by Jill Shalvis
She went very still on the outside while her heart did a slow roll. “That still only makes two, Ty. Your sister and me.”
“But then there’s her.”
“Her who?” If he said he had a wife she’d have to kill him.
“My mother. She didn’t want me. I probably never told you that.”
Nicole sighed and put her hand on his chest. Her own ached like hell. “No.”
“I’m a bad seed. Probably should have warned you before now, but I didn’t want to scare you off. The truth is, you name it, and I did it. Stole clothes, stole food— Am I upsetting you?” he asked, opening his eyes to see hers welling up.
“Ty. Rest,” she begged, wanting to wrap herself around him.
“Can’t. There’s someone jackhammering in my head. I didn’t even know I had a sister.”
“I know,” she said in response to his baffled voice, stroking him with her hands, trying to quiet him because she didn’t want to hear this, didn’t want to know about him because, damn it, how was she supposed to keep her distance if she knew about him? “Please, Ty, I want you to—”
“I don’t want to like her.” After that statement, he was quiet for so long she thought he’d fallen asleep, and she just sat there, soaking him up. She’d imagined he’d had a rough childhood, but she hadn’t imagined it as bad as it must have been. Because she couldn’t help herself, she touched him, ran a hand over his arm, his jaw, wishing she could take his pain as her own.
“You feeling sorry for me, doc? Cuz if you are, I’m going to tackle you down right here, right now, and kiss us both stupid.”
“You’re in no position for tackling, much less kissing.”
“Try me,” he warned, and reached for her, missing by a mile. “Damn.”
“Ty.” She touched his pale, pale face. “Lie still.”
“Yeah.” Sweat broke out on his forehead. “Lying still now.”
“Good, because you’ve got to save your energy for healing. You need to—”
“Nicole? Darlin’?” He closed his eyes tight. “I’d love to hear the lecture, really. But if you don’t mind, I’m going to puke now.”
THE NEXT TIME Ty opened his eyes, he was still in a damn hospital bed. Still in a far-too-small hospital gown with no back. Still feeling green and shaky and in too much damn pain to believe that the shot some mean nurse had given him a short time ago had worked.
He hated hospitals with an unreasonable vengeance, and had ever since he’d been twelve and was beaten within an inch of life. His own fault. He’d broken into a restaurant, only to get caught by the owner as he’d been stuffing his face with food from the fridge. Didn’t matter that he’d been starving, or was a skinny little runt, the guy had gone berserk. The beating had landed Ty in the emergency room, where he’d been treated like little more than the wild animal he was. Once there, he’d barely outwitted the juvenile authorities. All he remembered, when he let himself think about it, was a vicious, snarling, vivid, Techni-color pain and the bitter stench of his own fear.
Now, being in another hospital brought it all back, quite unpleasantly.
Nicole’s face floated into view above his own: her wide, expressive gray eyes, the short-cropped hair that so suited her arresting face, and the silver hoops up one ear. Then there was that mouth, with the full lips he so enjoyed nibbling on.
Another hallucination? He’d had some doozies since he’d been here, all of them involving her tiger-striped bra and purple panties.
“Hey,” she said, sounding very doctor-like. She wore a white coat and had a stethoscope looped around her neck. How official. “How are you feeling?” she asked. “Still nauseous?”
In all the other hallucinations, she hadn’t talked, she’d just smiled all sultry-like and had bent over his body, giving him pleasure such as he’d never known. “I like the other outfit better,” he said, closing his eyes.
“What?” She put her hand on his forehead.
She thought he was still out of it. “Never mind. Let’s blow this Popsicle stand.”
“No can do.”
He stopped in the act of tossing his blankets aside. “Doc?”
She clutched a clipboard to her chest, looking very in control in her own environment. Bully for her, but he wanted control in his own environment, thank you very much, and lying flat on his back in a scanty gown wasn’t doing it for him.
“You need to stay overnight for observation, Ty.”
“I don’t think so.” He sent her a tight smile. “Hand me my clothes.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I. Hand me my clothes or get an eyeful, and believe me, the gown hides nothing.” Carefully, trying not to let out the pathetic moan he wanted to, he got himself in a sitting position. His ribs were on fire, so was his ankle, and his head…well, the pain in his head didn’t bear thinking about because if he did, he was going to toss his cookies again. Since the good doctor, sexy as hell in all her disapproval, was glaring at him instead of handing him his things, he put his feet to the floor.
“Ty, don’t be stupid.”
“More stupid than falling through your ceiling, you mean?”
“You’re still drugged. You can’t get yourself dressed much less get yourself home.”
“I don’t feel drugged.”
“Really? How many fingers am I holding up?”
He squinted at her hand. She had no fingers. And now that he took a good look, her head was separated from her body. A shame, really, because it was such a beautiful head. Bossy and stubborn, but beautiful.
“Ty? How many?”
“I’m not sure. But I can tell you you’re wearing a tiger-striped bra and purple silky panties.”
She didn’t look amused.
Ty returned to his efforts of getting up. He looked at his ankle. Just touching it to the floor hurt enough that he had to suck in a breath. “Sure this thing isn’t broken?”
“Just badly bruised.”
Okay, then. Moving on. Next move—getting up right. With that feat in mind, he leaned his weight forward.
Dr. Sexy crossed her arms and frowned.
With a grunt of effort, he went for it, and surged to his feet. Or foot, as he held his screaming ankle off the ground. Ribs burning, head feeling like it had blown right off, he thrust out his arms for balance. The back of his gown flapped cool air on his bare ass.
As he waved wildly, Nicole tossed down her clipboard and leapt toward him. “Damn it.” She shoved her shoulder beneath his arm, taking his weight, which, given how little she was, had to be considerable. “What the hell is wrong with you, you stubborn—”
“Shh.” He wrapped his arm around her, gasping for breath as everything in his vision faded to a spotted gray. For a cold, clammy, sweaty moment he thought he was going to pass out, but the litany coming from the woman supporting him kept him conscious.
“Of all the idiotic, moronic…”
The ringing in his ears drowned out the rest of her monologue as she sat him back down, but he got the gist. He also got the pain. Holy shit, he hadn’t imagined he could feel anything so much, but every muscle in his body had started a mutiny. Unable to hold back a low groan, he rolled to his side and panted for air.
“I’m going to call the nurse and get you another painkiller.”
“Don’t. She’s mean.”
“Baby.”
He laughed, then nearly cried at the fire in his ribs.
“I wouldn’t laugh,” she advised, but there was something in her voice now, something… He managed to crane his neck and peer over his shoulder. Yep, that was his ass hanging right out for the world to see. He closed his eyes. “You getting a good view?”
She tossed his blanket over him. “I’m a doctor. I’ve seen it all.”
“Yeah, well, this isn’t quite how I imagined you seeing me. Nicole, I’m not staying here overnight.”
“But—”
“I’m not,” he said, and looked up at her. “I…can’t.”
&
nbsp; “Why not?”
“I hate hospitals.”
“Everyone says that.”
“But I mean it.”
She stared at him for a long moment, then sighed and sat next to him. “Okay, so you have a hospital phobia—”
“I’m not staying.”
“You can’t go home alone, you’ll need someone to watch over you, help you.”
Much as that went against the grain, he had to agree with her, if only for the simple fact that he couldn’t even see straight. “For how long?”
“At least tonight and all day tomorrow. Maybe even a second night. After your hard head improves, then you can hobble around on your own if you’re careful.”
“Fine.”
“Who’s going to help you?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
She crossed her arms. “I know you don’t have any family you’ll call.”
That cleared some of the haze from his vision. “Really? How do you know that?”
“You…told me.”
Given the look of compassion in her gaze, he’d told her plenty. Terrific. “You listened to the ramblings of a drugged man?”
“You were happy enough to let your mouth run.”
What had he said? “Did I mention anything about your interesting lingerie fetish? Because I have to tell you, Nicole, I find it fascinating that you’re so tough and impenetrable on the outside, and so…” A smile curved his lips. “So incredibly soft on the inside.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“I’m trying.”
She blew out a breath. “You didn’t say anything embarrassing, if that’s what you’re worried about. You just said…you had a sister you didn’t know about and that she was e-mailing you.”
“And…?”
“Just that…your mother didn’t want you.”
Hell. He’d spilled his guts all over her. Her voice had softened, and that was definitely pity on her face. He didn’t want her pity, he didn’t want anyone’s pity. He wanted out of this bed and he wanted that now. “Well. This has been fun.”
She held him down with a hand to his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Ty.”
For what? he wondered. Falling through her ceiling or for being so pathetic as to have his own mother cast him aside? “This isn’t your problem.”
She nodded, agreeing, and turned away. Made it to the door, which she studied for a long minute, as if fascinated by the wood. Then she turned around. “I know you’re alone. That you’re too proud to ask any friends for help. As a doctor, I can’t release you knowing that.”
“I’m leaving, Nicole, come hell or high water.”
“I know.” She closed her eyes. Opened them again and leveled them right on him. “Which is why you’re coming home with me.”
SHE WAS CRAZY. Or so Nicole told herself the entire drive home with Ty dozing next to her. She let Suzanne and Taylor fuss over getting him up the stairs. She gave him another pain pill, which he bitched about like a two-year-old but finally took when she threatened to pull out a needle instead.
Then she settled him in her bed and stepped back, wondering why just his pale face made her want to fuss. She’d never fussed a day in her life.
Ty looked around at the no-frills bedroom with the bare walls, at the bed with its navy-blue comforter and two pillows, and not a thing out of place except on the chair in the corner, which held some clothes and a perilous stack of medical journals. “Not even a romance novel to read?”
“I have those.” She gestured to the journals and he shook his head.
“I guess I’m not surprised,” he said. “God forbid you actually take time off when you’re off. So. You’re really giving up the bed for me?”
“You didn’t like the hospital, remember?”
“Hmm.”
Nicole glared at him. “What does that mean? What’s wrong with the bed?”
He blinked sexy eyes at her. Waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “You’re not in it.”
Wasn’t he something. “I’m taking the couch, big guy.”
“You don’t have a couch, you have an ancient, scary-looking futon masquerading as a couch. The only other thing you have out there is a nice-size hole in your ceiling and a mess on your floor.”
“Nothing that can’t be fixed.” She did have the futon, ancient or otherwise, and put together with a blanket, she’d be fine. “Goodnight, Ty.”
He leaned back against her pillows and looked at the ceiling, his faced lined with pain. “Aren’t you going to read me a bedtime story?”
“Sure. Once upon a time there was this idiot who fell through a ceiling and landed on his head.”
He closed his eyes. “Ha ha.”
“So why are you afraid of hospitals?”
“I just don’t like them, all right?”
“All right.” He didn’t look at her, didn’t move a muscle, and yet she knew in that moment his pain was more in memory than physical. “Look, don’t get too comfy. I’ll be waking you every few hours.”
He cracked open an eye. “Is that a promise?”
“To check on your hard head, Ace.”
“I got something else you could check on.”
“Uh-huh, and with all the drugs in you, it’d work really well, too.”
A ghost of a cocky smile played around his mouth. “Try me.”
“Goodnight, Ty.”
“’Night. Nicole?”
At the door already, she turned.
“Why did you take me home with you?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Because you were hurt.”
“Truth.”
She sighed. “I don’t know why.”
He nodded, and closed his eyes again. Almost immediately, his breathing evened out as the drugs finally claimed him.
For a long moment Nicole stood there, just staring at him. She had a man in her bed, when she’d never put one there before, much less yearned for one. There’d always been too much to do, too many people to save.
Now he lay in her bed, and she was yearning. Yearning and hurting at the same time, because he’d never get serious. Oh, she believed he was serious about getting into her purple panties.
But for him, this was simple lust.
That scared her. It scared her because she thought maybe, just maybe, she could feel more than that in return.
NICOLE DIDN’T GO to sleep, but kept herself busy, mostly continuing to watch her patient. She swept up some of the mess in her living room. She cleaned out whatever was growing in her fridge, and she reassured Taylor and Suzanne that Ty was fine. Twice. After an hour and a half, she sat at his hip, munching on a bag of pretzels. “Ty?”
He didn’t budge.
“Ty?”
“I knew you’d be back, begging me to take you.”
“I’m here to check on you.”
“Then check on me.” His voice was groggy but there was nothing groggy in those eyes when they opened and watched her with an intensity that made her squirm.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’d feel better if you stopped sucking on that pretzel. It’s making my blood drain southward.”
“You’re fine,” she decided, swallowing the pretzel and leaving him to go back to sleep, which he did instantly.
She went to the living room and proceeded to watch the clock tick. After another hour, she went into the bedroom again. Moonlight streamed over the bed, highlighting the long, lean form lying there. He’d kicked off the covers. He was sprawled on his back, one arm over his eyes; his big chest rose and fell evenly. She knew this because he wore only a pair of boxer briefs, ribbed cotton, charcoal-gray.
They fit him snugly just below his navel. He was bruised and cut over a good portion of his torso. He also had scars that had nothing to do with his fall. A long, nasty-looking one low on his flat belly that looked like a knife wound. A puckered one near his collarbone that looked like an old burn, and another on his arm. There was a long scar down one muscled calf, and anot
her on his thigh. And then there was the tattoo he’d shown her—an intricate design winding around his left bicep.
And he called her a warrior.
She had bits and pieces of him now, and had put together a picture of how he’d grown up and become the man he was. There were still quite a few pieces of the puzzle missing, but he wouldn’t welcome her curiosity. She shouldn’t feel that curiosity at all, but did. He’d raised himself, a fact she couldn’t deny made him all the more fascinating.
How could his mother, any mother, turn her back on a child? What kind of mother did that, let her own son think she didn’t want him?
That it hurt her, hurt her for him, was another concern. She shouldn’t feel this way, this possessive, protective way. He certainly wouldn’t want it, nor, for that matter, would he want her compassion. He was far too proud for that.
And yet she couldn’t tear her eyes off his beautiful form. So she sank to the bed at his side and wondered what the hell she was going to do with him.
“You going to watch me sleep all night?”
She jumped back up, pressed nervous hands to her stomach. “You’re awake.”
“Want to see how awake?”
Since he was talking with his eyes closed, very carefully not moving a muscle, she smiled. “Do you know where you are?”
“In your bed. Without you.” His voice was low, husky. Unbearably sexy. “Want to check anything else? My temperature maybe? I’m hot, darlin’. Really hot.”
“You’re hurt.”
“Not that hurt.”
She eyed him. He still hadn’t moved a single muscle. And suddenly, the doctor inside her vanished, replaced by a mischievous woman who knew she was safe. “You don’t think so? You really think you could…?”
“I know it.”
“Yeah? Then prove it. Come get me, big guy.”
He pried a bleary eye open, closed it again when she sent him a cocky smile.
“Come on, come get it,” she dared, making him groan.
“Can’t you help a man out a little and come down here?”
“Nope.”
“Ah, now see, that’s just plain old mean.”
“Goodnight, Ty.”