Tender Loving Care

The house wasn’t that far from the bustling west side of Los Angeles, but once in the hills the only hints of the large city were the occasional glimpses of high rises that flashed through the trees. Houses were set back from the street, with heavy gates and thick, tall trees standing guard.

She watched for the correct turn. Logan lived on a long cul-de-sac, third house from the corner. Although slightly more modest than its neighbors, his house was still impressive. The used-brick facade was elegant. A circular driveway curved in front, then veered off toward a three-car garage.

He probably paid more in property taxes than she’d earned all last year, she thought as she slowed the car to a stop. Maybe she should have gone into a different line of work.

“We’re here, Logan.”

He sat up slowly and opened the car door. She half expected him to go barreling off toward the house, but he seemed to have learned his lesson at the hospital. He swung his legs out, then waited impatiently on the seat.

Logan inhaled and smelled the roses in the front yard. He remembered fighting Fiona about the color so many years before, but he’d never noticed the scent. Once the yard was finished, it had ceased to demand his attention. Today the heavy perfume filled the air. There was the sound of a car going down the street and a dog barking in the distance. His world had been reduced to blackness, intruded upon only by sound and touch and smell. He felt alone and isolated.

“It’s about fifteen feet to the front door and there’s one step. I’ll tell you before we get there. Now stand up slowly and lean on the car. When you’ve got your balance, put your arm around my shoulders.”

Logan thought about arguing. He disliked being told what to do, by anyone. But the dizziness he’d experienced before, combined with the pain in his eyes, was enough to dull his natural charge-ahead instinct. Most of all, he hated the helplessness.

He rose and gripped the top of the car. The world lurched a couple of times and settled into still blackness.

“Ready?” she asked.

He nodded. As she slipped his arm around her shoulder, he recalled Wendi’s description. Melissa was short; he had to lean down to let her help him. Her hand held on to his side, providing him with a surprising amount of support for a small person. The gentle round flesh pressing against his ribs could only be her breast. He grinned. His daughter had neglected to mention that Melissa was curvy. Something inside rumbled as if to remind him he’d been alone for too long.

Soft strands of hair brushed against his bare forearm, swaying back and forth with each step. It was like being tickled with silky feathers. He would have teased her about the sensation or wondered about the tingling in his groin if he hadn’t tripped on an uneven flagstone.

The sense of falling into nothing jerked him back to reality. He felt Melissa throw both of her arms around him, in an effort to steady him. Her petite body pressed next to his. From chest to knee, flesh warmed flesh.

“Who the hell designed this walkway?” she asked.

He could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and the indignation in her voice made him smile. Heaven forbid that anything should threaten her patient. He moved his hands over her back, then up to her face. She was warm and soft and ready to go to battle for him. He hadn’t known he liked that in a woman.

Tilting her chin so that she was looking at him, he spoke. “I did.”

“Figures. Concentrate on your footing, Logan. There will be plenty of time for woolgathering when I get you in bed.”

She moved back to his side and they began to walk again.

“Step now.”

He raised his foot and felt the higher level. “The door should be right in front of us.”

“It is. Stay still. I’ll go open it.”

He heard the sound of metal against metal, then the lock turning. Melissa stepped back and placed her arm at his waist. “Let’s try and get through the house without breaking anything.”

By the time they reached his bedroom, Logan was covered with sweat. The pain in his head made every inch of the journey painful, and negotiating the furniture and turns had stretched his nerves tight.

He sat on the bed. “Just let me lie down for a couple of minutes. I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t move a muscle until I get back.” Melissa ran into the bathroom and dampened a couple of cloths. When she returned, he was sitting exactly where she’d left him. “Come on, Logan. Let’s get you out of these clothes and then you can sleep the rest of the day.”

“You seem awfully anxious to get me into bed. Is that all you nurses think about?”

Not until today. Just the thought of undressing his powerful body was enough to send sparks skittering through her, but he was her patient and he was in pain. There’d be time to remember the look and feel of his body when she was at her next assignment.

“No. We also think about ways to torture innocent people. I need you to cooperate.”

He nodded wearily.

Biting her lower lip, Melissa leaned forward and started unfastening his shirt. As she worked the small buttons, she could feel his breath on her face. Each puff of air made her fingers stumble slightly before resuming their task. The fabric parted obligingly and exposed a well-muscled chest covered with rich dark hair. The pattern continued down his flat stomach, only to disappear into the waistband of his jeans.

When she finished with the buttons, he shrugged out of the shirt, then untied his athletic shoes, pulled them off and afterward, the socks.

“Can you stand?” she asked.

“I think so.” He pushed up from the bed. She put out a hand to steady him and he grabbed the support. “Thanks. Maybe I should do the jeans myself.”

She eyed the button fly. “Good idea.”

Don’t stare, she told herself. He mustn’t know you’re at all interested. But then she remembered that Logan couldn’t see her.

Her gaze was drawn to his well-formed hands. Long fingers quickly popped the buttons through the denim. He pushed the jeans past his hips, then sat on the bed. Melissa tried not to look at the tight-fitting white briefs.

“Lie down,” she said softly. She took one of the damp cloths and brushed it across his face and chest. He shivered as the compress cooled his skin and washed away the film of perspiration.

On her tour of the house, she’d left several bottles of pills on the nightstand. She opened one container and shook out two painkillers. After he’d swallowed the medication, she pulled the sheet and blanket up to his shoulders and brushed the hair away from his forehead. The welts on his face could wait for treatment.

“Try to sleep now, Logan. I’ll check in at regular intervals. Wendi said I could take the room next door. Is that all right with you?”

“That’s fine.”

She pulled her hand away, but he caught her wrist. His thumb brushed back and forth against the sensitive inner flesh.

“I could get used to this kind of treatment, Melissa.”

She tried to laugh, but the only sound that came out was a slight croak. She cleared her throat. “That’s what they all say, the first day. I’ll be a holy terror by the end of the week.”

The medicine was beginning to work, and she saw the muscles in his face relax. “Yeah, sure. I’m really scared,” he murmured, then released her hand.

Long after she’d left the room, the inside of her wrist tingled from his touch.

Chapter Two

Three hours later, Melissa crept back into Logan’s room. The past few times she’d checked on him he’d been sleeping soundly, but now it seemed as though he were starting to get restless.

The bedroom was large, with stark white walls and a deep blue carpet. Massive pieces of furniture, from the four-poster bed to the two matching armoires, proclaimed the territory as belonging to a man. A chair rail, in the same rich mahogany as the rest of the furniture, bisected the walls. Opposite the door was a white brick fireplace, flanked by two leather wing chairs. The only incongruous note was the French Impressionist paintings hanging on the walls.

The armoire to the left of the bed contained stereo equipment. She glanced at the CDs scattered on the table and picked up the sound track to The Phantom of the Opera. When the opening bars of music began to softly fill the room, Melissa moved to the bed.

Logan stirred, then rolled onto his back.

“Hi,” she said, stepping closer to him. “How do you feel?”

“You don’t want to know.” He touched his fingers to the bandage around his eyes. His color was no longer gray.

She perched on the edge of the mattress and pulled his hand into her lap. The literature she’d been reading about the newly blind had said that they need a lot of physical contact with the world around them. Feelings of panic and disorientation weren’t uncommon. Even though Logan’s eyesight would be fine once the bandages were off, it was her job to deal with his emotional well-being. She clasped the strong fingers within her own.

The contact felt nice…too nice. It’s just a job, she reminded herself.

“Are you in pain?”

“Not if you don’t count anything above the shoulders.” Logan pulled his hand away and raised himself to a sitting position. The sheet fell to his waist, exposing the expanse of his chest. Dark hair, curling across well-formed muscles cried out to be touched, or at the very least, admired. His fingers returned, tentatively searching for hers.

Melissa swallowed and tried to think of something to say. “Are you hungry?” The staff nurse had told her he hadn’t eaten any lunch and very little breakfast.

“I think so, but I’d like to wash up. I can still smell the hospital.”

“No problem. Only it’s too soon for a bath or shower. You mustn’t get the bandages wet.”

“You are bossy, aren’t you?”

“I prefer to think of myself as having well-developed leadership qualities.”

He grinned. The overhead light cast shadows on the hollows of his cheeks. “Like I said. Bossy.”

She pulled back the sheets, then waited until he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He was very masculine…and virtually naked. Long legs stretched on forever; the lean muscles were covered by hair as dark as that clinging to his chest. The tight briefs around his middle only outlined the…uh…maleness below. Why did he have to be so damned good-looking?

“I think I might be able to find my way,” Logan said, turning toward the hall. “I occasionally make this journey in the dark.”

“Suit yourself.” She let him walk two steps and bang his shin on the end of the bed.

“Ow. Why didn’t you warn me?”

“Would you have listened?” she asked, filling her voice with as much sweetness as possible.

He bent down and rubbed his leg. “I will from now on. Lead the way.”

Melissa put his hand on her arm and counted out the steps to the bathroom. When they reached the door, she flipped on the light.

“Why did you do that?” he asked.

“What?”

“Turn on the light. Are you planning to watch?”

The outrage in his voice started her lips twitching. “It’s just this weird thing I do. When I walk into a dark room I reach for the light. Call me crazy. And as for watching…honey, you haven’t got anything I ain’t seen.”

“We’ll discuss that another time. Just give me a shove in the general direction and leave me in peace.”

“Two steps forward. The sink is to the right. I’ve left out your toothbrush, with toothpaste, and there’s a towel next to it.”

He turned to her. “Is there anything you haven’t thought of?”

The subtle praise of her efficiency caused her stomach to flip-flop a couple of times. “Just call me Florence,” she said, and pulled the door shut.

What was wrong with her? she wondered. Had she spent too much time working with kids and not enough time dating? If she wasn’t so sure she was really twenty-eight, she’d swear she was back in high school with a major hormonal crush on the football captain.

Later, when he was asleep, she was going to have to give herself a stern talking-to. She’d always prided herself on being competent, disciplined and, above all, professional. Logan was making her feel like a new recruit. None of her other patients had made her think about touching and kissing and…not even once.

Maybe it was just the position of the moon or something, and these feelings would go away by themselves. Until then, she’d have to keep a tight rein on her reactions and be the soul of propriety.

By the time Logan stepped out of the bathroom, she had most of herself under control. She led him back to the bed and plumped up the pillows on the headboard. “I’ll be right back with your dinner. Don’t try anything foolish while I’m gone.”

“I wouldn’t even think of it.”

His expression was shameless. She was sure that if his eyes hadn’t been bandaged, he would have been batting his eyelashes at her, like a Southern belle.

Melissa walked down the hall and across the large living room. Once in the kitchen, she poured the soup she’d been simmering into a cup and set the china onto the tray. She hesitated over coffee and decided against it. The caffeine would only interfere with his sleep, and that was the last thing he or she needed. She’d be up checking on him most of the night, anyway.

When she entered the bedroom, she paused. Logan was resting, with his head leaning against the pillow. The lines of his face were clenched tight, and his hands were balled into fists.

“Melissa?”

His voice startled her. “Yes. How did you know I was here?”

“I thought I smelled food. What’s for dinner?”

She set the tray across his lap. “Spaghetti.”

His mouth dropped open. “You’ve got to be kidding. I can’t eat…”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” He lifted his head toward her voice.

“Yes, I’m kidding. Here’s a cup of soup. Careful, it’s still hot. Then we have broiled chicken, sliced and chilled, and steamed vegetables, also sliced and chilled.” She moved his hand to the small dish on the side of the plate. “A light honey-mustard dressing you can use for dipping. And for dessert…strawberries.”

Logan felt the bumpy texture of the fruit as Melissa touched his fingers to the plate. The nurse at the hospital had brought him a regular meal and had then spent fifteen minutes telling him that his plate was like a clock. In theory the idea worked, but as soon as she’d left, he’d forgotten if his peas were at nine or noon. In the end, it had been easier to go hungry.

“I’m going to put a napkin on you, Logan.” Melissa’s voice was quickly followed by the pressure of her hands smoothing a linen square across his chest. “Eat up, or I’m going to make good on my threat to serve you spaghetti.”

He chuckled. “Are you going to join me? Or don’t nurses eat?”

He sensed her hesitation. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

After she’d left, Logan searched for and found a chunk of chicken. He took a bite and chewed slowly. The taste of the food seemed exaggerated, yet he wasn’t sure he would have known what it was if he hadn’t been told. He wanted to throw the tray across the room and shout his frustration.

He’d been alone before; he’d even been scared before. But nothing compared with the black void that was now his world. The simplest task, like brushing his teeth, took on herculean proportions, now that he couldn’t see. And he would only be blind for a week.

“You’re not eating, Logan. Don’t you like my cooking?”

“It’s great.” He grabbed one of the vegetables and took a bite. “Yum, thanks.”

“Okay. You’ve made your point.”

Her voice got farther away, then he heard several grunts. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to move this…chair. What’s it made of? Lead?”

“Just wood. I thought you were big and burly, Melissa.”

“I lied.”

“Come on.” He patted the bed invitingly. “It’s a king-size mattress. I’m willing to share.”

“I…I shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. I’m your nurse.”

He moved his head as if looking for intruders. “I don’t see anyone here but us chickens.”

“Well, they’re here just the same. My professor from nursing school is right there in the corner, glaring at me.”

“Come on. I could use the company.”

“I don’t think…”

He could feel her weakening and grinned. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re…chicken?”

“Give me a break.” There was a slight dipping as she took a seat. Then he felt her lean forward and place something on his tray. “Your water. Don’t spill it.”

“Yes, Mom.” He found the glass and took a sip. “Do you always cook for your patients?”

“No. I work with children, and their parents usually take care of that. Sometimes, I’ll be alone with the kids for the day and then I’ll fix lunch, or we’ll go out for hamburgers.”

She kept her tone light, but he could hear traces of pain behind the words. “You sound sad.”

“I’m fine, really.”

He didn’t believe her for a minute. “Do you miss the kids when they get better and don’t need you?”

“They don’t get better. I work with terminally ill children.” She made the statement casually.

“You sound very calm. Doesn’t it ever get to you?”

“It’s my job to be calm, Logan. And of course it gets to me.”

He heard the catch in her voice and knew that if he could see her, there’d be tears in her eyes. Cursing his lack of sight, he picked up the cup of soup.

“Tell me what you look like.”

Melissa glanced at the man watching her with his covered eyes. If his daughter was anything to go by, his ex-wife was stunning. What should she say? That she wasn’t even pretty? Not that her looks really mattered. Even if she did find him handsome and sexy and interesting and very male, he’d only see her as an employee.

“I’m kind of medium,” she said finally.

“Medium?”

“Yes. Medium height, medium-brown eyes, medium-blond hair. I wear it short, just past my ears, with bangs. I’m the middle child and I got average grades in school.” Boring.

“You don’t sound medium. You have a lovely voice.”

“Thanks.” His compliment pleased her. In a social situation, he wouldn’t have looked at her twice, but here, in the safety of his bedroom, she allowed herself a brief moment of fantasy. When the bandages came off and he returned to his regular life, he’d forget all about his nurse. But she’d remember him.

Logan pushed the tray away. “I can’t eat another bite.”

She finished her last strawberry, then moved the dirty dishes to the table by the fireplace. “I need to change your bandages. Just let me go wash my hands first.”

He nodded. The tension returned to his jaw.

Melissa quickly washed her hands, then hurried back to his room. She picked up the scissors from the nightstand and carefully cut through the gauze.

“Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw a naked man?”

Logan felt his mouth drop open. “Excuse me?”

“When I was about sixteen, I had this crush on a guy named Steve. He was on the swim team. We had a social studies class together. I’d spend the entire hour staring worshipfully at the back of his head and wishing that just once, he’d notice me.”

Logan smiled as he pictured the scene. Melissa knelt beside him on the bed and he moved over to give her room.

“One day, the teacher had us debate an issue. I don’t even remember what it was. Anyway, he and I really got into it. We were arguing back and forth.”

The pads were gently removed from his lids. He saw light and tried to open his eyes.

“Keep them shut, Logan. I’m going to put in the cream, then patch you up again. After class, we continued our argument. About halfway down the hall, he put his arm around me. I thought I was going to die. Hold these against your lids.”

He held the circles in place while she started wrapping the gauze around his head.

“The next thing I knew, we’d stopped walking. I looked around and realized I was in the boys’ locker room. I don’t know who was more embarrassed, me, Steve, or the naked guys milling around and ducking for cover. I ran out of there as fast as I could and never spoke to him again. Actually, that was the first time I thought about going into nursing.”

Logan laughed. “You made that story up, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but it worked.”

“What do you mean?”

“It took your mind off the pain when I changed the bandages.”

She began to smooth salve over the wounds on his face. He grabbed her wrist and held her still. Search as he might, there was no way to penetrate the thick coverings and study her face. She’d said she was medium, but he didn’t know what that meant.

Her breath fanned his face. He could smell the strawberries she’d eaten and the scent of her subtle perfume. He was still holding one hand, and her other pressed against his shoulder for balance. Her fingers felt small yet sure, as if the power to heal and comfort was captured within her delicate touch.

She was very close. Her breasts must be a scant inch from his chest. He remembered the curves pressing into his ribs when she’d helped him into the house. But there was no way to know the exact weight and contour of the feminine flesh.

A hunger started deep within him. He’d been without a woman for far too long, and this sweet creature catering to his every need was a temptation hard to resist. If it wasn’t for the lessons in his past, he would have pulled her next to him and shown her that a man without eyes was still a man in every other sense of the word.

He let her go.

“Tell me about the accident.” The husky sound of her speech rubbed against his skin.

“I had it out with a sandblasting machine. The machine won.”

She continued to smooth the ointment onto his injured flesh. “I guess that’s how you got these burns.”

He nodded. “The hose ripped and the guy holding it got pinned down. Like a fool, I raced in and pulled him free.”

“Sounds brave to me.”

He drew his lips together. “Maybe. But the construction worker was wearing goggles and a protective jacket. I was in a business suit. The hose shot me right in the face.”

“And then you didn’t follow the doctor’s orders and landed in the hospital.” She finished her work and moved away.

“Something like that.”

He heard her walking around the room. Was she going to leave him? Being alone with the blackness wasn’t something he wanted to think about.

“You must be pretty tired,” he said.

Melissa looked up. Logan was sitting against the headboard, but there wasn’t anything relaxed about his pose. He’d suffered her changing his dressings without a fuss, but she knew he’d felt discomfort. The best thing for him would be to sleep through the night. Yet she didn’t want to leave him, and if her hunch was right, he didn’t want her to go.

“Let me take the dishes to the kitchen, then I can come back and read to you.”

The phone rang before he could respond.

She picked up the receiver. “Phillips residence.”

“Oh, totally cool, Melissa. I love the way you answer the phone. If a boy calls for me, could you call me Miss Wendi?”

Melissa laughed. “I’ll see what I can do. You want to speak to your father?”

“Yeah. Is he…okay?”

“He’s fine. Here.”

She handed Logan the phone and picked up the tray.

“Hi, Wendi. I’m feeling great….”

Melissa was still smiling when she returned to his room. “Everything all right?”

“Wendi’s spending the night at her friend’s house. I think she’s scared I’m going to die in my sleep or something and she’d rather not be the one to find the body.”

Melissa looked over the books resting on the floor by the nightstand. “I’ll reassure her in the morning. Don’t you have anything fun to read?”

Logan turned toward her. “I read lots of fun books. Maybe you have no taste.”

She read a title. “Architectural Morés in Ancient Byzantium? I don’t think so.”