The Marriage Beat

“Ah.” Dr. Hartford closed his fingers around her wrist and gave it a gentle twist. “Hurt?”

“Yes!”

She’d forced the word through gritted teeth, and she saw Tyler’s shoulders hunch.

Dr. Hartford pulled her arm straight out in front of her. “Press your hand back,” he ordered.

She tried, but nothing happened. Except for a whitehot heat slashing up her arm, that was. “I can’t,” she said, looking anxiously up at him. “Is it broken?”

The doctor shook his head. “No, but you’ve done some pretty good damage to your arm. Tom ligaments and, I suspect, a strained muscle. That will take a few days to heal.”

“Will I be able to use it?” She looked down at the useless hand in her lap. “Look, I can wiggle my fingers.”

“But it hurts to do that, right?”

She gave a miserable nod. “Right.”

“Then don’t do that.” Dr. Hartford winked at Tyler, who didn’t seem to get the joke.

Megan wasn’t particularly amused, either.

“It’s going to hurt for a while,” the doctor said, giving her an encouraging smile. “We’ll give you something to help with that. We’ll also wrap the arm and put it in a sling to make things a little more comfortable. Don’t try to use it under any circumstances. You’ll only aggravate the problem, and if you do, you could end up doing some permanent damage.” He handed her a business card. Make an appointment with my office to see me in a week. You should be feeling a lot better by then.”

He nodded at Tyler, who said gruffly, “Thanks, Doc.”

“Thank you,” Megan echoed, her mind already grappling with the major problems her injury was about to cause.

“See you next week,” Dr. Hartford said cheerfully. “The nurse will be back in a minute to wrap that arm. Take care.” He disappeared through the curtain, leaving Megan alone with Tyler.

For a long moment neither of them spoke, then Tyler said quietly, “I’m sorry. I really messed things up for you.”

She shook her head, her mind still on her problems. “I’ll manage.”

“What about your work?”

She shrugged. “I’ll take a couple of weeks off.”

“You’re going to need some help. What about your mother? Can she take care of you?”

She looked up at him. “Look, please don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. It’s only one arm. I’ve got another one.”

“It’s your right arm. You’re right-handed, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“You haven’t begun to realize how awkward that’s going to be for you. You can’t drive, cut up your food, tie shoelaces, dress yourself, cook your meals or shop for groceries.”

She didn’t like the insinuation that she was entirely helpless. “Lots of people manage with one arm. What about all those people who lose an arm, or are born without one?”

“They’ve had years of therapy to learn how to get by. You’re facing a crash course...alone.”

He had a point. She tried to visualize herself fastening her bra with one arm. Taking the top off the toothpaste. Opening a can of soda. She let out a long sigh of frustration.

“So, what about your mother?” Tyler looked at his watch. “I could give her a call for you.”

“No.” Megan chewed on her lip. “My mother lives clear across town. She’s a real estate agent, and relies on her commission to support herself and my kid brother. I can’t take her away from her work for two weeks. She could lose customers that way.”

“Couldn’t you stay with her?”

“She lives in a two-bedroom apartment. Besides, she doesn’t have time to take care of me. She’s too busy with her own job.”

Tyler started to say something else, but just then the nurse arrived to wrap her arm.

“You can shower,” the nurse said, when she’d fitted the injured arm into a sling and tied it around Megan’s neck, “but you will have to rewrap it afterward. Make sure it’s good and tight for support.”

Megan nodded. “Can I go now?”

“Sure, you can.” The nurse handed her a piece of paper. “Get this filled in the pharmacy on the way out, and whatever you do, don’t try to use that arm.”

“I won’t.” Megan thanked her and slid off the bed.

The nurse smiled at them both, whisked back the curtain and hurried off to take care of someone else.

“You don’t have any friends who can help out?” Tyler asked, as he walked with her down the long, brightly lit hallway.

“None who don’t have full-time jobs,” Megan said gloomily. “I guess I’ll have to ask my mother to step in. Much as I hate to do that.”

Tyler cleared his throat. “I do have one suggestion.”

She glanced up at him, but he was staring straight ahead, his jaw set at a grim angle. “What’s that?”

“I could take care of you.”

She almost laughed out loud. “You? I don’t think so. But thanks.”

His light blue eyes were full of indignation when he looked at her. “I’m quite capable of taking care of you. I have some leave due to me. I never take it, so it’s adding up. I could put it to good use helping out until your arm is healed.” He nodded at an arrow that pointed the way to the pharmacy. “It’s down here.”

She followed him, finding it hard to believe he was serious. Arriving at the counter, she handed over the prescription to a young man, who told her it would be about ten minutes.

She sat down in one of the comfortable armchairs and watched Tyler lower himself into the other. “That’s very nice of you to offer,” she said, still not quite sure if he was joking, “but really, I’ll be fine. I’m sure my mother will be happy to have me stay there.”

“Where will you sleep?”

“Gary can sleep on the couch. He’s used to roughing it. He’ll be okay.”

“No. It was my fault you were injured. As your instructor I was responsible for seeing that you didn’t get hurt. I should be the one to take care of you.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “I’m not going to sue, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

His mouth tightened. “That’s not what I’m worried about. I feel bad about what happened and I want to make up for it. This is one way I can do that.” His frown deepened. “You can trust me. I’m not going to make any moves on you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” For heaven’s sake the man was serious. She stared at him, trying vainly to think of a way to let him down lightly.

“I’m not going to take no for an answer,” Tyler said quietly. “So don’t even try.”

She said the only thing she could think of. “I only have one bedroom.”

“I’ll sleep at my place, of course. But I’ll be around in the daytime if you need me.”

Well, that was a relief. For a moment she thought he was proposing camping out on the floor. “I really don’t think—”

“Don’t think. It’s all settled. I’ll take you home and cook you dinner.”

“That won’t be necessary. I can pick up something from a fast-food place on the way home.”

“Fast food isn’t good for you. I’ll cook.”

“I have to get my car from the gym.”

“I’ll have one of the officers drive it over. I can take him back to his car.”

Megan stared at him, torn between a possible solution to her problem and the utter stupidity of accepting his offer. There was no way the two of them could spend five minutes in each other’s company without jumping at each other’s throat.

Tyler Jackson was too domineering, too patronizing, too dam arrogant, too fond of handing out orders and would drive her crazy. On the other hand, her mother would also drive her crazy. At least this way, if things got too unbearable, she could simply tell Officer Jackson to leave.

She ignored the little voice that warned her she would live to regret her decision. She also ignored the sudden thumping of her heart at the thought of being alone with the rugged cop in her tiny apartment. It was only for a few days. She could survive for a few days.

“All right,” she said, looking him straight in the eye. “I accept your offer.”

His steely gaze faltered for a moment, then he gave a brief nod. “Fine. I have to call the station, then I’ll be right back.”

She watched him disappear around the corner, wondering if it was her imagination, or if he really did look as if he were preparing for battle.

Tyler kept his head down and didn’t stop until he burst through the main doors of the hospital and erupted into the parking lot.

The soft evening breeze rustled the leaves of the flowering cherry trees, cooling his brow as he strode over to his car. He needed all the help he could get, he reflected, as he unlocked the door. Of all the crazy, lamebrained ideas he’d ever had, this one had to be the absolute pits. What the hell was he thinking of?

He’d more or less made the suggestion on a wild impulse that he’d instantly regretted. When Megan Summers had refused him at first, then started to argue with him, for some reason he’d felt compelled to dig in his heels. He wasn’t satisfied until he’d won the point. Now he was stuck with it.

She brought out the worst in him, he thought savagely as he reached for his cell phone. She had a way of stepping on his toes and hitting all his buttons in one go. She drove him crazy and now he would have to live with that for ten days. Maybe more. Damn the captain and his self-defense lessons. It was all his fault.

Tyler scowled as he jabbed out the captain’s home phone number. He hoped Stewart was in the middle of dinner. He jumped when Lacey Stewart, the captain’s wife, answered.

“It’s Tyler Jackson,” he said, softening his voice. “Is the captain there?”

“He’s in the den,” Lacey said, sounding worried. “I’ll get him.”

A few seconds later Stewart’s voice spoke in his ear. “Jackson? What’s up?”

“There’s been...a little accident,” Tyler said, gripping the phone with tense fingers. “I’m going to need the next couple of weeks off.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at the hospital.”

“Are you hurt bad? What happened?”

Tyler sighed. “I was giving Ms. Summers her self-defense lessons, as you ordered, and I screwed up. She’s hurt her arm and can’t use it.”

“Oh, geez.” Stewart paused for a moment. “How bad is it?”

“She’ll be out of action ten days or so, according to the doctor.” Tyler looked up at the sky through the windshield. “I offered to take care of her,” he mumbled.

“You what! Say that again, Jackson?”

Tyler gritted his teeth. “You heard me. I’m going to take care of her. She doesn’t have anyone else and I feel responsible.”

There was a long pause on the end of the line, then the captain spoke again with an odd tightness in his voice. “I understand. Go ahead, Jackson. Do what you have to do.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you. I’ll need someone to pick up her car. It’s at the gym. The address is in the report of the mugging.”

“I’ll send someone. Just make sure he gets back to his car.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks, Captain.”

“And...good luck, Jackson. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Tyler hung up, frowning. It sounded for all the world as if the captain was trying desperately not to laugh. The thought didn’t improve his temper any.

He slammed out of the car and stood for a moment trying to calm his frisky nerves. He’d made the suggestion, and he couldn’t back out now. It was true what he’d told the captain. He felt responsible.

He’d messed up and it was his moral duty to set things right. Megan Summers needed help because of something he’d done, and it was only right that he do what he could to help her out. That was all there was to it. He’d have done the same if she’d been toothless and ninety years old.

Of course, he reminded himself, as he marched back to the building, had Megan Summers been toothless and ninety years old, he wouldn’t be in as much trouble as he was now.

If he were real honest with himself, he’d admit that it wasn’t the way Megan Summers stirred up his irritation that bothered him half as much as the way she stirred up his primitive urges. That, he thought worriedly, was where the true problem lay and that could get him into more trouble than he could handle.

Here he was, planning on spending the next week or so in the more or less exclusive company of a woman who could make him forget all the reasons why he’d sworn off any more serious relationships. He’d just have to start thinking—and acting—like a monk for the next few days, and try not to notice that the woman drove him nuts.

Something told him that it wasn’t exactly going to be a piece of cake.

Chapter Three

“I still think it would be easier just to pick up a hamburger or something,” Megan said, as Tyler weaved his way through the traffic on the Banfield Freeway.

“You can’t eat fast food every night for two weeks. You’ll end up with stomach ulcers. If I’m going to cook for you I might as well start now.”

She eyed him doubtfully. “How good a cook are you?”

“Mediocre, but I get by.”

The closer they got to her apartment, the more worried she was getting. The idea of Tyler Jackson cooking dinner in her tiny kitchen gave her goose bumps. “You cook for yourself?” She’d assumed that he lived alone, but it wouldn’t hurt to confirm it.

“Sometimes.”

“What do you do the other times?”

He sent her a wary glance. “I eat fast food.”

“How come you don’t have ulcers?”

“Men have stronger stomachs than women.”

And thicker heads, Megan added inwardly. She was a pretty good cook herself. She just hoped that his cooking was at least edible. “Hamburgers would be quicker,” she said, refusing to give up without a fight.

“No hamburgers. You need something more nutritious than that. You’re sick.”

“I’m not sick. I just hurt my arm.”

“You’ve been injured. Your resistance is down.”

He was wearing it down, Megan thought mutinously. She should never have agreed to this ridiculous idea. She closed her eyes briefly as Tyler jumped lanes. For a cop he was an erratic driver. Unless all cops learned to drive that way. “I’m not sure I have anything for dinner in the fridge,” she muttered, giving it one last shot.

“I’ll find something.” His tone warned her that was the final word.

She gave up, and spent the next five minutes trying to remember what food she had in the house that wouldn’t present too much of a challenge.

“I’ll need directions from here,” Tyler said, as he took the off-ramp.

She gave them to him, directing him to her apartment building. He pulled up in her parking space and looked around with the same expression her mother had worn when she’d first seen it.

Annoyed with his attitude, she said defensively, “It may be small, but it’s cheap and I like it.” She reached across her injured arm for the door handle.

“Wait!” He shook his head at her. “I’ll get that. Just sit tight.”

She did her best to fight back her irritation. After all, she thought, as he leaped out of his seat and strode around to her side of the car, he was worried about her. He wanted to make sure she didn’t aggravate her injury. She just wished he would give her a little more credit for taking care of things herself.

The door flew open and Tyler leaned in. “All right, feet first.”

For the sake of peace she did what she was told. She swung her feet down and allowed him to take her good arm as she climbed out.

“There.” He looked far too smug. “Now, where’s your keys?”

“In my purse.” She slipped it off her shoulder and handed it to him.

He looked at it as if it were about to explode.

“You can open it,” Megan said, trying to keep the edge out of her voice. “There’s nothing in there to bite you.”

He sent her a scathing glance and opened the purse, dug out the keys, then handed it back to her. “All right. Which way?”

She pointed to the main door. “Through there, up the stairs and take a left. Number twenty-four.”

“Got it.” He took her good arm and guided her toward the door.

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