Mery glanced at Kelly, her expression deadly. “I’m not feeling well. Good night.” She paused. “I would suggest you put careful thought into making any purchases this evening. Things are not what they seem.” With a slight nod, Mery headed for the door.
Kelly looked at the small group to see the three of them staring back questioningly. “I didn’t do anything,” he said before taking off after her, but he’d done plenty. This was exactly the kind of thing Shelby had warned him about.
Out on the street, Mery was already hailing a cab.
“I deserve a chance to explain.”
“You don’t deserve anything. Especially not me.” She kept her eyes on the approaching taxi.
“Yes, I do. I care for you, Mery.” He was shocked by the truth of his own words. He did care for her. Deeply. “People who care for one other don’t treat each other this way. It just isn’t proper.”
“What would you know about how to treat people?” Rolling her eyes, she pulled the car door open before the vehicle came to a complete stop. Thunder rumbled overhead. “Save the Southern gentleman crap for one of your bleached bimbos. It’s not going to work on me anymore.”
She was in the cab and closing the door. He grabbed the edge, preventing her from leaving. “I understand you’re mad. I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll talk when you’ve cooled off.”
“Get it through your thick Texas skull. We’re done. I don’t ever want to see you again.”
Stunned, he let go. She slammed the door. The cab took off into traffic as the first raindrops pelted his face.
* * *
Mery refused to open her eyes until the phone stopped ringing. When it did, she checked the clock on her nightstand. Six fifteen. He’d called twice in the last ten minutes. Did Kelly actually think he was going to persuade her to listen when she wasn’t even awake?
Weak gray light filtered through the sheers in her bedroom. Looked like it was still raining. Perfect. That fit her mood exactly.
She rolled over in bed and thought about last night. Her anger had dissipated a little but there was still plenty left. When she was ready, she’d listen to his explanation, but it wasn’t going to change her mind.
He’d lost her trust. Made her feel used. Like a fool. Dating a younger man, even if it had been just a fling for the sake of her career, had been a horrid idea. She would never let anyone or anything sway her into doing something so foolish again.
There would be no second chance for the black magic cowboy.
Two minutes later the phone rang again. She snatched the receiver. “Stop calling, will you? I’m not ready to talk.”
“Mery, it’s Celia.”
“Oh. Sorry, I thought you were—”
“Kelly was in a motorcycle accident last night. He’s in the hospital right now.”
“What?” She sat up. Her heart jumped in her chest. “Where? How do you know this? How is he? Is he—”
“I don’t know his condition. The paper didn’t say, which is how I found out. But I called around. He’s at Mount Sinai. I also recommend you not buy the paper.”
“Why? Just tell me. I’m already in a bad mood, you can’t make it worse.”
Celia sighed, long and slow. “They’re calling you the Black Widow.”
Mery’s face got hot. She was either going to cry or combust. A small whimper escaped her lips.
“I knew I shouldn’t have told you.” Celia sighed again. “His sister is still in Texas, isn’t she? I don’t know what happened between you two last night but you should really go see him, Meredith.”
“Yes, Shelby’s in Texas.” Mery whispered. “I really don’t think it would be appropriate—”
“Visiting hours start at 11 A.M.”
“I don’t want to have this conversation,” she said.
“Just think about it.” Celia disconnected.
Mery sat there with the phone in her lap. Kelly was hurt, no telling how badly. The last thing she’d said was that she never wanted to see him again.
That wasn’t true. Despite the hurt and anger she felt over finding the book and its implications, she did want to see him again.
But not in the hospital. She hated hospitals. Garrett had wasted away in one. The drunk driver who’d hit Michael’s car had been resuscitated in an emergency room. The same emergency room Michael had died in moments later.
Now Kelly was in one.
Maybe the paper was right. Maybe she was a black widow. She’d felt that way about herself for a long time. Jinxed. Cursed. Whatever you wanted to call it. She was a death sentence for the men she loved.
She shook her head. No. She didn’t love Kelly. She’d started to care about him but that had ended last night. Except that didn’t explain why her heart ached at the thought of him alone in that hospital room.
“I’m not going to see him. I’m not.” The phone beeped in her clenched hand. “If you’d like to make a call, please hang up and—” She smacked the receiver into its cradle, flopped down and tugged the covers up to her chin. A rush of wind brought a sheet of rain against her window.
“He manipulated me.” To help his sister. That didn’t balance the scale.
People who cared for one other didn’t treat each other this way. His words echoed in her head. He cared about her. Not quite the admission of a mastermind manipulator. Or was it? What did she really know about him anyway?
Kelly was sweet, charming, a great cook, a gentleman, an amazing lover and had probably sold his soul to the devil for a black magic cookbook.
Exhaling slowly, she rubbed her eyes. Even the soulless shouldn’t have to suffer alone.
She got to the hospital at 9 A.M. and quickly found out which room he was in. She took the elevator to his floor and was immediately stopped by a heavy-set nurse whose attitude was as sharp as her blinding white scrubs. “Visiting hours don’t start until 11 A.M. Wait in the lobby.”
Good thing she’d worn her black suit. She peered at the woman’s ID tag. “I’m aware of that Nurse Torres. I’m Dr. Black.” She slipped her old hospital ID out of her pocket and hoped the nurse didn’t notice her thumb covering the expiration date. She hadn’t used the ID since she’d stopped treating patients years ago. “I’m looking for a patient of mine, Kelly Spicer. He was admitted last night. Motorcycle accident. Perhaps you can help me?”
The woman narrowed her eyes, obviously considering what to do. “You’re a doctor?”
“Yes. Perhaps you’ve read one of my books?” No response. The nurse appeared to be a slow thinker. “Or seen me on Oprah?”
Dark brows shot up. “You were on Oprah? I thought you looked familiar. C’mon, I’ll take you back.” She shifted and started down the hall. “That boy is messed up, let me tell you. Lucky he was wearing a helmet.”
“Messed up?” Mery swallowed down her panic.
“Broken ankle, bruised ribs, numerous lacerations and multiple contusions.” The woman shook her head. “Motorcycles are so dangerous.”
“I tried to tell him that,” Mery muttered.
“Like a man’s going to listen anyway.” The nurse gave a short laugh as she stopped in front of a room. “Here you go. He was still sleeping when I last checked his vitals.”
“Thank you.” Mery rested her hand on the door handle as the nurse left, but didn’t turn it. The metal’s chill seeped into her fingers. She willed herself to breathe slow, calming breaths. She closed her eyes and an image of Garrett flashed in her mind. Gaunt arms bruised by numerous IV’s, the soft fuzz covering his scalp the only hair chemo had left behind. Then Michael, body broken from the wreck, ghostly pale and already gone by the time she’d arrived. Her lids flew open and she shook her head. You can do this.
She turned the handle, eased the door open. The private room was dim. The faint whir of the machines at his bedside the only sound. An acrid aroma, half medicinal-half cleanser hung in the air.
She hated that smell. Hated the way it stuck in the back of her throat so that she could almost
taste it. She shut the door gently behind her, careful not to wake him, and walked to his bed.
Her hands trembled when she saw him. She clenched her teeth to silence the gasp threatening to slip out. Breathe. Blinking back tears, she stared at the ceiling and willed them away. He was hurt, not dying. You aren’t responsible for this. She looked down at his hand. Below the IV site, his knuckles were scraped raw.
Red scratches shadowed with purple trailed up his arm and disappeared beneath the sleeve of his blue-dotted gown. She lifted her gaze to look at his face.
His sandy curls framed his boyish face like an angel’s halo. Even the small gash across his nose and the deep bruising along his jaw didn’t detract from his peaceful expression. They must have him well sedated. She pulled her suit jacket a little tighter. Why did they keep these rooms so cold?
She walked around to a chair on the other side of the bed. She pulled it closer to his side, wincing as it screeched across the floor.
His eyes stayed shut. Breathing easier, she leaned back in the chair. On this side of the bed, his arm hung off the edge. She slipped her fingers under his palm and lifted. His fingers curled around hers but there was as much strength in his grip as a child’s.
Liquid built at her lash line. To see such a capable man reduced to such helplessness tore at her heart. She kept one hand beneath his and wiped her eyes with the other. He certainly didn’t look like a man in league with the devil at the moment. Maybe she was the only curse he suffered from.
She propped her elbow on her knee, rested her forehead in her palm and closed her eyes. Get him better and get out of his life before you do any more damage. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“Mery?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
His voice was weak, edged with pain. She looked up. “I’m here. Do you need anything?”
“You’re here.” His eyes were half-closed, the beautiful blue obscured by the fog of sedation.
She nodded, afraid she wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears this time.
“I wrecked my bike.”
That got a partial smile out of her. “I know. You wrecked yourself too. Go back to sleep now. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“Promise,” he whispered.
“I promise.”
“I love you.” His lids fluttered down.
The chill she’d felt before dropped to sub-zero. A million words rushed to her lips. Don’t say that. Don’t even think that. Don’t even joke about it. She was bad news. The black widow. Love me and you’ll never get out of here. But he slept again.
She let out a deep shuddering breath and shook her head. “Don’t say that,” she whispered. “It’s too dangerous to love me. Besides, I’m still mad at you.”
He didn’t wake up this time and for that she was thankful. She didn’t wait to explain to a man in the hospital how loving her was a death sentence. And that for his sake, she couldn’t love him back. Even if she did care about him. She wasn’t nearly as mad as she’d been last night. But without a world-class explanation about that cookbook and some sort of divine reassurance that she wasn’t somehow responsible for the deaths of her husbands, their relationship was still over.
At 11am sharp, Mick, Celia and Viv walked in. Mery put a finger to her lips then pointed to the bed where Kelly slept. The nurse had come in a few minutes prior to check his vitals and administer more meds.
“How’s he doing,” Mick rasped in what she assumed passed for a whisper in Brooklyn.
“Hard to tell,” she whispered back. “He’s only been awake for about a minute.”
Viv set a huge bouquet of blue bonnets and yellow roses on the narrow table beneath the window.
Kelly shifted, moaning slightly, and they all went still. He lifted one arm a few inches as though he was trying to get up, then let it drop back to the bed. His eyes opened to small slits. He looked at them for a long minute without speaking. He groaned softly. “Am I dead?”
They all laughed, breaking the mood of the room. Mick shook his head. “No, Tex, but you’re pretty banged up.”
Kelly swallowed with apparent difficulty. “Water.” He gestured lamely to a cup on the bedside table. Mery jumped up and lifted the cup, guiding the straw to his lips. He drank half before he was through.
“Better. Thanks.” He smiled and an old, familiar but now unwelcome warmth built in her belly.
After about ten minutes of small talk, Kelly’s eyes started closing again.
“I’d better go,” Viv said, clutching her purse beneath her arm. She glanced at Mery, concern in her eyes. “Don’t want to wear you out any more than you already are.”
Mery gave her a weak smile to show she was all right with everything that was going on.
“Get better soon, cowboy,” Celia added.
Kelly’s eyes opened more fully. He grinned and for a moment, looked like his old self. “Thanks for coming.”
Viv nodded then left, shutting the door softly behind them.
Mery glanced at Celia. “Aren’t you going with her?”
Celia blushed and shook her head. “No.”
Mery raised her eyebrows.
“Mick and I are having lunch.”
That was interesting. Her brows went a half-inch higher as her gaze went to Mick. The man was grinning like a baby at a topless bar.
“We should probably go, too.” Mick’s hand settled on the small of Celia’s back. “See you later, Tex.”
“I’ll talk to you soon, Mer.” Celia wiggled her fingers in a coy wave.
You bet you will. Mery watched them leave in a minor state of shock. Mick and Celia? Not a match she ever would have made. She shook her head. What did it matter? It would end up going nowhere once Celia’s parents met him. No man she dated was good enough for her father or wealthy enough for her mother. They’d have a field day with Mick. Poor girl. It was no wonder she hadn’t married yet.
Thinking of things that didn’t matter made her think of Kelly’s confession of “I love you”. Surely that had been drug-induced. He couldn’t love her.
Just like she couldn’t love him.
Too much introspection and an hour later, a nurse brought in a tray of food, flipping the light on as she came in. Mery rolled her eyes. So much for compassion for the injured. Why couldn’t they just let him sleep?
“Lunch time, Mr. Spicer,” the woman announced.
Kelly blinked at the light in a groggy haze and tried to push himself upright. He moaned with the effort.
The nurse powered his bed up to a sitting position. He winced at the movement. “C’mon now. Let’s get some food in you.”
Mery stood. “Leave the tray on the table. I’ll take care of him.” She gave the woman a dismissive glare.
To her credit, the woman didn’t argue. She turned for the door, then hesitated. “I’ll be back to see that he’s eaten something.”
“I’m sure you will,” Mery said, already busying herself with fixing a pillow behind Kelly’s head. “Twit,” she muttered under her breath as the door closed.
A soft laugh made her look down. A sleepy grin lifted the corners of his mouth. “You’re meaner than a skillet full of rattlesnakes.”
She huffed out a breath. “She should have let you sleep.”
“Been sleepin’ all day.” He inhaled and let it out slowly. “Thanks for coming.”
Shrugging off his words, she crossed her arms. “This doesn’t forgive anything. I’m still mad as hell at you.”
“Then why’d you come?”
“I can’t yell at you until you’re better. I figured I’d come and help that along.”
He smirked like he didn’t believe a word she said. “What’s for lunch?”
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
“Not really. But I should eat, huh?”
“At least a little something.” She lifted the cover off the tray. “Or not.”
He lifted his head to see better. “What is that?�
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“Mashed potatoes, a plain chicken breast—I’m guessing that’s what part it is, olive drab green beans and applesauce.”
His upper lip curled as he inspected the plate. “Any chance it tastes better than it looks?”
“I doubt it.”
He leaned back on the pillow. “I’ll pass.”
Scooping up a spoonful of runny mashed potatoes, she shook her head. “Eat this and I’ll sneak you in something better tomorrow.”
“Like wha—”
She stuck the spoon in his mouth. “Now swallow.”
He choked down the mouthful and glared at her. “I don’t like you.”
That’s not what he’d said earlier. She gave him a sip of water. “Sorry. I won’t do that again. But you have to eat. Your body needs the energy.”
The hard line of his mouth softened. “I’ll eat on one condition.”
“What?”
“Kiss me.”
She put the spoon down. “I don’t think you’re in any condition for that.”
“Just a peck.”
Rolling her eyes, she bent to kiss his cheek. He turned and caught her mouth. The spark was instant and electric. Heat flashed to every nerve ending in her body. She inhaled at the rush of pleasure and pulled away.
He shook his head slowly. “I guess you didn’t enjoy that since you’re still mad at me.” He met her gaze with clearer eyes than she’d seen all day. “Too bad. I sure did.”
“You’re right. I didn’t.” Liar. She grabbed the spoon and stuck it in his hand, hoping he wouldn’t notice she was trembling. “Eat.”
Stepping aside, she pushed the rolling table so the tray was in front of him then went back to her chair.
“I can explain about the book.”
“I don’t want to hear it. Not now.” She crossed her legs and pointed to the tray. “Eat.”
He didn’t move. “It’s not as bad as you think.”
She pulled her purse strap over her shoulder and stood. “I think it’s time for me to go.”
“No, don’t. I like having you here.” He lifted his hand, still holding the spoon. “I won’t talk about it.”
The Perfect Dish Page 20