by Leanne Banks
Andie paused, thinking of the little boy under heavy sedation in the PICU. Her heart tightened. She wondered how Eli would respond to her patient’s history. “He’s two, with cerebral palsy. He has problems with chronic seizures, so he’s in a lot.”
Eli winced, and swore softly. “Are they sure it’s CP? There are other causes for seizures. And there are some new drugs—”
“They’re pretty sure,” Andie said, sensing the reason for his tension. Eli took his work seriously and understood that there were human beings hanging by a worn thread while they waited for a breakthrough. She saw a hint of turmoil darken his eyes to forest green. That quality of caring burrowed past her defenses and touched her heart. She lifted her hand to touch his arm, then self-consciously pulled back. “How do you handle it,” she wondered aloud, “when you hear about children suffering from chronic seizures when you’re trying to find the cause? It would drive me crazy.”
“It used to,” he admitted in a weary voice. “I’d read something in the paper about a child with seizure problems and bury myself in the lab. But I’ve learned it doesn’t help. Research takes time, patience, persistence.” His lips lifted in an ironic grin. “And funding,” he added. “What really made the difference for me, though, was Fletch. Something about having a child who relies on me to be my best when I’m not in the lab has given me a different perspective.”
They stopped at a traffic light and he looked at her, his green eyes intent and thoughtful. “I have a hard time picturing you in such a high-pressure setting every night. You don’t come across like a cool, tough woman. What do you do when one of your babies—” He frowned and broke off as if he thought better of asking the question, and accelerated when the light turned green.
He’d nailed her on that one, Andie thought. She didn’t have a cool bone in her body, though she’d spent years trying to acquire one. Her training afforded her the ability to be calm in a crisis, but Andie wasn’t cool about her job. She cared about those kids as if they were her own. “You wonder what?”
“It’s not important.”
“C’mon,” she coaxed, her voice full of curiosity. “I’m fair. You answered my questions. I’ll answer yours.”
Reluctant, Eli pulled into the hospital parking lot. He should have kept his mouth shut, but his own curiosity about Andie grew with every new thing he learned about her. “What do you do when one of your babies doesn’t make it?” he asked, watching her.
The glow in her eyes dimmed. “You mean, when they die?”
He nodded.
She met his gaze with pure honesty. “I cry,” she said simply.
An image, clear and unflinching, flashed in his mind of Andie alone, weeping, her slim shoulders shaking in grief. It disturbed him deeply. He fought the urge to touch her skin, filter his fingers through her silky hair, feel her heartbeat. She was warm and so real it shook him.
A long moment passed while he stared into her eyes and she stared into his. Then her gaze skittered away, and she cleared her throat. “It doesn’t happen very often.”
“Good,” he said gruffly. “I’m glad.”
Andie smiled and shrugged. “Thanks again for the ride.”
Eli nodded, still wondering what had hit him just a moment ago. “I’ll pick you up in the morning. Eight o’clock?”
Andie hesitated. “You really don’t have—”
“We’re not going to do this again, are we?” he asked, impatience threading through his tone.
“Guess not. Eight o’clock. This entrance will be fine.” She opened the door, then bent down with a determined expression on her face. “I want the receipt for the starter or alternator or whatever it is. I pay for parts,” she said with emphasis.
“Deal,” Eli said.
* * *
The next morning Eli picked up Andie at the hospital. After she changed clothes, she made a pitcher of lemonade and brought it outside. While Eli fixed her car, Fletch drank lemonade and played with Stud.
“Thank heaven for small favors,” Eli murmured as he wiped his hands on a rag after he finished. “Stud and lemonade.” He downed his own cupful. “I would change your oil, but I don’t want to push my luck with Fletch.”
Andie shook her head. “You’ve done plenty.” Grease was smeared across Eli’s cheek and T-shirt. He wore a white handkerchief tied around his forehead to keep the perspiration from his green eyes, which were squinted against the bright sunlight. She shouldn’t have found him attractive, but she did.
“Speaking of Fletch, I’ve made arrangements for his birthday party. It’ll be Saturday after next. Are you working?”
She refilled his cup. “Well, no, but—”
“Fletch wants two girls to come to his birthday party. One is the little girl who lives down the street and wears a tutu all the time—Jennifer.” Eli’s mouth lifted in a grin. “The other is you.”
Taken aback, Andie felt tugged in different directions. She felt a rush of pleasure that Fletch wanted to include her, but sensed this situation was the equivalent of emotional quicksand. “It’s really sweet of him to want to include me,” Andie said, and felt Eli’s gaze grow more intense. Her heart thumped erratically. “I—uh, I don’t really know what I’ve got planned that day.”
Eli continued to watch her with his unnerving gaze. “We’d both like you to come,” he said, in the low voice that threatened to turn her resolve to liquid.
Glancing away, Andie flipped her hair behind her ear and bit her lip.
Eli narrowed his eyes. “You like Fletch, don’t you?”
Startled, Andie jerked to look up at him. “Of course I do. You know I think he’s adorable. He’s a precious little boy.”
Eli nodded slowly and his jaw hardened slightly. “Then it must be me,” he concluded, and tossed the dirty rag in his tool chest. “You don’t like me.”
Chapter Four
Andie gaped at Eli. “No!” she nearly yelled, then glanced at Fletch and lowered her voice. “I don’t not like you,” she said, her mind so scrambled she wasn’t sure her last statement made any sense. “What in the world made you say that?”
Just this side of slamming it, he closed the lid on his tool chest. She couldn’t tell if he was angry or frustrated, only that his energy level had jumped off the Richter scale. There was something very sexy about this controlled display of temper from Mr. Cerebral.
“You fought me every inch of the way when I offered to drive you to work and fix your car,” he said, circling her like a jungle cat.
“I didn’t want you to feel obligated.”
“I’ve invited you to come over for wine, and you refused,” he pointed out, setting his unfinished glass of lemonade on the hood of her car.
“There just hasn’t been a convenient time, lately.” Feeling her argument plunge down the credibility scale, she waved her hand and switched the subject. “What about the barbecue? I introduced you to all my neighbors.”
“Like Daphne,” Eli said in a dry, knowing tone.
Andie felt her cheeks heat, but didn’t look away.
“And there’s one other thing,” Eli said, taking a step closer to her and meeting her gaze.
Acutely sensitive to his effect on her, Andie moved backward. The back of her knees met the chrome bumper of her car. “What?” she asked, her heart picking up again.
“What you’re doing now.” He took yet another step closer and Andie resisted the urge to climb on the hood of her car. “Every time I get within touching distance of you, you move away.”
“I don’t. I’m not now. I—” Her throat closed up and with Eli near enough to press his mouth to hers, her mind went blank. She took a breath and his after-shave wove its way into her bloodstream. Inside her body pure bedlam reigned.
Andie tried to think of a way to fix this situation. She couldn’t deny his accusation. She did avoid getting close to him. Without sounding like a nutcase, how could she explain she found him attractive and disturbing? How could she explain her insatiable cu
riosity to kiss him and those diametrically opposed sirens that went off in her head when he was around?
She couldn’t. Distressed, she realized her only option was to prove him wrong. And now was the time. It couldn’t be that bad, she told herself. It wasn’t as if she had to cling to his broad shoulders or crush her breasts against his chest. For that matter, she didn’t even have to kiss him.
All she had to do was touch him.
Slowly, she lifted her hand and curled her fingers around his clean-shaven jaw. She felt him stiffen. Eli’s gaze locked onto hers with the power of a heat-seeking missile, and a miniature explosion went off inside her. Her heart skipped every other beat, and the sirens started blaring. If she hadn’t known better, she would have said the world changed in that moment and would never be the same again.
She shook her head. Certain she was a nutcase, she cleared her throat and rubbed her thumb over his cheek. “You’ve got a little grease, here,” she managed faintly.
“Yeah,” he said in a rough voice, but he didn’t move a fraction of an inch. “I’ve probably got it everywhere.”
“Not everywhere.” She rubbed a spot on his biceps with the fingers of her other hand. “Just here and there.”
His biceps flexed beneath her touch. Unwillingly fascinated by his response, she resisted the urge to wrap her hands around his arm. “You know, I never realized genetic research was such a strenuous job. Those test tubes must be pretty heavy if you’re getting this kind of muscles from lifting them,” she quipped in an effort to get past the near-paralyzing effect of his closeness.
“Fletch is responsible.” Eli tried to joke, wondering how he could hold a semi-intelligent conversation when he was in physical agony. The sun beat down on them, but Eli still didn’t move. She couldn’t know it, but Andie was torturing him with the butterfly-light touch of her fingertips. “The only way I can get him to bed at night without screaming is by playing a game where I lift him up over my head and carry him upstairs.”
How long had it been since he’d been touched with such care? The question filtered easily through Eli’s mind, but the answer was jarring. He couldn’t remember the last time.
Andie’s mouth tilted in a tentative smile. “Hope he grows out of that bedtime game by the time he’s a teenager.”
Something inside him eased and tightened at the same time. He let out a harsh breath. “Me too.” When she lifted her hand from his jaw, he instinctively reached for her. “Any other places where I’ve got grease?”
For a long moment, Andie looked at their joined hands. Her soft breath drifted over his skin, and while he was wishing he could see her eyes, she turned Eli’s wrist over and rubbed a streak on his forearm. “Just here and maybe a few on your legs.”
He thought about asking her to take care of those. He thought about asking her to take care of some other needs, but sanity and Fletch prevailed.
“Dad, you’re all messy,” Fletch said as he bounded to his side. “Can I have your lemonade?”
Reluctantly, Eli pulled back and gave Fletch the drink. “I was just talking to Andie about your birthday party.”
Fletch brightened. “We’re gonna have pizza and cake and ice cream, and my uncles are coming. Uncles are my dad’s brothers,” he explained to her. “Are you coming, too?”
Hoping Fletch wouldn’t be too disappointed, Eli shook his head. “She might already have something else planned.”
Eli watched Fletch look at Andie as if he couldn’t conceive of anything more important than attending his birthday party.
“I need to check my calendar in the kitchen,” Andie gently added, “to make sure I haven’t promised I would do something else. Since I’m a nurse for very sick children, different groups ask me to come and talk to them.” Andie extended her hand. “Wanna come with me to the kitchen? You can get some fresh water for Stud.”
The light went out of Fletch’s eyes, but he took Andie’s hand. “I don’t like hospitals,” he confessed in a low voice. “That’s where my mommy died.”
Eli’s heart squeezed. Fletch never talked about his mother’s death. He felt Andie’s gaze, read the commiseration on her face, and her unique brand of compassion seemed to spill over him.
She turned back to Fletch. “I’m really sorry your mom died. I bet you miss her a lot.
Fletch bit his lip and nodded, then looked down. Eli moved closer and instinctively put his hand on Fletch’s shoulder. Fletch whipped around and locked his arms around Eli’s legs, taking him by surprise.
“I’ve still got Dad,” Fletch said in a low, uncertain voice.
Fletch’s sticky fingers tightly grasped Eli’s legs. Eli sensed the fear and desperation in his young son’s body and felt a heavy weight in his chest. Would Fletch ever recover from losing his mother? Would Eli ever be able to fill the gap? Filled with doubt, yet determined to help Fletch feel more secure, Eli ruffled Fletch’s hair, then lifted him in his arms. “You’re absolutely right. You’ve got me, and you’re stuck with me.” He paused, then forced a grin, though his throat was still tight. “Especially since you got sticky lemonade fingers and put them all over me.”
Fletch pressed his hands together and glanced shyly at Andie. “She’ll let me wash ‘em when I get Stud’s water.”
“Yeah, but will she let me come, too?”
Andie felt both pairs of green eyes trained on her. The scenario was becoming a habit, and she’d have to have been made of stone to remain unaffected by either of them. Just moments before when Eli held her hand, she’d felt breathless and needy. Now, after watching them reach out to each other, her heart felt achy and her eyes were burning. There was a tender awkwardness in Eli’s affection for his son that dug deep under her skin. And Fletch was like a little sponge, soaking up every bit of reassurance and encouragement he could get.
With her defenses down, Andie felt more drawn to Eli than ever. “I think I’ve got enough water for you both. But you look like you might need a shower.”
“Is that an offer?”
Andie blinked at the I’m-yours-if-you-want-me undertone in his voice. “For a shower?”
“You said I need one.” His eyes glinted with sensual intent. “I might need some help getting all this grease off.”
Dr. Frankenstein flirting with her? Surely she was mistaken!
Andie cocked her head to one side. “Exactly what kind of help do you think you need?”
“You were doing a good job a few minutes ago.” Fletch started to squirm, so Eli put him down. “Of course, you weren’t all that thorough.”
She stared at him, feeling her stomach take a dip. “Thorough?” she repeated.
“Well, considering your background.”
Andie was totally confused. “You mean nursing?” What did nursing have to do with Eli taking a shower? Would someone please tell her?
Eli shook his head. “I was thinking a little farther back than that. Say, sixteenth century.”
“Sixteenth,” she murmured, shaking her head. Then the light dawned. He was referring to her supposed past life as a courtesan. Feeling her cheeks heat, she rolled her eyes. “I hate to disappoint you, but—”
“Then don’t.” He stepped closer, and Andie fought a sudden weakness in her knees.
There was a hint of playfulness in his tone, but she couldn’t underestimate his appeal. This sexy, incredibly intelligent man not only wanted to romp with her in the shower, he wanted her hands all over his body. An image blasted through her mind so hot it nearly scorched her alive. It was time to put a stop to this. She shook her head, this time adamantly. “I’m not helping you with your shower.”
“I’m crushed,” Eli said, and she almost believed he was. “But I might get over it if you’ll come to Fletch’s party.” His eyes glinting with mischief, he said soberly, “I’m willing to temporarily deny my needs for my son’s happiness.”
Still reeling from his come-on, Andie gave him a chastising look. “Very low blow. This is blackmail.”
“
Of course,” he continued as if she hadn’t said a word, “I wouldn’t want to stifle any charitable urges if you want to do the party and the shower.”
His approach was almost amusing. “You are really starting to push your luck,” she said as sternly as she could manage with her lips twitching.
Eli watched her for a long moment. “Does that mean no?”
Andie groaned and turned toward the house. It darn well should mean no. She should be screaming it and running in the opposite direction. “It means I’m checking my calendar for the birthday party.”
She swung through the door with both Masters men right behind her. Before she could even locate the date, Eli’s finger marked the white empty square on her calendar. Wordlessly, he met her gaze with a pay-up expression on his face.
Andie turned to Fletch. “Looks like I’m free that day. I can come.”
Fletch nodded. “Good. I didn’t want you to miss it.” That problem solved, he looked at her kitchen faucet. “It’s too tall for me.”
Andie lifted him to wash his hands and splash his face, then allowed him to fill Stud’s water bowl outside. Ending up with a fair amount of water on herself, she wiped her hands on a towel, all the while feeling Eli’s gaze on her.
“You don’t have to come, if you don’t want to,” he said after Fletch went out the back door.
“No. I’ve promised, and—” she hesitated and gave a wry chuckle “—it’ll be fun to watch both of you discover the wonders of Chuck E. Cheese’s.”
“You’re an unusual woman,” he said quietly.
With Fletch gone, the kitchen was very quiet, and the mood suddenly seemed more intimate. Uncomfortable, Andie shrugged. “Not really.” She folded the towel and put it on the counter.
“I appreciate your kindness toward Fletch.”
“It’s easy to be kind to him. Really.” If Eli only know how easy. The thought troubled her.
“About that shower,” Eli began.
Andie jerked up her head. “I thought we’d settled that.” She gave a quick, short sigh of frustration. “Eli, I don’t know how to say this, but we’re neighbors, and I think we should keep things between us...” She groped for a word and couldn’t come up with anything that sounded right. “Neighborly,” she finally said. “Friendly.”