by Debbie Mason
“You shouldn’t have let her in your office.” He pulled his head away. “And don’t think I didn’t notice what you’re doing.”
“You need stitches. So why don’t you lie back and let me do my job? And while I do, you can tell me if anyone has ever been able to stop Nell McBride from doing exactly what she sets her mind to.”
“To be honest, I’d prefer a doctor who’s practiced in the past couple years and who doesn’t have an ax to grind.”
“I’ll be wielding a needle and thread, not an ax. And while I may be out of practice, I do know what I’m doing. But if you’d prefer a plastic surgeon…”
“No, I don’t scar easily,” he said, and she knew he’d given up fighting the inevitable. Once she’d found a nurse to bring her supplies, she got down to business. He lay back on the bed.
Feeling his eyes on her as she numbed the site, she glanced at him. “Second thoughts?”
“No, I know you’ll do a good job. You wouldn’t be doing it if you didn’t think you could.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence, Dr. Trainer.” She smiled while beginning to stitch the interior of the wound. It was deep and would need two layers. She’d glue the external layer. She found her eyes straying back to Matt’s. Focus, she told herself. It might be a simple procedure, but she couldn’t afford to be distracted, and being this close to Matt was distracting. Maybe she should’ve had someone else take care of him after all.
“How’s Jane Doe doing?”
Just the distraction she needed as long as she didn’t look him in the eyes or pay attention to the way her hip brushed his muscled arm. She cleared her throat. “The general consensus is she wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t done a tracheotomy in the field. Under the conditions you were in, I don’t know how you did it, Matt. She’s lucky you were there today. Lucky to be alive.”
“I hear a but in your voice.”
“No, it’s just that the radiologist’s report came in.”
“And?”
“There are signs of old injuries, breaks that haven’t healed properly. They’re consistent with someone whose been abused. I think our Jane Doe is in an abusive relationship.” She told him about the oldest child’s reaction to questions about his extended family. “He’s scared, and not just because of the accident. There’s a shelter outside of town. What if that’s where she was going?”
“I volunteer at Interval House a few hours a week. I’ll contact Gail and see if she knows anything. What? You okay?”
“Yes, of course,” she said, and refocused on stitching his wound instead of thinking about Matt volunteering at a home for abused women. Just when she thought the man couldn’t be more perfect, she found proof that he was.
“You seem angry.”
“I am,” she said without thinking.
“And why’s that?”
“Because you nearly went and got yourself killed today, you stupid, stupid man. What would those women do without you? What would we do without you?” What would I do without you, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut and squinching up her face.
“Look at me.”
“No, I’m busy.”
He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and drew her hand from his forehead. She let her hand fall to her side and bowed her head. “Matt, don’t,” she said as he sat up and drew her between his legs.
“I’m sorry I scared you.” He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Will you look at me, please?”
She did as he asked. His face swam before her eyes. Then his lips touched hers, and his strong hand curved behind her neck, bringing her closer. She didn’t realize until that moment how long she’d been waiting, wanting, this man to kiss her. Today, she’d nearly lost her chance.
There was a loud knock. “Everyone decent in there?” Nell’s voice came through the door. “The boys are tired and need to get to bed. Folks have already started dropping off toys and clothes at your house, Matt. Hop to it, now.”
Chapter Eight
As Matt and Charlotte tiptoed from the spare bedroom where they’d set up the boys, he glanced at her, taking in the determined line of her delicate jaw and the set of her narrow shoulders. All evidence of the soft and willing woman he’d held in his arms an hour before was gone. What he wouldn’t give to get those moments back.
“Do you think they’re warm enough?” she whispered.
“They’re wearing flannel pjs, you added an extra blanket to the two already on the bed, and you used practically every pillow in the house to barricade them in there, not to mention the ten stuffed animals you tucked around them.”
“I know but—”
“You know what? I think you’re projecting. You’re the one who’s cold, not the boys. And you know why you’re cold?”
She looked down at her red pjs and nodded. “I should’ve packed warmer pajamas. Can I borrow a sweatshirt?”
The silky fabric outlined the sweetly feminine curves of the body he’d held in his arms and more than anything wanted there again. He raised his gaze to her face, watching her mouth move but not registering the words. All he could think about was that moment when he’d had his lips on hers.
He took her hand.
She took it back and said quickly, nervously, “It’s okay. I don’t need a sweatshirt. I’ll just take an extra blanket if you have one.”
“You don’t need an extra blanket or a sweatshirt. You’ve got me to keep you warm.” He closed the distance between them, backing her against the wall. “We crossed the line tonight. We can’t go back. I don’t want to. I want you, Charlotte. I have for a long time. And I think you want me, too. Am I wrong?”
“No, of course you’re not wrong. But we’re adults. We both know just because you want something doesn’t mean it’s good for you.”
He tried to keep from smiling. “You think I’m bad for you?”
“Yes, you’re like Di Fara pizza, polenta with mushroom ragout, Sugarplum’s cupcakes, and chocolates from Sugar and Spice. They taste amazing, but they’re addictive and you can’t stop at just one bite.”
“Ah, so you’re afraid you’ll become addicted to me and not be able to give me up.”
She nodded, raising her hand to play with the button on his shirt.
“That’s easy to fix.”
“How?”
“Don’t give me up.” His brow furrowed as the words came out of his mouth. It wasn’t something he expected to say. Until that moment, he didn’t think it was something he even wanted again. It spoke of long-term commitment. But maybe like Charlotte, his near-death experience had affected him more than he’d been willing to admit.
She rested her forehead against his chest and shook her head. “I didn’t want this to happen, Matt. I don’t want to want you. I don’t want to want this.”
“But you do?”
“Yes.” Her hands fisted in his shirt, and she went up on her toes and touched her mouth to his. “Please tell me we won’t regret this in the morning.”
He deepened the kiss and walked her backward to his bedroom without answering. Her mouth was soft and warm. She tasted like sugar and spice and everything good and nice and right. And he knew then that the only reason he’d regret being with her tonight is if she regretted it. Because Charlotte Bailey had done what no one had done in a very long time: She made him believe there was such a thing as a second chance at love.
* * *
The only regret Charlotte had about last night was that she and Matt had wasted so much time. Though, in fairness to him, her friends were right. Charlotte had, metaphorically, held up a massive stop sign every time he got too close, every time she’d felt like melting in his arms and kissing his delectable mouth.
She released a happy sigh and then smiled. She was happy, deliriously so. And it was an incredible feeling. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt that way. She searched her mind to a time long ago when she’d experienced the same incredible sense of…joy. That’s the only word she could think
to describe this deep sense of contentment, of being exactly where she was meant to be. With someone who cherished her, believed in her, and loved her for who she was and not who they thought she should be.
Other than with Kate and Abbie, the time she’d most felt that way was with her mother. Something had been missing since her mom died. Even between Charlotte and her father. Nothing had been the same, and Jeremy hadn’t filled the void. In some ways, he’d deepened the chasm between Charlotte and her father.
But as much as it was tempting to put the blame squarely on Jeremy’s shoulders, she couldn’t. She was the one who allowed him to take over her life and control her every move and her every waking thought. In some ways, he was still doing that now. And she was letting him.
She picked up the fresh basil leaves from the wooden cutting board, inhaled deeply of the aromatic scent of pepper and mint, and then snipped the leaves into tiny slivers over the big pot of soup bubbling on the back burner. The sweet smell of fall filled the air. Matt’s gorgeous gourmet kitchen was all warm woods and dark quartz. If she hadn’t already fallen in love with the man, his kitchen would’ve put her over the edge.
The thought should’ve had her falling face first in the pot of soup. She wasn’t in like or lust with Matt; she was in love with him. She smiled, held up the scissors, and cut the air with a dramatic flair. It was time to cut Jeremy out of her life for good.
At the sound of Matt’s deep voice coming from the front of the pretty white Victorian on Candy Cane Lane, Charlotte’s heart gave an excited leap. “Oh, Bailey, you’ve got it bad,” she said to herself, then put down the scissors and went to greet him and the boys.
He’d taken them to see their mom, and then they’d gone off on a secret mission. At the smell of pine drifting in the house on a blast of cold, arctic air, she had a feeling she knew what they’d been up to. If she had any doubt, the excited light in the boys’ eyes gave the secret away.
They spotted Charlotte and waved her over, pointing at the eight-foot spruce tree Matt was wrestling through the door.
He looked up and grinned. “It might not be as big as the tree in Rockefeller Center, but this one was picked especially with you in mind, wasn’t it, boys? It took them a whole hour and a half to decide on which one they wanted for Dr. Bailey.”
She took in their rosy cheeks and red noses, and struggled not to laugh at the image of the good doctor in a tree lot with two uncommunicative little boys, trying to find her the perfect tree. And along with the tears of laughter in her eyes there were tears of another kind. The gesture touched her right to the heart of her soul.
Clearing the tight ball of emotion from her throat, she crouched in front of the boys. “Really? You picked that gorgeous tree out just for me?” They answered her question with solemn nods, and she pressed her palm to her chest. “That is the best present anyone has ever gotten me. Would it be okay if I give you a thank-you hug?”
They shared a glance and then the oldest lifted a shoulder and the youngest nodded before sticking his thumb in his mouth. Charlotte drew them into her arms and held them tight. They smelled like fresh air and candy canes. “I hope you guys didn’t ruin your appetites. I made a special lunch,” she said as she let them go and came to her feet.
They looked at Matt, who was propping the tree against the bookshelf in the living room. She caught his wince before he’d fully turned to face them. “Guys, take your stuff off and put it in the front hall closet, okay?”
“You brought back lunch, didn’t you?” she said, trying not to let the disappointment creep into her voice. “It’s okay. We can have what I made for dinner.”
He smiled and drew her into his arms as the boys trotted off to do as he’d asked.
She shivered. “You’re cold.”
“Tell me about it.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “But it was worth it to see your face and theirs. Do I get a thank-you hug, too?”
“I thought that’s what we’re doing. How about a thank-you kiss?” She touched her lips to his stubbled jaw. “You know what? After all the trouble you went to, you deserve a you’re-an amazing-man kiss too.” And she gave him what she hoped was a kiss worthy of his amazingness, drawing away when she heard the pitter patter of stocking feet. “So, lunch,” she said in a breathy voice as she moved out of his arms.
“After that kiss, my mind skipped to bedtime snacks. Them eating theirs and going to bed, and then me getting mine.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“Did you have anything special in mind?”
“I think you know exactly what I had in mind, Dr. Bailey.”
“I do, and I think that can be arranged, Dr. Trainer. Now lunch?”
“We went to the grocery store, and the boys picked out mac and cheese and hot dogs. But what do you say we eat what Charlotte made us for lunch and have yours for dinner, guys?”
They looked at her.
“Come on, I’ll show you, and you can decide.” They followed her into the kitchen, and she lifted the pot off the stove to give them a look inside. “I’ve got some delicious butternut squash soup, toasted sage garlic bread, and a wonderful spinach, escarole, and radicchio salad with sugared pecans. And for dessert…” She looked at their faces. “Okay, so mac and cheese and hot dogs for lunch it is.”
They high-fived each other and then ran off to the family room, where Matt had put the majority of toys people had dropped off last night.
“It’s not that funny,” she said as she returned the pot to the stove.
Matt came up behind her and moved her hair to press a kiss to the sensitive place just below her ear. He smiled against her skin. “It kind of is,” he said, taking her by the shoulders. He turned her to face him. “But I’m definitely having that for lunch. It looks and smells incredible. Just like you. And I want you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” He pulled back, his brow furrowed. “Three-year-olds and five-year-olds still have afternoon naps, don’t they?
* * *
Matt walked into the family room. It was dark except for the colored lights on the decorated Christmas tree, quiet except for the soft sounds of Kenny G’s Christmas CD playing in the background.
Lowering himself beside Charlotte, he handed her a glass of red wine and put his feet up on the coffee table. He let his head fall back against the brown leather couch and turned to look at her. “How do people do this day in and day out?”
“I have no idea. I’m exhausted, and it’s only eight o’clock.” She put her feet up on the coffee table beside his and rested her head on his shoulder. He slid his arm around her, careful not to spill her wine.
“Yeah, and they don’t talk. Can you imagine what it’d be like if they did?” He winced. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I know what you meant. I was thinking the same thing. Did you have any luck with your friend at the shelter?”
“Nothing stood out. They get e-mails and calls from women all the time. Typically, they don’t leave any identifying information, just ask questions.”
“Now that you’ve looked at the scans, what do you think?”
“Same as you, same as the radiologist. But it’s not just the scans, it’s the boys. It’s obvious they can talk. I’m pretty sure I heard them whispering to each other after we tucked them into bed. And they’re comfortable with us now. They’re laughing and smiling, playing, eating and sleeping well. So there’s only one reason for them not to talk. They’re afraid, if they do, we’ll force them to tell us who they are, and that once we know, we’ll get in touch with whoever’s been hurting their mom.”
“Sadly, they’re right. We’d have no choice but to inform social services, and they’d have to make the call. There’s no way we can protect them unless they tell us what’s been happening at home.”
“We might not be able to protect them even then. It depends on who’s been hurting them and how well he’s been hiding the abuse. Mom’s a wildcard, too. It all depends on what kind of hold he has on her. How long the abuse has bee
n going on.”
“If we’re right about the situation, and I have no doubt that we are, she’s made up her mind. She left with her two kids and very little else from what you told me. She’s ready to take her life back, and we’re going to help her do that when she wakes up.” She looked up at him, her eyes glassy. “Even if I have to hide those kids, and her, I’m not letting them go with anyone until we’re sure they’ll be safe.”
Noting the determination in her eyes, the stubborn set of her jaw, he fell a little more in love with Charlotte Bailey. “You know I’ll have your back and theirs, but if you have to take a stand while she’s still in the care of CGH, without evidence to support our claim of abuse, you’re opening us up to a lawsuit, as well as giving Jeremy cause to fire you.”
With everything that had gone on yesterday, Charlotte had postponed today’s emergency board meeting in New York. They were going to hold off until they found more evidence that Jeremy was using the closing of CGH to bribe Maureen Cheever.
“I know. And I don’t care anymore. Maybe I’m wrong about Maureen. What if this is about me? Maybe what Jeremy wanted all along is me to quit.”
“You’re thinking about quitting?”
She swirled the wine in her glass and nodded. “I am. If it wasn’t for my dad, I would’ve tendered my resignation today.”
“Don’t you think it’s time you thought about yourself for a change?” He worked to keep any emotion from his voice. He didn’t want to influence her decision one way or another. Even though whatever she decided would obviously impact their relationship. Somehow, in the past twenty-four hours, he’d forgotten that the woman he was falling in love with had her heart set on living in New York.
“You know, since yesterday, I really have been thinking about myself and doing what I wanted.”