Читать книгу One Night Before Christmas - Susan Carlisle - Страница 8
ОглавлениеMELANIE PULLED IN front of the Lodge at eight-thirty the next morning. The snow had stopped during the night but the sky was overcast as if it would start again soon. She’d left last night uncomfortable about Dr. Reynolds’ suggestive manner. She wasn’t feeling any better about being his hostess this morning.
When his dark shapely brow had risen as if she were proposing she might be staying the night with him, she’d been insulted for a second. Then a tinge of self-satisfaction had shot through her that a male had noticed her. She’d had her share of boyfriends when she’d been young but recently the men attracted to her had become fewer. They seemed frightened by her position or were only interested so they could meet either one of her famous brothers or one of the Currents players. The one that she had loved hadn’t truly cared for her. She’d known rejection and wanted no part of it.
There had been one special man. He was a lawyer for a player. She couldn’t have asked for someone who fit into her family better. He lived and breathed football. They had even talked of marriage. It wasn’t until he started hinting, then asking her to put a good word in with her father when an assistant manager’s job came open that she realized he was using her. When she refused to do so, he dumped her. It had taken her months after that to even accept a friendly date. After that experience she judged every man that showed any attention to her with a sharp eye. She wouldn’t go through something like that again. Dr. Reynolds might flirt with her but she would see to it that was all that would happen. A fly in, fly out guy was someone she had no interest in.
She entered the lobby to find Dr. Reynolds waiting in one of the many large armchairs near the fireplace. Was he fortifying himself for the weather outside? She smiled. He had looked rather pitiful the night before in his effort to stay warm.
This morning his outfit wasn’t much better. Wearing a dress shirt, jeans and loafers, he didn’t look any more prepared for the weather than he had yesterday. In reality, it was unrealistic to expect him to buy clothes just to fly to Niagara Falls to see Rocket but he would be cold. However, he was undoubtedly the most handsome man she’d ever met. His striking good looks drew the attention of a couple of women who walked by. He had an air of self-confidence about him.
His head turned and his midnight gaze found her. His eyes were his most striking attribute. The dark color was appealing but it was the intensity of his focus that held her. As if he saw beyond what was on the surface and in some way understood what was beneath.
His bags sat on the floor beside him. She didn’t have to ask if he had plans to return to the sun and fun as soon as possible. If Rocket needed surgery he would have to go to Miami to have it done. She hoped that wouldn’t be the case but feared otherwise.
“Dr. Reynolds, good morning,” she said as she approached.
He stood, picked up his shoulder bag and slipped it over his neck. Grabbing his other bag, he walked toward her.
Apparently he was eager to leave. She stepped closer. “Have you had breakfast?”
“I ate a couple of hours ago.”
So he was an early riser. “Then we can go.” Melanie turned and headed back the way she had come. By the time she settled behind the steering wheel, he’d placed his bag in the backseat and was buckling up.
As she pulled out onto the main road, he said, “Well, at least it isn’t snowing.”
“No, but the weatherman is calling for more. A lot more.”
“Then I need to see Mr. Overtree’s X-rays and get to the airport.”
“Only eight more days. You must be in a hurry to get home to your family for Christmas.”
“No family. I’ll be working.”
“Oh.” Despite her family’s year-round focus on football, they all managed to come together during the holidays. Sometimes it was around Christmas Day games, but they always found a time that worked for all of them. Her brothers had wives and children, and the crowd was rowdy and loud. She loved it. Melanie couldn’t imagine not having any family or someone to share the day with. Even though much of the work fell to her. The men in her life expected her to organize and take care of them. She’d never let them know that sometimes she resented them taking her for granted.
They rode in silence for a while. He broke it by asking, “How much longer?”
“It should be only another ten minutes or so.”
The sky had turned gray and a large snowflake hit the windshield. By the time she pulled into the team compound it had become a steady snow shower. Instead of parking in the front, this time she pulled through the gate to the back of the building and parked in the slot with her name painted on it. Thankfully, her spot was close to the door so they wouldn’t have far to walk.
Dr. Reynolds huddled in his coat on their way to the door. With his head down, he walked slowly as if in an effort not to slip on the ice and snow. Melanie stayed close behind him. She had no idea what her plan was if he started to go down. Inside, they both took off their jackets and shook them out.
“I’ll take that,” Melanie said. Dr. Reynolds handed her his overcoat. Their hands brushed as she reached for it. A tingle of awareness went up her spine. Shaking it off, she hung their coats up on pegs along the wall and headed down the hall. “This way.”
“I assume Mr. Overtree’s X-rays will have been sent to your computer in the exam room. The MRI as well.”
“Yes.”
She made a turn and went down another hallway until she reached the Athlete Performance Area and pushed open one of the swinging doors and held it. She let him have the door, then continued into the room. Rocket, Coach Rizzo and her father were already there.
Her father gave her a questioning look. She shrugged her shoulder. Surely her father wouldn’t push Dr. Reynolds to agree to let Rocket play if the test indicated that he shouldn’t. As team doctor, she had the final say anyway. She would refuse to be a team player if it came down to Rocket’s long-term health. Moving on to her desk, she flipped on the computer. She pulled up Rocket’s chart. “Dr. Reynolds, the X-rays from last week and his most recent ones are ready for your review.”
Giving her what she could only describe as an impressed look, Dr. Reynolds seemed to appreciate her being efficient and prepared. For some reason that made her feel good. The kind of respect she didn’t feel she received from her father. She stepped away from the desk to allow him room. When the other men moved to join them, she shook her head, indicating they should give Dr. Reynolds some space. Despite that, her father still took steps toward her desk.
“Thank you, Doctor. You’ve been very thorough,” Dr. Reynolds said to her.
It was nice to be valued as a fellow medical professional who was more interested in the health of the player than whether or not the team won. She and Dr. Reynolds were at least in the same playbook where that was concerned.
In her mind no game was worth a man losing mobility for the rest of his life. A player’s heath came first in that regard. She was sure her father and the coach didn’t feel the same. More than once she’d been afraid that there might be repercussions from them if she placed a player on the disabled list. Even the players gave her a hard time about her being overly cautious. As their doctor, the players’ health took precedence over winning a game. Rocket had his sights set on being the most valuable player. He might agree to anything to get it. Even playing when he was injured. Sometimes she felt as if she had the most rational mind in the group.
Dr. Reynolds took her chair. He gave that same concentrated consideration to the screen as he seemed to give everything. With a movement of one long finger, he clicked through the black-and-white screens of different X-ray angles of Rocket’s knee. He studied them all but made no comment.
He turned to her. “Did you have a MRI done?”
She nodded.
“Good. I’d like to see it.”
She moved to the desk and he pushed back enough to allow her to get to the keyboard. As she punched keys she was far too aware of him close behind her. Her fingers fumbled on the keys but seconds later she had the red-and-blue images on the screen.
Minutes went by as Dr. Reynolds moved through the different shots.
“Well?” her father snapped.
“Let him have time to look,” Melanie said in an effort to placate him. Her father shot her a sharp look.
Dr. Reynolds continued to spend time on the side views of the knee. The entire room seemed to hold their collective breath as he spun in the chair. His gaze went to Rocket. “It looks like you have a one-degree patellar-tendon tear.”
That was what she had been afraid of. “That was my diagnosis.”
Dr. Reynolds nodded in her direction.
“We still needed a second opinion,” her father said as he stepped back.
For once it would be nice for her father to appreciate her knowledge and ability.
“Can he play?” Coach Rizzo asked.
“The question is—should he play?” Then, to Rocket, Dr. Reynolds said, “Do you want to take the chance on ruining your knee altogether? I wouldn’t recommend it. Let it rest, heal. You’ll be ready to go next year.”
The other men let go simultaneous groans.
Rocket moaned. “This is our year. Who’s to know what’ll happen next year?”
Her father looked at Rocket. “What do you want to do? Think about the bonus and the ring.”
How like her father to apply pressure.
Dr. Reynolds looked at him. “Mr. Hyde, this is a decision that Rocket needs to make without any force.”
Her father didn’t look happy but he also didn’t say anything more.
Rocket seemed not to know what the right answer was or, if he did, he didn’t want to say it.
“Hey, Doc, what’re the chances of it getting worse?” Rocket asked.
“If you take a hard hit, that’ll be it. Your tendon is like a rope with a few of the strands frayed and ragged. You take a solid shot and the rope may break. What I know is that it won’t get any better if you play. One good twist during a run could possibly mean the end of your career.”
Her father huffed. “Roger Morton with the Wildcats had surgery and returned better than ever.”
“I’m not saying it isn’t possible. However, not everyone does that well.”
Coach Rizzo walked over to Rocket and put his hand on his shoulder, “I think ‘The Rocket’ has what it takes to play for us on Sunday.”
Dr. Reynolds stood. “That’ll be for Mr. Overtree to decide.”
“You can’t do anything more?” Rocket asked Dr. Reynolds.
He looked as if he wanted to say no but instead said, “I’d like to see you use the knee. See what kind of mobility you have.”
Before Rocket had time to respond, Coach Rizzo spoke up. “Practice starts in about ten minutes.”
“Mel, why don’t you show Dr. Reynolds to the practice field?” her father suggested.
“Okay.” Once again, she wasn’t sure how being tour guide to the visiting doctor fell under her job description but she was a team player. She would do what she was asked. As she headed out the door she said over her shoulder, “Rocket, be sure and wear your knee brace.”
She looked at Dr. Reynolds. “The practice field is out this way.”
* * *
Dalton followed Melanie out a different set of double doors and into a hallway. At the elevator they went down to the ground floor. Once again she was wearing a very efficient-looking business suit. With her shapely, slender body it would seem she’d want to show it off; instead, she acted as if she sought to play down being a woman.
Her father sure was a domineering man. She seemed to do his bidding without question. He was afraid that if he hadn’t been brought in for that second opinion, her father would have overridden any decision she made about Rocket. For a grown woman she seemed to still be trying to make daddy happy.
“We aren’t going outside, are we?” he asked.
She grinned. “No. We have an indoor practice field. A full stadium without the stands. You should be warm enough in there.”
“Good.”
Melanie led them down a hallway and through two extralarge doors into a covered walkway. Seconds later they entered a large building.
They walked down one of the sidelines until they were near the forty-yard line. A few of the players wandered out on the field and started stretching. They wore shoulder pads under practice jerseys and shorts.
“Hey, Doc,” a couple of the players yelled as they moved to the center of the field.
She called back to them by name. Dalton wasn’t used to this type of familiarity with his patients. As a surgeon he usually saw them only a couple of times and never again.
It was still cooler than he liked inside the building. Dalton crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his hands under his arms.
Dr. Hyde must have noticed because she said, “It’s not near as cold in here as outside but we can’t keep it too warm because the players would overheat.” Not surprisingly Melanie didn’t seem affected by the temperature.
Rocket loped on the field from the direction of the dressing room. Dalton studied the movement of his leg and so far couldn’t see anything significantly out of the norm.
Melanie leaned toward him. “They’ll go through their warm-up and then move into some skill work. I think that’ll be when you can tell more about his knee. In the past he seemed to show no indication there might be a problem until he was running post plays.”
“Post plays?”
“When they run up the field and then cut sharply one way or another.”
He nodded and went back to learning Rocket’s movements. Rocket. He shook his head. It seemed as if he was picking up the slang of the game.
Would Dr. Hyde agree with him if he said that Rocket didn’t need to play? As a medical doctor, how could she not?
They had been standing there twenty minutes or so, him watching Rocket while Melanie spoke with every one of the big men who passed by. The staff along the sidelines with them did the same. She was obviously well liked.
The next time a guy came by her, Dalton asked, “You have a good relationship with the team. Does anyone not like you?”
A broad smile came to her face. “We’re pretty much like family around here. We all have a job to do but most of us are really good friends. I work at having a positive relationship with the players. I try to have them see me as part of the team. I want them to feel comfortable coming to me with problems. Men tend to drag their feet about asking for help.” He must have made a face because she said, “Not all, but I want them to come to me or one of the trainers before a problem gets so bad they can’t play.”
Dalton had nothing to base that type of camaraderie on. Long ago he’d given up on that idea. Unable to think of anything to say, he muttered, “That makes sense.”
She touched his arm. Her small hand left a warm place behind when she removed it to point at Rocket. “Watch him when he makes this move.”
The hesitation was so minor that Dalton might have missed it if he hadn’t been looking as she instructed.
“Did you see it?”
“I did. It was almost as if he didn’t realize he did it.” He was impressed that she had caught it to begin with.
“Exactly. I noticed it during one practice. Called him in and did X-rays. Dad insisted I contact you. We can’t afford for Rocket to be out.”
He looked at her. “Afford?”
She continued to watch the action on the field. “Yeah. This is big business for the team as well as for all these guys’ careers.”
He looked at Rocket and made no effort to keep the skepticism out of his voice when he asked, “No life after football?”
She stepped back and gave him a sharp look. “Yes. That’s the point. A successful season means endorsements, which means money in their pockets. That doesn’t even include the franchise.”
“And all this hinges on Rocket?”
“No, but he’s an important part.” She looked around and leaned so close he could smell her shampoo. “The star—for now.”
He wasn’t convinced but he nodded and said, “I think I get it.”
Melanie’s expression implied she wasn’t sure he did.
They continued to watch practice from the edge of the sideline. The team was playing on the far end of the field.
“How long has Rocket...?” he began.
She turned to look at him.
Over her shoulder he saw a huge player barreling in their direction. His helmeted head was turned away as he looked at the ball in the air. Not thinking twice, Dalton wrapped his arms around Melanie and swiveled to the side so he would take the brunt of the hit. Slammed with a force he would later swear was the equivalent of a speeding train, his breath swooshed from his lungs. His arms remained around Melanie as they went through the air and landed on the Astroturf floor with a thud. The landing felt almost as hard as the original hit. He and Melanie ended up a tangle of legs and arms as the player stumbled over their bodies.
There was no movement from the soft form in his arms. Fear seized him. Had she been hurt? A moan brushed his cheek. At least she was alive. He loosened his hold and rolled to his side but his hands remained in place. Searching Melanie’s face, he watched as her eyes fluttered open. She stared at him with a look of uncertainty.
“What...what happened?”
Dalton drew in a breath, causing his chest to complain. He would be in considerable pain in the morning. “We got hit.”
“By what?”
“Doc Mel, you okay?” a player asked from above them.
Dalton looked up to find players and staff circling them.
A large man with bulging biceps sounded as if he might cry.
“I’m sorry, Doc Mel. Are you okay? I tried to stop.” If that had been his idea of slowing down, Dalton would have hated being on the receiving end of the player’s full power. Dalton returned his attention to Melanie. One of his hands rested beneath her shoulder and the other on her stomach. Her cheek was against his lips. “Do you think you can stand?”
“Why did you grab me?”
“Because you could have been hurt if I hadn’t.” Didn’t she understand he might have just saved her life?
“Hurt?” She turned her head toward him. Her eyes were still dazed. “You have pretty eyes.”
Dalton swallowed hard, which did nothing to ease the pain in his chest. She must have a head injury because he couldn’t imagine her saying something so forward.
“Lie right where you are,” one of the people above them commanded. “An ambulance is on its way.”
Dalton shifted. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
The trainer said, “Yes, it is. You both need to be checked out.”
“Look, I’m a doctor. I would know if I need...”
“Now you’re a patient.” A man with a staff shirt said, “Mel, where do you hurt?”
Dalton’s hand moved to her waist and gave it a gentle shake. “Dr. Hyde, can you move?”
“Melanie...my name is Melanie,” she murmured.
Three of the trainers shifted to one side of her and placed their arms under her, preparing to lift her enough to separate them.
“Melanie, they’re going to move you.” Dalton took his hands away.
She nodded then made a noise of acceptance and the trainers went to work. Dalton started to rise and a couple of the trainers placed their hands on his shoulders, stopping him.
A few minutes later the sound of the ambulances arriving caught his attention.
* * *
Melanie wasn’t clear on all that had occurred before she woke up in the brightly lit emergency room.
“What’s going on?” She looked at David, one of the trainers, who was sitting in a chair across the room.
“You were in an accident on the practice field.”
Before David could elaborate, a white-haired doctor entered. “So, how are you feeling?” He stepped close to the bed and pulled out a penlight.
Slowly the events came back to her. She started to sit up. “How is Dr. Reynolds?”
The doctor pushed her shoulder, making her lie back. “First let me do my examination, then you can go check on him.”
She settled back.
“I’ll be in the waiting room,” David said and went out the door.
“Now tell me what happened,” the doctor said as he lifted one of her eyelids.
Melanie relayed the events she recalled and finished with “and Dr. Reynolds took the impact of the hit.”
The doctor nodded thoughtfully. “That he did.”
“How bad is he?”
“If you’ll give me a few minutes to finish my exam you can go see for yourself.”
Melanie’s chest tightened. She hoped he wasn’t badly hurt. Thankfully, the doctor pronounced her well enough to go. The time that she waited for the nurse with the discharge papers only made her anxiety grow. Because of her, Dalton was hurt.
“What exam room is Dr. Reynolds in?” Melanie asked as she pulled on her shoes.
“Next door.” The nurse indicated to the right.
“Thanks.” Melanie rose slowly, still feeling dazed. She sat on the edge of the bed for a few seconds. Her body would be sore tomorrow.
Minutes later, she knocked on the glass sliding door to the exam room. At a weak, “Come in,” she entered. Dalton still wore his slacks but no shirt. He had a nicely muscled chest. She groaned when she saw the ice pack resting on his left rib cage. His eyes were glazed as if he were in pain and his lips were drawn into a tight line. Guilt filled her.
Another one of the trainers stood in the corner of the room, typing on his cell phone. When she entered he slipped out, giving her the impression he was relieved to do so.
“Hey,” she said softly.
Dalton’s response came out more as a grumble than a word.
Melanie stepped farther into the room. She had to let him know how much she appreciated what he’d done. “Thank you.”
He nodded but his jaw remained tight.
“How are you?”
“I’ve been better.” The words were uttered between clenched teeth.
A stab of remorse plunged through her. He was here because of her. She approached the bed and moved to put her hand on his shoulder, then stopped herself. That would be far too personal. “Don’t talk if it hurts too much.”
A nurse entered.
Melanie didn’t give her time to pick up the chart before she asked, “How is he?” She had to find out something about his injuries without him having to do the speaking.
The nurse looked at him. “Do I have permission to discuss your case?”
He nodded.
“The doctor has some bruised ribs. He’ll be sore for a week or so but nothing more serious.”
At least that was positive news. Melanie was already guilt ridden enough. “Then he will be released?”
“He’ll be released as soon as he has someone who can take him home and stay with him. He isn’t going to feel like doing much for a few days.”
“I’ll see that he gets the care he needs,” Melanie assured her.
Dalton’s eyebrows went up. “Plane...”
The nurse placed the blood pressure cuff around his arm. “You don’t need to be flying. I don’t think you could stand the pain.”
There was a knock at the door and Melanie looked away from Dalton to find John Horvitz, her father’s right-hand man, standing there.
“How’re you both doing?” Obviously he would be concerned about the visiting doctor being hurt on team time.
Melanie gave John a brief report. “He’s in so much pain, it’s difficult to speak.” Dalton gave her a grateful look.
John focused his attention on her. “Your father wanted me to check on you both. He had a meeting. I’ll be giving him a full report.”
And he would. That was always the way it had been. Her father sent someone else. When he’d coached, team issues took precedence. As the general manager, it wasn’t any better. His concern had always come through a subordinate. What would it be like to have him show he really cared?
“He’ll call when the meeting is over,” John finished.
“Who hit us?” she asked.
John grimaced. “I was told it was Juice.”
“He must have been flying!”
“Not ‘Freight Train’?” Dalton mumbled.
Melanie laughed. The poor guy. Maybe he did have a sense of humor. She wrapped her arms around her waist when the laughter led to throbbing.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” John asked her.
“Sore, but nothing that I can’t stand. Dr. Reynolds is the one we should be worried about. I think we would both like to get out of here.”
As if on cue, the ER doctor came in. “If you’ll give me a few minutes, I’ll see you have your discharge papers. There will be no driving or flying for two days.”
Dalton partially sat up, “Two days!” As if the effort was too much for him, he fell back, closing his eyes.
She owed him for making sure she hadn’t really got hurt but this was a busy time of the year and adding the Currents’ play-off game didn’t make it better. Now she was being saddled with taking care of him for two more days.
“The team will see that you are as comfortable as possible,” John assured him.
Dalton’s eyes opened but he said nothing.
John continued, “There’s a driver and a car waiting to take you both home. I have notified the Lodge to do everything they can to make your stay comfortable.”
“I’ll see that he’s well taken care of. Thanks, John,” Melanie said.
Half an hour later, Melanie sucked in her breath when she looked out the hospital sliding glass door. Snow fell so thickly that she could just make out the cars in the parking lot. “The snow has really picked up.”
Their driver waited under the pickup area with the engine running. Dr. Reynolds, always the gentleman, allowed her to get in the backseat first. Wincing as he bent to climb in, he joined her. He reached out to pull the door closed and groaned.
“Let me help.” She leaned across him. Her chest brushed his as she stretched. His body heat mixed with the air blasting out of the car vents, making her too warm. He smelled like a fir after a misty rain. She stopped herself from inhaling. Using her fingertips, she managed to pull the door closed. His breath brushed her cheek as she sat up again, causing her midsection to flutter.
The windshield wipers swished back and forth in a rapid movement but the snow continued to pile up on the glass. She glanced at Dr. Reynolds. His shoulders were hunched and he was peering out with a concerned look on his face.
“Normal?” The word came out with a wince.
“We get a lot of snow here. We’re used to it. Looks like we’ll have a white Christmas, with it only being seven days off.” She tried to make the last sentence sound upbeat. In pain, he took on an almost boyish look that had her heart going out to him.
He leaned back and closed his eyes. “Only thing white at Christmastime where I come from is the beach.”
That didn’t sound all that festive to her. Snow, a green tree, a warm fire and people you loved surrounding you was what she thought Christmas should be. She loved this time of the year.
The driver had the radio playing low and after the song finished the announcer came on. “Fellow Niagarans, it’s a white one out there. The good news is the roads are still passable and the airport open. But not sure it will be tomorrow. The storm isn’t over yet.”
Dalton moaned.
“I’m sorry for this inconvenience, Dr. Reynolds. Maybe in a few days you’ll be up to going home,” Melanie said in a sympathetic tone.
And she wouldn’t be nursemaiding him anymore. She needed to talk to her father about what her duties as team doctor entailed. It would probably be a waste of time; he’d never listened to her in the past and wasn’t likely to do so now.
* * *
Dalton questioned if the stars were aligned against him. He was stuck in Niagara Falls longer than he’d planned. Too long for his comfort. The driver pulled under the awning of the Lodge. Dalton opened the door despite the pain it brought and climbed out. It wasn’t until he turned to close the door that he saw Dr. Hyde getting out.
“What’re you doing?” he muttered through tightly clamped teeth.
“I’m going to stay and see about you tonight.”
“What?”
“Didn’t you hear the doctor? You need someone to check on you regularly over the next twenty-four hours.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“For heaven’s sakes, can we go inside to argue about this?”
Without another word, he turned and pulled open the door to the Lodge. He had to admit it required a great deal of effort to do so.
She came to stand beside him. “You obviously need help. I feel guilty enough about you getting hurt. The least I can do is make sure you’re okay.”
His look met hers for the first time since they’d left the hospital. He wasn’t used to seeing concern for him in anyone’s eyes. He tried to take a deep breath. Pain shot through his side. He reluctantly said, “I would appreciate help.”
“Then let’s go try to make you as comfortable as you can be with those ribs. The elevator is over this way.” They walked across the lobby.
“Not going to make me climb the stairs?” Each word pained him but he couldn’t stop himself from making the comment.
She glared at him. “I thought your ribs hurt too much to speak.”
He started to laugh and immediately wrapped his arms across his chest.
They rode the elevator up and walked to the room. At the door Melanie took out a room key.
“You have a key to my room?” Dalton asked with a hint of suspicion.
“I was given one when we knew you were coming so I could check on the room before you arrived.” She slid the plastic card in the slot and opened the door. “I’m sure you’re ready to lie down. I’ll call for some food.”
“Are you always so bossy?”
Melanie dropped her pocketbook into the closest chair. “I guess I am when it comes to taking care of my patients.”
Dalton started toward the bedroom. “I’m not one of your patients.”
“You are for the next twenty-four hours.”
He wasn’t pleased with the arrangements. Still, something about having her concerned for him gave him an unfamiliar warm feeling. He’d never had anyone’s total focus before. Mrs. Richie had been the only foster mother who came close to doing that, but he hadn’t been there long before he heard her telling the social worker that it would be better for him to move to another house. After that he’d never let another woman know he hurt or see him in need. He made sure his relationships with women were short and remained at arm’s length. All physical and no emotional involvement was the way he liked to keep things.
Dalton crossed the living space and circled one of the sofas that faced each other on his way to the bedroom on the left. There was another room on the opposite side of the large living area. He would leave that one for Melanie. Giving a brief glance to the minibar/kitchen area on the same side of the suite as the extra bedroom, he kept walking.
He ached all over. His jaw hurt from clamping his teeth in an effort not to show the amount of pain he was in. He’d learned as a child that if you let them see your weakness, they would use it against you. Now all he wanted to do was get a hot shower and go to bed.
Kicking off his shoes, he started to remove his knit pullover shirt and pain exploded through his side, taking his breath. For once in his life he had no choice but to ask for help. When his breath returned he opened the door and said, “Dr. Hyde?”
Melanie jumped up from the chair. She must have been watching for him. Hurrying toward him, her eyes were filled with concern, “Are you all right?”
“I need help with my shirt.”
She stepped close. “Why do you need to take it off? You could lie down with it on.”
“Shower.”
“Oh.”
“Help?”
“Sure. Sure.” She didn’t sound too confident as she followed him back into the room. When he stopped at the bed she reached for the hem of his shirt. Her blue eyes met his. There was a twinkle in her eyes when she said, “You know I’m usually on a first-name basis with people I help undress. You can feel free to call me Mel.”
Was she flirting with him? “You said Melanie.”
She gave him a questioning look.
“That’s what you told me to call you after we were hit. You can call me Dalton.”
“Dalton—” she said it as if she were testing the sound of it on her lips “—hold real still.” She gathered the shirt until she had it under his arms.
Pain must have really addled his brain because he liked the sound of his name when she said it. He was just disappointed he didn’t feel well enough to take advantage of her removing his clothes.
“Raise your hands as high as you can. I’ll be as careful as I can but I’m afraid it’s going to hurt.”
He followed her directions. She wasn’t wrong. It hurt like the devil as she worked the sleeves off. Sweat popped out on his forehead.
“I’m sorry. I’ll get you something for the pain as soon as I’m done.”
Dalton was exhausted by the time she finished.
“Let’s go to the bathroom to remove your pants.”
“I can do that.”
“What’s wrong? You afraid you have something I haven’t seen? I’m a doctor for an all-male football team. I think I can handle removing your pants.”
“You’re not my doctor.”
“Just as I expected. The double whammy. Who makes the worst patient? A male doctor.”
He sneered, then walked gingerly into the bathroom and closed the door.
“Just the same, I’ll be right out here if you need me,” she called.
If nothing else she was tenacious. With more effort than he would have thought necessary, he managed to get his pants down. In the shower he stood under the hot water until he was afraid he might need Melanie’s assistance to get out. That would be the ultimate humiliation—having to ask for help again. He already looked feeble as it was.
His clothes were not right for the weather, he was hurt and now he needed her help to undress. He had to get a handle on the situation.
He turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. Melanie opened the door and entered just as he pulled a towel off the rack.
He stood motionless. “What’re you doing here?”
She met his gaze with determination. “I’m going to help you dry off. There’s no way you can handle that by yourself. If you’re afraid I’ll look, keep that bath sheet and I’ll use one of the others.”
Their standoff lasted seconds before he handed her his towel. He wouldn’t be intimidated. Standing proudly in front of her, he didn’t blink as she took the rectangular terry cloth. She circled behind him and ran the fabric across his shoulders then down his back.
His manhood twitched.
Melanie continued down his legs and up the front before she stepped around to face him. “Lean your head down.”
Her voice sounded brisk and businesslike, as if she dried men off all the time. He rather liked having a woman dry him. Despite the pain he experienced with each breath, his body was reacting to the attention. Melanie briskly rubbed his hair, then went over his shoulders and down his chest. When she passed over his ribs, he hissed.
She gave him a sad look. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to be careful.”
Going further south, her hands jerked to a stop and it was her turn to release a rush of air.
“I guess you weren’t careful enough,” he smirked.
Her wide-eyed gaze met his.
“I think I can finish from here.” He didn’t miss her gulp.
With a shaking hand she handed him the towel and left with the parting words, “There’s a robe hanging on the back of the door.”
Well, he’d won that standoff. Melanie wasn’t as unaffected as she would like to make out. He let the towel drop to the floor. No way was he going to make the effort to put a robe on when he was just going to crawl into bed.
Melanie wasn’t in the bedroom when he came out and he didn’t pause on his way to the bed. The effort alone had his side aching. He managed to cover his lower half before there was a light knock on the door. He was in so much pain he didn’t even make an effort to answer.
She pushed the door open enough to stick her head in. “You need help?”
He hated to admit again that he did. “Would you put some pillows behind me?”
Melanie hurried to him. She went around the bed, gathered the extra pillows and returned, placing the pillows within arm’s reach.
Dalton groaned as he tried to sit up.
“Let me help you.” Melanie didn’t meet his look as she ran her left arm around his shoulders to support him. With her other hand, she stuffed a couple of pillows behind his back. The awkward process put them close. Too close for his comfort. His face was almost in her breasts. She smelled sweet. Nothing like the aroma of disinfectant their profession was known for. Too soon she guided him back against the pillows so that he was now in a half-sitting position. “Is that better?”
He nodded and made an effort to adjust the covers so that his reaction to her assistance wasn’t obvious. Why was his body reacting to her so?
“Good. I’ll get you that pain reliever.” She stepped out of the room and soon returned with a bottle of tablets and a glass of water. Shaking out a couple of pills, she handed them to him, then offered him the glass of water.
Gladly he took the medicine and swallowed all the water. Closing his eyes, he was almost asleep when the covers were pulled up over his chest. He was being tucked in for the first time in his life...and he liked it!
