"Thanks . . . Mojo. Gotta guard Shannie. Too many guys . . ." Blinking, he turned to look out the window. "Is it night time?" He had so much to do before his surgery. Why wasn't he at the office? Where was he? "Gotta get ready. I'm having surgery tomorrow."
Hands tucked a sheet around him. "Try to rest, Curt. I'll come visit you again tomorrow."
The flowers were all around him. He was lying in a field, surrounded by the sweetest smell he'd ever known. "We're on a picnic." Why had he never been on one before? "In a garden."
"It's a beautiful day for a picnic."
Confused, he turned to the voice. Shannie was in the field with him. Turning on the blanket, he watched her beautiful eyes light with pleasure. They were away from work—and he could finally kiss her as much as he wanted. "Did you bring any food?" He was suddenly hungry. Reaching for the hand fluttering near him, he captured it, bringing her fingers to his mouth. They were cool. Restless. "Stop fidgeting."
SHANNON SMOTHERED HER laughter, uncertain what to do. Where to look. She couldn't just wrench her hand free—not with his brother and sister-in-law watching in sudden fascination. And his grip—it was so tight. "Curtis . . . I should probably go-"
"Stay. Have some . . . cheese."
MaryJo cracked up. "That sounds yummy, Curt. Can I have some?"
Trying to retrieve her hand in an inconspicuous manner wasn't working so well. Shannon knew her face had to be flaming, despite the shadows in Curt's bedroom. His mouth caressed her fingers in a way that felt like a prelude to sex. His lips on her skin creating shivery ripples down her spine. Damn—it was making her knees buckle. What would kissing him for real be like? A wave of liquid heat rolled over her. All—with witnesses. Travis and MaryJo Lockwood. Staring. Speechless. Amused.
"So—I guess I can stay another minute." Joking about it—was the only way she'd get through the next few awkward minutes until she could make her escape. Until she was finally alone. Until she could fan herself. Take a cold shower. Forcing herself to meet their gaze, she strove to remain professional—as best as she could—while Curt's warm, wet mouth made love to the back of her hand.
Damn him. He'd received enough drugs to fell a rhino. How could he possibly be having such an embarrassingly arousing effect on her? When he didn't even know what he was doing. Or who he was doing it to. Hell—what would it be like if he was actually focused on the task-
Suppressing a shudder, she carefully slid her fingers free of Curt's. Her hand tingling, she took a step back from the bed. "You realize-" She cleared the hoarseness from her throat. "He can't stay alone, right? He needs someone to stay for at least the first several days. To help him up."
“Damn him!” MaryJo frowned. "I knew we should've hired someone. He swore he wouldn't need help. He made us promise to drop him off and let him rest."
Shannon shook her head. "He can't put any weight on that leg. Not for a month, probably. If he had a nerve block today-"
"He did," Travis confirmed.
"That means he has no feeling in the bad leg. And if it leached over, he's numb in the good leg, too," she explained.
"It took us nearly an hour just to get him up the steps and into the house."
"The worst of it will wear off by tomorrow," she said. "But, until then, it's really dangerous if he tries to get up to go to the bathroom. Even with crutches," she emphasized. "There's a good chance he'll be dizzy when he gets upright, because he's drunk on anesthesia and morphine."
"Hell—how do we handle this?" Travis dragged a hand through his hair. "Babe, there's no way I can leave him alone. I'll have to stay here tonight."
She nodded. "Absolutely. I can handle the kids."
"Are you sure?" His eyes heated with concern as he stared at his wife. "With the baby sick and Hannah fighting a cold-"
"Honey, he's your brother. You have to stay." MaryJo glanced at her. "We can hire a nurse tomorrow. Maybe you could help us find one?"
"I know a good service,” she offered. “I was working for them before I started with Four Seasons."
MaryJo's gaze softened as it shifted to her husband. "You and I can tag-team on days and we'll get someone in for the nights."
"In five or six days, he'll be able to manage himself on crutches." Shannon sank down on the upholstered chair. "But, as long as he's on pain meds, you need someone here at night to get the dosing right. You don't want to give him too much, but you definitely don't want him taking too little the first few days. The pain is going to be severe. He needs to stay ahead of it."
Travis sighed. "Yeah, the doc said that, too. But, Curt won't want to take the meds. He'll claim he doesn't need them."
"Then he'll be in terrible pain," she warned. "Once the anesthesia wears off, it's going to be bad the first three to four days."
"I feel super." Curt's loopy voice broke in, dissolving the serious tone in a heartbeat. "Guys—wanna get a pizza?"
Her eyes worried, MaryJo still smiled. "I'll find someone who can start tomorrow night."
Shannon tried to ride out the impulse. To stay with him. She could easily manage the task. Hell—it's what she'd done for eight years. She could sleep at Curt's place, then head to the office in the mornings, once her backup arrived. But, it wasn't her job to volunteer. He had family. They weren't going to trust a woman he'd only met a month earlier.
"Shannie? Where'd you go? Stay here." Curt's disgruntled voice shattered her resolve. That—and the tingling memory of his mouth on her hand. Damn him.
Rising from the chair, she faced them. "You know . . . this is probably a little unorthodox, but, I could . . . stay here tonight."
Two stunned sets of eyes swiveled her way. "You? You'd do that for him?"
"I'm a nurse. I have three years of orthopedic experience. And I've worked the night shift before." She shrugged. "If I run home now for a change of clothes, I could be back in an hour."
"You wouldn't feel weird staying here? What about Curt being your boss?" MaryJo's eyes held a glimmer of humor.
"I'm not sure that would be appropriate." Travis was rightfully suspicious of her—and protective of his brother. Curt was essentially defenseless. Even if they utilized a nursing service, they would be taking a chance with a stranger. In their eyes, she was only slightly less of a risk.
"It's probably a little strange . . . but, I'm used to patient care. Curt will be just like anyone else. Once he's back on his feet, he can revert back to being my boss."
MaryJo touched her husband's arm when he would have fired off more questions. A look passed between them—a form of silent, married-people communication that didn't require words. She wondered how much time had to pass before you knew someone so well that words weren't necessary to relay a message. "Why would you want to do this for him?"
"I just moved back home from Colorado, so I haven't found my own place yet. Right now I'm staying with my sister in her one bedroom apartment." When Curt mumbled in his sleep, she instinctively moved the few steps to check his temperature. Though her touch was clinical, the sensation of his skin against the back of her hand was anything but. Startled, she schooled her expression. "He's a little warm. What time is his next antibiotic?"
Glancing up, she found two captivated gazes on her—as though in the past thirty seconds they'd discovered she had spinach stuck in her teeth. MaryJo finally spoke. "I think we gave him that two hours ago."
She nodded. "It's not uncommon to run a fever the first few days after surgery. You'll need to watch for infection at the surgery site."
"You were saying . . . about your sister's place?" Travis' prompting brought the conversation back.
"Right. My sister. Anyway . . . if I were to disappear for a few nights, it would give Kerry and her boyfriend a break from my hovering presence. But, I completely understand if you're uncomfortable. If it were my family member, I would be."
Travis looked amused. "Why would you be uncomfortable?"
She smiled. "Let's face it, you don't know anything about me. I've only known
Curtis for a month."
"Won't we have the same concern with a service?" The glint in his eyes told her he enjoyed playing devil's advocate.
"Well . . . yes—but, they're insured," she said, determined to be as honest as possible with them. "The company I was working for requires a criminal background check because we enter people's homes when they're at their most vulnerable."
"So—you're saying you've already had a background check." Travis grinned.
"Yes . . . but—it's smart to have concerns when it comes to patient care. I don't want you to ignore them."
"Shannon, my brother has done nothing but sing your praises for the last month."
Her face heated with the compliment. "I—well . . . that's very kind of him." Forgetting her own uncertainty, Shannon found herself wishing she could put them at ease. They were nice people who cared about their brother. She glanced at MaryJo, who'd disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a dampened washcloth for Curt's forehead. "Maybe you should stay here tonight," she suggested. "I'll be happy to review the surgeon's instructions and jot down some notes so you know exactly what to do. Then, in the morning, you can contact the nursing service. They'll probably be able to get someone out here to cover tomorrow night."
"You've changed your mind, then?"
"No—no. I'm happy to help out." Flustered, she wondered when she'd lost control of the conversation. "I just want to be sure you feel confident about it."
Travis appeared to be deep in thought for several moments. "If we agreed to this—you've just worked all day. How can you work twenty-four hours?"
"For the most part, I'll just be sleeping here," she explained. "All we have to do is set the alarm to wake him up for meds and ice. Check for fever, give him fluids and a little food." She rattled off the chores. "Then it's back to bed until the next round." The relief visible in their expressions told her she'd been right to offer help—whether she was completely comfortable with the idea or not.
"So, then what happens?" MaryJo's eyes were puzzled.
Shannon smiled. "I wait for one of you to spell me in the morning so I can drive to the office from here."
"And—you'd be willing to do this for five or six days?"
She glanced at Travis. "I'd planned on stopping by each night anyway, to review files and fill him in on what's going on. I figured he'd get antsy if he's out of the loop too long."
He smiled. "Didn't take you long to pick that up."
Ignoring Travis' knowing smile proved difficult. "Staying here to make sure he takes his meds and eats properly won't be a problem." Except for being in close contact with a man who could make her swoon just by kissing her hand. If anything, spending the night would be far more dangerous for her than Curtis. The drugs assured he wouldn't remember much. She, on the other hand, would remember everything.
"He won't be nearly as dopey tomorrow. What you're seeing now is mostly from the anesthesia." Shannon scooped up her purse, searching for the always missing keys. "He may surprise us and be up and around faster than we think." She bit her lip. "But, I wouldn't bank on it."
"How can we repay you?" Travis' gruff voice told her how much he appreciated her gesture.
Finding her first smile since making the decision, Shannon unearthed her keys from the bottom of her bag. "If you could get him to the bathroom before you leave tonight . . . that would be very helpful. There are certain things about your boss—that are better off remaining a mystery."
MaryJo smothered her mouth so her laughter wouldn't disturb Curt, who'd closed his eyes and was mumbling into his pillow. Grabbing her hand, Travis shook it, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Deal. I'll hang out here with you until its closer to bedtime. I give you my word, Curt won't be flashing anyone."
Shaking on it, Shannon said a silent prayer. Please let this be the right thing to do. "I'll be back in an hour."
THE FROGS WERE SURROUNDING him. Closing in . . . their croaking voices taking over the swamp. As he floated among the lily pads, Curt shivered from the sudden chill.
"Curtis? Are you okay? It's time for your medicine."
The whispered voice both confused and relieved him—as the frogs retreated to the darkest corners of the room. He tried not to look in their eyes, blinking at him in the dark. Yellow. Scary. "Too many frogs."
"Those aren't frogs, Curt. It's your stomach growling. I'm going to bring you something to eat, okay?"
"Okay." Her voice was amused. And surrounded by flowers. Shannon had rescued him from the pond. He liked the field way better than the swamp. "We'll have a picnic."
Cool water trickled against his forehead as she swiped his face. When the cloth slid down his cheeks, the bristle of his whiskers resisted the softness. Trailing down his throat, he twisted his head to accommodate her. When she lifted his head to reach the back of his neck, Curt wasn't sure which felt better—long fingers ruffling through his hair, or the cold, wet rag soothing the prickly heat at the base of his neck. He groaned when she stopped. Felt her startle against him.
"Did that hurt? Is your head aching?"
"Nice," he mumbled, surprised by the way his thoughts kept floating away from him. "Don't stop." Her chuckle made him smile.
"How's the pain in your knee?"
His knee. Frowning, he tried to focus. His leg was sticking up in the air on a mountain of pillows. And it was cold. The dull throbbing ache under the blanket was nothing he couldn't tolerate. "It's good."
"Can you wiggle your toes for me?"
He concentrated on moving one foot, then the other.
"Very good," she praised. "Every time you wake up, I want you to wiggle your toes, okay?"
He could do that. "Do I win a prize?" Her soft, sweet chuckle raised the hair on his arms. That sound was so much better than the frogs.
"Yeah—you win a cup of jello." When she bent over him, the scent of flowers wafted into his nose. "Do you want red or green?"
Green—like the swamp. "I want red."
When the shadow drifted to the doorway, he reached out, trying to catch it. "Wait. Don't go." Tensing, he willed himself not to look in the corner. Yellow, beady eyes. The frogs—might come back.
"I'm getting your picnic," she said. "Don't try to get up. I'll be right back."
When she returned, she helped him sit up. "Thirsty." Curt grinned when her breast brushed against his arm. Shannon was soft. And pretty. She handed him a cup, wrapping both his hands around it as though he might drop it. "I got it," he insisted. He drank several sips before she handed him three pills.
"Take these with your water."
Sitting up felt really good. He could finally stretch his back. And maybe get the prickly heat off his shoulders. Tugging his shirt over his head, he tossed it to the floor.
"W-what are you doing?"
Her voice floated to him out of the darkness. "I'm hot."
"Okay. Let's get some of this applesauce in you so the frogs stop croaking." She chuckled as though it was funny. But—they were scary, not funny. He would've told her that, but she shoved a spoon in his mouth as soon as he opened it. The applesauce was cold and sweet. He allowed her to give him a few more spoonfuls. When she handed him a cracker, he ate without thinking about it.
"Is that a little better?"
"Where's my jello?" He heard a smothered laugh again.
"Sorry, Curt. It's right here. Red, just like you wanted."
"I can't see it." He felt grumpy, but didn't know why.
"That's because it's the middle of the night. We need to go back to sleep after the picnic." As he ate the cold, strawberry flavored gelatin, Shannon's whispered words seemed to float in the dark before his eyes. Picnic. Sleep. A sudden wave of dizziness had him sliding back down against the cool sheets so his head would stop spinning.
"Are you okay?"
"Tired." She seemed to disappear for a few minutes. He sensed a light turn on down the hall. If he concentrated, he could hear rustling noises in the kitchen.
When she returned, Cur
t didn't remember hearing her. Opening his eyes, he found her there, a shadow blocking the light from the hallway. "Can I get you anything else before we go back to sleep?" Her whispery voice filled him with a strange sense of comfort.
"I'm good." Letting his eyes flutter shut, he sighed. Then forced them open again. Though he couldn't hear them, Curt wondered about the frogs. Would they come back? "Shannie?"
She stopped at the door. "Yeah?"
He thumped the bed next to him. "Stay here. I need you to guard against the frogs."
THE AIR LEFT HER LUNGS in a whoosh. "Y-you want me . . . to stay?" All thoughts of sleep left Shannon's head. Sleep? How could she sleep? When she could barely breathe. "The frogs . . . are gone, Curt."
"Here." He thumped the bed again. "They'll come back," he insisted, his eyes drooping as he struggled to sit up. "I need you."
"Don't get up." Despite her exasperation, she chuckled over the way he dragged out the word need—like a toddler in the grocery store being denied a toy. Gently, she eased him back against the pillows. He needed her. Didn't they all? Except—when they didn't. Need was what she wanted. To be needed by someone. To be important. To finally matter. Three magic words that seemed to draw her in every time. After everything she'd been through with Brad . . . after all she'd lost. Why was she still such a sucker for them? And why from the guy who'd already taken the most? "I'll stay until you fall asleep, okay?"
"Sleep," he mumbled. "Come to bed."
Rounding the bed, she shivered at his words. Come to bed. With her crazy-hot boss. The guy she was supposed to seek revenge against. The man she was supposed to be taking down a notch. Not the guy she had a burning desire to rake her nails over his chest. "Just until he falls asleep," she reminded herself. After that—maybe a little stealthy recon around his home. In search of what, she wasn't sure. But . . . something. Some indication that the accident had impacted him in more ways than a damaged leg and a jail sentence.
Shelving her irrational thoughts, Shannon focused on the more immediate concern. Sleeping with her boss. Sleeping with her super sexy, dangerously appealing boss. Easing down on the opposite side of the bed, she made sure to reset the alarm for his next round of meds. The anesthesia would be wearing off soon. Curt's pain was about to escalate with a vengeance. Slowly, she inched her way between the sheets, the crisp cotton cool against her legs. "Okay, Curt . . . let's get some sleep."
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