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Gift Wrapped Dad
Sandra Steffen
The Hunk Under Her Christmas Tree Single mom Krista Wilson could hardly believe that the man she'd loved years ago was standing before her, asking for help. Though Krista had sworn off men long ago, she couldn't resist agreeing to Will's request - with a few stipulations: No midnight kisses under the mistletoe.No slinky gifts that would add temptation to their strictly business relationship. No mention of the stormy past they shared. And no promises to her son Will didn't intend to keep. Because little Tommy had decided that Will was the dad he'd asked Santa for. And Krista didn't have the heart to deny it… .
Gift Wrapped Dad
Sandra Steffen
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dedicated to
My brothers, Leon, Larry, Dave and Ron—
great guys, one and all.
Acknowledgment
A special thank-you to Gordon Allen of Gordon Allen Rehabilitation Associates
Contents
Prologue (#u553ba617-2424-5179-ad26-5aa5933877ad)
Chapter One (#uca700c97-c7f3-5ee3-a68b-18170229f283)
Chapter Two (#ued5cd769-0973-574b-8374-621620c9b901)
Chapter Three (#u113a0e02-71fe-5dae-8734-4cf7d2636a33)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Santa,
I know it’s only October, but my best friend Stephanie told me I’d have a better chance if I wrote to you before the Christmas rush. Mom’s always telling me I’m a good boy. Mrs. Hansen, my teacher, said I’m not only good, I’m gifted. That means I’m smart, so you can bring me some books to read if you want to. But what I really want is a baseball glove. Not a sissy one, but a real leather, major league baseball glove. I want a dog, too. I don’t care what kind. Oh, and a dad, if you know of any extras anywhere.
Yours truly,
Tommy Wilson
P.S. Stephanie says hi.
One
Will Sutherland stopped in the doorway, the hum of an exercise machine obliterating any sound he might have made. The room was oblong, with mirrors and exercise equipment lining one entire wall. It was unoccupied, except for Krista.
She was wearing a black leotard and tights, the muscles in her thighs tightening with every stride she took on the treadmill. Her hands grasped the side rails loosely. Even so, the strength in her upper arms was clearly evident.
Her hair was as dark as always, but longer, coiled into a braid partway down her back. Her face was tipped up, and her eyes were closed, which explained the fact that she hadn’t noticed his presence. She was more slender than he remembered, but the way she filled out the top of her leotard was still the closest thing to perfection he’d ever seen. Will wouldn’t have minded staring at her for hours, except he was in a hurry to get this matter settled.
Gathering his thoughts, he said, “I didn’t believe it when they told me I’d find you up here. ‘Krista, exercising?’ I said. I was sure they had you confused with somebody else.”
Krista Wilson opened her eyes. She didn’t need to turn her head to know who had spoken; she’d recognize that voice anywhere. Breathing deeply, she slowed her pace on the treadmill and turned her head slightly, finally looking at the man who was watching her from the doorway. Studying his face unhurriedly, she couldn’t help smiling.
“Hello, Will.”
For a long moment he looked back at her, his lips slowly lifting into a grin she remembered well, the kind of grin that had made her swoon once, the kind of grin that reporters liked, fans loved and women adored. On anyone else, it would have looked practiced. On Will, it looked boyishly natural. It always had.
Thoughts whispered through her mind the way memories sometimes did. Images of her and Will laughing together and loving together lingered around the edges of her memory as if it had been weeks since she’d seen him instead of years. His hair was cut short, the front slightly askew, as always. His eyes were still a vivid blue—bedroom blue, according to the papers. His arms and shoulders looked as powerful as she remembered, and she could practically feel the afternoon stubble on his chin. He looked nearly the same as he had eight years ago. Only the crutches were different.
“I heard about the accident,” she said quietly.
Will inclined his head, his smile changing slightly as he said, “I don’t recall receiving any Get Well cards from you.”
“I don’t remember receiving any letters from you eight years ago, either,” she said quietly.
“You never were one to beat around the bush, Krista. That’s why I’m here.”
He looked into her eyes as if he were reaching into her thoughts, and Krista altered her first impression of him. He wasn’t the same as he’d been eight years ago. He was more serious, more mature.
Her heart was beating hard from her workout. Breathing between parted lips, she flipped a switch on the treadmill, stepped off the machine and walked closer. Fleetingly, she wished she was wearing something less revealing. Since there was nothing she could do about it, she squared her shoulders and stopped a few paces from him. With her hands on her hips, she asked, “Why are you here, Will?”
“I need a good physical therapist. And I’ve heard you’re the best,” he answered.
“You already have a physical therapist. I saw you together in Person Magazine. I believe her name was Miss July.”
One corner of his mouth rose, but it wasn’t the cocky smile she remembered. In a voice edged with irony, he said, “Unfortunately, my former therapist was more interested in getting me on my back than on my feet.”
His eyes had darkened like smoke, and he leaned on his crutches as if he was tired to the bone. He took a deep breath and finally broke the silence between them. “You aren’t going to ask, are you?”
Krista shook her head. She knew he was referring to his ability to make love. She also knew what a delicate subject that was with patients who had suffered spinal-cord injuries. The Will she remembered had been virile and too darn sexy for her own good. The man standing before her was every bit as ruggedly handsome and sexy as he’d been in her memories.
He didn’t smile, but she hadn’t expected him to. He didn’t come right out and say if you want proof, come closer, either, but it was there in the set of his shoulders, in the determination in his eyes and in the way his fingers tightened around the handrests on his crutches.
She thought about moving closer and, God help her, she did. In fact, for the first time in a long time, she was tempted to touch a man intimately, to savor his touch in return. A curious sensation swooped deep inside her, and Krista couldn’t suppress the admiration she felt for Will’s courage and tenacity.
In that instant, she felt as if she were twenty years old all over again, meeting Will for the first time. She’d been at the bus stop not far from Michigan State University’s campus that sunny October day eight years ago. He’d taken one look at her and stopped in his tracks. Thunderstruck, he’d called it. Secretly, she’d called it love. They’d been together the rest of the year, and although he’d never promised her forever, she’d somehow believed it was what they’d have.
She could still remember how they’d both reacted to an innocent brush of their shoulders. Most of all, she could still remember how her world had rocked when he’d left her behind to play pro baseball. At first she’d dreamed he’d come back. Now he had, but not the way she’d imagined. He needed a physical therapist, not a lover.
That line of thinking brought her back to the matter at hand. Raising her chin, she looked him straight in the eye and said, “You’re not a small man, Will. A male physical therapist could handle your weight and help you if you stumbled or started to fall much better than I could.”
“I only want you.”
It required incredible effort not to look away from the determination and the longing in his eyes. Being wanted by Will Sutherland was a heady sensation. It always had been. Eight years ago he would have accented a statement like that with a wink or a raised eyebrow. Today, he stared directly into her eyes, waiting for her answer.
The changes in him were as intriguing as the things that were the same. Krista didn’t want to be intrigued by him. Intrigue had a way of leading to heartache. That thought set off a warning in her mind. She’d loved him a long time ago. She didn’t want to fall in love with him again, but was already feeling the pull of his attraction.
“There are thousands of physical therapists, Will. Why did you come to me?”
Will knew what she was asking. She wanted to know why he’d come to her now, after all these years. How could he put into words how he’d felt during that split second when he’d known with frightening clarity that an out-of-control truck was going to crash into his car? How could he describe the boom of impact or the sound of breaking glass and bending steel, or what it felt like to be rushed to a hospital, unable to feel his legs? How could he describe the fear and the dread and the despair of these past three months?
But Krista wanted to know. If she was going to help him, she deserved to know.
“I was having a shouting match with my former physical therapist when Dr. Richardson, one of the doctors at the rehab center in New York, stepped into the room to intervene. I asked him if he could recommend another therapist, and he told me you were one of the best.”
She raised her eyebrows a little and shrugged offhandedly as she said, “Adam Richardson consulted on a case I had a few years ago. I’m a little surprised he remembered me.”
Will wasn’t surprised. He’d never forgotten her. Thoughts of her had filtered into his mind at the oddest times these past eight years, but never as often as they had these past three months. He’d done a lot of thinking while he was in the hospital in New York. About his life. About baseball. About the woman he’d left behind. He knew he’d hurt her, and he knew he had no right to ask her to help him now. Yet here he was, trying to think of some way to convince her to do just that.
“I came to you because I want to walk again, and because you’re the only person I know who really believed I could reach for the stars. I’m reaching for them again.”
Krista heard the earnestness and honesty in Will’s voice. He’d always called his dream of playing pro baseball reaching for the stars. Baseball was the reason he left her before. It was the reason he’d leave again. She became a physical therapist because she wanted to help people, and she knew that hadn’t changed. Reaching a decision wasn’t difficult, but she was afraid that protecting her heart from Will’s charm a second time was going to be the most difficult thing she’d ever done.
Raising her chin another notch, she said, “You’ll have to clear it with the hospital first, get doctor and insurance authorization, but if they say it’s possible, I’ll help you.”
“I’ve already signed on the dotted line.”
His words sent an old pain quaking through her. He’d been so sure she’d do what he wanted that he’d already signed his forms? She wondered what the people in the office thought about that. It reminded her of the way she’d felt in high school when girls had whispered about her behind their hands and boys had bragged and leered.
It required an iron will to keep from stepping back, to keep from reverting to the way she used to be, to keep from giving in to old hurts. “There’s one thing you should know, Will. I’m not a sure thing anymore.”
Will clamped his mouth shut and squared his shoulders. She’d removed her hands from her hips and wrapped them around her waist as she’d spoken. Her voice hadn’t faltered, but her stance was one of self-defense if he’d ever seen one. There had always been a sensitivity deep in the center of Krista’s heart, a vulnerability and softness that was damned near impossible not to react to. She’d said sure thing as if they were dirty words, like tramp or easy. She’d never been any of those things. Lusty and vibrant and the hottest thing either side of the Rockies, but not easy. Memories of the way she’d responded to him, of her earthy sexuality and sumptuous body played through his mind. Hell and damnation, he was getting worked up just thinking about the way they’d been together. Looking back now, he wondered how he’d ever managed to leave her behind all those years ago.
Gazing at her this afternoon, he decided that his memories hadn’t really done her justice. She’d always been great-looking, but today she was beautiful. She had dark lashes and dark eyebrows, but her eyes were the darkest of all. He watched those eyes, searching for hidden meaning. What he found in her gaze was warmth, and a hint of concern. It was that concern that brought him back to his senses.
He hadn’t seen her in eight years. A lot had happened since college. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and her last name was still the same. But in this day and age, she could still be married. Even if she wasn’t, a woman like her was bound to be involved with someone. Will Sutherland might have been a cad now and then, but no matter what, he’d always had scruples. Besides, from now on he’d be seeing her every day. He’d have time to learn about her personal life later. Right now, he had to concentrate on getting out of these cursed leg braces.
“Would you be willing to start tomorrow?” he asked.
She nodded, and Will felt his skin tighten over his knuckles as he gripped his crutches. She’d agreed to work with him. The knowledge settled inside him like hope.
After saying goodbye, he pulled himself around, making his way toward the elevator at the end of the hall, certain it wasn’t his imagination that made the trek seem shorter than it had when he’d come. Adrenaline pumped through his body as he punched the elevator button. It was a lot like the surge of adrenaline he used to feel before every game. For the first time in the three months since his accident, Will thought he had a chance to make it back—on his feet, and on with his life.
* * *
Krista slipped her dripping raincoat from her shoulders and hurried into the lounge. “Coffee,” she called. “I need coffee.”
All three of the other people in the room stopped whispering and turned around.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “Did one of you win the lottery?”
“We’re not the lucky ones!” Heather Jones, a tall, willowy redhead declared. “You are. Have you seen who your ten o’clock patient is?”
Krista eyed her three co-workers who were blocking her view of the big schedule board on the wall. Reaching for the coffee, she said, “Since I just walked in and I don’t have X-ray vision, I have to say no, I haven’t seen who my ten o’clock patient is.” But she had a pretty good idea.
“Billy the Kid,” Brody Calhoun, the only man in the room, cut in.
Krista took her first sip of strong coffee, eyeing her friends over the rim of her cup. “I think you mean Will Sutherland,” she said quietly.
“Call him what you want,” Heather sputtered. “The fact is the most eligible bachelor within a hundred miles is going to be yours for two hours every day.”
Krista sucked in a breath of air, trying to cool her tongue, which she’d burned on her coffee the instant Heather had said that Will was going to be hers for two hours every day. Her tongue cooled. Her thoughts didn’t.
“I thought I was the most eligible bachelor for miles around,” Brody grumbled.
“Oh, please,” Heather said to Brody. “Your bachelorhood is so confirmed it might as well be carved in stone. What I want to know is why Krista gets Billy the Kid. She doesn’t even like men for heaven’s sake!”
“Now, now,” Mrs. A, the only person in the room with snow-white hair, said. “Krista likes men. Don’t you, Krista?”
“Yeah, right,” Heather and Brody said at the same time.
“I’ve never been able to get to first base with her,” Brody added indignantly.
“Well, that’s not so unbelievable,” Heather retorted, batting her eyelashes at Brody. “You’re not as young as you used to be.”
Krista laughed out loud at the look of horror that crossed Brody’s face. Her fellow physical therapist had recently celebrated his thirty-eighth birthday. He’d discovered a gray hair a few days later and hadn’t been the same since.
“What do you mean?” he insisted. “I can do anything I used to do.”
“Sure you can,” Heather countered.
“Maybe it’s only fitting that the person who’ll get to first base with Krista is a baseball player,” Mrs. A said, interrupting Brody and Heather’s bantering.
“Mrs. A!” Krista protested, trying to keep her coffee from sloshing over the side of her mug.
Heather and Brody both laughed, heading toward the door. Looking over her shoulder, Heather said, “I wish I had bought a lottery ticket, Krista. If I won, I’d trade it for spending two hours alone with Billy the Kid.”
“Two hours!” Brody called. “That’s a lot of batting practice, if you know what I mean.”
“We always know what you mean, Brody,” Mrs. A said, clucking her tongue. “But therapy is what we’re here for, and I think it’s time we all got to work.” Blue eyes twinkling, the older woman cast Krista an affectionate smile and left the room.
Alone with her coffee, Krista looked at the schedule board on the wall. Mrs. A had become the volunteer coordinator for the entire wing in July. Since then, Krista had become accustomed to the other woman’s rather strange speech patterns, but the way she’d implied that Will would get to first base with her had still taken her by surprise. Now that she thought about it, Mrs. A hadn’t even implied it. She’d said it as if she knew. It was downright disconcerting, almost as disconcerting as Krista’s erotic dreams had been all night long. In her dreams, Will had gotten a lot farther than first base, and the fans hadn’t been the ones cheering.
Taking another sip of her coffee, she decided then and there to make sure that particular dream never became reality. She reminded herself that Will had come to her because he wanted to walk again, not because he wanted her again. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.
