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It was only later, after Ryan, Maggie and Caitlyn had gone, that he took out the paper and glanced at the names. One jumped out at him: Kelly Andrews.
Years ago his best friend, Bryan Andrews, had had a sister named Kelly. Was it possible that this was the same girl? He remembered her as being a cute, shy kid, but by now she would have to be, what? Twenty-four most likely.
Michael had lost touch with Bryan years ago. Maybe he’d track him down and ask if his sister was a physical therapist. Purely as a matter of curiosity. He had no intention of asking some therapist to waste her time on him, not when every doctor he’d seen had said that a full recovery was impossible.
And, he thought with self-derision, anything less meant he might as well be dead.
* * *
Kelly Andrews was as nervous as if she’d never worked with a patient before. She stood outside the small cluster of apartments in the freezing cold and tried to gather her courage. No matter how many times she told herself that Michael Devaney was a potential client, nothing more, she couldn’t help the rush of emotions that filled her.
Michael had been her first teenage crush. Three years older than she was, he and her brother had been friends throughout high school. Michael had never given her so much as a second glance, not as anything more than Bryan’s kid sister, anyway. That hadn’t stopped her from weaving her share of fantasies about the quiet, dark-haired boy with the intense, brooding gaze and a body that even at seventeen had been impressively well muscled.
It was Bryan who’d told her about Michael being shot and the doctors’ very real conviction that he would never walk, much less work as a SEAL, again. Bryan had come back from his visit with Michael sounding worried that his old friend was going to give up. That concern had communicated itself to Kelly.
“His brothers went out to San Diego and convinced him to come back here to recuperate,” Bryan had explained two nights before. “I spoke to Ryan after I saw Michael. He says his brother is going to be needing a lot of physical therapy, but so far Michael has flatly refused to ask anyone for help. He did ask about you, though.”
Kelly’s heart had taken an unsteady leap. “He did?”
“Apparently your name was on a list Ryan’s wife made of prospective therapists.” Bryan had regarded her with a knowing look. “You interested? I know how you love a challenge. I also know you always had a thing for Michael.”
“I did not,” she said, though the flush in her cheeks was probably a dead giveaway that she was lying.
As desperately as she wanted to be the one to be there for Michael now, she had hesitated. “From what you say, it’s going to be a long, difficult process. He’s going to need someone he trusts. Do you think he’ll pay any attention to me? In his mind, I’m probably still your kid sister.”
Bryan had grinned. “Sis, you forget, I’ve seen you in action at the clinic when I’ve come by to pick you up. You’re hard to ignore. So, should I tell his brother you’ll take the job, and that you won’t let Michael’s lousy, uncooperative mood scare you off?”
“Hold it. Back up a minute. You said that before—something about brothers. I thought there were only girls in his family.”
“The Havilceks only had girls, but Michael was a foster kid.”
“Of course. I knew that,” Kelly said, suddenly remembering. “At least, I knew he had a different last name. I guess I never really gave much thought to it, because he didn’t seem to. So, these brothers are his biological brothers?”
Bryan had nodded. “He hadn’t seen them in years till they turned up in San Diego.”
“That must have been a shock.”
“It was. They were separated when his parents bailed on all of them. Michael was only four. He barely remembered them.”
She’d stared at her brother with surprise. “Is this something you just found out, or did you know it when we were kids?”
He shook his head. “I knew he was a foster kid. But back then, Michael never talked about how he’d wound up with the Havilceks. Every time I started to ask about his real family, he told me the Havilceks were his real family, the only one that counted.”
The story explained a lot...and added to her fascination with Michael Devaney, a fascination she was going to have to ignore if she was going to do her job the way it needed to be done.
“I’m scheduled at the clinic tomorrow, but tell Ryan I’ll go by to see Michael the day after tomorrow,” she had told her brother. “Whether I stay, though, is going to have to be up to Michael. I can’t force him to do therapy if he’s not willing.”
Bryan had grinned at her. “Since when? I thought you specialized in difficult, uncooperative patients.”
She did, but none of them were Michael Devaney, who’d always left her tongue-tied.
Since that conversation with her brother, she’d had more than twenty-four hours to prepare herself for this meeting, but she was as jittery as if it were the first case she’d ever handled. Today she was only doing an evaluation, working up a therapy schedule and making sure that Michael was going to be comfortable having Bryan’s kid sister as his therapist. She was counting on a brisk, polite half-hour visit.
She was not counting on the crash of something against the door when she rang the bell. Nor on the bellow telling her to go the hell away.
Oddly enough, the tantrum steadied her nerves and stiffened her resolve. She had a key in her pocket, passed along to her by Bryan, but when she tested the door, she found it was unlocked. Michael might be furious at the universe, he might be testing her courage, but he wasn’t really trying to keep her out, or that door would have been locked tight with the security chain in place.
She plastered a smile on her face, squared her shoulders and called out a cheery greeting as she stepped across the threshold. From his wheelchair across the room, Michael glared at her, but he lowered the vase of flowers he had apparently been intent on heaving in her direction.
“Having a bad morning?” she inquired politely, ignoring the shock that seeing him had on her system. Incapacitated or not, he was still the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen.
“Having a bad life,” he snapped back. “If you’re smart, you’ll turn tail and run.”
She grinned, which only seemed to infuriate him more.
“I’m serious, dammit.”
“I’m sure you are, but you don’t scare me,” she said with pure bravado. In truth, what really terrified her was the possibility that he’d force her to leave when he so clearly needed someone with her skills to get him out of that chair and back on his feet.
His scowl deepened. “Why not? I’ve scared off everybody else.”
“How? Have you been waving a gun around?”
“Not likely. I believe they’ve all been removed from the premises,” he said bitterly.
“Good. Then that’s one less thing I need to worry about,” she said. “Mind if I sit down?”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
She crossed the room, paused in front of his wheelchair and held out her hand. “It’s good to see you again, Michael. You look great.” And he did. Despite the exhaustion evident in his eyes, despite his unshaven cheeks, he looked exactly the way she’d remembered him—strong and invincible and sexy as sin. Not even his being in a wheelchair could change that.
For a minute he seemed totally taken aback by her comment, but eventually he clasped her hand in his. To her very deep regret, the contact sent a shock straight through her. She’d been hoping she was past being affected by him, that a girl’s crush wouldn’t inevitably mean that there would be a woman’s attraction. It would make the next few weeks or months a lot easier on both of them if she wasn’t fighting unreciprocated feelings of attraction.
“You look good, too,” he muttered, as if he wasn’t all that comfortable with polite chitchat. That much at least hadn’t changed. Michael never had been much for small talk. He’d always been direct to the point of bluntness.
“I’m sorry you were hurt,” she said.
“Not half as sorry as I am.”
“Probably not. So let’s see what we can do about getting you back on your feet.”
His already grim expression turned to a glower. “Look, the doctors have already told me that I’ll never work as a SEAL again, so let’s not waste your time or mine.”
“And that’s the only profession out there for a man with a sharp mind?” she asked.
“It’s the only one I care about.”
She decided not to waste her breath trying to bully him out of such a ridiculously hardheaded, self-defeating stance. “Okay, then, if you’re not motivated to walk again so you can get back to work, what about so you can do a few simple things like going for a walk in the park or maybe going out to get your own groceries? The way I remember it, you’re an independent guy. Are you going to be content letting other people manage your life for you?”
He patted the wheelchair. “With a little more practice, I’ll be able to get around well enough in this.”
Now it was her turn to frown. “And you’re ready to accept that?”
“It’s not as if I have a real choice. The doctors said—”
She cut him off. “Oh, what do they know?” she asked impatiently. “The Michael I remember would take that as a challenge. Why not prove them wrong?” She looked him straight in the eye. “Or do you have something better you’d like to be doing?”
“I keep busy.”
Kelly eyed the computer across the room. A bingo game was on the screen. “I imagine you can earn pocket change playing bingo, but I also imagine you’ll be bored to tears in a couple of weeks.” She shrugged. “Still, it’s your choice. I certainly can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Damn straight,” he muttered.
She bit back a smile at the display of defiance. “So, Michael, what’s it going to be? Do I go or stay?”
Once again, she’d obviously taken him by surprise by leaving the decision entirely up to him. He blinked hard, then sighed. “Stay if you want to,” he said grudgingly.
She grinned at him. “Okay, then, let’s do this my way,” she said. “Here’s what I’m thinking.” She laid out the exercises and the rigorous schedule she’d already devised based on the medical information his brother had shared with her. “What do you think?”
“Do you have a masochistic streak I missed when you were a kid?” he grumbled.
Kelly grinned. “No, but I have what it takes to get you out of that chair.”
For the first time since she’d arrived, he actually looked her directly in the eye, then slowly nodded. “You may have, at that.”
“Then that’s all that really matters, isn’t it? I’ll see you first thing tomorrow. Be ready to work your butt off, Devaney.”
He chuckled. “You’re tougher than you used to be, Kelly.”
“You’d better believe it,” she said. “And I don’t have a lot of use for self-pity, so get over it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a salute.
She gave a nod of satisfaction. “It’s always helpful when the client realizes right off who’s in charge. Therapy goes much more smoothly.”
“I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
“Not to worry. I’ll make sure of it,” she said, winking at him as she closed the door behind her.
She paused outside and leaned against the wall, unsuccessfully fighting the tears she hadn’t allowed herself to shed in front of him. She’d put on a damn good show for him, but she’d been shaken. What if she couldn’t do what she’d promised? What if she couldn’t get him out of that wheelchair and back on his feet?
“Stop it,” she muttered. Failure was not an option, not with Michael.
As for getting personally involved with a client, that wasn’t an option, either, but she had a horrible feeling it was already too late to stop it.
2
“So, how did you and Kelly get along?” Bryan Andrews asked Michael when he stopped by for a beer at the end of the day.
Michael studied his one-time best friend with a narrowed gaze. He still wasn’t sure how much he appreciated Bryan’s unequivocal recommendation of Kelly for the job as his therapist. “Did she do a tour in the marines I don’t know about?”
“Nope.”
“I remember her as a sweet kid. She’s changed.” And that was a massive understatement that didn’t even take into account the pale gold hair swept up in a knot that revealed the long, delicate line of her neck, the silky complexion and the woman’s body with all the appropriate curves.
“She deals with a lot of cantankerous patients at the rehab clinic. She’s had to change,” Bryan said. He gave Michael a warning look. “Give her any grief and you’ll have me to contend with, too.”
“Trust me, I don’t think she needs her protective big brother butting in,” Michael told him. “She could take me out in ten seconds flat.”
“Are you telling me there’s finally a woman who can get the upper hand with you?” Bryan taunted, clearly delighted. “And that it’s my baby sister?”
“Only because of my weakened condition,” Michael assured him.
“Good to know. Back in high school I used to envy the way you could take ’em or leave ’em. The rest of us were slaves to our hormones, but not you. There wasn’t a girl in school who could twist you in knots.”
That seemed like a lifetime ago to Michael. He’d had a purpose then, and he’d known that a teenage romance would only get in the way. “I was focused on what I wanted to do with my future. I didn’t have time to get serious about any girl.”
“That doesn’t mean you couldn’t have had any one you wanted,” Bryan said. “It was great hanging out with you. The girls swarmed around you, and I ended up dating them.”
Michael gave him a wry look. “I hope you’re not counting on that happening now. I doubt any woman will give me a second look while I’m in this chair.”
“If you ask me, that alone is a great reason to get out of it,” Bryan said. “Stick with Kelly. She’ll have you whipped into shape in no time.” His expression sobered. “Seriously, pal, she’s good. Cooperate with her. Let her do her thing. If anyone can help you, she can.”
“Stop trying to sell her. She has the job. And it’s not as if she’s going to give me much choice about cooperating,” Michael retorted, able to laugh for the first time in weeks as he thought of the way Kelly had held her own in the face of his display of temper.
Even as the unfamiliar sound of his laughter filled his cramped apartment, he realized that Kelly Andrews had brought two things into his life during her one brief visit—a breath of fresh air and, far more important, the first faint ray of hope he’d felt since his SEAL team had dragged him out of harm’s way.
He immediately brought himself up short. He had been in some tricky, dangerous situations over the years, but nothing had ever scared him quite so badly as the sudden realization, that well-intentioned or not, Kelly might be holding out false hope.
Fear crawled up the back of his throat until he could almost taste it. If he tried to walk and failed, it might be far more devastating than never having tried at all. In the real world, how many miracles was one man entitled to? He’d gotten out of his last mission alive. Maybe that was his quota of good luck for one lifetime.
He looked up and saw that Bryan was regarding him with concern.
“You okay?” Bryan asked.
“Just reminding myself of something,” he said grimly.
“Judging from that expression on your face, it wasn’t anything good.”
Michael shrugged. He wasn’t about to tell Kelly’s brother that he’d been reminding himself that she was a mere woman, not a miracle worker. It was a distinction he couldn’t allow himself to forget, not for one single second.
* * *
“Are you sure you ought to be taking on this particular client?” Moira Brady asked Kelly, her expression filled with concern.
“I’m a professional. I can keep my feelings under control,” Kelly insisted. “Besides, it’s been years since I had my crush on Michael Devaney. I was a kid.”
Moira regarded her skeptically. “Then you had absolutely no reaction to seeing him again? He was just a patient, someone you happened to know from years ago?”
