In His Angel's Arms

by Lynne Marshall

  Perhaps it was the look of a fighter she’d identified with. She knew how to never give up, and though he appeared to have completely withdrawn and given in to his disease, she’d seen the glimmer of a warrior in his cold, hard stare when he’d lain helpless in his hospital bed. At first he’d mistakenly directed the fiery look toward her, but as time had gone on those cobalt blue eyes had softened and invited her into his strong-hold. That’s when she’d slipped under his spell. The day he’d accepted her.

  Thoughts of JT and the time and intimacy they’d shared, tears, hurt, and frustration kept her from sleeping.

  Morgan had moved into the dorm at college two weeks earlier, and the house felt painfully empty. She had no one to talk to, and the one person she craved to discuss this mess with was the last person she could ever contact again, if she wanted to keep her job. But apparently JT wasn’t prepared to risk anything for a relationship with her.

  Tears flowed down her cheeks, but nothing could wash away the pain. How foolish of her to ever think she could have what she’d always wanted—a loving relationship with a man—without paying a price.

  Her dreary life of all work and no play had little appeal. But back to her sad reality she’d go, grateful to have a job—at least, if Mercy Hospital agreed to keep her on staff.

  Starting tomorrow, JT couldn’t exist in her world. She owed it to her daughter who had tuition to pay, and she owed it to herself. The pain of never seeing him again, never taking care of him or laughing with him, was much less than if she’d allowed herself to succumb to him and he’d broken her heart on top of letting her down.

  Too bad she’d already fallen in love.

  *

  The stern look of the nursing supervisor scared the life out of Mallory on Monday morning. She had never felt more vulnerable, yet face her she did, forcing a smile and praying for mercy.

  Short silver hair framed round cheeks and gray eyes that usually smiled when they saw Mallory, but not today. Today her supervisor’s eyes flashed.

  “You’ll be on probation for three months. If any extracurricular activity with any of your patients comes to my attention, you’ll be fired. No questions asked.

  “It’s a good thing you have had excellent reviews from every department you’ve ever worked in, your co-workers sing your praises, and we are in the midst of a nursing shortage. Your patient care expertise has literally saved your tail this time. Now, go back to work, and keep your nose clean.”

  Mallory could breathe again. She wouldn’t be pounding the pavement, searching for a job, with a sordid reputation following her everywhere she went. She wouldn’t have to pull Morgan from her dream university and have her enroll in the local community college. The only price she’d have to pay was never seeing JT again.

  Somehow she felt as though she was getting a lousy deal.

  *

  For the following month, JT worked at his laptop, insisting on doing part of his medical director’s duties from home. Each day he grew stronger and, other than physical therapy four hours a day, all other medical treatment had stopped. He was eating on his own, and even using a walker to get around. It only made sense to pick up some of his duties while he continued to recover. Otherwise he’d spend all of his time thinking about Mallory and driving himself crazy, missing her.

  The hardest part of all was staying out of contact with her. But it was for her own good. He’d done nothing but mess up her life, and he owed her a little peace of mind. Yeah, it was much better just to let things lie for now.

  He hadn’t seen Corey in two weeks and he looked forward to the upcoming supervised weekend visit. It would be the second visit since the big blow-up. Samantha dangled the boy over his head like a carrot, but little did she know he’d consulted his attorney and the battle for custody was anything but over.

  Samantha had started out as ideal wife material. She’d come from a privileged family, just like him. She’d graduated from the perfect college, just like him. She’d dabbled in charity fundraising, which sounded good for a doctor’s wife. And she looked great—the perfect trophy wife, as his father once told him. She had even been good in the bedroom, but they’d never connected the way he and Mallory had. Nowhere close. And he and Mallory had never even made love! No, he’d never called Samantha his soul-mate, but Mallory?

  Funny, he’d never believed in the idea of a soul-mate, but lately he’d been rethinking the topic.

  Back when he’d married Samantha it had all been about getting ahead, prestige, and power—a soul-mate had been the last thing he’d looked for.

  He’d made her sign a prenuptial agreement to protect his family’s wealth, and she’d never forgiven him. And once she’d given birth to Corey, things had never been the same. All she’d wanted had been a bigger and bigger paycheck. How shallow he’d been to marry a woman who claimed charitable fundraising as a career. Thank God he’d finally seen through his errors, and when she’d set her sights on Wayne Berger, he’d filed for divorce.

  Samantha had gotten half of everything he’d accrued as a doctor during the course of their marriage in their divorce settlement. Once Corey turned eighteen, she’d be cut back to a mere couple of grand a month. Never having held an actual paid job in her life, no wonder she was chasing Wayne Berger. Her gravy train would run out in eight years.

  With several suspicions about Wayne and Samantha spying and conspiring to set him up, he had now developed a few plans of his own, and his attorney was very optimistic about his and Corey’s future under the same roof.

  Only one major problem stood in the way. He couldn’t see Mallory again. Not if he wanted his son.

  He hadn’t seen Mallory in over a month, and he ached to touch her again, to run his hands across her body. He missed her cheerful, chirpy manner and aggravatingly cute ways every single day. And most of all he missed her beautiful smile. But he had no choice, his attorney had warned him.

  The only thing he wanted more than to walk again was to see Mallory.

  At least he could rest assured knowing he’d done the most he could on her behalf. After a private phone call to the hospital administrator and the nursing director last month, both of whom owed him a favor or two, Mercy Hospital had agreed to keep her on staff.

  And he’d paid Morgan’s first-year tuition in full. It didn’t help missing Mallory one bit, but at least he’d given her something. She deserved much, much more.

  He pulled the pictures of Mallory out of his drawer, promising himself it would be the last time he dwelt on memories of their first date almost six weeks ago. What he’d give to run his fingers through her silky soft hair and kiss her pert mouth again. If only…

  “You wanted me, boss?” Jake appeared at his study door in his familiar gray uniform.

  “Yeah.” JT tucked the pictures away, and switched back to reality. “I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

  The stocky, stalwart fix-it man placed a gnarled hand on his hip. “Sure, shoot.”

  “Do you still have the letter I gave you about shutting down the ventilator if my condition worsened?”

  “Yes. It’s in my safe-deposit box at the bank.”

  “I want to thank you. Just knowing that helped me get through that ordeal.”

  “I can understand that, JT.”

  “I know that you stood to earn some extra money for doing that and, well, I wanted to pay you for being someone I could trust. Here is the check we discussed a long time ago when I wrote everything up.”

  “Aw, JT. I can’t take that.”

  “I want you to have it.” He handed it to him, and after a moment’s hesitation Jake reached out and took it.

  “Thank you, sir.” He stuffed it in his shirt pocket, the one with JAKE mechanically embroidered on it.

  “As you know, I’m trying to get custody of Corey, and if anyone found out about that letter, it could really blow my chances.”

  “I see what you’re getting at.”

  “Could you bring it to me, so I can shred it
?”

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  “Oh, and about the day you went to the baseball game. Who gave you the tickets?”

  Jake hesitated. His blue eyes became alert. A flash of a look that meant he’d come to a decision had him answering with conviction. “It was Dr. Berger. He gave ’em to me. Asked me not to say anything.”

  “Did he come around and talk to you at other times, too?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He had a still shot from the video monitor. I was wondering how he got it.”

  “I…I shut down the surveillance camera when you told me to. I swear.”

  “As he gave you Dodgers tickets, did he ever offer other things to you?”

  “Nah. Uh…once he sent me out to dinner—gave me a gift card, you know? He said I’d been working really hard and deserved a nice dinner out. He said he was going to spend some time with you that night and I looked like I could use a steak.”

  “When was that, Jake?”

  “Uh, I don’t remember the exact date.”

  “Was it on a Tuesday night?”

  Jake searched the ceiling for his answer and scratched his head. “Now that you mention it, I do believe it was a Tuesday night. The Dodgers had an away game, and I watched it at the sports bar and steakhouse he sent me to. Yeah, the Dodgers played the Giants that night. It was a Tuesday and they were playing in San Francisco.”

  “I need to know whose side you’re on, Jake.”

  “Yours, JT! That Berger guy tricked me is all. I should have known better.”

  He blew out a breath of air and scrubbed his face. “We both should have known better, Jake.”

  *

  Saturday morning, two months after Morgan had left for college, Mallory made her weekly checkin call.

  “Hey, sweetie, I’ve got a question. Is the university late sending this month’s tuition reminders out? I never received a bill.”

  “Oh, Mom. It’s funny you should ask, because I was told it had been paid up for the rest of the semester. They stuck a notice in my campus mailbox.”

  “By whom? Did they tell you?”

  “Well, no. I just assumed you had.”

  “Could you, please, find out and get back to me? I’d hate it to be some sort of mistake, and then you’d get bounced out of there for having your tuition fee overdue.”

  “I’ll look into it on Monday, OK?”

  Mallory hung up and folded her arms. Was it possible she was getting a break? Her? Not likely.

  *

  On Monday evening, Morgan called Mallory around eight, California time.

  “It’s so weird, Mom. The school said I received a scholarship I don’t even remember applying for. Wouldn’t you think whoever it was would have sent me an announcement or something?”

  “You did apply for a heck of a lot of scholarships. Well, what was it for?”

  “Don’t laugh. They said it was an anonymous scholarship given for single daughters of single mothers.”

  “Well, heck, that could go to over half of your class. Not that I’m complaining.”

  “I know. Well, I’ll let you know if I find anything else out.”

  Something didn’t feel right when she hung up. But as this was the best news she’d had in a long time and, Lord knew, she could use more good news these days, Mallory wasn’t about to question it. She figured it was about time her luck changed.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THREE months later, JT used every ounce of strength he could muster to push the gym weights away. His legs could hold him for standing and walking but he still needed a walker for balance purposes. The Guillain-Barré had left his nerve conduction lagging behind everything else in his final recovery. His right foot dragged the slightest bit, but it was enough to throw his entire equilibrium off.

  No way would he show his face at Mercy Hospital with a walker. Not at forty. Hell, not even at seventy.

  He’d worked in conjunction with the other doctors at the hospital to maintain his position as medical director by working diligently at home, much to Wayne Berger’s chagrin. He’d conducted meetings via conference calls, had even had a few at his own house. The heads of Medicine, Pulmonary, Cardiology, Orthopedics, and Infectious Disease all reported to him on a regular basis.

  And he’d been the main consultant for the ongoing construction of the new rehab wing, which was right on target.

  He’d also kept his word to Mallory about conducting a study on Five West for nursing staff needs. He’d managed to approve one extra RN for sixteen hours a week to work every Monday, their busiest day, and every other weekend, thus giving the rotating weekend nurses one more body to add to the mix. He wondered if she had any clue he was behind the study and staffing change.

  He itched to be back on the hospital premises—to be part of the routine of medical life again, and most definitely to see Mallory again, if only in a professional capacity. It was better than nothing.

  Today, at the end of his feverish workout, the physical therapist grinned and handed him a cane.

  “Try this,” he said. “It’ll give you more balance and loads of character. All you need to do is scowl all the time and the ladies will follow you like rats to poison.”

  “Are you saying women like to be mistreated?” JT wiped his neck with the white gym towel and thought about a well-known television series where the star was a surly grump with a permanent two-day growth of beard.

  He remembered being a grumpy patient a while back, and being forced to shape up by an annoyingly chirpy nurse with the sweetest face he’d ever seen. His scowl hadn’t gone over well then, and he’d never dream of mistreating her. Though that’s what he’d wound up doing, hadn’t he? He’d practically cost Mallory her job. He could only guess how he’d hurt her by dropping out of her life without so much as a phone call. But it had to be, and he’d felt the loss of Mallory with every aching breath since. Surely she’d understand his disappearance had been for her own good.

  The therapist prodded him with the cane. “Try it.”

  His arms were better developed than they’d ever been. His legs felt stronger, too. If it weren’t for his one weak foot, he’d be in prime condition.

  He narrowed his eyes, and tried to figure out if his therapist was pulling his leg or was really suggesting he walk with a cane. Slowly, he reached for the institution metal cane.

  He stood and used the cane on his right side—it provided just enough added support to help his minor limp. He took a few trial steps. Fantastic! He could walk on his own. Back and forth, back and forth he wore a path across the gym as he practiced moving with his newfound balance.

  When he’d exhausted himself, he grinned at the therapist, gave a jaunty hop and tapped the rubber tip of the cane on the floor. “You have anything in black?”

  *

  Mallory went down the pre-op checklist for her patient. All was in order. His most recent labs were on the chart, type and cross-match complete. History and physical had been dictated and placed on the front of the chart. And, most importantly, the consent had been signed.

  She’d rechecked his large-bore IV to make sure it hadn’t clotted off, and after that she’d given him the first sedative an hour before his scheduled surgery time, as ordered.

  She removed his wedding band and gave it to his wife, who kissed him on the forehead and said goodbye when the burly transportation orderly arrived with a gurney.

  “You’re going to be fine, Mr. Roberts,” she said in her most reassuring tone, and patted his shoulder. “Once they get that appendix removed, you’ll feel like your old self again, shooting under par on the golf course. I’ll see you back here in a few hours.”

  She helped the orderly position Mr. Roberts, who was already succumbing to the power of the shot, onto the gurney and followed him out the door.

  As she walked, her mind wandered and she thought about Morgan’s upcoming visit during Thanksgiving and got excited thinking how great it would be to see her again. At last
someone would be rattling around in her condo besides her. Oh, and Priscilla. Morgan hadn’t met the cat she’d gotten from the animal shelter a couple of months ago, when she hadn’t been able to bear the empty house another second. Though once she’d gotten to know her cat better, she’d started calling her Prissy instead.

  Mallory smiled, thinking about her petite calico cat, and her gaze drifted upward from her clipboard. She almost stumbled when her eyes locked with the unforgettable blue of Dr. J. T. Prescott’s. The same mesmerizing eyes that had haunted her dreams and fantasies—blue, rimmed with thick black lashes—stared back. The man who’d hurt her so deeply she’d been unsure if she could ever trust again was writing in a chart at the nurses’ station.

  He looked up at the exact moment she’d exited the patient’s room.

  The air blew out of her lungs and her throat went into shutdown mode. Her circulation did an explosive dance around her heart, then vanished and reappeared somewhere by her ankles. She couldn’t break away from his stare, though she ached from the rush of emotions. But she’d been deprived of his handsome face for far too long, and as if a moth to a deadly light, she couldn’t look away.

  His thick black hair had been trimmed to a shaggy style with a hint of natural waves at the neck and above his ears. He was standing! A cane hung freely from his arm while he leaned against the nurses’ station counter to write. He looked only at her. His mouth stretched softly into a subtle greeting.

  Her hand flew to her stethoscope for something to hold onto. What should she do? Part of her wanted to run up, throw her arms around him, tell him how fantastic he looked and how great it was to see him again. But she’d been kicked out of his life. She’d been banned from being his friend.

  Another part of her wanted to scream at him, How could you leave me on my own to be eaten alive by those vultures? But she couldn’t let anyone around her have a clue how earth-shattering his appearance on the ward was today.

  She gave a quivering smile, her glance flitting away and back, and before her legs could give out she sat down. The emotional wounds she’d so carefully concealed over the last few months had burst open.