The phone rang and Bayleigh was on the side of the bed closest to it. Megan started to reach across her.
“No. Let me answer it, Mommy. Please?”
Because Bay always asked, they had been working on phone etiquette. “Okay. Remember what you’re supposed to say?”
The child tilted her head and gave her a droll expression. “I’m in kindergarten, Mom.”
“’Nuff said.” Megan lifted the tray from her daughter’s lap, then turned away to hide her smile.
On the third ring, Bayleigh lifted the receiver from its cradle. “Brightwell res’dence. This is Bayleigh. Who’s this?”
Megan winced. The script was supposed to read, “May I ask who’s calling?”
She listened then said, “I’m sick today, and Grammy’s at the beach. I wanted to go to school, but Mommy wouldn’t let me. Who are you?” She stayed quiet, then asked, “How do you know my mommy?”
The caller must have asked what she was doing, because the response was, “Mommy and me are having a pj day.”
So much for all the training about not answering questions.
The child listened solemnly for a moment, then responded, “It’s when we watch videos, read books and tell stories all day in bed in our pajamas.”
Bayleigh listened again, nodding. “Okay.” She handed the cordless receiver over and said loudly, “Simon says I gotta give you the phone.”
Chapter Seven
“Simon says? I like that.”
The familiar deep voice sent hot flashes and cold chills up and down Megan’s spine. Tension knotted in her belly, an indication that they didn’t even have to be in the same room for him to affect her. “Why?”
“It means I can make you do anything I want as long as I say ‘Simon says.”’
The seductive tone conveyed the anything he meant had to do with tangled sheets and bare skin. Cravings of a sexual nature shot straight through the thawing senses she kept in the deep freeze. “That’s game-playing and only a notch or two above rule-breaking in my book.”
“What’s wrong, Mommy? Are you mad? He sounds nice.”
Megan looked into her child’s eyes. Simon probably was nice, but not for Bayleigh. Or herself. “He’s Mommy’s patient, sweetie.”
“Oh.” She thought for a moment. “What’s the matter with him?”
“Don’t even think about telling her I need to have my head examined,” Simon advised.
“I wouldn’t dream of it. But my daughter and I need to work on her voice volume control,” she answered into the receiver. She met Bayleigh’s gaze and said, “Sweetie, Simon had an accident. His leg is hurt, and he has to use crutches.”
The little girl’s face lit up like the town square at Christmas. “I know. I’m going to make him a picture,” she said, scrambling out of the bed. “So he’ll feel better.”
“Good idea, sweetie.” Megan watched her race from the room. She put the phone back up to her ear. “How did you get my home number?”
“Would you believe charm?”
“About as much as I’d believe you’re able to leap tall buildings in a single bound—in your current condition. Speaking of that—how’s every little thing?”
“There’s the zinger.” A deep chuckle from the other end of the line came through loud and clear. “Now that I’ve had my daily dose of abuse, can we talk about why you sent the Swedish Mangler to take care of me?”
“Not until you tell me how you got this number.”
“Information.”
“I’m not supposed to be listed.”
“I’ll be sure and pass that along to the information operator.”
In spite of her misgivings, just hearing his voice gave Megan’s spirits a shot of adrenaline and she couldn’t find the will to be mad at the phone company’s mistake. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized she’d missed seeing him.
“So Bayleigh’s sick?” he asked.
“Don’t try to distract me. I’m mad at you.”
“No, you’re not. Tell me what’s wrong with her.”
Wishing she were a better actress, Megan sighed. “A cold. She has a goopy nose and a cough that sounds more like a barking seal than an actual barking seal.”
“Goopy? That would be the correct medical term?”
“It would.” She couldn’t help smiling, but tried to keep it out of her voice when she asked, “What do you want, Simon?”
“I wanted to let you know that your replacement finished off what was left of my leg with her range-of-motion exercises.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Possibly,” he admitted. “I just called to make sure you’re all right.”
“Aha. I know what you’re up to.”
“Really? That would be a real trick since I’m not up to anything.”
“Ooh, I can picture the innocent expression on your face. You wanted to make sure I’m coming back tomorrow.”
“Are you?” he asked, his tone edgy and expectant.
“Yes. Even if Bayleigh’s still under the weather, my mom will be home. So, God willing and the creek don’t rise, I will be back tomorrow. How sweet of you to care.”
“I’m a lot of things, Megan. But sweet isn’t one of them. Selfish maybe.”
“How can you say that? You want me back.”
“It’s more a case of the bad you know is better than the bad you don’t.”
Megan heaved an exaggerated sigh. “And here I was beginning to think you cared.”
“You know what your problem is?”
“Yes.”
“No, you don’t. Your problem is you think too much. Hang on.” His voice was muted as he spoke to someone. “Listen, I have to go. But I have just two things to say.”
“Okay. Number one?”
“If you don’t have child care, you can bring said child along with you.”
Stunned didn’t begin to describe Megan’s feelings. Either her replacement really was a Frau Blucher clone or—Simon Reynolds had just made a major breakthrough. Permission to bring a child into his world? Did he really know what he was saying or had the “Swedish Mangler” done a tap dance on his head?
She hoped it was another positive sign—the first being that he’d taken the time and trouble to track down her phone number in the first place.
“Okay. What’s the second thing?” she asked.
“Tomorrow, I want a pj day.”
“I’ve seen your wardrobe. You don’t own pj’s.”
“But we can still read, watch videos and tell stories. In bed.”
Before Megan could retort, there was a click on the other end of the line. Staring at the receiver in her hand as if it were a particularly creepy reptile, she realized Simon Reynolds had just come on to her.
How did she feel about that? Her pounding heart, sweaty palms and total giddiness were a big clue. As soon as she could manage to engage her brain sufficiently to override her visceral reaction, everything would be fine. But how was she going to make that happen?
Her female feelings were coming to life. The feelings of a woman who hadn’t been with a man for a very, very long time. Partly because she hadn’t met anyone who piqued her interest. Mostly because she couldn’t afford to make a mistake with the wrong man. Then along came Simon, who was definitely wrong.
She couldn’t worry about that. Instead she chose to focus on the fact that he’d issued an open invitation to a child. Definitely a hopeful sign, and none too soon. His phone appeal was just as powerful as his face-to-face—or mouth-to-mouth—appeal. The sooner her work there was through, the better she would like it.
Because the thought of a pj day with Simon was a twenty on her one-to-ten scale of wanting to do it.
Megan carried a tray holding a plateful of bacon, eggs and biscuits, a glass of orange juice and a mug of coffee into the living room. Simon reclined on the couch and said nothing.
“So, you’re still not speaking to me?” she said crisply. “I guess I’ll just take this back i
n the kitchen.”
He knew she was unphased by his silent treatment. Probably because of the phone call.
“Wait,” he said. The single word stopped her as she started to turn.
The smell of the food drifted to him, making his stomach growl. Megan’s replacement had fed him. And she was a good cook. But somehow he felt he hadn’t gotten the same nourishment. It was as if he’d missed out on essential vitamins and minerals only Megan could provide. And maybe he’d been wrong yesterday and actually did need his head examined.
“So you are speaking to me?” she asked, one eyebrow lifting.
Was he annoyed with her for not being there or himself for noticing it was different without her? Either way, feelings, sensations and sheer sexual awareness dormant for two years were blinking like the warning cockpit lights of the space shuttle with a problem. Because of Megan. He wasn’t particularly pleased about it but couldn’t seem to find the off switch. Did that matter? Megan was temporary, just until he could hobble on his own two feet. Where was the harm in playing it out?
The harm was he enjoyed himself with her. It felt wrong. It felt wrong to find pleasure in living.
“You abandoned me,” he said.
“Oh, puhleeze.”
He looked up at her. How did she make shapeless scrubs look so damn good? Her golden hair was parted on the side, then scraped away from her face and held off her neck with a clip. Big blue eyes regarded him with amusement. Before he’d sold his engineering firm, when he’d been actively involved in the business, he’d been able to put fear into people without raising his voice. A single look was enough. But she wasn’t intimidated in the least. Admiration for this woman flickered through him. Not for the first time.
“Are you going to torture me with that food? Or bring it over here so I can eat it?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“What do I have to do to help you make up your mind?”
“Stop behaving like a petulant little boy.” She stared down at him. “After we talked yesterday, I thought you were okay.”
He had been okay, just from the sound of her voice. But that was before he’d learned an important lesson. A day without Megan was like a day without sunshine. It tended to make a man grumpy. When he’d told her the other nurse had finished off what was left of his leg, he’d been joking. But his statement had proven prophetic. The woman could give Hulk Hogan a run for his money. The rest of the day had passed without wit, sarcasm or insult. Boring as hell. Something his life hadn’t been since meeting Megan. Something it would be again after she was gone. The fact that he’d noticed the contrast made him uneasy.
“If you’re okay, why aren’t you talking, Simon?” she prompted.
“I don’t have anything to say.” At least nothing that he wanted to share.
“So you’re ready to lose the attitude?” She shook her head. “You know, I say the same thing to Bayleigh. The statement is usually followed by an order to go to her room until she’s pleasant to be around. I could say the same thing to you.”
“So what’s stopping you?”
If she would go to his room with him, he would be very pleasant to be around. The thought, from out of nowhere, sent a shaft of sexual need straight to his groin. He wanted her and had the painful physical response to prove it.
“That injured leg of yours is stopping me,” she said, tilting her head in the general direction of the limb in question. “Your attitude adjustment will just have to take place there on the couch.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“Wow. You work fast. Okay, then,” she said, placing the tray on his thighs.
It barely missed the erect proof that his body was coming back to life even if his spirit never would. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to notice the body part in question.
“Are you always so tough?” he asked.
“Always,” she said proudly. “It’s one of my best qualities.”
She turned away and disappeared into the kitchen before he could agree with her. He picked up his fork and made short work of breakfast. Even before finishing his coffee, he felt better—all the requisite vitamins and minerals, he thought, breathing in the fragrance of Megan.
A few minutes later she walked briskly into the room. “It’s time for vitals.”
He looked down at the empty plate, glass and mug on his tray. “I just did.”
“That was vittles, not vitals,” she said, laughing. “You know the drill—temperature, pulse, blood pressure.”
“They’ve been normal for five days.”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s all part of the report I give your doctor on your progress. Work with me here, Simon.”
“Okay.”
“My little lecture was swift and effective.” She looked surprised. “Who knew being the mother of a five-year-old would serve me well in nursing a stubborn, disobedient male patient?”
She sat down on the coffee table across from him and did her nurse thing. If any readings were off the scale, she didn’t say a word. Just made a notation. After that, it was time to put his injured leg through its paces. She removed the brace.
“Wow, that looks painful.” She eyed the bruises that were in a colorful state of healing.
“Yeah,” he grunted as she gripped his calf and the sole of his foot and gently pushed it toward his chest. “It is painful, thanks.”
She straightened the limb then repeated the movement. “I’m sorry. If you’d take your pain meds—”
“You’re not sorry. It gives you great pleasure to torture me.”
“Okay. Busted.”
She did about ten reps before changing the motion. Then she rotated his foot, gently stretching the muscles in his calf and ankle before going into another exercise. Simon worked out on a regular basis and put himself through the ringer. He was in pretty good shape. But Megan’s manipulations made him feel like the very devil. He had a suspicion it had more to do with the touch of her small, strong, healing hands than the contortions of his leg.
Looking at her lovely face made him forget his discomfort.
Before he knew it, she had put the brace in place, then brushed the back of her hand over her forehead. “That’s it. Done for today.”
“I think I deserve a reward,” he said. Her expression of dread told him she was thinking sponge bath. But he had something else in mind.
“What about me? I did all the work. You only sat there.”
“You’re so right. Yet I feel the need to blow this Popsicle stand.”
“What are you talking about?” She brushed a strand of silky gold hair off her forehead.
“I’m feeling cooped up. Let’s go to the beach.”
“Don’t tell me. You want to go surfing,” she said. “Shoot the curl. Hang ten. And if your track record is anything to go by—wipe out.”
“How did you know?”
Her smile disappeared. “Tell me you’re kidding.”
“I’m kidding. Gotcha.”
“You’re going to hell for that, Simon.”
Her words held no threat for him. He’d already been there. He could give tours.
She held the TV remote out to him. “How about a nice, quiet, informative talk show instead?”
He grabbed his crutches and levered himself to a standing position. “I wasn’t kidding about going to the beach.”
“You can’t.”
“It’s only a block, Megan.”
“I know. But you could fall and do more damage.”
“So you’re worried about me?”
“It’s my day to watch you, and I don’t want anything to happen while you’re my responsibility.”
“So come with me. You could probably use some fresh air yourself.”
“I don’t want fresh air. I want you to stay here where it’s safe.”
Safety was nothing more than an illusion. He wanted fresh air and he would get fresh air—with or without her. Surprisingly, for a man who’d lived a very
solitary existence for a very long time, he really wanted it with her. And he had one more card to play.
“Suit yourself. I’ll go alone.”
He propped the crutches more securely under his arms, gimped to the door and slipped his feet into the deck shoes there. Standing out of the way, he opened it, then glanced over his shoulder. “Close this after me, would you?” Without waiting for an answer, he went through the opening.
“Simon—” She grabbed her sweater from the back of a chair. “Wait for me.”
A grin turned up the corners of his mouth, but he didn’t dare let her see. “Okay. You can come.”
“You’re an evil man,” she said. But the twinkle in her eyes gave her away. “If you fall, I’m going to leave you there for seagull bait.”
“Deal.”
He set the pace and she walked beside him. The day was sunny and clear, with a light, cool breeze. He was wearing a sweatshirt and shorts to accommodate the leg brace, but he wasn’t cold. The air felt great after being confined. Megan pulled her sweater tight against the chill as they moved in the shade of the condo building behind his. At the corner, the signal light to cross Pacific Coast Highway was green and they moved to the sidewalk on the other side.
A low cement wall separated the walkway from the sand on the other side. He knew it was as far as he could go. Facing the ocean, he leaned his crutches against the retaining wall and sat down. Megan sat beside him, so close he could almost feel her. So near he didn’t have to strain to get a whiff of her unique scent.
“It’s beautiful here,” she said, taking a deep breath.
“Yeah. So why did I have to bully you into coming down here with me?”
“I didn’t think you should or could go this far.”
“Oh, ye of little faith.”
“Yeah, well, you look like the walking wounded and that doesn’t inspire confidence.” She took in another deep breath. “My family has a place near the ocean, in Carpinteria.”
Midnight, Moonlight & Miracles Page 9