She snuggled into the inviting bed and relaxed. She could hardly believe where she was and what she was doing there. She tried to fall asleep but she kept thinking of Christopher Harrison in the next room. She admired his mixture of gentleness and strength, found them irresistible. Never had she met a man who had captivated so—not even David Lowrey had made her feel as the doctor did.
At last, sleep claimed her for a few hours.
Kirstin sensed a presence and opened her eyes. She was glad she didn’t scream or jerk upward. A nightlight in the hallway and open door revealed Christopher’s form not far away. She knew he couldn’t see her face in the darkness. She struggled to remain still and to keep her breathing normal so he wouldn’t know she was awake. What, she fretted, did he want? Would he try anything? Had she been foolish to accept his invitation? Was she in danger of being attacked?
Four
Kirstin remained motionless and silent as she watched Christopher stare at her supposedly sleeping form. She wished she could see his face, his expression, and know what he was thinking. In a few minutes, he crept from the room and closed the door. She made certain she did not send out an audible sigh of relief, as she sensed him lingering outside the room. Her heart pounded and her pulse raced; she tried to calm herself. Recalling how he had sneaked into the office this afternoon to check on her during her nap, she decided that was the motive for his nocturnal visit. That conclusion relaxed and pleased her, warmed her. She scolded herself for letting her imagination run wild.
Kirstin stretched and yawned as fantasies about him returned. He was so kind, considerate, and compassionate. David would have slept through the night without a thought—or perhaps a care—to her unstable condition. No doubt her deceased husband would have been vexed by her health problem and considered it a defect that could interfere with his life. David had wanted everything and everybody around him to be perfect, or at least be trouble-free. She couldn’t explain even to herself why she had put up with a man’s demands and selfishness, lived as his doormat, and near-slave as so many southern women of her generation did. But Christopher Harrison seemed different, refreshingly and delightfully unique.
What was the secluded physician really like? How was it possible to find a stranger so overwhelmingly attractive? How could just sitting with him and watching television be this exciting? How could simply holding his hand or brushing against him or looking at him create such blissful sensations, such daring ideas? Surely she wasn’t considering an affair with him … Affair? That was a terrible word to describe a few days of physical and emotional enrichment. She didn’t know why that temptation panicked her; she wasn’t a virgin, nor an inexperienced and vulnerable teenager. For heaven’s sake, she had been married for over twenty years, and she’d dated other men since David’s death. Yet, none of them had been sexually appealing. She’d wondered if she’d become frigid because of David’s lack of interest; now her reaction to Christopher proved that wasn’t true. She responded to even his light touches, his glances, his voice, his incredible green eyes. All of those things stirred her. Should she—could she—do anything about it? As a wealthy and handsome doctor, surely he had plenty of beautiful young, women after him. Perhaps he was involved with the spitfire who’d called him twice, or even with several women. Kirstin asked herself if it made more or less sense to respond to a man she would never see again, one whose appeal was so powerful that it alarmed her.
Much as she tried to control and ignore them, instinctive and repressed longings called out to her to seize what she wanted. She tossed and turned as she wondered what it would be like to kiss him, to make love to him. She wouldn’t be so brazen as to throw herself at him. But if he tried to seduce her, did she dare yield to the first overture he made?
In the next room, Christopher was uncomfortable too. Kirstin was the most provocative and refreshing female he’d met in years, maybe in his lifetime, if she was what she seemed. He knew women could be cunning. They couldn’t seem to take a relationship slow and easy and just have fun. Most had marriage in mind. But wasn’t that currently true of him? His loins flamed at the thought of Kirstin lying beneath him.
What would she do if he made a pass at her? He was a physician; she, his patient. The intimate situation reeked of temptation and trouble. Too many doctors had been sued for sexual offenses, some, he knew, over misunderstandings where the female had seemed inviting or consenting. It wasn’t wise to have Kirstin or any female patient alone with him. Why hadn’t he patched her up and sent her to the Clovis hospital to be under another doctor’s care, one who was a specialist in diabetes?
He knew why. After spending most of the day with her, he hadn’t wanted her to leave so soon. He cautioned himself to tread gingerly in this unpredictable situation.
The troubled man rolled to his stomach and thought about the many women he’d bedded in an effort to recover his male pride after what his ex-wife had done to him. He hadn’t forgotten or forgiven Laura’s humiliating treachery. But he’d settled down before his accident four years ago and behaved himself since then.
At last, both Kirstin and Christopher slept fitfully.
There was a tap at Kirstin’s door. She sat up. “Yes?”
“You awake?” a mellow voice asked from the other side.
“What time is it?” There was no clock in the room and she hadn’t retrieved her watch from the hall bathroom last night but brilliant sunlight beamed against the shades at the two windows.
He didn’t open the door as he answered in a raised voice, “Nine o’clock. You need to check your blood and get some food in you soon, Kirstin.”
She threw back the covers, sat up, and waited for her senses to clear before rising. “You’re right. I can’t believe I slept so late.” No doubt because she’d been unable to fall back to sleep for hours after his nocturnal visit.
Christopher leaned against the door jamb and stared at the barrier. “You were exhausted from yesterday’s events. I peeked in on you several times during the night and you seemed fine. Any problems?”
Kirstin was delighted to hear his explanation. “None, and thanks for checking on me. This area is as silent as a tomb. I got used to highway noises near hotels keeping me awake or disturbing me countless times a night.”
“It doesn’t take long to get used to the peace and quiet here.”
“You’ve been quiet as a mouse this morning, or did you sleep late, too?”
“I’ve been up and on the range since six. You ready for a caffeine fix?” he inquired in a mock cowboy drawl. “I’ve already had two.”
“I’d like to shower and dress first. Be there in fifteen minutes.”
“No woman gets dressed that fast. I’ll be in my office checking with my answering service,” he told her, then left, whistling a country tune.
Kirstin checked her blood-sugar level, frowned, and chewed a glucose tablet to get her to breakfast. She didn’t want to join her host as she was, but any exertion would take her level too low. She showered and brushed her teeth, then donned a pair jeans, a shirt, and tennis shoes. She applied makeup and cologne lightly to enhance her appearance but not enough of them to boldly reveal she was doing so. She straightened the bathroom and bedroom and headed for the kitchen. “My coffee still hot?”
Christopher turned, grinned, and let his gaze walk over her. “I don’t believe it, sixteen minutes from start to finish. You’re amazing, woman.”
She could light up a dark room with the glow she was experiencing from his words and look. “I take that as a compliment. I know I was a pain in the … rump yesterday for you and Captain Two Fists.”
“I’ve had my share of worse pains,” the doctor murmured. “This way,” he motioned, taking her hand and seating her. He poured a cup of coffee and turned to ask, “How do you take it?”
“Two sweeteners, no cream,” Kirstin replied, feeling wonderful.
“You’re lucky Helen uses Equal or I wouldn’t have any.” He set the cup before her then fetched a spoon
and two packets of the sweetener. “Careful, it’s hot.”
“Thanks, Christopher. I’ve never had better service. You joining me?”
“Thanks, but I’ve had my fill. You want some toast and eggs and bacon?”
“Don’t bother with cooking,” she declined, although she was hungry for a big and hot breakfast for a change. It must be the fresh air, she decided.
Before she could ask if he had cereal, he chuckled and, motioning with his sable head at the stove, he said, “I’m good on this range, too. Bacon … scrambled eggs … toast …” he tempted with a grin.
“Coffee and cereal are fine,” she responded. “But I’m game to try your cooking skills. If they match your doctoring ones, it’ll be a real treat.”
“Did you test your blood?”
“Seventy-six … Yes, I know. I took a glucose tablet immediately.”
“Wise woman. You could have eaten before you bathed and dressed.”
“I know” was all she replied. Please don’t lecture me today.
Within minutes, he had meat sizzling in the microwave and the table set. “I insist my patients eat right, and a hearty breakfast doesn’t hurt on occasion. Fried or scrambled, ma’am?” he asked.
His expression was amusing, as was the towel he draped over his left wrist like a waiter. She laughed. “You’re too much, Christopher Harrison. Scrambled, well done. Toast, just before burning. Bacon, crisp.”
When the food was ready, he placed it before her. “Are you strong enough to do this alone or shall I feed you?” he jested, feeling cheerful and calm.
“I’m sure I can manage. Thank goodness I’ll be well in a few days and on my way; service like this could find me ten pounds overweight within a week.”
He stiffened at her first statement, then laughed and relaxed at her reason. He teased, “You do look a little scrawny, Mrs. Lowrey. Maybe I should keep you here longer and fatten you up like I do my prize cattle.”
“Don’t you dare, Christopher Harrison!” she shrieked playfully.
“Got someone watching your figure? Perhaps several men?”
“Not with my permission,” she informed him deliberately.
“Then there’s no reason you can’t eat well for a change.”
“I do eat right, Doc. I take good care of myself. Don’t I look healthy?”
“Maybe I should examine you before I answer,” he quipped with a roguish grin. “When was your last thorough physical?”
Kirstin experienced that rush of heat once more at the thought of him examining her. “Just what kind of doctor are you, Christopher?”
“General practitioner, but I majored in surgery.” He cursed his blunder when she perked up
“Surgery? Do you practice at the Clovis hospital?”
“I don’t operate anymore. Gave it up years ago. I don’t even take stitches unless it’s an absolute emergency. How are the eggs and bacon?”
“Delicious. Why did you give up surgery? Didn’t you like it? Don’t you miss it?”
“Retired, remember? Eat, woman. I have more chores to do. Leave the table. I’ll clean up later. Just take it easy today. See you later, Kirstin.”
He was gone before she could swallow her coffee and speak. He rushed outside, in desSperate need of fresh air and solitude. Flexing the disabled hand and pounding it into his other one, he cursed the accident that had ended his career. He had finally regained use of the hand but not enough to return to his beloved field. He had taught for a year while undergoing repair work and therapy, but had tired of the pity and “That’s a shame” comments. He had come here to practice where these people needed him and didn’t know about his troubles. Occasionally he did a few stitches after accidents, but it wasn’t the same as performing daily operations that saved countless lives.
Why, he raged, wouldn’t this infernal bitterness and emptiness cease? He felt like an impotent man who couldn’t make love but still suffered from an overwhelming desire for sex! If the ability was gone, why couldn’t the desire die, too? He stalked to the barn and resaddled his favorite horse. He rode fast and hard, as if real demons pursued him.
Kirstin was bewildered and worried by his odd behavior. Why would a surgeon “retire” to a small practice in general medicine in such a secluded area? Why had he terminated their pleasant talk when she asked why he’d quit? Something didn’t add up.
She grimaced as dismaying speculations” stormed her mind. He might be ill … He might have been kicked out for reasons of ethics or incompetence … He might have confronted a personal tragedy in the operating room that left him incapable of continuing. He could be blaming himself for the death or maiming of a special patient, perhaps his “missing” wife or a child. The possibilities were endless. He didn’t want to discuss it, so for certain, the reason, was a raw spot, a revealing wound. Whatever happened, she had no right to meddle. Unless, she refuted, the reason could affect— endanger— her treatment or survival. Get well and get out, she warned herself.
Her appetite lost, Kirstin still finished her food: it was necessary for her health. As she rinsed dishes and placed them in the dishwasher, she noticed his untouched meal next to the stove. She dumped his chilled food in the disposal and wiped the table and counter tops.
As she worked, Kirstin couldn’t get Christopher off her mind. He had given her only good impressions of him and his skills, and she didn’t believe she had misjudged them. There must be a logical reason behind his se crecy and evasiveness. Whatever was wrong with him, it was painful and private. She had realized he always used his right hand and carried items, one at a time and that he always wore long-sleeved shirts. Maybe he was concealing physical as well as emotional scars. He had admitted he’d had accidents while working the ranch, so perhaps he had lost his operating ability after moving here and suffering one.
After finishing in the kitchen, Kirstin found a dust mop and some cloths to use on the floors and furniture in the living room and den, doing chores to keep her moody and mysterious host off her mind. While cleaning the hall bathroom, Kirstin retrieved her watch and placed it in the bedroom. Before she’d completed her task, Christopher returned
He leaned against the bathroom door jamb, relieved she hadn’t taken flight while he was gone. Of course, he realized, she didn’t have transportation. But, if she was frightened or desperate enough, she could have phoned a cab or called John. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be resting and recovering.”
“Keeping my end of our bargain, Doc,” she said with a smile as she attempted to sound calm and genial.
“You don’t really have to do my house chores; that was a joke.”
“A trick to get a guinea pig to practice on?” she quipped. She was relieved he was sounding and acting nice, genuine, again.
“Guilty as charged,” he replied with a sexy grin. “It’s lunchtime. Do your test while I get things ready in the kitchen. I’m starved. I should have eaten that second breakfast with you, but I have to watch my weight, too.”
“Shouldn’t we all?” she replied, and laughed to let him get away with the white lie, if it was one. He could be telling the truth. Perhaps he had planned to join her with a second helping but then the conversation had gone awry.
Everything was ready when she came into the kitchen. With a look of apology, she said, “My reading was sixty-seven.” That put her below the 70-120 norm and close to a low blood sugar range.
“So, you’ll promise to relax this afternoon while I run errands with Frank, right? Read, or watch TV, or nap. No more overdoing.”
“I promise to be a good girl while you’re gone.”
“In the morning, reduce your medication by half, then test more frequently for a while to see if that’s the problem?”
“Yes, sir,” she agreed, dreading the additional tests.
“I started a chart on you. I want everything recorded. I’ll send copies to Doctor Cooper and to your new physician in San Diego. Have you chosen one there? Did Cooper make a recommendation
?”
“Yes, and I already have an appointment set up with him.”
“Give me his name before you leave and I’ll speak with him, let him know the facts before you see him for the first time.”
“Thanks, Christopher. You’re a big help. I wish I could repay you properly for your many kindnesses. In this condition, I’m not much good.”
“Don’t think that way, Kirstin. It doesn’t help; only depresses you and has ill effects on your health and mood.” He should know.
Kirstin noticed how sad he looked. Her heart went out to him. As with her, he wasn’t perfect. He had problems, worries, frustrations, and fears. He had a vulnerable streak that made him more appealing— human— than David could ever have been. That knowledge drew her closer to him. What’s tormenting you, Christopher? Talking about it might help, like talking to you helps me cope with my condition. She ate in silence, as did he.
When they finished, he suggested that she sit in the den while he cleaned up. “No arguments, woman; you promised.”
“Is it all right if I phone my daughter and give her your address?”
“The phone’s on the wall over there. I’ll give her a report if you like.”
“That will be nice; it will make Katie feel better. Thanks.”
Kirstin placed the call. “Katie, it’s Mom.”
Christopher listened to her side of the brief conversation: “Yes, I’m doing fine … Doctor Harrison is lowering my medication and making sure I eat and exercise right … I’ll be here a few more days or until I’m in control.” He liked that statement and continued to listen. “He’s going to speak with you to give you his address and medical opinion. Here he is now. I’ll talk to you again before he hangs up.”
“Hello, Miss Lowrey, Doctor Harrison here. Your mother’s doing fine. With proper treatment and care, I don’t foresee any complications.”
Katie asked questions and liked the answers the physician gave. Impressed by his compassionate voice and competent manner, she thanked him for his care and told him to call if her mother needed anything. As she jotted down his address, she wished she could visit and meet him in person, but she didn’t want to risk destroying a potentially romantic setting or shortening her mother’s stay at the ranch. When Christopher gave Kirstin back the receiver, Katie didn’t tell her about the talk she’d had with Steve this morning or his accusations about Kirstin’s “selfishness” that would only upset her at a time when she needed to stay calm and to concentrate only on her health. Nor would she mention the stern lecture she had given Steve about Kirstin deserving happiness and her own life. She had even told Steve he only thought about himself and wasn’t being fair with his latest demand. She wasn’t about to reveal Kirstin’s whereabouts to him and allow him to intrude on her. With luck and courage, perhaps her mother would come out of this mess with a new love.
Taking Chances Page 7