“Do I need to remind you I was there when you were extracting the gravel?” he asked.
“Of course not. But sometimes you have to hurt someone to help them.”
“Explain to me how that’s doing no harm.”
“You don’t want to do anything to make a situation worse. Very often people will get better without intervention. When invasive procedures are the only option, it’s important to do only what’s necessary, and nothing that will make the condition worse.”
“Okay. So how is abandoning me doing harm? I can take care of myself.”
“I agree. But the effort it will cost you to do that will take energy that should go into the healing process.”
He looked at her for several moments and finally said, “That makes sense.”
“So you’re not going to throw me out again, so to speak?”
“I’m not sure how I could do that,” he said, nodding toward his leg propped up on the coffee table.
“I haven’t known you long, Simon, but I’ve seen you’re a resourceful man. Still I’m disappointed—that kiss was a cheap shot for a smart guy like you. Even a moron can kiss. But I feel I have to warn you.”
“Okay.”
“It will take more than cheap shots to get rid of me. It’s my moral duty to see this assignment through.”
“God is your co-pilot?”
She shook her head. “It’s my obligation to spare some poor, innocent, unsuspecting home health-care professional from your cantankerous personality.”
“Don’t hold back, Megan. Tell me how you really feel.”
The corners of her generous mouth curved upward. “I plan to stay for the long haul.”
“Define ‘long haul.”’
“Your insurance pays for an in-home nurse for two weeks. So I’ll be here that long or until we banter each other to death, whichever comes first. If you really want to get rid of me, you’re going to have to do better than that kiss.”
His breath caught for a moment at the words. Memories of her soft lips, an even softer sigh and exquisitely smooth skin assaulted him. For a long time, he hadn’t felt anything but the most basic human needs. Now needs of a male nature charged through him. He didn’t want to want anyone in any way. But he also had no strength left to fight off the feeling of not wanting to be alone.
“Okay, warning noted. Now it’s my turn. I may be injured, but I’ve got a lot more energy than you give me credit for. Are you sure you want to issue a challenge like that?”
“You call it a challenge. I see it as a statement of fact. Unless you’re prepared to throw me out physically, I’m staying.” She lifted her chin slightly, body language that could only be called stubborn.
“Then I guess we understand each other.”
“I guess we do,” she agreed.
His stomach rumbled, reminding him of his most pressing basic need. “Does doing no harm encompass feeding me?”
“It does.” She started toward the kitchen. “Afterward, I’m going to change the dressing on your shoulder.”
“The joys of the invalid are never ending.”
She glanced over her shoulder and smiled, then continued into the other room. He heard the refrigerator door open, then several moments of silence.
“You’re wrong about that challenge thing,” she called out. “The real mission is finding something in here that qualifies as both nutritious and food. And don’t even bring up the benefits of beer.”
“The thought never entered my mind,” he lied, unable to keep from grinning.
“We’ll see how funny this is when you succumb to food deprivation.”
From where he lounged on the sofa, he saw her drag the trash can across the kitchen. Then he heard the sound of things being tossed into it.
“This pizza is like cardboard and the cartons of Chinese food look like a high school science experiment exploded. I see a trip to the grocery store in my near future.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
She peeked through the doorway. “It can be and it is. But I’ve been known to work miracles with less.”
After she disappeared, pots and pans rattled and the noise of drawers and cupboard doors opening and closing drifted to him. A sensation stole over him that was rusty and unfamiliar. If he had to guess, he would call it contentment. But he had no right to it. He shifted his body, then sucked in a breath as discomfort shot through him. He closed his eyes against the pain—and the physical part was the easiest to bear.
He must have dozed, because the next thing he knew, a small hand on his shoulder shook him and he opened his eyes.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty. Your feast awaits.”
Blinking away sleep, he looked at the steaming plate on the coffee table.
“Let’s make you more comfortable before trying to negotiate food,” she said. Fluffing the couch pillows next to him, she said, “Turn and put your leg up.”
He did as she instructed. Then she threw a dish towel over his middle and settled the plate on his abdomen.
“If you had an invalid tray this would be a lot easier,” she said. “I’ll put it on the list.”
Simon eagerly eyed the omelette as his stomach growled and his mouth watered. “Smells good.”
“It is good. Dig in.”
No one had to tell him twice. He didn’t even recall buying the stuff. But apparently his shopping skills were on autopilot just like everything else in his life. She’d whipped up eggs, cheese, mushrooms and chives into a tasty culinary dish.
“Any possibility of a cup of coffee?” he asked.
“It’s brewing as we speak.”
As soon as she said it, he smelled the aroma wafting through his living room. “You’re a magician.”
“It’s nice to be appreciated. Besides, I told you I could work miracles. Why would I lie?”
He noticed a funny look on her face just before he took a bite of the omelette. Then he didn’t care why she looked funny as the light, fluffy eggs almost melted in his mouth.
“I most definitely appreciate you,” he said, letting the understatement speak for itself. He was too busy wolfing down the rest of the food.
“I’ll go see about that coffee,” she said, turning toward the kitchen.
Her words were light and laced with satisfaction, but he noticed that once she’d settled him with the food, she maintained her distance. Bobbing and weaving like a prizefighter. Constant motion. She wasn’t getting close. He wanted to smell the scent of her skin and the fragrance of her flowery perfume.
“Cream and sugar?” she called.
“Black,” he answered.
“Good thing.” She returned with a steaming mug in one hand. “There is no cream or sugar.”
She managed to pass it to him without actually making contact. So she wasn’t as tough as she talked. Her remark—you’ll have to do better than that kiss—was nothing more than bravado. Either she didn’t trust him, which was wise. Or she didn’t trust herself not to make the same mistake with a man who reminded her of the jerk who had let her down.
He decided to see how far “do no harm” went. “I think I’ll let this cool off,” he said, setting his mug on the coffee table. Beside it, he put his empty plate. “Isn’t it about time for etcetera and so-on-and-so-forth?”
A puzzled frown wrinkled her forehead. “What are you talking about?”
“Wound inspection.” It would be worth a little pain to see her get up close and try to pretend his kiss hadn’t made a dent in her composure. There was a part of him hoping she would give him an opportunity to do better than that first kiss. “Now that I’m fortified with food, I think I can handle whatever you throw at me.”
Chapter Five
The question was, could she?
He’d been to hell and back—no, not back yet. The idea of hurting him, no matter how unintentionally, knotted her stomach. This was the reason it wasn’t a good idea to become personally involved with a patient. And she hadn’t planned to. But
Janet’s words echoed in her mind. You’re his last chance. So she’d kept the secret.
But Simon was right. It was time to change the bandages and check the stitches in his shoulder. That meant she had to get close enough to touch him. If only she hadn’t said what she did about that kiss. She hadn’t meant it to come out as a challenge. A man like Simon Reynolds didn’t miss things like that and probably relished a dare. If she was going to follow through with this assignment, she’d have to watch what she said around him. No reason to give him further ammunition. He was dynamite without her help.
“Okay, then,” he said. “Let’s get it over with.”
“Okay, then. Do you want to take a pain pill first?”
“I don’t have any.”
“Surely the doctor gave you a prescription for something in the ER. And probably an antibiotic.”
“He wrote them.”
“And you never had them filled,” she guessed. “I’ll do it for you.”
Since he was stretched out and took up the entire width of the couch, she sat on the coffee table beside him. Studying him, she noticed a gleam in his eyes. It was far better than the hollow look of before even though she suspected he was up to something. Patients who’d suffered abrasions were content to be left alone. She’d never known one so anxious to have his wound probed. He wanted her to get in close, so he could shake her composure. Like she’d told him, the saturated fat in the veins of her life.
Two could play this game. And she was the one with all the sharp instruments. After pulling her medical bag closer, she retrieved her scissors. Despite her inclination to see his game and raise him a move or two, as slowly and gently as possible, she cut through the gauze holding the absorbent pad over his shoulder.
“Oh, sugar,” she said, annoyed.
One corner of his mouth curved up. “You even swear sweet. What’s wrong?” he asked, glancing sideways, straining to see.
“This nonstick pad is stuck like crazy glue.” She met his gaze. “I’m going to have to pry it loose.”
“No problem. Just rip it off quick.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to pull the stitches out.”
“Since when? If your bedside manner is anything to go by, you would have seized the opportunity with gusto.”
“If I’d known you were—”
His narrowed gaze stopped her. “What?”
She was going to say if she’d known he was grieving on the anniversary of his son’s death, she would have been more sensitive. But she couldn’t tell him that.
She hated secrets. She was a really bad liar. But she owed him. If she truly was his last chance, she had to learn to lie like a rug.
“If I’d known you were my next assignment, I’d have been an angel of mercy.”
“You said you’re no angel and any moron who rides a motorcycle without a helmet doesn’t deserve mercy.”
“For a man who had a probable concussion, your powers of recall are pretty impressive.” He opened his mouth to say something and she stood up and leaned in close. “Hold still. I’m going to ease this off.”
She lifted the edge of the Steri-Pad and slowly pried it up, millimeter by millimeter. It seemed like an eternity later when the square was free. “In spite of the stitches, there was some bleeding, Simon. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
“Real men don’t feel pain,” he said. But there was tension around his mouth and a muscle flexed in his jaw.
It was safer to look at his shoulder than the expression on his chiseled features. “There’s no swelling, oozing or redness. It looks normal.”
He glanced at it. “I guess in your line of work, a shoulder laced up like an athletic shoe is normal.”
She caught her lip between her teeth rather than retort that nothing else about him was normal so why should his shoulder be any different. But she couldn’t say that to him, either. Now that she knew.
“I see a lot of things in my line of work that the average person doesn’t.” She noticed beads of sweat on his forehead and it was far from warm inside. “Are you really okay?”
His blue eyes darkened as he stared at her chest just inches away. “That does it,” he said, annoyed.
“What?” she asked, startled.
“I gave you a perfect opening for a zinger and you ignored it.” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Who are you and what have you done with Megan?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Last night in the emergency room a tough-as-nails nurse named Megan Brightwell called me an idiot and a moron. She offered me a stick to bite down on and threatened to follow the blood trail if I signed myself out against advice.”
“So?” She couldn’t think of any other comeback. Whatever had made her think she could pull this off?
“You claim to be Megan and you look like her. But you seem sincerely remorseful about hurting me. That’s not the Megan I know. And you haven’t called me a single name since you walked back in here.”
Uh-oh. Was she really behaving differently? Duh, of course she was. She’d censored herself twice in as many minutes. Now what? She’d often heard the best defense was a strong offense. There’d never been a better time and she’d never had a more pressing reason to be offensive.
“Calling you names would be unprofessional.”
“You were a health-care professional last night and it didn’t stop you. I might buy the act if you hadn’t said you were sorry. And you called me Simon. Maybe the real Megan was abducted by aliens right outside my front door.”
“Don’t be an—” She stopped and bit the inside of her lip.
“What? Idiot?” he said pointing. “That’s what you were going to say. You’ve gone soft on me. What gives?”
“Nothing gives,” she lied. “I would never deliberately inflict unnecessary pain, either physical or emotional, on a patient in my care.”
“I liked you better when you didn’t cut me any slack.”
What she wouldn’t give for a good case of selective amnesia. He expected a zinger from her and she let him have it. “And I liked you better when you were unconscious.”
They stared at each other for several moments, then slowly a grin transformed his face. The dark look disappeared, replaced by an expression so charming, so flirty and teasing, so sexy. He was good-looking before. Now he was downright hunk-of-the-month material. Her breath caught, trapped in her throat. If he did that more often, she couldn’t be held responsible for her reaction.
“Okay. Megan’s back.”
“Megan never left.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“Yeah, I could. Like taking candy from a baby.” She forced herself to meet his gaze.
If he knew she was lying by keeping this secret, he wouldn’t handle it well. She was sure of it. Her mission—and she’d had no choice but to accept it—was to help him recuperate physically from his latest brush with living on the edge. And to find out why he’d reached out to her of all people. If she could reach him, she had to do her best to heal his emotional wounds.
It was a daunting assignment, but maybe she could get him to choose life again. That meant she had to find the reserves necessary to fool him, even though it felt horribly dishonest. She had to tap into her well of sassiness to keep him from knowing the truth.
The wrong thing for the right reason.
“If I wasn’t conscious, I’d miss all the fun,” he said.
She raised one eyebrow. “Most people wouldn’t define this as fun.”
“I’m not most people.”
“There’s a news flash. Hold still, hotshot.”
She used a swab to carefully clean the area around his stitches, then applied antibiotic ointment and bandaged him again.
He rotated his arm, testing the new covering and wincing a bit as he flexed his impressive muscles. Then he leveled his intense blue-eyed gaze on her. “Has it escaped your attention that you snap out the ‘hold still’ order when you don’t want to tal
k about something?”
“That order is so I can do a decent bandage. It’s darn hard to hit a moving target, in case you hadn’t noticed. And just for the record, I welcome the opportunity to talk about you. We can beat the subject to a pulp if you’d like,” she said, handing him his mug of coffee. “I think this is cool now. Tell me more about how you’re not like most people.”
But she already knew. Still, she had to find a way to get him to open up. He’d given her a small but distinct window of opportunity.
“Never mind.”
“Oh, no you don’t. You brought up the subject, it’s not fair to abruptly shut it down.”
“This is my house. I don’t have to be fair.”
Megan smiled. She couldn’t help it. He was so like a petulant little boy.
He took a sip of his coffee, warily studying her over the rim of the cup. “What are you grinning at?”
“You.” She cleared her throat. “I’m trying to have a conversation and you stonewalled me.”
“So?”
“I make it a point to get to know my patients. You asked for me, you got me and that’s my modus operandi.”
“I love it when you talk dirty.”
She sighed and shook her head at him. “Since you mentioned it, this is your house. You don’t have pictures.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” he countered.
“You said you’re not like everyone else. I was merely agreeing. The people I know have personal photos and family pictures around. I don’t see any here,” she said, letting her glance swing to the corners of the living room and the bare tables. “Why is that?”
“If I said ‘hold still,’ would you change the subject?” he asked, sipping his coffee.
She shook her head. “Were you hatched under a cabbage leaf? Crawled out from under a rock? Created by spontaneous combustion? Left behind by aliens?”
“Would you like to translate? What are you really asking?”
“Do you have any family besides your brother in Phoenix?”
“How did you know about him?”
“You told me. In the ER.”
Midnight, Moonlight & Miracles Page 6