Tender Loving Care

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“Coming through,” she called as she ducked past him.

He grabbed her arm. His unerring sense of direction never ceased to amaze her. “Take them off now,” he commanded.

She twisted out of his grasp and walked to the armoire. “The doctor is due here any minute. Try and control yourself.”

He smiled. “You sound so tough, Melissa, but I won’t be blind much longer. Then how will you keep me in line?”

That’s what she was dreading most. Part of her felt guilty for wanting to keep his eyes bandaged. She knew it was difficult for him, and he’d handled himself amazingly well. But when he could see, he really wouldn’t need her anymore. And all the touching—the gentle brush of her fingers to tell him where she was, the embrace to lead him to the patio—would be unnecessary and inappropriate. She hadn’t realized how much she savored those moments, until they were about to be taken from her.

Besides, he’d be able to see what she looked like. She tried to console herself with the thought that it was unlikely he’d run screaming from the room, but still…his blindness had been a mask, allowing her to be who she really was. Once he could look at her, she’d become scared and tongue-tied and foolish. Was it so very wrong to want the fantasy to continue just a little longer?

“You’ll be here until I go back to the office?” he asked.

“Yes, Logan. You can’t do any close work for two weeks. I’ll be here to make sure you follow directions.” Two weeks until he was out of her life forever.

She shut the drawer and stood up. He was right behind her. For a second, she thought about leaning against him and allowing his arms to comfort her and chase away all her fears. But since that second day, when she’d rationalized their kiss, Logan had been a perfect gentleman. It was driving her crazy.

The sound of the doorbell rescued her from her own fantasies. “That must be Mr. Anderson and the doctor.” She scurried away before Logan could detain her.

“How’s the patient?” John Anderson asked as he walked into the foyer. The older man was as tall as Logan, but his build was heavier with a round belly hanging over his belt.

“Pacing and cranky, as you can imagine.” She turned to greet the doctor. Both men were dressed in bright plaid slacks with matching shirts. They had spent the morning together golfing. Melissa shook her head. The thought of an entire course of men dressed in gaudy attire was enough to keep her inside with the door locked.

“Lead the way, young lady,” the gray-haired doctor said, his blue eyes twinkling behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “John is buying lunch when we’re through here and I feel an appetite coming on.”

“It’s just down the hall.” She escorted them to the back of the house.

Logan was sitting on the edge of the bed. When he heard them, he stood up and moved forward. “Melissa?”

“Yes. Mr. Anderson and the doctor are here.”

“Who won?” Logan asked.

John sighed. “It was that damned sand trap on the thirteenth hole.”

The doctor set a small bag on the bed. “Hope you appreciate the house call, Logan. Your boss is a persuasive man.”

“Yeah,” John said. “It’s costing me a bottle of ‘42 Bordeaux.”

The men laughed, but Melissa inched her way closer to the door. She had to get out before the doctor took off the bandages and Logan saw her and…

“Nurse?”

She froze, not quite out in the hall. “Yes, Doctor?”

“Would you remove the patient’s bandages, please?” He opened his bag and withdrew a small flashlight.

She swallowed, then walked to the nightstand. The scissors were right where she kept them. Slowly she moved around the bed and waited for Logan to sit down.

He smiled confidently. “I’ve been counting the days, Melissa.”

“I bet.”

The men watching, combined with her own nervousness, made her fingers tremble. The sound of gauze being cut seemed loud in the still room.

She peeled away the dressings and removed the pads. Logan’s lashes were matted from the cream, but they were still long and dark. As he blinked, she resisted the urge to look away or hide her head. At least she’d find out what color his eyes were, she told herself.

But when he looked straight at her, she couldn’t breathe. Instead of blue or green, his irises were a rich tawny brown. Flecks of gold radiated out from the black pupil, creating an almost magical glow, as if he had the power to see into her heart. She’d always thought him good-looking, but without the white band around his head, he was…incredible. His nose was perfectly straight and the hollows in his cheeks were more pronounced. The skin and angles and bones blended together into noble, masculine features.

He squinted, as if trying to bring her in focus, but didn’t speak. Why didn’t he say something, or look away…anything?

“Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said finally.

She groaned and ducked her head. “After almost a week, that’s the best you can come up with?”

Behind her the doctor chuckled. She spun around, having forgotten the other two men in the room.

“Let’s take a look.” He clicked on the light and tilted Logan’s face up. “Good reactions. Infection seems cleared up. Remember, no close work and wear sunglasses to protect your eyes from the light. Indoors also, for at least a week. Come to the office in about ten or twelve days and I’ll see if you’re ready to go back to work.” He put his equipment away. “Well, John, what about that lunch?”

Mr. Anderson grinned. “Logan, you follow orders. I can’t afford any more of these house calls.” He winked at Melissa. “Hang in there, Nurse VanFleet. Don’t let him get away with anything.”

“Me?” Logan asked as he slipped on dark glasses. “I’m the perfect patient.”

He turned and gave her that lethal grin. She felt her heart begin to melt. Dear God, she was going down for the third time and there wasn’t a lifeboat in sight.

Chapter Four

Melissa shut the front door behind the two men and drew in a steadying breath. She’d barely survived the past five minutes, how on earth would she get through the next two weeks? Between the raging dance her hormones performed every time she and Logan were in the same room and her overactive imagination, she didn’t have a prayer of escaping unscathed. She’d probably end up ripping off her clothes, pleading with him to take her and be forced to deal with the ignominy of being thrown out on the street. No job, no references, no money. By the end of the month, she’d be a bag lady on Sunset Boulevard.