Tender Loving Care

“Thanks.”

She stared at his face for a moment longer, memorizing the planes and angles and hollows. If only his feelings had been real, she thought. When he touched her, she burned with a fire she’d never felt before. Who are you, Logan Phillips?

“You’re reacting to the blindness,” she said quietly, almost afraid to speak the truth. In a way, these words were as much for her as for Logan. “It’s very natural to reach out for physical contact. I should have been more prepared. After all, looking after you is my job.”

Her matter-of-fact tone doused his desire faster than a cold shower. Part of her job? Did she think he was some weak-kneed mental case who needed to be pampered and coddled? “I see. Thanks for the information. I’ll try not to trouble you again. Just get rid of the flowers. I want to know when you walk in the room.”

Melissa picked up the nearest arrangement and carried it out. Explaining away his sensual invitation was the hardest thing she’d ever done. But there’d been no other option. She was his nurse.

Besides, Logan had turned to her because he needed a woman…any woman. But she’d turned to him because she was starting to care. It was a combination destined to break her heart. There was no place for her in Logan Phillips’s life, now or ever.

When the last bouquet had been placed in another part of the house, Melissa returned to her room. She’d kept the arrangement from John Anderson, Logan’s boss, on her dresser. The peach roses had been from Fiona. The card had been signed with just her name. Melissa had stuck them in Wendi’s room. She smiled as she remembered the young girl turning over sleepily and calling out good-night. Wendi had just enough of her father’s charm to make her hard to resist.

Melissa paced the space between the dresser and the bathroom door. Her room had been decorated in dusty rose. She didn’t have a view of the pool, but her window looked out on the side garden. The queen-size mattress was covered with a satin bedspread, and a cherry-wood dresser held all her clothes, with several drawers to spare.

Somewhere in the house, a clock chimed the hour. It was getting close to noon. She couldn’t hide from Logan forever; he was her responsibility.

Since her disastrous relationship with Jeff Bernard, she’d avoided entanglements of any kind. Working as a practical nurse protected her from pain. If she didn’t date, she couldn’t be used or dumped. But at what price? After six years of running from men in general, she was starting to see that she’d given up her chance for love and a family. Not that she expected to be rescued by a handsome prince. They were reserved for the Fiona Phillipses of the world. Still there might be someone—a medium kind of man, who was looking for the love of an honest, giving woman.

If nothing else, her reaction to Logan’s kiss proved she wasn’t as immune to men as she had thought. It had to mean that; she wouldn’t let herself think that the only thing she wasn’t immune to was Logan.

Maybe when she was done here, she would take some time off and think about her future. She couldn’t run forever. However, before she made any grand plans for her life, she still had to face her very attractive patient. The best way to handle the situation would be to pretend nothing had happened between them. She could do it; she’d been hiding her real feelings all her life.

Logan sat in bed, listening to the radio. Maybe he was just getting old, but he didn’t understand rap music. The words didn’t make sense and the beat hurt his head.

The fragrance of magnolias drifted into the room. Was she angry? Would she leave him now?

“I was wondering where you’d run off to,” he said as he held his fists tightly against his sides. He’d suffer whatever was necessary to avoid embarrassing either of them again. Her words still echoed in his ears: reacting to the blindness.

She sat next to him and touched his arm. “I was thinking. We need to talk about a bath.”

He wanted to jerk away from the contact but couldn’t. By kissing her, he’d broken all his own rules. When she’d explained away the intimacy, he’d reacted with anger and hurt pride. But in his world of blackness, he felt isolated. Her voice and gentle hands provided a guide through this difficult time; she was his anchor. He needed her.

Wiser than he, she’d apparently decided to ignore his outburst. “Am I the biggest jerk you’ve ever known?” he asked quietly.

She hesitated. “I once knew this guy who was about two inches taller than you.”

“Very funny.”

She laughed. “Now about cleaning you up…”

“If you mean a sponge bath, you can forget it.”

“Isn’t this where I came in, Logan?”

“Don’t change the subject. I’ll take a shower.”

She sighed. “You can’t get your bandages wet.”

“So we’ll cover them.”

“You know that wouldn’t work. I can’t very well tape up your face.” She touched the gauze around his head.

“Okay. What’s the compromise?”

“You take a bath. I saw a huge tub in your bathroom. I bet you’ve never used it.”

Actually he had, about a year ago. If he recalled the night correctly, it had involved a redhead and several bottles of champagne. But he didn’t want to remember that now. It was enough that Melissa had returned their relationship to its comfortable footing.

“Okay to the bath,” he said.

“I’ll go run the water.”

He felt the mattress shift. Her fragrance lingered in the room, then faded. Logan swung his legs over the side of the bed, then rose and started toward the bathroom. He was almost at the door when something…or someone ran into him. Putting out his hands to keep them both from falling, he grabbed Melissa’s soft arms.

“Yikes! Where did you come from?” she asked.

“Scared you?” He ran his thumb in circles on her skin, then stepped back when he realized what he was doing. No touching…at least no sexual touching. He’d be damned if she was going to acquiesce simply because he was her patient. When he took Melissa to his bed, she’d be burning up as much as he was….

Where had that come from? No relationships, that was his rule. She’d barely been in his house twenty-four hours, and already he was having thoughts he had no business thinking. He leaned against the wall and brushed back his hair.

“The water’s ready,” she said. Taking his hand, she led him into the bathroom. “The towel’s right here, and there’s the tub. Do you need any help?”

He could still feel the lingering hardness from their recent encounter. “I’ll be fine.” He started untying his robe.

“Call me when you’re done and I’ll shave you.”

“I don’t think so.”

She sighed in exasperation. “Do you have an electric razor?”

“Do I look like the kind of guy to use an electric razor?”

“Logan, you can’t shave yourself. End of argument. Get in the tube before I throw you in myself.”

“Cheap talk.”

“Lo-gan.”

He held up his hands. “I’m getting, I’m getting. Shut the door.”

He was still laughing when he heard her pull it closed with a bang.

“Hold still.” Melissa glared at her patient, but it didn’t seem to do any good.

“This isn’t my idea of a good time.” Logan moved again on the chair.

“I have a very sharp razor in my hand. Now we can complete this operation with or without blood. The choice is yours.”