Tall, Dark and Cranky

He was extremely attractive, she thought, though not in a smooth, typical way, the way his brother, Matthew, was handsome.

She’d learned the basic facts of his physical appearance from his medical records—six feet in height, one hundred and seventy-five pounds. At thirty-eight years old, he was almost ten years her senior. Yet the basic facts had not prepared her for some undefinable quality he possessed—his sheer intensity, which was as much a characteristic of the man as the dark eyes that took her in from head to toe.

“You’ll forgive me for not getting up.” He greeted her in a gruff, sarcastic voice.

His eyes, framed by thick brows, looked large and luminous in the dimly lit room. The rugged lines of his face held a serious, almost angry expression.

“No apology necessary,” Rebecca replied lightly. “Of course, considering your condition, Mr. Berringer, you could be out of that chair by now, you know.”

“You think so, do you?” he challenged her. He gave a bitter laugh, then turned to his brother. “Did you find yet another Mary Poppins for the job, Matthew?” His voice sounded weary and vaguely amused. “One would think the supply would be exhausted by now.”

“One would think your brother would be exhausted by now, trying to help you, Mr. Berringer,” Rebecca replied quietly.

She saw Matthew Berringer’s eyebrows pop up at her tart response. But he said nothing. Grant finally lifted his head and stared into her eyes. He seemed impressed. Almost animated. She gave herself two points for that achievement, anyway.

“Well, well…this one’s got some spunk, I’ll give her that much,” he said to Matthew. Rebecca thought she’d noticed a spark of appreciation in his eyes as he gazed at her, then thought she must have been mistaken. His gaze remained flat and dispassionate. “I’ve always preferred a tart, cool taste myself, as opposed to something sticky and overly sweet.”

“None of my patients ever accused me of being too sweet,” Rebecca replied. “More like the opposite.”

“I’m not your patient yet, Ms. Calloway,” he reminded her harshly. “Not by a long shot.”

Rebecca was taken aback, but only for a moment. The wounded lion, cornered in his den, she thought. All he could do was give a loud roar and hope to scare the intruder away.

There was a small chair near his wheelchair, and she walked over and sat in it. She knew that being on the same eye level as the patient—not staring down at them—should help ease a tense moment like this one.

“You’re right. My mistake,” she said simply.

He stared directly at her, and she had her first good look at him, up close and personal. Intimidating was the word that first came to mind. But as she gazed unflinchingly into his dark eyes, she saw his vulnerability, as well, and the wellspring of pain and fear that had driven him to this dark place.

A thin white scar extended from the corner of his eye to his jawline, marring one cheek. Rebecca had read in the medical report that Grant could have easily had the scar erased with plastic surgery, but for some reason preferred not to. Did he keep it to help him mourn his loss? Or as a penance he felt bound to pay?

Her heart was touched by him, moved by him. Not by pity or compassion, exactly, but by some inexplicable urge to restore him, physically and spiritually, to siphon into him some of her abundant strength and will.

She had never felt quite this reaction to a prospective patient before, Rebecca thought with a mental jolt. Why this one?

Then suddenly, Grant’s voice broke into her thoughts.

“I like a person who can admit when they’re wrong,” he said in a low, deep voice.

“I do a lot of that,” she admitted. “Maybe you’ll end up liking me, after all.”

He suddenly laughed, and the deep, warm sound skimmed along her nerve endings, lighting a path in its wake—a reaction that alarmed Rebecca and one she forced herself to ignore. Still, she couldn’t ignore the sudden change in Grant Berringer’s appearance. His smile was like a sudden burst of light exploding in the shadowy room. His face was transformed, softened, making his dark good looks even more appealing, Rebecca thought, as her gaze lingered on the small, attractive lines fanning from the corners of his eyes and deep dimples beside a full, sensual mouth.

Rebecca quickly pulled her gaze away. What was going on here? Was she attracted to him?

No, it couldn’t be. Mustn’t be. She’d been warned about this but it had never happened to her. She tried to find some rational reason it would happen now. It was his sad story, she told herself. Matthew had drawn Grant as a tragic—even romantic—figure. The story had gotten to her. It had to be. She couldn’t compromise her professional standards by taking on a case when she had a romantic interest in the patient.

As if reading her mind, Grant said, “You know, Ms. Calloway, there are women, like yourself, who have come here hoping to bag a rich husband. If that’s your intention, I may as well warn you now, you’d be wasting your time.”

Rebecca knew his insult was merely a tactic, a ploy to drive her away, but it stung nonetheless to hear her ethics—and those of her colleagues—disparaged.

“Grant, please,” Matthew urged his brother. “Why do you have to do this?”

Matthew had been quiet until now. He seemed to think Rebecca and his brother should sort things out, and she was grateful for that. She could hear his frustration and embarrassment for Grant’s rudeness.

“No, it’s okay,” she assured Matthew. She turned to Grant again. “Mr. Berringer, I can promise you, the last thing in the world I’m looking for is a husband, rich or otherwise.”

She watched him blink in surprise, but he showed no other reaction to her words.

“All right, point taken,” he replied. He paused, then looked at her. “My brother says you’re highly qualified. The best he’s found so far. But I want you to give me one good reason I should hire you for this job. Especially when so many others before have clearly failed at it. One good reason, Ms. Calloway,” he added, the note of challenge in his voice growing sharper. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

Rebecca sat straight in her chair. She was being tested, like some character in a myth, required to answer the riddle before a magic portal to another realm would open or some treasure would be handed over.

She wasn’t sure what she should say or do, and on a sudden impulse, she stood and pulled open the heavy curtains. Sunlight flooded the room. God, she’d been itching to do that since she’d come in.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Grant Berringer reel back in his chair, one arm raised to shield his eyes from the sudden flash of light. Rebecca ignored his reaction.

“Here, come with me a minute, I want to show you something.” Without waiting for Grant’s reply, she flipped off the brakes of his chair and quickly wheeled him toward the open glass door.

“What are you doing?” he demanded. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I’m not a nice person,’ Rebecca answered lightly as she pushed his chair onto the deck. Inside the room, she could hear Matthew softly chuckling. She pushed Grant’s chair to the middle of the balcony, near the railing.

“That was quite a ride,” Grant said. “You’re stronger than you look.”

“Strong enough to handle you,” she promised.

He grunted something in reply, but Rebecca couldn’t make out any distinct words. The sound of his dismay made her smile.

“So why have you brought me out here, Ms. Calloway? To catch pneumonia, maybe?”

“It’s not that cold,” she countered with a laugh. “It’s not cold at all.”

“Or maybe you plan to push me off the balcony? Put me out of my misery?”

His words were spoken in a jesting tone, but they touched an alarm in Rebecca. She knew his cynical joke came from a deep, frightening place, and she knew with almost utter certainty that Grant Berringer had considered ending his life, perhaps in that very manner. Still, she managed to answer him in a joking tone.

“I’ve rarely been known to push a patient off a balcony. On purpose, I mean,” she said casually. “And I certainly wouldn’t choose such a low one,” she added, peering over the edge to the beach below. “I’d definitely take you up to the second or third floor for something like that.”

“Thanks, I feel much better now,” he said. Rebecca restrained herself from laughing. “That still doesn’t answer my question, though. Why are we out here, Ms. Calloway?”

“For the view, of course,” she replied, as if he should have guessed. “It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?”

Rebecca stood straight and took a deep breath. The ocean air was wonderful. And the view of the water and the blue sky above… Well, they reminded her of how great it was just to be alive. Couldn’t he feel that, too?

“Oh, that.” He dismissed her enthusiasm with a sarcastic laugh. “You get used to it. Believe me.”

“I never would,” she countered. She moved around his chair and stood beside him.

He glanced at her, then at the horizon. “Yes, you’re the type who probably wouldn’t,” he said quietly. “But most people do. Besides, you still haven’t given me a reason to give you the job.”

Rebecca felt suddenly nervous, anxious. This wasn’t working out as she had expected. He was tough. Maybe too tough for her?

She stood behind him again, and on impulse covered his eyes with her hands. His skin felt warm to her touch, and she could feel his entire body grow tense and alert. Yet he didn’t roar a protest, as she expected. Or try to pull away. She felt his brow furrow in a puzzled frown. Then his large hands came up to cover hers.

“What are you doing now, playing peekaboo? The woman is mad, definitely,” he murmured to himself.

Rebecca ignored his complaint. “I know you’re used to the view, take it for granted, in fact. But what if you couldn’t see the ocean ever again. How would you feel about that?”

“It wouldn’t matter to me one bit. I don’t really see it now,” he confessed in a flat voice. “I don’t deserve to see it at any rate.”

Her heart clenched at his words. Yes, it all came down to his guilt. He wouldn’t allow himself to reach out for life again. He believed he didn’t deserve it. He was trying to punish himself—and scare off anyone who tried to stop him from punishing himself.

She took her hands off his eyes, yet for some inexplicable reason, her hands floated down to trace the line of his lightly bearded cheeks. With the fingertips of her right hand, she felt the thin ridge of his scar, and a wave of emotion for him washed through her as she lifted her hands.

His hands did not prevent her from moving, but they held her, transmitting a sense that he was reluctant to feel her break contact.

But she did break contact and stood behind his chair with her arms dangling at her sides, her body feeling subtly charged from the brief touch.

“I’d like to say I understand,” she said quietly. “But I’m sure you believe that nobody really can.”

“Very wise. I don’t see how anyone could.”

Standing behind Grant Berringer, she couldn’t see his face. But his voice was filled with emotion, the most she’d heard from him so far.

She paused and took a deep breath. She was losing him. Not just losing her chance at getting the job. But losing her chance to help this man who had mysteriously touched something within her. She suddenly wanted to be the one to help him. She suddenly believed she could succeed where all the others had failed.

She moved to face him. “I took you out here because I thought that the sight of this beautiful day would remind you it’s simply great to be alive. And that’s the best reason to want to recover.”

“Spare me, Ms. Calloway. I’ve heard all these little sermons before.”

“Yes, I’m sure you have. But maybe we’re both right. It doesn’t have to be one way or the other, you know.”

“I don’t quite get your meaning.”

“Well, if what I’m saying is true, maybe you think that means your loss is without value. That what you’ve been through isn’t truly important. But that’s not what I mean at all,” she assured him. “If you allow yourself to look at the ocean, Mr. Berringer, and truly see it again and wonder at the sheer power and beauty of it…well, that’s okay,” she said quietly. “It doesn’t diminish your loss or make your pain meaningless. If you choose to go on with your life and build yourself up again, physically and emotionally, it doesn’t erase the past or make you disloyal to the memory of your fiancée.”

He held her gaze for a moment, then looked away, smoothing his hair with his hand. He seemed disturbed by her speech, and Rebecca braced herself for a tirade. Then he appeared to settle into his own thoughts as he stared at the sea. She wondered what those thoughts were. She couldn’t begin to guess.

He had a strong profile, she noticed, one that spoke of determination, even a stubborn streak. If looks were any indication, maybe he’d make it, after all.

“I’ll take you back in now,” she offered after a few moments. “Unless of course you’d like to stay out here alone for a while?”

“I can get myself back in, when I’m damned good and ready,” he replied curtly. “But is the interview over, Ms. Calloway?” he asked, his tone mockingly polite. “I thought that small formality was the employer’s prerogative.”

Rebecca suppressed a laugh. “My mistake…once again.”

“Yes, that’s two. But who’s counting? Frankly, I’m amazed that I’m still interested in hiring you at all.”

“Yes, so am I,” she replied honestly, feeling her heartbeat quicken at his words.

“So…do you want the job or not?” he asked impatiently.

Her immediate impulse was to answer “Yes.” But she restrained herself.

“I’m glad you want to hire me, Mr. Berringer. But I do need to think it over for a day or so. I hope that’s acceptable to you.”

“As you wish. You can call Matthew with your decision,” he instructed.

“All right, I’ll do that,” she replied. Had she hurt his feelings when she didn’t accept right away? He was pouting like a small boy. Well, she couldn’t help that.

“Did I scare you?” he asked suddenly. His black eyes were narrowed in a brooding look that had already become familiar to her. “You hardly seem the timid type.”

“No, not at all,” she called over her shoulder. “You’ll have to try much harder if I come back.”

“Yes, I will try harder. I’ll be absolutely impossible,” he promised. “See, you’ve motivated me already.”

Rebecca met his glance quickly then continued on her way. His brief smile was heart-stopping. Both a good sign…and bad, she thought with dismay. She kept going, through the glass door, through Grant’s messy bedroom to the outer room, where she found Matthew waiting for her.

“How did it go?” Matthew asked eagerly, rising from his chair.

“All right, I suppose. He offered me the job.”

“That’s great!” Matthew smiled, and his blue eyes lit with pleasure. “When can you start?” he asked eagerly.

“Well, I haven’t accepted yet. I need some time to think it over. A day or two, at the most. Your brother told me I should call you with my answer.”

“Yes, call me with your answer as soon as you decide, Ms. Calloway. And if there are any questions, any questions at all—about the salary or living arrangements—please know I’ll do all I can to make the situation comfortable for you.”

Rebecca promised she would call as soon as she came to a decision, and Matthew showed her to the front door, where they said goodbye.

As Rebecca started up her car and drove down the long driveway toward the main road, she wondered why she hadn’t accepted on the spot. While she dithered, the Berringers might interview someone else and offer them the position. The salary they’d spoken of was very generous. As were the extras. It was a plum assignment, really. Except for one thing. The patient.

Grant Berringer hadn’t scared her. But her feelings and reactions to him certainly had.

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