Miracle for the Neurosurgeon

by Lynne Marshall

  “You haven’t seen my house yet. Come, let me show you,” she said to Alexandra, mainly to break up the torture of being so near yet so far from Wes.

  “Yes. I’m dying to see how you manage there.”

  Once Mary had given her introductory tour, and Alex had given the obligatory compliments along the way, she nailed Mary with a no-nonsense stare.

  “What’s going between you and my brother?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “I almost didn’t know where to look watching the two of you make love with your eyes over the dinner table last night!”

  Mary felt heat rise all the way to the crown of her head. “It’s not what you think.”

  “I think it’s definitely what I think. Now, are you going to tell me or do I have to ask him?”

  Mortified that Alex actually would go to her brother, Mary spilled some of the facts but left out the part about everything starting with a bargain.

  “I knew you guys always had chemistry. Pity it took his accident to finally bring you together,” Alex said with tears brightening her eyes.

  “In a way, getting to know Wes has been healing for me.”

  “And for him! My God, his attitude used to be unbearable. Now he seems like his old self again.” She took Mary’s hands and squeezed. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  How should she respond? It’s just part of my job? “Like I said, we’re healing each other.”

  Later, it was time to say goodbye to her brother. “Something told me Mary was the only person who could help you. I’m so glad you’ve found each other.”

  He looked perplexed, but accepted her good wishes. It seemed Mary held her breath until Alex was finally gone and she and Wesley were alone again. Turned out to be for a good reason, too. Because he’d shut down a little. And had withdrawn.

  Had letting his sister know something was going on between them ruined what they’d salvaged from their relationship? Had her stepping over the line with her bold bargain proved to be nothing more than craziness?

  Mary shook her head, her face dropping into her hands. How badly had she screwed things up?

  *

  Wes worked like a fiend in the gym over the next few days, and as he did so he remembered all the things Mary had said to him about picking up his old life again and working as a doctor. Because of her, he wanted to live each day to the best of his ability and believed he could once again achieve a life he actually enjoyed. Just different. She’d believed in him when he’d given up. He’d gotten sick of feeling like a victim anyway.

  Why should he be uncomfortable with his sister knowing he and Mary had become lovers? Why hold that against Mary? It didn’t make sense, and he certainly hadn’t stopped having sex with her because of it, he’d just held back some of the confusing feelings that arose along with the great sex. He was sure Mary sensed him pulling back, too. Ah, hell, what was the point of overthinking their bargain? Enjoy it while it lasted. It would take a miracle for her to get pregnant. He pushed the negative thoughts away. Wasn’t it time to seize the day again?

  “You’re going to injure yourself if you keep up those repetitions with that amount of weight,” she said, chiding him, but the expression on her face said otherwise. He’d impressed her, he knew it and he liked it.

  “I could go on all day.”

  The light touch of her fingers tickled across his neck. “Save some of that energy for later.”

  Thanks to the devices he’d ordered to help make intimacy easier and more satisfying, their last few days had gone by in a crazy sexy haze as they tried them out. Making up for the lost time during Alexandra’s visit, he’d wanted her often, and she’d complied. So different from Giselle, Mary seemed perfect for him.

  He couldn’t fool himself into thinking it was totally him. He understood she had an ulterior motive, and the fact was her fertility cycle ruled the day. Still, lucky him.

  Following her PT regimen had made him stronger than ever, after having reached a plateau with his own workout before she’d arrived. Wasn’t that what she’d promised? Give her two months—that was how she’d tried to sell her brand of healing.

  He finished another set of repetitions, thinking the upper half of his body had never been stronger. His thoughts circled back to Mary. A disturbing thought popped into his head. Was he falling in love? Then another—was he even capable of being a father?

  She’d be leaving soon, and he needed to get on with life, not get stuck in a rut of wanting someone he’d never have. “I’m going to call the head of neurosurgery this afternoon to let him know I’m ready to come back to work.”

  She wasn’t able to hide the surprise, and he saw it clearly in those ocean-green eyes. “They’ll be thrilled to have you, too.” Great cover, Harris. The fact she’d poorly hidden one moment of…what, sadness, fear, loss, encouraged him that she might have feelings for him, too.

  He grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap. “Thought I’d venture back a little at a time. See some patients. Watch some surgery. See where that leads.”

  “Order that special stand-up wheelchair now.” She’d clicked into PT mode. All business. Was that her defense?

  “I already have.”

  “Someone will need to come and measure. Who knows how long it takes to make one.”

  “That’s been arranged too, Harris. Besides, going back to work sooner or later doesn’t matter, just as long as I get there.” He’d surprised her again, going all Zen. He’d surprised himself, too.

  “This from the impatient man I found in your gym six weeks ago?”

  “You’ve changed me. I give credit where it’s due.”

  She hugged him. “Thank you. But you’ve done all the hard work.”

  “That’s because I’ve had a relentless slave driver as a coach.”

  His face was close enough to see flecks of gold in the kaleidoscope of green and amber in her irises. He’d miss those eyes. Overcome with feelings he wasn’t ready to sort out, he kissed her, his mouth melding with the lips he’d come to want and need more than he’d ever imagined possible. She’d fought her way back into his life, and now had conquered him. He opened the kiss and plunged his tongue inside in a desperate move. She matched his urgency, pressing her body tight against his chest. His hands roamed her back and hips as if he’d never touched her before, frantic to find what he needed. Her. All of her. She rocked over his lap, taking his breath with her kisses, and he knew he’d found home.

  *

  Whoever had designed that glider chair and the cot with extra bounce was a flat-out genius. Mary plopped back on the cot completely sated. Wes had so much upper body strength he’d stayed on top as she’d utilized the rebound of the special fabric beneath, her legs wrapped around his waist as the cot enhanced their timing, moving them piston-quick. When his strength faltered briefly, her arms held him where she needed for those last crucial seconds. Wow, had that been worth it. What teamwork! Though on her back, she’d controlled the rate and rhythm, and when Wes had once again held strong in a push-up above her, she’d gone for it and had quickly found her golden ticket to heaven.

  He’d started reacting to her orgasms as if they were his own, and she believed he felt what she felt, just in his own way.

  Now that she’d settled down, he collapsed beside her. Still unable to talk, all she could do was shake her head. Wow! Just wow. He gave his self-satisfied look, which she loved, but pretended otherwise.

  “This is crazy,” she said after several more seconds of basking in the post-sex haze.

  “Not nearly crazy enough.”

  Her head bobbed up. “You’re already tired of me? Am I going to have to do that impossible position from that horrible porn movie?”

  “No way. I’m just saying I’m happy to oblige, no matter how often.”

  “With all the times we’ve been together, I’ll be shocked if—” Damn, she hadn’t meant to bring the passion they’d just shared down to the mere function of a bargain they’d made.
Get me pregnant. That’s the point of all this.

  Because it wasn’t. Not anymore.

  “Don’t get your hopes up too much,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. “I’ve been reading up on this and apparently paraplegic sperm motility isn’t always up to par.”

  Funny he hadn’t mentioned that before now, after two full weeks of mating like bunnies. “All it takes is one good swimmer.”

  He spanked her once and pulled her closer on top of him. “Then here’s to one good swimmer.”

  He kissed the top of her head, and for some reason that chaste and tender kiss felt more special than all the fiery ones that had preceded it, sending a cascade of tingles down her neck and fanning over her shoulders.

  Wesley Van Allen held the magic touch for Mary…but their days together were numbered.

  *

  Two days later Mary assisted Wes with passive range of motion to warm up. His hips, knees and ankle joints were flexible and healthy, and she’d managed to stop the progression of atrophy of his leg muscles. But the credit wasn’t all hers. “Okay, onto the bike.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  Using his superb upper body strength, he shifted from the workout wheelchair onto the stationary bike designed especially for paraplegics. In her quest to help Wesley live a long, vital life, she knew from the beginning his circulation had to be addressed. Since money was no object with him, shortly after she’d come to help, she’d ordered the amazing stationary bicycle designed especially for him.

  Since its arrival a month ago, they’d utilized the bike as part of his daily routine. She strapped his right leg in the holder and his foot to the pedal. He insisted on doing the same for the left leg. Next, she attached electrodes to his right thigh and gluteus maximus muscles.

  “Here, let me do that,” he said, setting himself up on the left side. She intended to flip on the switch on the control panel, but he stopped her. So she stood back and let him set up the bike for his proper daily workout. He chose the high-intensity mode, which involved four minutes of hard exercise with an equal interval of easier training. Four sets.

  He knew as well as she did that this exercise demanded energy that increased his blood flow and pulse, with the benefit of accelerating oxygen uptake and enhancing the heart’s pumping volume. Once he’d read the Norwegian university study on this very subject, he’d become a believer. This style of aerobic exercise would add years to his life. And if Mary miraculously got pregnant, she’d want the father of her baby to hang around for a long time. All for the baby’s sake, of course.

  “Remember to check on that order for the arm cycle,” he said during the second repetition, hardly winded. “When I go back to work I won’t have time to spend hours in the gym.”

  That was a fact. He’d need exercises that maximized the workout in minimal time. Using the bike, along with a similar contraption for his arms, would buy him precious time as well as multiple physical benefits.

  As she watched him tear up the imaginary road on his bike, one more thought came flying at her and landed right between her eyes. He didn’t need her anymore. She’d come to help get him back on track, and now he’d taken off at a sprint on his own. Her job here was done.

  Then another thought landed, this one weighing heavily on her mind. The fact that she’d accepted her next assignment and would have to leave for Astoria, Oregon, in another week. Was she ready to say goodbye to Wes? More importantly, would she ever know if he felt the same way about her as she did about him?

  She’d made the biggest mistake of her life and had fallen in love with him. That old insecurity of her teens had her thinking that if she dared to stay, he wouldn’t want her, and she was afraid to find out.

  Chuck had left because, after all they’d shared between them, she hadn’t made the grade. It had cut her to the core, having opened her heart to love, only to have it tossed aside as her lover had set off for parts unknown. Why would she think a man like Wes, the once Prince of Westwood, a brain doctor, who knew where she’d come from—had seen the trailer park first hand—would ever see her as an equal, or good enough to love?

  No, it was better to leave things as they were, he going back to work and she, well, just going. But if she was lucky, she’d be taking something special along with her. A part of Wes. His baby.

  The Prince of Westwood had granted her that wish. And she’d certainly lived up to her part of the bargain. The guy was an amazing lover. He’d also said he wanted to get involved with the baby’s life if the unlikely occurred, which would be tricky if they lived in different states. But she wouldn’t deprive him of that. Maybe she should find a job and settle down here.

  A baby and a relationship with Wes was too much to hope for. Wasn’t it?

  *

  Three days later, Mary began packing up the house and hoped she’d be prepared for her thousand-plus-mile drive to her next job in Astoria by the weekend. When she’d first arrived nearly two months ago, she hadn’t expected leaving to be so hard. She’d broken a professional cardinal rule, never to fall for a patient. Up until now that had never been a problem, no matter how cute some of them had been.

  But she and Wes had set things up differently. She hadn’t been employed by Wes—she’d come as an old friend. He might not have considered her a friend at the time, but they’d worked through their differences and had quickly skipped from friends to lovers. Who had time to fall in love? Yet she had. Her bargain, an offer that only a true friend would make to a man like Wes—to help him understand he could still have sex—had turned out to be a huge mistake.

  What had made her think she could keep their lovemaking clinical? He’d needed something. She’d needed something. It had made sense at the time. Now she was left with a wadded-up mess of love clogging her heart.

  Hell, they’d used each other, and while thinking how civilized she was, she’d accidentally fallen in love. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She could only speak for herself, of course, but from the way Wesley seemed to be moping around these last couple of days, she suspected he might have his regrets, too.

  What could have been a disastrous attempt to help him understand that sex was doable as a paraplegic had turned into a profound experience, one that had changed her life forever, too.

  And there he was, at her tiny house door, the man she could never admit her true feelings to because he had far too much on his plate already. And her chest squeezed with that unique sensation she wasn’t supposed to feel.

  “I’ve been thinking, Harris.”

  “Oh, that’s always dangerous.” She gave her best shot at being upbeat and fun.

  He gave a tolerant smile, watching her with warm brown benevolent eyes. “I’ve been thinking you should look for a job closer by so we can keep in touch. See each other.”

  She nearly lost her balance, but blamed it on the cardboard box underfoot, then recovered as quickly as she could.

  Wes understood Mary fiercely needed her independence, and she’d never settle for only being a live-in girlfriend, catering to him and him alone. Sure, it was a nice fantasy, but one that would never work. Under those circumstances, he’d soon lose respect for her, as she would for him. Yet that was all he really had to offer her. She’d be miserable, strapped down with him. So the next best thing would be for her to work in Los Angeles. And the best way for him to convince her that she wouldn’t be completely trapped in a life with him was to show her he could live a regular life. Wasn’t that what she’d been hammering home since she’d gotten here?

  “I know you’re busy packing, but let’s take the day off tomorrow and go to the Getty Museum. There’s a smaller one right down the road in Pacific Palisades, the Getty Villa.”

  Surprise brightened her face and the sweetest unassuming smile followed. “I could use a break.” She gestured to the several cartons and boxes lining her mini living room. “I’d love to.”

  “Great, I’ll order some tickets online right now.”

  Once he’d used his phone to secure
entrance to the museum the next day, he stuck around. The least a man could do was help her with her packing, so they spent the rest of the afternoon putting her dishes in boxes and securing anything else that could break in drawers and inside the tiniest closets he’d ever seen.

  “What about the bed?” Yeah, he was a guy, always thinking about beds. Especially where Mary was concerned.

  “That’s pretty much secured up there, but I still put up a plywood barrier to keep the dresser from sliding around. Oh, that reminds me, I need to pack away the mirror from up there.”

  She had a mirror in her bedroom? Hmm, that sounded promising. Yet he’d never get to see the bed or the mirror since the only way to her loft was up a narrow ladder. Paraplegic stopped by climbing device. The metaphor of not being able to make it over that never-ending hill AP—after paraplegia—seemed especially appropriate for their situation. He’d also been hit with a wave of claustrophobia like the first time he’d come to visit, so he thought up a reasonable excuse and made a quick exit.

  The next day, he displayed all his independent skills by driving, parking, and using his electric wheelchair to get around the Roman-styled architecture of the museum. As they strolled along the side of the main Grecian-styled pool and the central courtyard gardens, and later the gallery within the villa, he didn’t notice a single sculpture. Instead, he spent the entire afternoon admiring her. How her strawberry blonde hair brushed her face when she turned too quickly. How she pursed her lips when she concentrated while using earbuds and the self-guided tour to study the collections. How delicate her hands were, even though she could pump iron with the best of them. How she glanced at him often, making sure he was enjoying the Greek and Roman antiquities as much as she was. He fudged and pretended he was.