Gift Wrapped Dad

Gradually, some thread of rationality filtered through her fragmented thoughts. Will was sitting in a hospital chair in a hospital room. Good heavens, he was her patient.

Krista jumped to her feet and spun around, pacing to the far side of the room. “That can’t happen again,” she cried, amazed to hear the huskiness in her own voice.

“I think it could.”

His deep, husky voice took her back to the old days, when kisses like the one they’d just shared had happened every day. Her memories calmed her in ways she hadn’t expected. This wasn’t the end of the world. Sure, she’d kissed a patient, but it hadn’t been just any patient. This was a man she’d once loved, a man who could still ignite her desire in three seconds or less.

Taking a deep breath, she tried again. “Let me rephrase my statement. That won’t happen again.”

“That isn’t going to be nearly as much fun.”

His simple reply brought her head up. The kiss they’d shared had been a natural, spontaneous reaction, just as the movement of Will’s foot had been a natural reaction to being tickled.

“You may be right,” she said, hating the way her voice caught on the last word. “But you’re my patient. And I don’t kiss patients.”

“Do you mean I’m the first patient you’ve ever kissed?”

“The first. And the last. I’m not like your Miss July. I’m not a package deal. I’ll be your physical therapist, but this time, our relationship will remain strictly professional.”

He seemed to digest her words, his gaze trailing down her body as he said, “That isn’t going to be easy. When you touch me, I find myself wanting to touch you back.”

His honesty was wreaking havoc with her senses. She hoped he didn’t notice the quaver in her voice as she said, “I have to touch you. I have to help you get those muscles to move. You can touch me back, Will. As long as you remain friendly and professional.”

He was looking at his left leg, which allowed her a moment to study him unobserved. He was wearing baggy gray sweatpants and a New York Titans T-shirt. She knew his legs were weak from his spinal injury, but they didn’t look it. His upper body was powerfully muscular, his chest and shoulders broad. A vein ran up his forearm, only to disappear inside the sleeve of his shirt.

The bruising to his spinal column had been traumatic, but Will hadn’t sat around sulking. A person didn’t acquire this kind of muscle tone that way. Yesterday he’d told her he’d come to her because she was the only person who could make him reach for the stars. Now Krista realized that wasn’t true. With or without her, he’d always reached for the stars.

The Will she’d known back in college had been on the wild side, but even then he’d been completely motivated. He’d run track to increase his speed and stamina and practiced his swing, his throw and his slide. He’d never been the kind of man who enjoyed inactivity. This type of injury was terrifying to everyone, but to a man like Will, it must have been ten times worse. Krista eyed his crutches and leg braces lying next to his chair, her admiration growing. He hadn’t taken it sitting down, at least not for long.

Trying for a friendly yet professional tone of voice, she said, “We used to touch each other a lot, and old habits die hard. But I’m your physical therapist now, and you’re my patient. I think we need to establish some ground rules, things that are safe, and things that are off limits. Kissing me is off limits.”

He started to speak, but she interrupted. “Don’t look so stricken. I’ve sworn off all men, not just you.”

With that, she strode to the wall and grasped the handles on a lightweight wheelchair. “Come on,” she said, pushing the chair toward him. “Let’s take a ride down to the patient exercise room. You still have an hour of time left this morning. Let’s put it to good use.”

Will eyed the gray chair dazedly. He was aware that it was there, but his mind couldn’t seem to get past the fact that Krista had just told him she’d sworn off men. All men.

He’d known his share of women, but he’d never met anyone who was more sensuous than Krista. Back in college, she’d been as ravenous as he was. Sometimes, she’d been embarrassed about her earthy murmurs and sighs, her automatic reactions and responses to their lovemaking. He used to love to kiss her embarrassment away, to make her forget the inhibitions instilled in her by that prissy family of hers, to take her to the brink of completion, then watch her soar. He never would have imagined that a healthy, vibrant, sexy woman like Krista would swear off men. Not in a million years. But then, he never would have imagined nearly dying in a car accident three months ago, either, or perhaps never being able to walk again.

Eyeing the wheelchair, he said, “I spent the worst two months of my life trying to get out of one of those contraptions and now you want me to get back in?”

She shrugged in an offhand way and said, “I thought you were here to learn to walk again, but if you want to take the time to get into your leg braces so that you don’t have to ride in a wheelchair, suit yourself.”

He stared at her for a silence-filled moment, then grasped the chair’s armrest. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know,” she said as she leaned down to set the brake.

Her breast brushed against his forearm, the hair on his arm standing up at the brief contact. Slowly, his eyes moved upward, coming to rest on her face. Since Krista wasn’t very tall, it wasn’t a far climb, but it sure was a pleasant one. Will sucked in a quick breath as the intensity of her gaze hit him between the eyes. He’d reacted to her this way before, lots of times. He hadn’t seen or talked to her in eight years, but he hadn’t forgotten her. He was honest enough to know that he’d experienced some of the best sex of his life when Krista had been in his arms. Fleetingly, he wondered how he’d ever managed to leave her all those years ago.

Thoughts crystallized in his mind as he recalled a comment she’d made when he’d first seen her yesterday. I don’t remember receiving any letters from you eight years ago.

She’d only been twenty-one years old back then, but she’d loved him the way a woman loves a man. He’d loved her, too, he supposed. But he’d been a young twenty-two, his sights set on the major leagues, not on the woman with an unfailing spirit and unfathomable brown eyes.

Will grasped the other armrest and levered himself into the wheelchair. She bent to release the brake, her clean scent filling his nostrils. Before she straightened, he asked, “Did you swear off men because of me, Krista?”

The chair’s brake let go just as her breath pierced the silence in the room. For a moment she remained at eye level. Her eyebrows were arched and her voice was clipped as she said, “Don’t flatter yourself, Will.”

She straightened, pulling the chair back with more force than might have been necessary. Will let out a loud whoop as she pushed him through the wide doorway. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she’d said. Krista never had been one for trite lines or inane white lies. Her honesty was refreshing, but then she’d always been refreshing.

He used to tell her so. Will smiled to himself as he remembered what she’d told him in return. “I’m refreshing, and you’re fresh. Quite a combination, don’t you think?”

Krista called hello to other patients as they passed. Will barely noticed. His thoughts were elsewhere, deep in the fresh zone, where images danced through him mind, images of him and Krista in his dorm room, and later, in her tiny apartment just off campus.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

He turned his head slowly as a young boy with dark hair and huge brown eyes ran toward him from the opposite end of the hall. Will glanced around, searching for the object of the child’s gaze.

“Mommy, guess what?”

It took Will a moment to realize that the kid was talking to Krista. Mommy? Krista was somebody’s mother?

“Tommy,” Krista called. “Where’s Mrs. Hall?”

“She’s coming,” the child replied. “See? Back there.”

Will didn’t know why he glanced down the hall, but sure enough, a heavyset woman with frizzy brown hair was hurrying toward them.

“You’re Billy the Kid!” the boy exclaimed, staring at Will.

“Tommy,” Krista admonished, “where are your manners? This is Mr. Sutherland. Mr. Sutherland, my son, Tommy.”

Will heard the pride and affection in Krista’s voice as she spoke to her son. The little urchin extended his right hand, and in his befuddled state, Will enfolded the boy’s fingers in his own large hand. “Hi, Tommy. How ya doing?”

“Cool,” the child said in awe. “Wait until I tell Stephanie that I shook hands with Billy the Kid. She’s my friend. She doesn’t care much about baseball, so she doesn’t know you stole forty-two bases last season, but she’s still pretty smart.”

By the time the boy had finished talking, Mrs. Hall had joined him and Krista in the middle of the corridor. Krista spoke to the older woman, and Tommy rattled on about home runs and batting averages. Within minutes, Mrs. Hall was leading Tommy away. This time the child’s hand was tucked firmly in hers.

Will sat statue still, barely conscious of the lady with the walker who was steadily drawing closer. “How old is your son?” he asked.

“Tommy’s six going on thirty,” Krista replied. “He’s gifted.”

Will digested that statement easily enough. Since she had a six-year-old son, obviously she hadn’t sworn off men immediately after he’d left eight years ago. Yesterday, he’d assumed that Krista wasn’t married. The subject hadn’t crossed his mind today, especially not while he’d been kissing her. She said she’d sworn off men. Exactly what had she meant by that?

“Uh, Krista?” he asked, waving at the little boy at the end of the hall.

“Mm?” she asked, waving, too.

“Are you married?”

Two

A re you married?

The question hung in her mind as the faint swish, thud, swish, thud of a walker steadily drew near. She’d assumed Will knew her marital status. After all, he’d shown up at the Fourth Street Rehab Center in Allentown so sure she’d agree to be his physical therapist that he’d signed his outpatient admittance forms before talking to her.

She’d been fighting her reaction to seeing him again since the first moment she’d looked into his eyes yesterday. It was so easy to get emotionally involved with her patients, to share in their grief and in their achievements. The fact that she’d known Will intimately eight years ago made her even more susceptible to emotional involvement. Somehow she had to find a way to help him regain the use of his legs and retain her own equilibrium at the same time. That wasn’t going to be easy.

Oh, no, she thought to herself. That wasn’t going to be easy at all. She hadn’t been on an even keel since yesterday, but she hadn’t realized just how much Will had affected her until she’d seen Tommy running toward her a few minutes ago. She’d known he had the day off from school, and she’d known he and Mrs. Hall were going to stop by later this morning. But while she’d been working with Will, Krista had lost all track of time and had forgotten about Tommy’s visit. That hadn’t happened before, but then she hadn’t been kissed senseless by one of her patients before, either. From now on, she was going to have to stay on her toes and try to keep one step ahead of Will.

She watched as Tommy and Mrs. Hall disappeared through the door at the end of the corridor. Grasping the handles on Will’s chair, Krista finally answered his question. “I’m not married.”

Will turned around in his chair to look up at her. “That must make those tight-a—”

His eyes darted to the left, and he let the soft a sound trail away into thin air. Understanding dawned as she followed his gaze and noticed that Mrs. Felpont, Heather’s elderly patient, had moved within hearing distance.

“Er, make that those tight-lipped sisters of yours feel like gloating even more.”

Krista smiled at Mrs. Felpont, wondering how many men these days would have cleaned up their language because a kindly gray-haired lady was nearby. Once again she fought her rising sense of wonder.

Staring down into Will’s eyes, she couldn’t help noticing the derision in his expression. He never had thought much of her sisters. She shook her head in answer to his question, deciding not to go on to explain that she didn’t have a lot of contact with her family anymore. Not that she’d ever had much in common with them in the first place.

“Come on, Krista,” he said, drawing her back to the present. “We have less than an hour left for my therapy today. If we want to get me on my feet, we have to get moving.”

Krista hurried after Will, thinking it wasn’t going to be easy to stay one step ahead of this man. The fact that he couldn’t walk made absolutely no difference whatsoever.

She caught up with him inside the double doors and found him looking all around. In one corner of the room, another therapist was helping a young girl into a whirlpool tub. Brody was barking encouragement to a large black man who was lifting weights. Heather was working with Mrs. Felpont, and still another with a teenage boy.

Krista glanced down at Will’s face. His grin had slipped away and had been replaced with a serious expression people rarely associated with Billy the Kid. He really was different in many ways. She wondered if the years had changed him, or if the accident had.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you loosened up.”

He glanced from one end of her body to the other. By the time it came back to her face, the seriousness had left his expression. “I thought you’d never ask.”

She felt a tingling in the pit of her stomach and a grudging smile on her lips. Will always had been able to turn an innocent phrase into something provocative. She was definitely going to have a hard time keeping one step ahead of him. The surprising thing was, she was looking forward to it.

He set the brake on his wheelchair and placed one hand on the chair’s armrest and the other hand on the low table, swinging himself over with amazing ease. Krista moved the wheelchair out of the way and said, “Lie on your back with your head on that pillow. I’m going to stretch your muscles and help keep those joints limber.”

Will did as she instructed, lying back and grasping the handrails to maneuver himself up to the top of the table. Krista started with his right leg, lifting it, rotating it, bending his knee and pushing toward his body. Her touch was firm yet gentle, and he tried to imagine that his muscles were moving on their own.

“I know this is uncomfortable,” she said. “Tell me if it becomes unbearable.”

He watched her intently as he said, “Three months ago I couldn’t feel anything from my waist down. Believe me, a little discomfort isn’t a bad thing.”

She continued to work on him, pulling gently, then twisting and pushing. At one point, she tucked his ankle under her arm, the side of her breast cushioning his lower leg like a feather pillow. Using her body for leverage, she leaned forward, bending his knee, then straightening his leg.

“How does that feel?” she asked, repeating the exercise.

His gaze skimmed her breasts before settling on her face. “That feels great.”

She nodded and continued with his therapy.

“Let’s talk,” he said, his voice catching on the last word as she pressed his bent knee toward his body.

“All right. Let’s start by establishing those ground rules I mentioned earlier.”

“Ground rules, huh? I suppose I can assume that asking about your sex life is off limits?”

Her eyes narrowed speculatively. “I’ve already told you I’ve sworn off men. Even if I hadn’t, that particular topic would definitely be off limits.”

“Okay, why don’t you tell me what you’re wearing underneath that cute little uniform?”

He winced as she twisted his leg, and even though her attention appeared to be completely trained on his knee, Will caught her little smile. After a long pause, he finally said, “Then tell me about your son.”

That brought a bigger smile to her lips. “Tommy’s a great kid,” she said, moving to the other side of the table, where she began to repeat the entire procedure with his left leg. “Like I said, he’s six going on thirty. We live in Coopersburg, a small town about twelve miles from here.”

“You said he’s gifted. That must make your family happy.”

Her touch remained gentle while she worked his left leg, but her voice contained a strange edge of irony as she said, “Actually, they don’t approve of the way I’m raising him.”

“What’s not to approve of? He looks pretty happy to me. He knows baseball and he looks just like you.”

“That was the first thing I did wrong,” she answered. “I gave him my genes.”

“Those are some genes, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

Instead of smiling the way he’d expected, she remained completely serious. “I’m sure they would have preferred it if he’d been tall and blond and straitlaced like they are.”

He scowled to himself. Krista’s family probably didn’t approve of the fact that Tommy liked baseball, either. Her sisters sounded just as huffy and highfalutin as they always had. It didn’t sound as if Katrina, Kimberly or Kendra had changed over the past eight years.

“Tommy looks like a well-adjusted, impish little kid. I’d say you should be proud.”

Krista heard the depth of sincerity in Will’s voice. Looking from his legs straight into his eyes, she lowered herself to the table next to him, lowering her eyes at the same time. “Do you know what makes me the most proud?”

“What?” he asked softly.

“The fact that he’s having a normal childhood.” She glanced at him to see if he understood and found him watching her closely. “I mean, I know he’s exceptionally bright. After all, he’s only six years old and he’s already in the second grade. But he likes baseball and soccer as well as playing the violin. He has a new little friend. Her name is Stephanie, and even though most boys his age have other boys for their best friend—”

“You said he was smart,” Will cut in.

Krista rolled her eyes and began kneading the muscles in his calf, slowly working her way up his leg. “I never know what to expect from that boy. Even though his reasoning skills are amazing, he still believes in Santa Claus.”

“Doesn’t everybody?”

Krista felt a smile steal through her, thinking it was ironic that she’d told Will that Tommy was six going on thirty, when Will was thirty going on six.

She heard Will clear his throat and call her name. For a moment she wondered why his voice had gone so low, so husky, so deep.

“Uh, Krista?” he said, finally breaking into her reverie. “You’re getting awfully close to a particularly sensitive part of my anatomy.”

She came back from her musings with a start. He was right. Her hands had wandered awfully close to...a place that was definitely off limits. “Sorry about that,” she whispered.

“Believe me, I don’t mind,” he answered. “It’s just that if you keep it up, I’m going to pull you on top of me and finish what you started.”

“Is that what you did with Miss July?” she asked, mentally kicking herself for letting her curiosity show.

He took his time tucking his hands underneath his head. His eyes had darkened, taking on an intense expression, as he said, “Now you’ve stumbled onto a topic that’s off limits.”

She turned from her task and laughed unexpectedly, a spontaneous, deep, pleasant laugh that was the essence of the woman herself, a laugh that made a man think of other activities even more spontaneous, even more pleasant. Will was aware that other people in the room had turned when they’d heard Krista’s laughter. More than anything, he was aware of the way the throaty sound had sneaked inside his body, and the way the touch of her hands had sneaked up his thigh. Both felt good.

Lowering his leg to the table, she said, “I know you still have some time left for therapy today, but I think we’ve just about covered everything for the first session. Come on. I’ll push you back to the room where we started. Tomorrow, we’ll pick up where we left off.”

Without saying a word, he sat up and maneuvered himself back into the wheelchair. She’d said that tomorrow they’d pick up where they left off. Will was pretty sure she hadn’t meant where they’d left off eight years ago.

For the millionth time these past three months he wondered what his life would have been like if he hadn’t gotten behind the wheel of that rental car last July. What if he’d seen the out-of-control truck sooner? What if he never regained all his movement? What if this was as good as he’d ever be?

No. Will wouldn’t concentrate on what if. He’d survived the car accident. He’d gotten his feeling back, and bit by bit he’d regain his strength. He knew he should count his blessings in another area, too. His sex drive was intact. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so aware of his raging hormones. Maybe it was because of Krista.

There was one what if he didn’t mind thinking about. Krista undoubtedly had good reasons for swearing off all men. What if he was the one man who could change her mind?

* * *

Every few seconds, Will punched another channel on the TV’s remote control. Situation comedies didn’t appeal to him tonight. Neither did rescue or cop shows. An action movie caught his attention briefly, but after only minutes he flipped to the next station. In a moment of undiluted annoyance, he punched the Off button and jumped to his feet. At least that’s what his brain told his body to do. Swearing under his breath, he reached for his crutches and pulled himself up to a standing position.

A primitive panic wrapped its fingers around his throat and threatened to cut off his breathing. Damn. He hated this god-awful inability to move on his own. Tiny rooms didn’t faze him, and small spaces had always made him feel cozy. But this was different. This paralysis closed in on him like moving walls in horror movies.

Will grasped his crutches and maneuvered around the room, cursing the panic out loud until his breathing returned to normal and his thoughts calmed. He stopped at the sliding door in his first-floor apartment. Peering through the rain-speckled glass, he noticed lights coming on across the street. Standing there all alone in his apartment, which contained some of the most modern conveniences money could buy, he wondered if he should have taken his mother up on her offer to come and stay with him until he was back on his feet.

In his mind, he pictured the Nebraska sun glinting off the whitewashed buildings back home. It was harvest time, and his father and brother would probably be walking toward the house right about now, the day’s dust thick on their skin. Inside, his mother would have a huge meal prepared. Voices would rise and fall during supper as Cort and their father argued about the price of wheat and just about everything else under the sun. In comparison, Will’s furnished apartment here in Allentown seemed as quiet as a crypt, and just as confining.

His family had wanted him to come home for the rest of his rehabilitation. Will knew they’d have done everything in their power to help him. That’s why he hadn’t gone. If he had let them do everything for him, he knew he’d never make it all the way back. That’s why he’d decided to come to Krista. She’d force him to reach his full potential. She always had.

Krista.

He glanced behind him at the gray carpet and the gray walls and the gray curtains and the gray sofa. Even the air looked gray. He remembered the way Krista’s pink lips had lifted when she smiled, the way her brown eyes had glinted when she laughed and the way her cheeks had colored when he’d asked about her sex life. Nothing about Krista was gray. Not her appearance, certainly not her personality.

Will thought about the past two days, remembering everything about her, the way she moved, what she said, even the way she said it. The intricate details in his memories surprised him. He was usually hard-pressed to put a name with a face. Yet in eight years, he hadn’t forgotten anything about her.