The house she visited each weekend seemed so different when she came as a friend instead of a nurse. Her stomach tightened a bit.
The weeknight nurse opened the door, looking puzzled. As Mallory only worked the weekends, they’d never met.
“Hello,” Mallory said. “I’m here to visit Dr. Prescott.”
“Oh. Let me check if he wants company.” She closed the heavy rustic wood door in Mallory’s face.
A few seconds later, she reopened the door with a smile. “Come on in. The doctor is waiting,” she said with a sweeping gesture, giggling at her silly joke.
When Mallory reached JT’s room, she became breathless. Someone had sent a barber since Sunday. He looked clean-cut and dashing, with a sparkle in his eyes. They’d removed the tracheostomy, and a small gauze dressing covered the wound.
“She’s my friend,” he said in a voice stronger than she’d remembered from last Sunday, and gestured toward Mallory. “We’ll be fine. You can take a break.”
He looked beyond pleased to see her. If she read his expression correctly, he was taken with her choice of outfit.
She offered the smoothie from behind her back as if a surprise gift. His eyebrows shot up in delight.
“You shouldn’t have,” he said, when he took it.
“You told me to.”
“Ah. I did, didn’t I?” He took a sip through the large straw. “Heaven. Pure and simple.” He lifted an ever-strengthening arm in a Shakespearian actor’s pose. “How does man survive when fed through a stomach tube alone?”
She giggled. “I don’t know. You’re the thespian, do tell.”
He deadpanned. “It was a rhetorical question.” He gave her a feigned impatient look and sipped more. Taking her cue, he continued, “But since you’ve asked…” He dramatically raised his arm again. “It’s only half a life when you can’t taste or eat. Like eating fettuccine without Alfredo or marinara sauce.”
He slurped his drink with great flourish and she smiled at his obvious joy.
Mallory didn’t move when his attention turned from the smoothie to her. He rolled his eyes from the tip of her head down to her rhinestone-trimmed sandals, and suddenly she was glad she’d worn them and almost wiggled her toes so he’d notice her ruby-red toenails.
JT grew serious, his gaze intent on her, his voice close to a whisper. “One last comparison, if I may? It’s like seeing Mallory in a nursing uniform when she could be wearing her black slacks and sexy blouse every day.” He whistled through his teeth. “You are off duty, right?”
She nodded and smiled, enjoying a subtle chill across her shoulders.
He grinned. Deep lines, like parentheses, formed around his mouth. He lowered his voice. “Lady, you look hot.”
Heat rose to her face. She willed it down and nervously scooped and swept her hair over her shoulder to cover her cleavage, realizing he probably thought she was posing for him instead. She dug into her shoulder-bag and produced the CDC reports he’d asked her to bring, preferring to stick to business as usual than explore this newfound electricity between them. Though her mouth had gone dry, she managed to say, “Thank you.”
He patted beside him. “Come. Sit.” She did. He gestured for her to move closer.
She’d never given his bed a second thought when she’d reported to work. But now, off duty, it took on a whole new meaning. She moved closer and sat gingerly beside him.
Her non-official bed-sitting seemed awkward, and she tensed up. That was until she looked into his eyes. They shone dark blue, like lapis lazuli, and she felt drawn into their special hue. Drawn toward the man that possessed them.
He smiled softly at her, she moved closer, and his arm slipped around her shoulders. “That’s better,” he said. They snuggled close to share the overhead lamp, and together they studied the CDC report, while she tried unsuccessfully not to develop goose-bumps.
No great discovery followed. Then a light appeared in his eyes.
“We should be reading the World Health Organization reports, not these. Now I remember. Kenya had an outbreak of meningitis a couple of years ago, and the travel clinic recommended getting a shot for it.”
“So you think it could be the meningitis shot that set you off?”
“It’s possible. It takes four weeks to develop a fourfold immune response, and that’s right about the time I got sick.”
“We need to report this, in case there is a pattern that can be stopped.”
“That’s a good point,” he said.
“We also need to think how this knowledge can help you now.”
“Maybe it’s time for a plasma exchange.”
“Well.” She clapped her hands together. “There’s no time like the present.”
Mallory shifted on the bed in order to look at him better. He took her hands in his and squeezed them. She could feel new strength in his grasp.
“Thank you for caring about me,” he whispered, sincerity softening his eyes. “In all this mess, I feel like you’re the only one on my side.”
She smiled, basking in the pleasure of his gaze. He made her feel special, as if only she had the answers. As if he knew how much she felt for him. A sudden blaze sprang to her cheeks.
“And if memory serves me right,” he said, with one raised brow and a gleam in his eyes, “you are off duty.”
She nodded, feeling suddenly schoolgirl-shy.
“Have I ever told you how your beautiful eyes helped ground me? And did you know you have tiny green and gold flecks in them?”
She shook her head, mesmerized by his words.
“I was panicking about being trapped inside my body, and there you were, confident and gentle. You helped me remember I was still a man.” His hand gently threaded through her hair.
His face grew blurred as involuntary tingles started behind her eyelids. She blinked to bring him back into focus.
“I knew when you were here with me, I was safe. Someone would fight for me—even if it meant fighting me. I knew you gave a damn.”
Enthralled by his gaze, she swallowed a swell of emotion and subtly moistened her lips.
Steady hands guided her face to his. Looking her soundly in the eyes, he placed a long, luscious kiss on her lips.
Instantly, something broke free between them. Their mouths and tongues mingled, almost frantic to connect. His warm and deep explorations sent a shiver through her. She welcomed his tongue. He tasted sweet, like peaches.
Knowing he’d recovered sensitivity in his face, neck and shoulders, she concentrated on those parts of his body. She pressed his shoulders flush to the elevated bed and pillow and kissed him back. She licked the side of his neck and tugged on his earlobe with her teeth. He’d obviously spruced up for her, tasting clean and smelling of citrus aftershave.
He groaned in a satisfying response.
“You started it,” she whispered.
He touched her lips with his own, talking over them. “And I’m so glad I did.”
Before kissing him the way she really wanted to, her eyes drifted to the video camera in the corner of the room. “What about that?”
“I had Jake shut it down the minute I could talk again.” His strengthening hands guided her back to him. “I’ve got my voice back, I don’t need video protection.”
“Maybe it’s time to have him remove it altogether,” she said.
His finger traced her jaw before he held her chin. Staring intently at her, he said, “I promise I won’t tell if you take advantage of me.” Heat flashed in his eyes. He drew her mouth to his and kissed her as if he hadn’t kissed anyone in years.
She moaned a resoundingly grateful response.
Mallory heard footsteps in the hall and quickly broke off the kiss. Frantic to look as if nothing had happened—as though the most spectacular kiss of her life hadn’t knocked her sandals off—she stood, ran her hands over her hair and stepped back. Embarrassed, she didn’t make eye contact with JT.
The nurse tapped on the door and stuck her head i
nside the room. “Need anything?”
“I’m fine, Gloria, thanks.” His voice didn’t betray an ounce of emotion. Back to business as usual.
The second the door shut, his hand shot out and grasped her wrist, pulling her back toward him. Fire traveled up her arm and fanned across her chest. Her breathing became shallow and quick.
Confusion, fear, and a deep sense of duty had her reaching for the smoothie on the bedside table and shoving it between them.
“Here,” she said.
Disappointment showed in his eyes.
“It doesn’t feel right,” she continued. “You know? I’m your nurse.”
“Not tonight you aren’t.” He put the smoothie back on the table. “I asked you here as my friend, and I discovered what I’d suspected all along.” His hand swept back her hair from her face, and his fingers played with the ends, examining it as if a treasure. “I hate waiting five days to see you every week. You’ve changed my life and the way I look at things. You’ve helped me give up my over-serious attitude and lighten up.”
Unable to resist, she ran her fingertips across his cheek. “I think your illness may have done that.”
He pressed into her hand. “That, too. But you…” He shook his head, his eyes sparkling with wonderment. “You are the most glorious discovery I have made in a long, long time.” His hands massaged her shoulders, kneading and drawing her closer. They ran down her arms until he took her hands in his. “I’m forty years old, I’ve traveled the world and accomplished a great deal, but I’ve never found anyone quite like you…until now.”
Afraid to leap at a chance to explore a new and exciting relationship with a man who happened to be her patient, Mallory felt confused and insecure. She stiffened and tried to figure out the best way to word what she needed to say.
“You know, JT, sometimes patients get gratitude mixed up with desire.”
“You don’t think a man can fall for you on your own gorgeous merits? You think that my attraction has got to be gratitude, as you put it?”
“Surely in your practice you’ve had women fall for you, and you knew it was simply because you had helped them.”
“Of course, every doctor has experienced that. That’s why I’m the perfect judge to figure out that this ‘thing’ between us is completely different. Honey, if you can’t tell sexual attraction from gratitude, you need to go back and repeat your courses on human sexuality.”
Mallory giggled, and lightened up on her self-doubt.
“But if you’re not interested…”
“Oh, no, it’s not that,” she replied quickly.
They stared at each other in silence for several seconds. Her hands trembled gently in his grasp as the impact of what he’d just told her and what she’d just admitted sank in. He helped her steady her hands.
“Let me look at you.” He gazed at her as though she were something sacred. “I want to remember how beautiful you look tonight.” He quickly kissed her knuckles as though having just made a snap decision. “In fact, hand me my camera. I want to take your picture.”
“No!” she said on a burst of embarrassment. “Oh, God, no.”
“I don’t know if I can do you justice, but I’d like to try to capture your exquisite face. The way your eyes smile even when you’re trying to be serious. How your nose crinkles when you can’t believe something—like right now.” He smiled and reached out to feel the ends of her hair, examining them reverently. “I’d love to capture the most beautiful shade of red I’ve ever seen.” He slowly twined the hair around his fingers and gently drew her closer to kiss the tip of her nose. He teased her lips with his, speaking softly. “Let me take your picture. Please.”
Mallory took a deep breath—how could she refuse him? After another insanely wonderful kiss she walked to his dresser to get the camera. She handed it to him, and he took it in silence.
“Now, sit over there.” He used two fingers to gesture toward the chair.
She sat awkwardly, as if she were a child on picture day at school.
“Relax, sunshine,” he soothed, looking through the viewer and adjusting the settings and lens.
Slowly, with sweet and comforting words, he coaxed her to settle down and feel natural. He asked her questions about herself and snapped pictures when she answered. A million thoughts swirled through her mind. What was she doing there? Why had she let herself become emotionally involved with a patient? He clicked another picture. Oh, what the hell. She vamped and slid her blouse off her shoulder just a tad. He snapped again. She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue. He took another shot. She gave him an exasperated look, and he snapped again. Frustrated, she dug her hands into her hair and gave a mock scream—and he took yet another picture.
The scream brought the nurse rushing back into the room. Suddenly remembering they weren’t alone, Mallory stood, feeling guilty for disturbing the peace.
“We were just horsing around with the camera. Sorry. I guess it’s time to go,” she said.
Disappointment covered his face but something flashed in his gaze. “Friday night. Chinese,” he said.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You’re not eating solids yet.”
“But you are. You told me you liked Chinese food. Come back and visit Friday night.”
*
JT would count the minutes until Friday when Mallory returned. She’d become the rainbow in his dead world, and he loved each second with her. He’d quit caring about anyone except his son until Mallory had walked into his life. And he was crazy about her. How could she interpret what he felt for her as gratitude? Oh, no. These feelings went much deeper.
He’d realized that the GBS had receded even more when they’d kissed, by the reaction below his waist. And now his emotional paralysis was receding as well. He had something to live for, and he wanted to get well.
He picked up the phone and dialed. He would call Wayne Berger and demand plasmaphoresis a.s.a.p. He wanted his life back, and he wanted it back now. And if exchanging his plasma with washed cells meant the GBS might recede completely so he could walk again, he’d do it.
Playing the victim had never, ever suited him.
*
Mallory worked diligently with a post-op patient on Wednesday. She checked the vital signs every fifteen minutes, and lifted the blanket to examine the dressing for any excessive bleeding. She assessed the patient’s pain level. Emptied the drain and recorded the serosanguinous fluid, along with the secretions from the nasogastric tube in the Gomco machine, and wrote them both on the intake and output sheet.
Yet every waking moment since their kiss last night she’d thought about JT. He’d rocked her to her toes and she was almost certain she’d done the same to him—that was, if he could feel his toes. Bad joke, she knew, but how else was she supposed to handle their circumstances?
He was her patient. His illness had brought them together. He’d never have given her the time of day otherwise. Oh, she’d read plenty of those sappy opposites-stranded-on-an-island-together novels. Things always worked out happily ever after for them, but in reality? She’d always wondered how the story would end if the author picked it up a few months down the road, back in the real world, where the grunting peon didn’t fit in with the socialite’s friends, or vice versa.
Sure, he’d said a bunch of pretty words to her before they’d kissed. But maybe he’d thought he’d had to. No one had to remind her she was nothing more than a distraction to JT while he recovered.
But there simply was no way to ignore the kiss that had opened up her fantasy world, this time larger than life, in living color! And JT was the star.
As far as she was concerned, he’d asked her out on another date for Friday night, and she planned to enjoy every minute of it. And if she was lucky, he’d kiss her again.
She asked the nurse’s aide to empty the catheter bag while she went to get a pain shot for the post-op patient. Before she reached the med room, the ward clerk called out her name.
&nb
sp; “You’ve got a call. Dr. Prescott wants to talk to you.”
Dr. Prescott? Calling her at work? Maybe he’d thought of something else he wanted her to bring home from his office.
“This is Mallory.”
“Hey, sunshine. Listen, I need some moral support. Can you come to the dialysis unit? I’m about to get stuck with a needle the size of the Holland tunnel.”
“You’re having plasmaphoresis?”
“Will you come and hold my hand, Nurse Glenn?”
“I’ll see if I can take an early lunch. Let me give this shot first. OK?”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Holy cow. He’d called her at work as if he were her boyfriend. He wanted to see her, too. Yeah, but that could just be out of friendship and fear of needles. But he’d called her “sunshine,” the nickname he’d given her. This “thing” between them was definitely more than friendship.
Her pulse did a little dance, and her face grew warm. Nothing would stop her from holding JT’s hand.
*
JT watched the nurse assemble her intravenous equipment after she’d stuck on the heart-monitor leads to his chest and applied the automatic blood-pressure cuff to his arm. He’d been brought to the hospital in an ambulance ordered by Wayne Berger. Now he reclined on the lounge chair in the dialysis unit, waiting for the treatment to start.
Secluded in his little world for so long, he’d forgotten how good it felt to be out among the living again. He loved medicine, and missed practicing it. Odd, when he’d opted to become hospital medical director, he’d given up his patient load, yet patient contact was what he had always liked the most about medicine.
Thinking back, it had been Samantha who’d encouraged him to take the job. She’d liked the prestige, the fact that he would be a mentor to all the other doctors—not to mention the pay raise. He hadn’t been particularly happy since the switch in jobs, and now, if he was honest with himself, he realized he’d loathed the amount of meetings he’d had to attend and the paperwork he’d constantly had to keep up with.
In His Angel's Arms Page 6