Tender Loving Care

by Susan Mallery

  “Hi.”

  Logan wasn’t sure if he recognized the voice first or the scent. “Melissa?”

  “Very good. I’ll tell the staff that you won’t be needing that guide dog after all.”

  “Thanks. I just want to go home. What’s the verdict? Did I pass inspection?”

  “Was that a note of pleading I heard in your voice?”

  He laughed. “At this point, I’ll do anything to get out of here.”

  There was a rustling noise and the sound of her heels on the floor. When she next spoke, he could feel her soft breath tickling his ear. “How was the sponge bath?”

  “I got by.” With her help, he thought. Knowing the nurse was old and unattractive combined with him mentally reciting all the states and their capitals had kept him relaxed.

  “Here’s the deal. I’ll work for you for three weeks. While your eyes are bandaged, I’ll help with day-to-day living. After the dressings come off, I’ll be around to make sure you follow the doctor’s orders. Can you live with that?”

  He nodded. “I’m yours to command.”

  “Yeah, right. And pigs fly. You’re the type of patient that gives nurses nightmares, Logan.”

  He tapped his chest in an expression of innocence. “Me?”

  “Yes, you. I’ve cleared your discharge with the doctor. He’ll be by in an hour to check your eyes one last time, then you can leave. Wendi’s going to take me to the house, now. I’ll make sure there aren’t any hazards waiting to trip you, and stock up on groceries.”

  She sounded cool and competent. Wendi’s description was clear in his mind, but he still didn’t have a clue as to what Melissa looked like. Blondish and not very tall from a twelve-year-old could mean anything. He hadn’t realized how much he depended on his eyes to tell him about a person. For now, he had no choice but to trust his instincts. And his gut said Melissa was okay. He had to like someone who could match him quip for quip and even come out on top.

  “I’ll be waiting for you to rescue me,” he said. “Wendi, come give your old man a kiss.”

  He heard Melissa step back and Wendi move forward. “Bye, Dad. I’m going to spend the afternoon at Kelly’s house and have dinner there. The number’s on the counter in the kitchen.”

  “Fine. But be home by eight, kitten.”

  “Yes, Dad.” She sighed with bored resignation and planted a kiss on his cheek. He was still smiling when Nurse Attila walked in, her rubber soles squeaking on the linoleum. “Do we need to use the bedpan, Mr. Phillips?”

  Melissa pulled the red Volvo station wagon up to the curb by the hospital entrance. She’d wanted to bring her own small car, but Wendi had told her that Logan’s long legs would never have fit. Watching him being wheeled out the door, she had to concede that his daughter might have been right.

  Even in the wheelchair, with the white bandages covering his eyes, Logan exuded an air of power. He was a man on the move. The fact that he was wearing jeans and a cotton long-sleeved blue shirt didn’t lessen the impact of his presence. If anything, the casual attire clinging to his masculine body emphasized the strength. After six years of dealing with children, a virile, adult male was going to take some getting used to. But she’d better keep her misgivings to herself. Once he sensed her fear, he’d pounce and show no mercy.

  Melissa shook her head and grinned. Get a life, girl, she told herself. He’s just a guy, like a million others. The fact that her heart was racing and her palms felt sweaty was a problem she’d deal with another time—like the year 2000.

  She stepped out and moved to the sidewalk. “Ready to go home, Logan?”

  He smiled gratefully. There were lines of tension and pain bracketing his mouth. “Yeah. The doctor gave me a very thorough exam before I left. If you were looking for a way to keep me in line, it worked.” The red marks on his face had been treated with a clear ointment that made them seem more raw.

  Melissa patted his arm sympathetically. Logan’s corneal abrasion was quite severe. He’d ignored his physician’s orders and now had an infection to deal with, as well. Just the thought of someone probing his already painful eyes and lids was enough to make her shudder.

  “Let’s get you home and in bed.”

  “Not tonight, dear, I have a headache,” he joked as she helped him to his feet. He towered above her—six feet of injured, frustrated male. “But it’s a hell of a generous offer. I…” He clenched his teeth and drew in a slow breath. “When did the earth start spinning so fast?”

  “Hold on to me.” She nodded for the orderly to take Logan’s other side and then turned him toward the car. “You’ve been flat on your back for two days. It takes a second to get your balance. Put your hand out in front of you and feel for the car. There. I’m going to put my hand on the top of your head, so you don’t bump yourself while you get in. Slowly.”

  He lowered himself onto the seat and sighed. “Is this the Volvo?”

  Melissa closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. “Yes. How did you know?”

  “I recognized the smell.”

  She reached across him and grabbed the shoulder belt. His skin had paled to an unhealthy shade of gray, and his lips were pulled into a tight line of pain. After snapping the buckle, she gave his forearm a reassuring squeeze. “Wendi said my car wasn’t big enough for you. Besides, it’s a cheap model and I don’t think she wanted the neighbors watching it pull in and out of the driveway.”

  Her attempt at humor was rewarded with a slight smile. “That’s my girl, always worrying about what the neighbors will think. She gets it from her mother.” He fumbled on the far side of the seat, then lowered the back down. “Home, James.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Melissa started the engine and carefully put the car into drive. After easing out of the hospital parking lot, she turned onto the canyon road that would take them to Logan’s place.

  The house wasn’t that far from the bustling west side of Los Angeles, but once in the hills the only hints of the large city were the occasional glimpses of high rises that flashed through the trees. Houses were set back from the street, with heavy gates and thick, tall trees standing guard.

  She watched for the correct turn. Logan lived on a long cul-de-sac, third house from the corner. Although slightly more modest than its neighbors, his house was still impressive. The used-brick facade was elegant. A circular driveway curved in front, then veered off toward a three-car garage.

  He probably paid more in property taxes than she’d earned all last year, she thought as she slowed the car to a stop. Maybe she should have gone into a different line of work.

  “We’re here, Logan.”

  He sat up slowly and opened the car door. She half expected him to go barreling off toward the house, but he seemed to have learned his lesson at the hospital. He swung his legs out, then waited impatiently on the seat.

  Logan inhaled and smelled the roses in the front yard. He remembered fighting Fiona about the color so many years before, but he’d never noticed the scent. Once the yard was finished, it had ceased to demand his attention. Today the heavy perfume filled the air. There was the sound of a car going down the street and a dog barking in the distance. His world had been reduced to blackness, intruded upon only by sound and touch and smell. He felt alone and isolated.

  “It’s about fifteen feet to the front door and there’s one step. I’ll tell you before we get there. Now stand up slowly and lean on the car. When you’ve got your balance, put your arm around my shoulders.”

  Logan thought about arguing. He disliked being told what to do, by anyone. But the dizziness he’d experienced before, combined with the pain in his eyes, was enough to dull his natural charge-ahead instinct. Most of all, he hated the helplessness.

  He rose and gripped the top of the car. The world lurched a couple of times and settled into still blackness.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  He nodded. As she slipped his arm around her shoulder, he recalled Wendi’s descrip
tion. Melissa was short; he had to lean down to let her help him. Her hand held on to his side, providing him with a surprising amount of support for a small person. The gentle round flesh pressing against his ribs could only be her breast. He grinned. His daughter had neglected to mention that Melissa was curvy. Something inside rumbled as if to remind him he’d been alone for too long.

  Soft strands of hair brushed against his bare forearm, swaying back and forth with each step. It was like being tickled with silky feathers. He would have teased her about the sensation or wondered about the tingling in his groin if he hadn’t tripped on an uneven flagstone.

  The sense of falling into nothing jerked him back to reality. He felt Melissa throw both of her arms around him, in an effort to steady him. Her petite body pressed next to his. From chest to knee, flesh warmed flesh.

  “Who the hell designed this walkway?” she asked.

  He could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and the indignation in her voice made him smile. Heaven forbid that anything should threaten her patient. He moved his hands over her back, then up to her face. She was warm and soft and ready to go to battle for him. He hadn’t known he liked that in a woman.

  Tilting her chin so that she was looking at him, he spoke. “I did.”

  “Figures. Concentrate on your footing, Logan. There will be plenty of time for woolgathering when I get you in bed.”

  She moved back to his side and they began to walk again.

  “Step now.”

  He raised his foot and felt the higher level. “The door should be right in front of us.”

  “It is. Stay still. I’ll go open it.”

  He heard the sound of metal against metal, then the lock turning. Melissa stepped back and placed her arm at his waist. “Let’s try and get through the house without breaking anything.”

  By the time they reached his bedroom, Logan was covered with sweat. The pain in his head made every inch of the journey painful, and negotiating the furniture and turns had stretched his nerves tight.

  He sat on the bed. “Just let me lie down for a couple of minutes. I’ll be fine.”

  “Don’t move a muscle until I get back.” Melissa ran into the bathroom and dampened a couple of cloths. When she returned, he was sitting exactly where she’d left him. “Come on, Logan. Let’s get you out of these clothes and then you can sleep the rest of the day.”

  “You seem awfully anxious to get me into bed. Is that all you nurses think about?”

  Not until today. Just the thought of undressing his powerful body was enough to send sparks skittering through her, but he was her patient and he was in pain. There’d be time to remember the look and feel of his body when she was at her next assignment.

  “No. We also think about ways to torture innocent people. I need you to cooperate.”

  He nodded wearily.

  Biting her lower lip, Melissa leaned forward and started unfastening his shirt. As she worked the small buttons, she could feel his breath on her face. Each puff of air made her fingers stumble slightly before resuming their task. The fabric parted obligingly and exposed a well-muscled chest covered with rich dark hair. The pattern continued down his flat stomach, only to disappear into the waistband of his jeans.

  When she finished with the buttons, he shrugged out of the shirt, then untied his athletic shoes, pulled them off and afterward, the socks.

  “Can you stand?” she asked.

  “I think so.” He pushed up from the bed. She put out a hand to steady him and he grabbed the support. “Thanks. Maybe I should do the jeans myself.”

  She eyed the button fly. “Good idea.”

  Don’t stare, she told herself. He mustn’t know you’re at all interested. But then she remembered that Logan couldn’t see her.

  Her gaze was drawn to his well-formed hands. Long fingers quickly popped the buttons through the denim. He pushed the jeans past his hips, then sat on the bed. Melissa tried not to look at the tight-fitting white briefs.

  “Lie down,” she said softly. She took one of the damp cloths and brushed it across his face and chest. He shivered as the compress cooled his skin and washed away the film of perspiration.

  On her tour of the house, she’d left several bottles of pills on the nightstand. She opened one container and shook out two painkillers. After he’d swallowed the medication, she pulled the sheet and blanket up to his shoulders and brushed the hair away from his forehead. The welts on his face could wait for treatment.

  “Try to sleep now, Logan. I’ll check in at regular intervals. Wendi said I could take the room next door. Is that all right with you?”

  “That’s fine.”

  She pulled her hand away, but he caught her wrist. His thumb brushed back and forth against the sensitive inner flesh.

  “I could get used to this kind of treatment, Melissa.”

  She tried to laugh, but the only sound that came out was a slight croak. She cleared her throat. “That’s what they all say, the first day. I’ll be a holy terror by the end of the week.”

  The medicine was beginning to work, and she saw the muscles in his face relax. “Yeah, sure. I’m really scared,” he murmured, then released her hand.

  Long after she’d left the room, the inside of her wrist tingled from his touch.

  Chapter Two

  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.