Читать книгу Tender Loving Care - Сьюзен Мэллери, Susan Mallery - Страница 7

Three hours later, Melissa crept back into Logan’s room. The past few times she’d checked on him he’d been sleeping soundly, but now it seemed as though he were starting to get restless.

The bedroom was large, with stark white walls and a deep blue carpet. Massive pieces of furniture, from the four-poster bed to the two matching armoires, proclaimed the territory as belonging to a man. A chair rail, in the same rich mahogany as the rest of the furniture, bisected the walls. Opposite the door was a white brick fireplace, flanked by two leather wing chairs. The only incongruous note was the French Impressionist paintings hanging on the walls.

The armoire to the left of the bed contained stereo equipment. She glanced at the CDs scattered on the table and picked up the sound track to The Phantom of the Opera. When the opening bars of music began to softly fill the room, Melissa moved to the bed.

Logan stirred, then rolled onto his back.

“Hi,” she said, stepping closer to him. “How do you feel?”

“You don’t want to know.” He touched his fingers to the bandage around his eyes. His color was no longer gray.

She perched on the edge of the mattress and pulled his hand into her lap. The literature she’d been reading about the newly blind had said that they need a lot of physical contact with the world around them. Feelings of panic and disorientation weren’t uncommon. Even though Logan’s eyesight would be fine once the bandages were off, it was her job to deal with his emotional well-being. She clasped the strong fingers within her own.

The contact felt nice…too nice. It’s just a job, she reminded herself.

“Are you in pain?”

“Not if you don’t count anything above the shoulders.” Logan pulled his hand away and raised himself to a sitting position. The sheet fell to his waist, exposing the expanse of his chest. Dark hair, curling across well-formed muscles cried out to be touched, or at the very least, admired. His fingers returned, tentatively searching for hers.

Melissa swallowed and tried to think of something to say. “Are you hungry?” The staff nurse had told her he hadn’t eaten any lunch and very little breakfast.

“I think so, but I’d like to wash up. I can still smell the hospital.”

“No problem. Only it’s too soon for a bath or shower. You mustn’t get the bandages wet.”

“You are bossy, aren’t you?”

“I prefer to think of myself as having well-developed leadership qualities.”

He grinned. The overhead light cast shadows on the hollows of his cheeks. “Like I said. Bossy.”

She pulled back the sheets, then waited until he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He was very masculine…and virtually naked. Long legs stretched on forever; the lean muscles were covered by hair as dark as that clinging to his chest. The tight briefs around his middle only outlined the…uh…maleness below. Why did he have to be so damned good-looking?

“I think I might be able to find my way,” Logan said, turning toward the hall. “I occasionally make this journey in the dark.”

“Suit yourself.” She let him walk two steps and bang his shin on the end of the bed.

“Ow. Why didn’t you warn me?”

“Would you have listened?” she asked, filling her voice with as much sweetness as possible.

He bent down and rubbed his leg. “I will from now on. Lead the way.”

Melissa put his hand on her arm and counted out the steps to the bathroom. When they reached the door, she flipped on the light.

“Why did you do that?” he asked.

“What?”

“Turn on the light. Are you planning to watch?”

The outrage in his voice started her lips twitching. “It’s just this weird thing I do. When I walk into a dark room I reach for the light. Call me crazy. And as for watching…honey, you haven’t got anything I ain’t seen.”

“We’ll discuss that another time. Just give me a shove in the general direction and leave me in peace.”

“Two steps forward. The sink is to the right. I’ve left out your toothbrush, with toothpaste, and there’s a towel next to it.”

He turned to her. “Is there anything you haven’t thought of?”

The subtle praise of her efficiency caused her stomach to flip-flop a couple of times. “Just call me Florence,” she said, and pulled the door shut.

What was wrong with her? she wondered. Had she spent too much time working with kids and not enough time dating? If she wasn’t so sure she was really twenty-eight, she’d swear she was back in high school with a major hormonal crush on the football captain.

Later, when he was asleep, she was going to have to give herself a stern talking-to. She’d always prided herself on being competent, disciplined and, above all, professional. Logan was making her feel like a new recruit. None of her other patients had made her think about touching and kissing and…not even once.

Maybe it was just the position of the moon or something, and these feelings would go away by themselves. Until then, she’d have to keep a tight rein on her reactions and be the soul of propriety.

By the time Logan stepped out of the bathroom, she had most of herself under control. She led him back to the bed and plumped up the pillows on the headboard. “I’ll be right back with your dinner. Don’t try anything foolish while I’m gone.”

“I wouldn’t even think of it.”

His expression was shameless. She was sure that if his eyes hadn’t been bandaged, he would have been batting his eyelashes at her, like a Southern belle.

Melissa walked down the hall and across the large living room. Once in the kitchen, she poured the soup she’d been simmering into a cup and set the china onto the tray. She hesitated over coffee and decided against it. The caffeine would only interfere with his sleep, and that was the last thing he or she needed. She’d be up checking on him most of the night, anyway.

When she entered the bedroom, she paused. Logan was resting, with his head leaning against the pillow. The lines of his face were clenched tight, and his hands were balled into fists.

“Melissa?”

His voice startled her. “Yes. How did you know I was here?”

“I thought I smelled food. What’s for dinner?”

She set the tray across his lap. “Spaghetti.”

His mouth dropped open. “You’ve got to be kidding. I can’t eat…”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” He lifted his head toward her voice.

“Yes, I’m kidding. Here’s a cup of soup. Careful, it’s still hot. Then we have broiled chicken, sliced and chilled, and steamed vegetables, also sliced and chilled.” She moved his hand to the small dish on the side of the plate. “A light honey-mustard dressing you can use for dipping. And for dessert…strawberries.”

Logan felt the bumpy texture of the fruit as Melissa touched his fingers to the plate. The nurse at the hospital had brought him a regular meal and had then spent fifteen minutes telling him that his plate was like a clock. In theory the idea worked, but as soon as she’d left, he’d forgotten if his peas were at nine or noon. In the end, it had been easier to go hungry.

“I’m going to put a napkin on you, Logan.” Melissa’s voice was quickly followed by the pressure of her hands smoothing a linen square across his chest. “Eat up, or I’m going to make good on my threat to serve you spaghetti.”

He chuckled. “Are you going to join me? Or don’t nurses eat?”

He sensed her hesitation. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

After she’d left, Logan searched for and found a chunk of chicken. He took a bite and chewed slowly. The taste of the food seemed exaggerated, yet he wasn’t sure he would have known what it was if he hadn’t been told. He wanted to throw the tray across the room and shout his frustration.

He’d been alone before; he’d even been scared before. But nothing compared with the black void that was now his world. The simplest task, like brushing his teeth, took on herculean proportions, now that he couldn’t see. And he would only be blind for a week.

“You’re not eating, Logan. Don’t you like my cooking?”

“It’s great.” He grabbed one of the vegetables and took a bite. “Yum, thanks.”

“Okay. You’ve made your point.”

Her voice got farther away, then he heard several grunts. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to move this…chair. What’s it made of? Lead?”

“Just wood. I thought you were big and burly, Melissa.”

“I lied.”

“Come on.” He patted the bed invitingly. “It’s a king-size mattress. I’m willing to share.”

“I…I shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. I’m your nurse.”

He moved his head as if looking for intruders. “I don’t see anyone here but us chickens.”

“Well, they’re here just the same. My professor from nursing school is right there in the corner, glaring at me.”

“Come on. I could use the company.”

“I don’t think…”

He could feel her weakening and grinned. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re…chicken?”

“Give me a break.” There was a slight dipping as she took a seat. Then he felt her lean forward and place something on his tray. “Your water. Don’t spill it.”

“Yes, Mom.” He found the glass and took a sip. “Do you always cook for your patients?”

“No. I work with children, and their parents usually take care of that. Sometimes, I’ll be alone with the kids for the day and then I’ll fix lunch, or we’ll go out for hamburgers.”

She kept her tone light, but he could hear traces of pain behind the words. “You sound sad.”

“I’m fine, really.”

He didn’t believe her for a minute. “Do you miss the kids when they get better and don’t need you?”

“They don’t get better. I work with terminally ill children.” She made the statement casually.

“You sound very calm. Doesn’t it ever get to you?”

“It’s my job to be calm, Logan. And of course it gets to me.”

He heard the catch in her voice and knew that if he could see her, there’d be tears in her eyes. Cursing his lack of sight, he picked up the cup of soup.

“Tell me what you look like.”

Melissa glanced at the man watching her with his covered eyes. If his daughter was anything to go by, his ex-wife was stunning. What should she say? That she wasn’t even pretty? Not that her looks really mattered. Even if she did find him handsome and sexy and interesting and very male, he’d only see her as an employee.

“I’m kind of medium,” she said finally.

“Medium?”

“Yes. Medium height, medium-brown eyes, medium-blond hair. I wear it short, just past my ears, with bangs. I’m the middle child and I got average grades in school.” Boring.

“You don’t sound medium. You have a lovely voice.”

“Thanks.” His compliment pleased her. In a social situation, he wouldn’t have looked at her twice, but here, in the safety of his bedroom, she allowed herself a brief moment of fantasy. When the bandages came off and he returned to his regular life, he’d forget all about his nurse. But she’d remember him.

Logan pushed the tray away. “I can’t eat another bite.”

She finished her last strawberry, then moved the dirty dishes to the table by the fireplace. “I need to change your bandages. Just let me go wash my hands first.”

He nodded. The tension returned to his jaw.

Melissa quickly washed her hands, then hurried back to his room. She picked up the scissors from the nightstand and carefully cut through the gauze.

“Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw a naked man?”

Logan felt his mouth drop open. “Excuse me?”

“When I was about sixteen, I had this crush on a guy named Steve. He was on the swim team. We had a social studies class together. I’d spend the entire hour staring worshipfully at the back of his head and wishing that just once, he’d notice me.”

Logan smiled as he pictured the scene. Melissa knelt beside him on the bed and he moved over to give her room.

“One day, the teacher had us debate an issue. I don’t even remember what it was. Anyway, he and I really got into it. We were arguing back and forth.”

The pads were gently removed from his lids. He saw light and tried to open his eyes.

“Keep them shut, Logan. I’m going to put in the cream, then patch you up again. After class, we continued our argument. About halfway down the hall, he put his arm around me. I thought I was going to die. Hold these against your lids.”

He held the circles in place while she started wrapping the gauze around his head.

“The next thing I knew, we’d stopped walking. I looked around and realized I was in the boys’ locker room. I don’t know who was more embarrassed, me, Steve, or the naked guys milling around and ducking for cover. I ran out of there as fast as I could and never spoke to him again. Actually, that was the first time I thought about going into nursing.”

Logan laughed. “You made that story up, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but it worked.”

“What do you mean?”

“It took your mind off the pain when I changed the bandages.”

She began to smooth salve over the wounds on his face. He grabbed her wrist and held her still. Search as he might, there was no way to penetrate the thick coverings and study her face. She’d said she was medium, but he didn’t know what that meant.

Her breath fanned his face. He could smell the strawberries she’d eaten and the scent of her subtle perfume. He was still holding one hand, and her other pressed against his shoulder for balance. Her fingers felt small yet sure, as if the power to heal and comfort was captured within her delicate touch.

She was very close. Her breasts must be a scant inch from his chest. He remembered the curves pressing into his ribs when she’d helped him into the house. But there was no way to know the exact weight and contour of the feminine flesh.

A hunger started deep within him. He’d been without a woman for far too long, and this sweet creature catering to his every need was a temptation hard to resist. If it wasn’t for the lessons in his past, he would have pulled her next to him and shown her that a man without eyes was still a man in every other sense of the word.

He let her go.

“Tell me about the accident.” The husky sound of her speech rubbed against his skin.

“I had it out with a sandblasting machine. The machine won.”

She continued to smooth the ointment onto his injured flesh. “I guess that’s how you got these burns.”

He nodded. “The hose ripped and the guy holding it got pinned down. Like a fool, I raced in and pulled him free.”

“Sounds brave to me.”

He drew his lips together. “Maybe. But the construction worker was wearing goggles and a protective jacket. I was in a business suit. The hose shot me right in the face.”

“And then you didn’t follow the doctor’s orders and landed in the hospital.” She finished her work and moved away.

“Something like that.”

He heard her walking around the room. Was she going to leave him? Being alone with the blackness wasn’t something he wanted to think about.

“You must be pretty tired,” he said.

Melissa looked up. Logan was sitting against the headboard, but there wasn’t anything relaxed about his pose. He’d suffered her changing his dressings without a fuss, but she knew he’d felt discomfort. The best thing for him would be to sleep through the night. Yet she didn’t want to leave him, and if her hunch was right, he didn’t want her to go.

“Let me take the dishes to the kitchen, then I can come back and read to you.”

The phone rang before he could respond.

She picked up the receiver. “Phillips residence.”

“Oh, totally cool, Melissa. I love the way you answer the phone. If a boy calls for me, could you call me Miss Wendi?”

Melissa laughed. “I’ll see what I can do. You want to speak to your father?”

“Yeah. Is he…okay?”

“He’s fine. Here.”

She handed Logan the phone and picked up the tray.

“Hi, Wendi. I’m feeling great….”

Melissa was still smiling when she returned to his room. “Everything all right?”

“Wendi’s spending the night at her friend’s house. I think she’s scared I’m going to die in my sleep or something and she’d rather not be the one to find the body.”

Melissa looked over the books resting on the floor by the nightstand. “I’ll reassure her in the morning. Don’t you have anything fun to read?”

Logan turned toward her. “I read lots of fun books. Maybe you have no taste.”

She read a title. “Architectural Morés in Ancient Byzantium? I don’t think so.”

“Maybe you’d prefer one of Wendi’s rock star magazines.”

Melissa plopped down on the floor and glared at him. A useless gesture but satisfying all the same. “Aren’t you just filled with wit and charm. Give a man a little food for his belly and suddenly he rules the world. Got any romances?”

“Nope. Maybe there’s a science fiction.”

“Ray guns and slimy monsters? Thanks, but no thanks. Here we go. The Macbeth Murders. I love a good mystery. That way if my patients really bug me, I can learn new and creative ways to bump them off.”

“I like you, Melissa VanFleet.” He grinned at her. “You’re good at your job without making me feel like an invalid.”

“What had you imagined a nurse to be? Someone in a starched uniform with a no-nonsense attitude?”

“I never thought you’d have a sense of humor.”

She tossed the book onto the bed and began measuring out his evening medicine. “They tried beating it out of me, unsuccessfully I might add. Here. These should help you sleep.”

Logan took the pills without comment and downed them with a single gulp of water. “You could be poisoning me and I wouldn’t know.”

“You’re perfectly safe.” Melissa walked around the bed and sat down on the far side of the mattress.

“Why?”

“I haven’t been paid yet.”

“If I weren’t blind right now, I’d…”

She pushed up a pillow behind her back and smiled at him. “Yes? What would you do.”

He sighed. “I give. Just read, woman.”

She opened the book. “Chapter one. It was a dark and stormy night….”

Logan turned with a swiftness she hadn’t anticipated. She didn’t know if it was the perfume she wore or her voice or the fact that she was a woman and he had an unerring sense of direction, but even without the benefit of sight he managed to roll onto his side and pull the book from her fingers.

“You’re pushing it, Melissa,” he growled playfully.

The sheet had become twisted in his legs, leaving his chest bare. He didn’t move back. She was close enough to see the individual whiskers forming the darkness shading his jaw. After making a mental note that he’d need to be shaved in the morning, she stared at his mouth. Firm lips, curving in a slight smile, called out to be touched. Thank God, he couldn’t see what she was looking at. How could she have ever thought of his bedroom as safe?

“Ah, is this your way of saying you want to do the reading?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice level.

“No, it’s my way of saying you’re less in control than you think.”

Logan was close to her. Even without seeing her, he could feel the warmth of her body next to his. They were alone in the house…stretched out on his bed. Now he knew why she’d resisted joining him there. It would be easy to…

He shifted back to rest on his pillow. What was he thinking of? He didn’t know the first thing about Melissa. She might be uninterested or attached or…

“Are you married?” he asked.

“What?” She sounded startled by the question.

“Are you married?”

“No. Why?” The mattress dipped as she slid away.

He shrugged, ignoring the unusual sensation of relief. It didn’t matter to him one way or the other, he told himself. He knew her type and she didn’t belong in his life, or—however tempting the prospect—his bed. “I was just thinking that if you were, your husband must hate you being gone so much.”

“Well, I’m not, so it isn’t a problem. Now do you want me to read or is it time for a credit check?”

“Temper, temper.” He handed her the book. “You may begin now.”

She laughed. “Someone left you in charge for too long. It’s gone to your head.”

“Read,” he commanded.

She read.

Melissa broke two more eggs into the bowl and began to beat the mixture. The big bay window overlooking the circular driveway let the morning light into the large rectangular kitchen. Blue-and-white French tiles blended with the white appliances and pine cabinets to create an elegant yet calming work area. If she added the eating nook and laundry room off to the side, she was pretty sure it was bigger than her whole apartment. Melissa shook her head in disgust and continued to hum along with the rock station playing in the background.

She set the bowl on the counter and headed down the hall. “How many strips of bacon do you want?” she asked as she entered Logan’s bedroom.

Sitting in one of the wing chairs, staring sightlessly at the television, Logan wore a dark blue robe she’d found in his closet.

“Damn fool economists,” he muttered. “Thinking that we’re heading into a recession. Three, please. Extra crisp.”

“Coming right up.” Melissa returned to the kitchen. But before she could begin working, she heard the sound of a key in the front door. She glanced at the clock; it was barely past eight. Logan had said that Wendi wouldn’t be home until noon. Did he give keys to the women in his life? She looked out the window. Hers was the only car in the driveway. Why hadn’t she bothered to get dressed? She moved into the foyer. It was too late now.

“Hi.” Wendi walked in and shut the door behind her. She was wearing shorts and a T-shirt. Smudges under her bright green eyes told of a restless night. Her expression was troubled, and traces of tears clung to her smooth cheeks. “Is my dad…” Her voice broke.

Melissa stepped forward and smiled. “He’s fine, Wendi. He was up a couple of times in the night, but he’s doing great.”

“Really?” She sniffed, fresh tears ran down her face. “I was so worried. I should have stayed home, but I was scared.”

“He’ll be back to normal before you know it.” Melissa gave her an impulsive hug. They were the same height, but Wendi was all long lines and lean limbs. The girl returned her embrace, then stepped back and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“Can I go see him?”

“Sure. He’s drinking coffee and arguing with the morning news show.”

Wendi looked at Melissa, her eyebrows raised in outrage. “You went in my dad’s bedroom dressed like that?”

Melissa glanced down at the long robe covering her oversize pink T-shirt she’d worn to bed and laughed. “Wendi, he’s got bandages over his eyes. He can’t see me.”

“Oh.” Logan’s daughter dropped her overnight case onto the floor. “Then I guess it’s okay. I’m going to check on him. I’ll be right back.”

She shot off down the hall and Melissa went back into the kitchen. The girl returned in about five minutes.

Melissa looked up from the oranges she was squeezing and smiled. “I’m making French toast and bacon for breakfast. Do you want some?”

“Yeah.” Wendi walked into the kitchen. “I didn’t feel like eating any dinner. Wow, you can really cook.”

“Most people can. Why are you surprised?”

She shrugged. “My dad barbecues about once a year and we usually have to call the fire department. Mrs. Dupuis does all our cooking. She’s the housekeeper.”

Melissa peeled off three more strips of bacon. “Where is she now?”

Wendi sat on the stool in the corner and started braiding her long hair. “France. She’s got a ton of relatives. I went with her last year, but this summer Dad’s sending me to some dumb day camp. Don’t you think I’m way too mature for camp?”

Melissa glanced at the preteen; the path of the tears was clearly defined on her face. Despite her height and air of sophistication, she looked like a scared little girl. “Sounds like fun to me. Do you go every day?”

“Nah. Three days a week. It’s computers and math and stuff. Dad wants me to be an architect or an engineer.”

“And what do you want to be?”

Wendi shrugged. “Maybe a model, or an astronaut. I haven’t decided. Wanna see my room?”

The swift shift in conversation caused Melissa to stop squeezing the juice. If Wendi wanted to be friends, who was she to argue? “Ah, sure. I haven’t started cooking yet.”

Melissa followed the girl out of the kitchen. She hadn’t had a chance to explore the rest of the house. Logan’s room was to the right of the living room. Wendi moved toward a door on the left side of the kitchen. They passed through the formal dining room, complete with a built-in hutch and buffet and a pair of French doors that looked out onto the patio and pool. A vague sense of unease began to nibble at her confidence. Melissa tugged on the belt of her robe. She suddenly felt dowdy and underdressed.

Wendi pointed down the short hall. “That’s Mrs. Dupuis’s room. Normally she keeps an eye on me, but this summer I get to play my music really loud.”

Her grin eased Melissa’s feeling of apprehension. But when Wendi pushed open her bedroom door, the knot returned to Melissa’s stomach.

She had a vague impression of delicate furniture and lace draperies, but her attention was caught by a stunning portrait hanging on the opposite wall. The woman in the painting was young, not quite thirty, and dressed in a formfitting gown. Dark hair fell in a smooth line of satin all the way to the middle of her back. Wide almond-shaped eyes, the exact color of the emeralds clinging to her neck, seemed to stare into Melissa’s soul and find her wanting. The high cheekbones and haughty curve of her mouth were familiar…and incredibly beautiful.

“What a lovely picture,” Melissa said. “But I can’t help thinking I’ve seen her before. Who is she?”

“She’s the spokesperson for Fire perfume and the star of the daytime soap, The Proud and the Powerful.” The pride in her voice was evident.

“I don’t watch much TV, but I’m sure I’ve caught her a few times.” She moved closer. There was something about the eyes that…

Wendi began to giggle. “Didn’t Dad tell you?”

Melissa swallowed, guessing what the girl was going to say. “No.”

“Fiona Phillips is my mom.”