again he started off slowly. Lightly. Kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, before making his way to her lips.
Then he pushed harder, deeper. Moved to her neck, which she obligingly arched for him, granting full access. While grazing his teeth over her collarbone, he realized she trembled in his embrace.
He pulled back. “You cold, sweetheart?” Despite the summer temperature outside, and the steaminess inside, he turned on the heat, pointing the vents in her direction.
“N-not really,” she stammered, her eyes tightly shut.
“Then what?” He ran his hands over her shoulders, rubbing her arms. “Ronni, look at me.”
She cautiously opened her eyes, but instantly glanced down, not meeting his gaze.
“What’s wrong?”
“I, um...” She fidgeted, and her voice dropped so low he could barely hear her. “I guess I’m scared.”
“Of what? Dear God, not of me? I would never hurt you.” He stroked her cheek.
“I know that. It’s just...” Her jaw quivered. “I, uh, I’ve only ever been with two men in my whole life. Ian and Scott. And you, you’ve been with... I don’t want to disappoint you.”
“Oh, babe.” He shook his head. Mangano had mangled her self-confidence so badly. If Hayden could restore it, maybe she’d find the strength she needed to retake control of her life. “You’re a beautiful, sexy lady. Nothing about you could ever disappoint me. And anything that’s come before today...doesn’t matter. Life begins today, Ronni. My life, anyway. Give me your hand.” He held out his.
She hesitantly put hers in it. He pressed her palm to the center of his soaked T-shirt. Normally this part of tantric foreplay involved both parties already being naked, but she needed it now. It also was meant to achieve more of a spiritual connection, but for the moment, he just wanted her to know how much physical impact she had on him. “Feel my heart pounding?”
She nodded.
“You made that happen.” He moved her hand lower, cupped it around the raging erection he sported. He gritted his teeth for a moment, resisting the urge to rock into her palm. “And this? Does this feel like a man disappointed in you?”
A shy smile played on her lips as she shook her head. “I guess not.”
“You guess not? Woman, if I get any harder, you’re going to have to carry me into your house.”
“Then I should probably let go now. ’Cause that’s not likely to happen.”
He freed her hand. Before she moved it away, she gave him a playful squeeze that left him groaning.
“That was mean. Remember paybacks?” Relieved to see her trembling had stopped, he eased back into his own seat, pulling on his shoes. “I’m going to make you moan twice as loud.”
“I believe you.” She fastened her seat belt and settled back with a sigh. “Damn. If kissing you is like that...”
Gravel popped beneath the tires as he headed out of the parking lot. “Yes?” Call him shallow, but he loved having his ego stroked by a beautiful woman just as much as he liked having certain parts of his anatomy stroked by the same.
“I can see why they line up for thirty days with you. Why they settle for thirty days with you. How does that work, anyway? Thirty days from the time you sleep with them, right? So, I’ve got until August 21?” She stiffened. “You’re not going to dump Nick when you dump me, are you? ’Cause if you are, this is so off.”
At the Walnut Creek exit’s stop sign, he jammed on the brakes harder than necessary. “What?” He put the car in neutral. “Thirty days? Dump Nick? Dump you? No foxtrot-ing way. On either count. What part of ‘My life starts today’ was unclear?”
“Umm...all of it? Hayden, I thought we were just going to—”
He slammed his fist into the steering wheel as what she thought became all too clear. “You thought I was going to break my number one rule—no married women—for a thirty-day fling? Sleep with you like you were just one of the others, then walk away? Well, you thought wrong, honey.” His erection shriveled. Record time deflation. She may as well have dumped a bucket of ice water in his lap.
Love ’em and leave ’em didn’t feel quite so good on this side of the equation. He’d always assumed that because the women he got involved with agreed to his terms, never had any complaints when it was over and were well-loved and well-satisfied during the relationship, he’d never hurt any of them.
Now he felt the need to break the “do not initiate contact after the relationship is over” rule, open up the “little black book” section of the contact list on his phone, call a florist and send dozens of apology notes.
A car pulled up behind them. Hayden opened the window just far enough to stick his arm out and wave it around. There wasn’t tons of traffic for them to worry about. More rain made it into the car before he got the window closed again.
“I’m sorry,” Ronni said. She reached for his arm.
“Please don’t touch me right now.”
She recoiled, and he wanted to kick himself. Way to make her see how much more he needed from her. He eased the car through the intersection, his muscles still tight. As they headed up the hill, the wipers kept up a mad tempo against the deluge. When they stopped at the red light at the top, the rapid ratcheting of the blades across the window was the only sound.
Until Ronni’s phone rang. She pulled it from the purple ankle purse still draped along the center console. A quick glance at it and she cursed. “What’s up?”
Hayden divided his focus between his driving and her reactions—the sharp intake of breath, the tension that radiated from her within seconds.
“You had them take him to Saint Joseph’s, right? Not the VA? After the last time there, I want him at Saint Joe’s... When?”
Shit. Something had to be wrong with Scott.
“I was down at Walnut Creek access. Cell coverage is iffy there.” She glanced down at herself, smoothing her soaked jeans as if doing so would magically render them dry. “I’ll head over to the hospital as soon as I can. Thanks.” She jabbed at the phone, then tucked it back into the purse, which she gripped in her hand.
“What’s going on with Scott?”
“He’s having trouble breathing. They think he’s got pneumonia.”
The word pneumonia seemed to slug Hayden in the gut, driving all the air from his lungs. He struggled to breathe himself, to maintain control of the car.
Fortunately, the storm began to lighten.
Double pneumonia had killed Ian. His fragile immune system, suppressed by the chemotherapy he’d been receiving, hadn’t been up to the fight.
That he’d been despondent over the situation with Ronni hadn’t helped.
Neither had the fact that Hayden, who’d sensed something else was wrong with his brother, had agreed to keep Ian’s secret about feeling so much worse.
Was it possible Ronni was about to lose the second man in her life the same way?
When they pulled into her driveway, she’d already popped her seat belt. “I’m sorry, Hayden. This really isn’t what I’d had in mind when I asked you to spend Ian’s birthday with me.” She leaned over, brushed her lips across his cheek. “And I’m really sorry I didn’t get it before.”
He snorted. “I’m sorry you didn’t ‘get it’ before, too.”
She offered him a weak smile at the innuendo. “We’ll talk later, okay?” With that, she bounded from the car, racing into the house.
After just a moment’s contemplation, he got out of the car and walked to the trunk to retrieve his gym bag.
###
Shrugging a dry shirt over her head, Ronni spoke loudly through the fabric so the speaker on her cell, which she’d set on her dresser, would pick up her voice. “I don’t know, Tam. No bookings today, of course. My regulars know I take this day off every year. But I’ve got appointments tomorrow. I’ll cancel or postpone them, but Mrs. Johnson really needs a cut and color tomorrow. Can you take her for me?”
“If I have to stay till ten tomorrow night, I’ll fit her in for you,” her friend declared. “Don’t sweat it. You want me to sneak over and post a sign on your shop door? Family Emergency, blah, blah, blah? Urgent Bad Hair Days Call A Cut Above, and my number?”
“That’d be great.” She grabbed yesterday’s jeans from the laundry basket, jumped into them. “Hopefully this will resolve quickly, and we’ll be right back to the same dull routine.” A massive wave of guilt threatened to drown her. She’d been having a blast, making out with Hayden, while Scott had been transferred from the nursing home by ambulance.
“Keep me in the loop about Scott. And if you need anything else, you know how to find me. I’ll swing by the hospital as soon as I can.”
“Thanks, Tam.” Ronni tossed her cell into her big purse. She dashed into the bathroom, flipped on her blow-dryer and hastily made some semblance of order from the mess. A few quick passes with a curling iron, and she looked at least fit to be seen in public again.
She’d called Lydia, just so Nick wouldn’t be blindsided if everything went to hell in a handbasket in a hurry. Lydia had offered to keep Nick as long as she needed.
Ronni would put off calling Vera until she could get to the hospital, speak to a doctor herself and assess the situation. Scott had battled pneumonia months ago and won. But the doctors had told her then that it would likely be something similar, some kind of infection, that would eventually take him.
As she pulled on dry socks, she paused to finger the tattoo. The way Hayden had touched her, kissed her... She shivered. He’d certainly aced the job of making her feel alive again.
But now Scott was in trouble. And it was her job to take care of him. She smoothed the white fabric over the Liberty Bell.
Freedom wasn’t free. That was a common saying in the military community, whose members knew all too well that the cost was measured in lives. In limbs. In shattered psyches.
The only “exit strategy” Ronni had ever envisioned involved Scott’s death. But now that the possibility loomed again... She didn’t want her freedom to come at the price of Scott’s life, even if that life wasn’t much to speak of.
Even if his death had been the only way she’d ever seen their numb, not-really-alive existences ending.
She grabbed her bag, barreled down the hallway. Skidded to a stunned halt in the kitchen, where Hayden, now clad in dry clothes of his own, was polishing off a sandwich. “W-what are you doing here? I thought you left.”
He stuffed the last bit of food into his mouth while he shook his head. He washed it down with several gulps of water. “Here.” He handed her a sandwich in a plastic bag—which explained why several of the cabinets were open. “Let’s move. I’m going to the hospital with you.”
“Why?”
“Because I care about you. I’m not letting you do this alone.”
A sense of comfort filled her. Though he’d been court-ordered into her life, he’d truly had her back since then. Which made her feel worse about the “misunderstanding” they’d had. “Even after before?”
He waved a hand. “I’m over that already. My own fault. You expected from me exactly what I always do.” His shoulders rose. “Can’t blame you for that, can I?”
“But what will people think if you’re at the hospital with me?”
“First of all, I don’t give a damn what people think. Secondly, they’ll think that your friend, who’s been at your place damn near every day so far this summer, is helping you with a family crisis. What’s the big deal?”
“You’re right. Let’s go.” She set the sandwich on the counter, picked up her purse and headed for the door.
“We’ll take my car, and I’m driving,” he announced.
“No, your car seats are wet. We’ll be damp all over again. We’ll take my car.”
“Okay, but I’m still driving. This way I can drop you off at the hospital entrance and then park the car. Hand over the keys.”
As soon as he’d backed the car from the driveway, he tossed the bagged sandwich at her. “Eat. I have the feeling it’s going to be a long afternoon.”
“My stomach can’t take that right now.”
He sighed. “I’m a health teacher. I know what I’m talking about. Your body can’t run without fuel.”
“Gosh, I never knew that. Thanks, Mom.” She stuffed the sandwich into the pair of cup holders in the middle of the car.
They rode to Saint Joseph’s without further conversation, Ronni wrapping the strap from her purse around her hand, then unwrapping it. True to his word, Hayden dropped her off at the hospital’s main entrance, then went to park the car at the municipal garage next door.
The volunteer staffing the main reception desk checked the computer, which indicated Scott was still in the E.R. Ronni took the elevator downstairs.
The nurse at the triage desk in the E.R. checked her computer, then directed Ronni through the doors around the corner, to the private room where Scott lay, eyes closed, on a gurney with the side rails up.
Ronni leaned over the metal railing, stroked his hair. “I’m here, Scott.” Heat radiated from him—a sign of the fever that raged as his body struggled with the illness. She grazed her fingers over his chin, over the roughness of his beard stubble. “No one bothered to shave you this morning. I’m sorry about that.”
Each expansion of his chest appeared to take an effort. His breathing was raspy. Slow.
Ronni’s own chest tightened. She swallowed a huge lump in her throat, blinking back tears. Despite everything that had happened, it still hurt to see him like this. She tried to convert that pain to anger. She had to advocate for him here, and being a puddle of mush wasn’t going to help.
“Don’t you do this to me, Scott,” she murmured. “Not today. Not tomorrow, either, but definitely not today.”
She glanced at the numbers on the monitor. She’d learned how to read them early on when Scott had come back to the States. Had had a refresher course the last time he’d had pneumonia. His oxygen levels were low. But he didn’t have an oxygen mask.
No IV, either. As far as she could tell, he was being monitored, but not receiving any sort of treatment.
A young woman in a purple scrub top with bold pink flowers on it came into the room. “Oh. Hi. I didn’t realize anyone was here with him. I’m Annette.”
“I’m Ronni Mangano.” She gestured toward the bed. “This is my husband. Can I get an update on his condition?”
“Sure. Let me get the doctor for you, okay?”
“Thanks. Do you know if you’ve also got a call in to his regular doctor? Dr. Saunders?”
“I’ll check.”
Ronni forced out the next question, one she didn’t really want to ask, but had to. “Is there still a copy of his end-of-life directives in his records?”
The nurse’s eyes softened with sympathy. “Yes. We just need to know if, as his guardian, you still agree with it.”
“I wrote it. I certainly agree with it. But I don’t understand, if his O2 sats are so low, and you’ve read the document, why isn’t he on oxygen?”
“I’m going to get the doctor for you.”
###
Hayden heard Ronni’s voice even before he entered the double doors to the E.R. area. He couldn’t make out the words yet, but he got the tone.
She was pissed at someone. Big-time pissed.
He hustled down the hall, stopping several yards behind her. Fists propped on her hips, she squared off with a baby-faced doctor.
“If my husband was a rosebush or a houseplant, he’d get water, nourishment and, if needed, medication. And that’s what I’m telling you. That’s what his directive calls for. You start treating him right now, or I’ll have you in front of the board of this hospital so damn fast you’ll be treating yourself for a serious case of whiplash!”
“Mrs. Mangano, I’m just asking you to reconsider his quality of life. If—”
“Don’t quality-of-life me. I know somebody gave you a fancy degree and a white coat, but you don’t know everything. You’re not God, even if you have a God complex. How would you like me to lock you in a closet with no food and no water and let you die like that?”
“I assure you, your husband doesn’t feel anything.”
“Okay, I’ll knock you unconscious before I toss you into the closet. That makes it all better, right? ’Cause you won’t feel anything?”
“Uh... Well, technically, I suppose it would. I wouldn’t suffer at all.”
“Is my husband unconscious?”
“Not precisely. I’m sure you know that PVS is a distinct category of mental state.”
“So you’re one hundred percent certain that he feels absolutely nothing.”
“Yes.”
“No possibility for error? None? Zero?”
“Well, uh...”
“Exactly. This is a Catholic hospital, Dr. Xavier. I chose it for that reason. Because I thought I’d find more respect for the sanctity of my husband’s life. Such as it is. Now you start treating him with antibiotics, with whatever other medications you think will help, whatever. Be a doctor. That’s all I’m asking. If he stops breathing, you let him go. If his heart stops beating, let him go. But otherwise...get the hell in there and help him until Dr. Saunders arrives to take over his care.”
“As you wish, Mrs. Mangano. Let me write out the orders.”
“You do that,” she muttered as the doctor strode away, head slightly bowed.
“Wow. Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Hayden said. “I had no idea you could get so riled up.”
She whirled around. “Hayden. I didn’t know you were here already.”
“That’s ’cause you were too busy reaming out that doctor. Probably not the best way to win friends and influence people, but still damned impressive.”
She shrugged. “He wanted me to not treat Scott’s pneumonia. No antibiotics. No oxygen. Nothing.” Her eyes glistened. “I can’t...I can’t do that. I’m already responsible for his condition. I can’t...kill him. I have to do what I can for him.”
There was her guilt again.
Hayden held his arms open. She moved into them, nestling her head against his chest. “Of course you do. I’d feel exactly the same way.” Although if he were in Mangano’s boots, he’d probably prefer death to the limbo the man was in. What good was life when you couldn’t do anything at all? Couldn’t feel anything at all? It wasn’t life.
But Hayden sure as hell didn’t want Ronni carrying even more guilt than she already did. He knew all too well how that felt. How it gnawed at you.
“I don’t think he’d want to live like this.” She snuffled into his shirt. “I don’t want to live like this. But I can’t...” She finally gave in, sobbing softly in Hayden’s embrace.
“Shh.” He stroked her hair, holding her tight. She didn’t stay there long. A moment or two later, she shoved him away, swiping at her face with the back of her hand.
“Okay. Enough. I don’t have time for this right now. I have to call Vera and let her know what’s happening. And I have to shuffle around all my clients for tomorrow.” She jerked her head in the direction of the E.R. exam room. “Can you please sit with Scott? Wow. That’s a really weird thing to ask, isn’t it? But...I don’t trust that doctor. And I don’t want Scott alone. If anyone comes in to do anything, you ask questions, okay? Find out exactly what they’re doing, what medication they’re giving, all of that?”
“If that’s what you need me to do, you know I will.”
She grabbed his hand. Gave it a quick squeeze. “Thank you.” Then she headed for the doors, digging in her purse for her cell phone.
Once she’d passed through to the waiting room, Hayden entered the exam room.
Mangano looked even more like shit than he had in the nursing home. Something Hayden hadn’t thought possible at the time.
Skin flushed with fever made Scott’s five o’clock shadow more pronounced. Right. Ronni had given herself the day off from the nursing home and shaving duties in honor of Ian’s birthday. “Can’t even let the poor woman have a single day to herself, huh? We need to have a serious talk, man to man.”
The way Mangano struggled to breathe kicked Hayden in the gut, bringing back painful memories of Ian’s last hours.
Hayden leaned over the bed, adjusted the pillow, trying to open his airway more. “Your wife is a damn good woman. Way better than you deserve, that’s for sure.”
A nurse bustled into the room, an IV bag in hand. She skidded to a halt when she saw him. “Hayden...”
“Netti. You’re his nurse?” He and Annette had been on very intimate terms a few years back.
“I am.”
“Good.” He took comfort—for Ronni’s sake—in having Netti on the job. She was compassionate, and damn good at what she did. There was only one other nurse he’d prefer in a crisis, and that was his sister Elke.
Within minutes, Netti finished hooking up Scott’s IV, then added another bag, responding to Hayden’s questions, explaining exactly what medications the patient was receiving. She placed an oxygen mask over his face, turned the valve, then studied the monitor. One of the numbers immediately began to rise slightly.
“You think he’ll make it?”
She shrugged. “This is generally what kills a PVS patient. Some infection. But we’ll see. His chart shows he had a bout of pneumonia four months ago and pulled through. Anything’s possible.” She patted Hayden’s arm. “If you need anything, hit the call button. Or stick your head out the door and yell. We won’t come running, because he’s DNR, but we’ll come.”
“Thanks, Netti.”
When she left, Hayden leaned over the head of the bed again. “As I was saying, you don’t deserve Ronni. And she doesn’t deserve this hell you’re putting her through. If you were any kind of a man, if you ever loved her, you’ll let go of whatever it is that you’re hanging on to.
“All I’m saying, dude, one military guy to another. You don’t want to live like this, do you? So if you see a white light, you go for it. Of course, given the way you’ve treated your wife, the light might just be fire, but...a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. Man up, soldier. Set her free.
“Set yourself free.”