Susan Mallery - Tender Loving Care

“I’m going to put a napkin on you, Logan.” Melissa’s voice was quickly followed by the pressure of her hands smoothing a linen square across his chest. “Eat up, or I’m going to make good on my threat to serve you spaghetti.”

He chuckled. “Are you going to join me? Or don’t nurses eat?”

He sensed her hesitation. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

After she’d left, Logan searched for and found a chunk of chicken. He took a bite and chewed slowly. The taste of the food seemed exaggerated, yet he wasn’t sure he would have known what it was if he hadn’t been told. He wanted to throw the tray across the room and shout his frustration.

He’d been alone before; he’d even been scared before. But nothing compared with the black void that was now his world. The simplest task, like brushing his teeth, took on herculean proportions, now that he couldn’t see. And he would only be blind for a week.

“You’re not eating, Logan. Don’t you like my cooking?”

“It’s great.” He grabbed one of the vegetables and took a bite. “Yum, thanks.”

“Okay. You’ve made your point.”

Her voice got farther away, then he heard several grunts. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to move this…chair. What’s it made of? Lead?”

“Just wood. I thought you were big and burly, Melissa.”

“I lied.”

“Come on.” He patted the bed invitingly. “It’s a king-size mattress. I’m willing to share.”

“I…I shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. I’m your nurse.”

He moved his head as if looking for intruders. “I don’t see anyone here but us chickens.”

“Well, they’re here just the same. My professor from nursing school is right there in the corner, glaring at me.”

“Come on. I could use the company.”

“I don’t think…”

He could feel her weakening and grinned. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re…chicken?”

“Give me a break.” There was a slight dipping as she took a seat. Then he felt her lean forward and place something on his tray. “Your water. Don’t spill it.”

“Yes, Mom.” He found the glass and took a sip. “Do you always cook for your patients?”

“No. I work with children, and their parents usually take care of that. Sometimes, I’ll be alone with the kids for the day and then I’ll fix lunch, or we’ll go out for hamburgers.”

She kept her tone light, but he could hear traces of pain behind the words. “You sound sad.”

“I’m fine, really.”

He didn’t believe her for a minute. “Do you miss the kids when they get better and don’t need you?”

“They don’t get better. I work with terminally ill children.” She made the statement casually.

“You sound very calm. Doesn’t it ever get to you?”

“It’s my job to be calm, Logan. And of course it gets to me.”

He heard the catch in her voice and knew that if he could see her, there’d be tears in her eyes. Cursing his lack of sight, he picked up the cup of soup.

“Tell me what you look like.”

Melissa glanced at the man watching her with his covered eyes. If his daughter was anything to go by, his ex-wife was stunning. What should she say? That she wasn’t even pretty? Not that her looks really mattered. Even if she did find him handsome and sexy and interesting and very male, he’d only see her as an employee.

“I’m kind of medium,” she said finally.

“Medium?”

“Yes. Medium height, medium-brown eyes, medium-blond hair. I wear it short, just past my ears, with bangs. I’m the middle child and I got average grades in school.” Boring.

“You don’t sound medium. You have a lovely voice.”

“Thanks.” His compliment pleased her. In a social situation, he wouldn’t have looked at her twice, but here, in the safety of his bedroom, she allowed herself a brief moment of fantasy. When the bandages came off and he returned to his regular life, he’d forget all about his nurse. But she’d remember him.

Logan pushed the tray away. “I can’t eat another bite.”

She finished her last strawberry, then moved the dirty dishes to the table by the fireplace. “I need to change your bandages. Just let me go wash my hands first.”

He nodded. The tension returned to his jaw.

Melissa quickly washed her hands, then hurried back to his room. She picked up the scissors from the nightstand and carefully cut through the gauze.

“Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw a naked man?”

Logan felt his mouth drop open. “Excuse me?”

“When I was about sixteen, I had this crush on a guy named Steve. He was on the swim team. We had a social studies class together. I’d spend the entire hour staring worshipfully at the back of his head and wishing that just once, he’d notice me.”

Logan smiled as he pictured the scene. Melissa knelt beside him on the bed and he moved over to give her room.

“One day, the teacher had us debate an issue. I don’t even remember what it was. Anyway, he and I really got into it. We were arguing back and forth.”

The pads were gently removed from his lids. He saw light and tried to open his eyes.

“Keep them shut, Logan. I’m going to put in the cream, then patch you up again. After class, we continued our argument. About halfway down the hall, he put his arm around me. I thought I was going to die. Hold these against your lids.”

He held the circles in place while she started wrapping the gauze around his head.

“The next thing I knew, we’d stopped walking. I looked around and realized I was in the boys’ locker room. I don’t know who was more embarrassed, me, Steve, or the naked guys milling around and ducking for cover. I ran out of there as fast as I could and never spoke to him again. Actually, that was the first time I thought about going into nursing.”

Logan laughed. “You made that story up, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but it worked.”

“What do you mean?”

“It took your mind off the pain when I changed the bandages.”

She began to smooth salve over the wounds on his face. He grabbed her wrist and held her still. Search as he might, there was no way to penetrate the thick coverings and study her face. She’d said she was medium, but he didn’t know what that meant.

Her breath fanned his face. He could smell the strawberries she’d eaten and the scent of her subtle perfume. He was still holding one hand, and her other pressed against his shoulder for balance. Her fingers felt small yet sure, as if the power to heal and comfort was captured within her delicate touch.

She was very close. Her breasts must be a scant inch from his chest. He remembered the curves pressing into his ribs when she’d helped him into the house. But there was no way to know the exact weight and contour of the feminine flesh.

A hunger started deep within him. He’d been without a woman for far too long, and this sweet creature catering to his every need was a temptation hard to resist. If it wasn’t for the lessons in his past, he would have pulled her next to him and shown her that a man without eyes was still a man in every other sense of the word.

He let her go.

“Tell me about the accident.” The husky sound of her speech rubbed against his skin.

“I had it out with a sandblasting machine. The machine won.”

She continued to smooth the ointment onto his injured flesh. “I guess that’s how you got these burns.”

He nodded. “The hose ripped and the guy holding it got pinned down. Like a fool, I raced in and pulled him free.”

“Sounds brave to me.”

He drew his lips together. “Maybe. But the construction worker was wearing goggles and a protective jacket. I was in a business suit. The hose shot me right in the face.”