Dream Runner (13 page)

Marlea turned her eyes away from her foot. “I met the PT that Dr. Reynolds wants me to work with.”

“Mr. Yarborough? Yes, this is the first time he’s worked with us. I hear he’s very good, though.” Jeanette winked up at Marlea. “You’re a lucky woman, getting all that attention from a fine specimen like him.”

“Lucky? You think so?”

“Humph! It could be a lot worse. I broke my ankle last year, and you should have seen the frog I got stuck with. All chunky and bent over, shriveled up like a raisin, whistled through his false teeth when he talked, and he had the nerve to try to feel me up, too. Kept saying he was trying to maintain the circulation around my damaged joint, walkin’ his fingers up my leg, like I wouldn’t notice.” She gave a final turn to the bandage and smiled. “Honey, I’m a nurse and I know where my ankle is. Don’t you think that old fart could have come up with something better to tell me—anything but that?”

“Like what?” Marlea giggled.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Jeanette began to tidy her supplies. “At least he didn’t have to treat me like a blonde nurse.”

“A what?”

“Okay, here’s what I mean.” Jeanette crossed her legs, obviously ready for a visit. “Why did the blonde nurse take a red magic marker to work?”

Marlea shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“In case she had to draw some blood…get it?”

“Uh, yeah…”

“I actually tell better jokes than that.” Jeanette leaned forward and whispered, “How ’bout this one? These two women, Maisey and Daisy, were having a glass or two of wine and talking about their boyfriends one night. Maisey wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she mentioned that her boyfriend had dandruff. Daisy didn’t see where this was such a big deal, so she said, ‘When my boyfriend had dandruff, I gave him Head & Shoulders.’ Maisey thought about it and thought about it. She didn’t want to sound too stupid, but she finally had to ask, ‘How do you give shoulders?
’
” Jeanette slapped her thigh and whooped, tickled by her own joke.

“Anyway,” she wheezed through her laughter, “any man who wants to feel me up should buy me jewelry, or be able to tell a good joke, or…at least be as good-looking as AJ Yarborough.”

Sharing the laugh, Marlea tried not to wonder if AJ Yarborough would ever have the nerve to feel her up.

Chapter 12

Why him?
The question still nagged at Marlea as she rode along in the sticky vinyl-seated wheelchair.
AJ Yarborough is not the only PT in Atlanta, and he surely is not the only man left in the city, yet here we are together again.
The irony was not lost on her as AJ moved her smoothly across the threshold into Grady’s green-walled physical therapy area. She tried ignoring him and the therapy tables and machines.

Cutting her eyes toward a mirrored wall, she watched him. Muscles bunched in his arms, and his white shirt was molded nicely across his chest as he pushed her chair. Judging from the pleasant expression on his face, AJ either didn’t notice her ignoring him or was ignoring her back—she couldn’t tell which. Parking her next to a leather exam table, he didn’t seem to mind her silence. With his back to her, he pulled a white sheet from the basket next to the table and snapped it efficiently into place.

“I’m not altogether sure why we’re doing this.” Marlea drummed her fingers against the chair’s armrest and watched the way his butt curved into his thighs.
Some men really know how to wear khaki shorts
. The thought caught her off-guard.
Enough of that nonsense! I can tell Dr. Reynolds that I’m not satisfied. Or that I’m self-conscious. I can tell him that I’ll do the therapy, but I prefer working with a woman. That’ll get this man out of my life.

AJ opened a small black case and removed a black box. He pulled two long wires from the box and affixed flat plastic pads to the ends. “We’re doing this because physical therapy treatment should begin as early as possible. Early treatment can help prevent chronic problems and decrease the length of recovery time.”

He didn’t even look at me.
“I’m all for that.”

“I’m sure you are,” AJ grinned, setting the black contraption aside. Offering a sculpted bicep, he beckoned. “Grab hold and let’s get started.”

Marlea gripped AJ’s arm and looked up at him. She waited for him to nod before giving him her full weight.
Ooh! He’s strong
, she marveled silently, hoping her admiration didn’t show on her face.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his eyes on her feet.

Oh, Lord!
Marlea checked herself.
I didn’t say that out loud, did I?
She stole a glance at his face—all business. Her weight shifted against his arm, and she looked down at her feet: one perfectly good Nike and a big, blue, thick-soled surgical shoe.
At least I’m dressed for the occasion.
Dressed in blue shorts and a white Runyon School shirt, Marlea discovered that neither of her well-shod feet would support her weight. Clinging to AJ’s arm, she let him swing her onto the white-sheeted exam table.

“What’s that evil-looking thing?” She eyed the wired black box.

“Part of your therapy.” AJ lifted his eyebrows in imaginary menace. “It’s an electronic muscle stimulator. We’re also going to be using some stretching, cold packs, and moist heat to get you through this. Don’t worry, you’ll like it.”

“I thought this was going to be like a trip to the chiropractor.”

“Chiropractors rely on joint manipulation to decrease pain. My job is to get you moving again.” He paused to take a stack of towels and a frosty-looking blue bag from a petite, short-haired woman with obvious hero worship in her eyes. “Thanks, Anita.”

Anita seemed to see Marlea for the first time. She made specific eye contact, her heavily made-up hazel eyes seeming to check for imperfections as they moved over Marlea. When they found the surgical shoe, a look of superiority glazed her features and creased her plump lips. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. She simply made sure that her hip-slinging walk made the statement for her.

And why do I care?
Marlea wondered, glad when the doll-like woman with the stripper’s strut drifted away. She felt a small triumph when AJ didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m going to start with an exam, take you through some stretching, and finish off with something to soothe you,” he said. Patiently, he guided Marlea on the table. Leaning forward, the heat from his body engulfed her, and Marlea held her breath. Seeming oblivious to her reaction to his closeness, his hands were firm and sure. “Just breathe through it and relax.”

But she couldn’t relax.
How am I supposed to relax with him all up on top of me, telling me to relax? That’s like going to the dentist and being told, ‘This won’t hurt—much.’
She flinched when he removed her shoes and began to stroke the bottom of her feet.

“What are you doing?”

“Testing your reflexes.” He moved a finger along the base of her toes on her right foot. “How does that feel?”

“Okay.” It sent tremors straight to her core and brought water to her mouth. She forced herself to remain still and closed her eyes.

“And that?”

“Fine.” The word shimmered across her lips, long and lingering.
Oh, Lord. Did I stutter?
She cracked one eyelid.
Did he hear me?

His questing hands and ministering fingers moved past her toes and over her foot.

Oh, Lord! I’ve heard…I thought it was just a rumor…that some women are sensitive…sometimes orgasms from kissing, receiving a back rub…triggered by certain smells, and even breast-feeding babies…but my foot…

Rivers of sensation climbed her legs and teased beneath her shorts. Mortified, determined not to be broken by his possession of her body, Marlea endured the testing, trying to do little more than grunt when he spoke to her.

Her thoughts were more free than her body, and all she could think of was Jeanette talking about the doctor she had when she broke her ankle.
“…any man who wants to feel me up should buy me jewelry, or be able to tell a good joke, or…at least be as good-looking as AJ Yarborough.”

It took the better part of twenty minutes for him to reach a decision, and his hands never stopped moving. Nearly panting, Marlea stole a look at him as he bent close. He looked like the type who might buy jewelry, or at least the way she imagined such a man might look.

AJ pressed his warm palm flat against her cool sole and Marlea gasped. He nodded and whispered encouragement.
Wonder if he knows any good jokes?
She sighed.

Trying to read his face, she saw more than she had ever intended. Catching him unawares, the way she had, the well-honed lines of his manly face nearly overshadowed the hint of tenderness in his eyes. Calculating measurements, his mouth moved, and Marlea nearly gave in to the hypnotic stroke of his long finger against the arch of her foot.
This man is as pretty as
a jungle cat,
she marveled.
No wonder that woman was in here flirting so hard. Strong enough to lift me and put me anywhere he wants, moving like a dancer, and he’s certainly not stupid.
Marlea heard Jeanette’s words again.

“That about does it,” AJ smiled casually. He made marks on a chart, then hooked it to the end of the exam table. “Let’s get you stretched out.” His hand slipped beneath her leg, touching her bare skin, and Marlea gasped in spite of herself.

“I didn’t expect you to touch me like that.”

“Not a problem.”

Maybe not for you, but I…did he think that was an apology?
He said the words too easily.
He did!

“Well, it ought to be a problem.” Marlea pushed at the long-fingered hand he had placed on her bare knee, then at the one braced against her hip. “You didn’t ask me, but I don’t like this stretch. It’s too…invasive.”

“What do you mean, ‘invasive?’ ” Moving his hands away from her, AJ looked confused. “Marlea, this is a standard stretch, using an outside applied force.”

“Next thing I know, you’re going to tell me that it has a name, too, aren’t you?” Struggling up on her elbow, Marlea labored for dignity—and came up short. “Because I don’t have toes, I don’t have any right to my own feelings?” Finally upright, her legs stretched in front of her, Marlea tried to make sense of her thoughts. “I don’t like this. I don’t like being ‘handled.’ ”

“We don’t have to go through that particular stretch today…”

Her leg and good foot jerked irritably. “I don’t want to do it at all—ever!”

A shadow crossed AJ’s face, gone almost before she saw it. “Marlea, I thought I made it clear. I am the therapist here.”

“Is that why you and everybody else seems to think you’ve got exactly what I need?”

“Nobody is trying to take control of your life away from you. It’s just that, as a therapist, I have to know more than your name, and we’re not putting this to a vote. I’ve examined you, and…”

“…any man who wants to feel me up should…be as good-looking as AJ Yarborough.”
Marlea could have sworn aloud when the corners of AJ’s lips curved upward.
He’s smiling.
“You’re smiling. Are you enjoying this?”

“Sure.” He reached for the small black box and straightened the wires with his fingertips. “I always enjoy my work.”

“Well, you can just put that thing away, because your work with me is over for the day.” Without his help, Marlea edged her body to the side of the exam table. Reaching hard, she was able to grab the wheelchair and tug it close enough to roll into it. The effort left her breathless and exhausted, but she would rather have died than admitted it to AJ Yarborough.

Gripping the chair’s big rubber tires, she tried to turn them, but the damned wheelchair refused to move. She adjusted her grip and tried again. Nothing.

“I can help you with that,” AJ offered.

“No, I’ll manage.” Marlea tried rocking in the chair, then twisted in the seat, looking for the magic lever or switch that would free her. The tip of AJ’s shoe moved, flicking a metal lever, and the chair rolled forward. Embarrassed, Marlea refused to look back, even when she heard his parting words.

“Strike two.”

* * *

‘Strike two.’ Yeah, right
.
Putting his hands on me, touching me, making me feel like that.
Marlea narrowly missed the wall as she steered her chair toward the elevator.
He knew what he was doing. I’ll bet he took some kind of special course on how to touch women in just exactly the right way to…‘Strike two.’ He’s just talking, trying to build his confidence and wear me down at the same time. I don’t know who he thinks he’s playing with….

Whatever he was doing wasn’t helping her with her reluctant transportation. The wheelchair took more maneuvering than she had anticipated. Focused on her predicament, she failed to notice the slender uniformed woman watching her.

“Let me help you with that, Ms. Kellogg.” The woman reached past Marlea’s shoulder to press the call button.

“Thanks, ’cause I was…” Marlea looked up into Anita’s hazel eyes. “I…I’m finished with my therapy.”

“Great. I was just on my way up to see you.”

Marlea looked at the small paper-covered tray the other woman held.
She’s got awfully long nails for a nurse
. Opening elevator doors sucked at the air. Before Marlea could move, diminutive Anita gripped the chair one-handed and pushed. Neon blue-tinged panic ambushed Marlea for a second and she imagined some horrible slasher flick.
I saw the way she looked at AJ, the way she acted around him. What if this woman is some kind of unhinged stalker?
Marlea gripped the chair’s arms and stared straight ahead as the doors closed.
I’m bigger than she is…I might be able to knock her down if I have to…

The elevator rose, and she wondered,
What if…

“You didn’t ask why.”

Marlea held her breath, glad when the doors slid open.
She just wants to talk?

“I’ll tell you anyway.” Anita regained control of the chair and powered it down the hall. Marlea wondered if she could stop the chair by dragging her feet. “I saw you working with AJ today.” Marlea could hear the smile warm her voice.

“Yeah,” Marlea shrugged, looking for an ally in the empty corridor. “I was promised I could get out of here sooner if I tried the therapy.”
She can’t blame me for that, can she?

“Good for you,” Anita gushed, no blame in her tone. Reaching Marlea’s room, she guided the wheelchair forward. “Do you want the chair or the bed?”

The telephone was near the bed. “I think I would prefer the bed. Please.”
If she’s crazy, there’s no need to make her angry, too.

Anita helped make the transfer to the bed and Marlea sat there, waiting.

“Oh,” Anita said brightly, “I have something for you.” She reached for the small tray she had brought with her. “Your meds. AJ asked if I would get them for you after you left him. A lot of patients are sore after a strenuous therapy session, and he had Dr. Reynolds prescribe these for you.” She sighed. “He’s so thoughtful.”

Taking the tiny cup from the proffered tray, Marlea had no doubt which ‘he’ the nurse referred to. She tossed the pills to the back of her throat and chased them with water from the carafe on her bedside table. Swallowing again, she looked at Anita.
Well, if she planned to poison me, I’ve already swallowed it.
“Were those pills for sleep or for pain?”

The nurse’s hazel eyes brightened with concern. “Are you in pain?”

“It’s just,” Marlea hesitated, not sure how to phrase it. “My foot, the one that’s…you know…it’s burning.”

The nurse nodded. “Phantom limb.”

“You say that like it’s supposed to mean something, but…” Marlea wiggled her foot. “It really hurts, but I can’t exactly rub it, or do anything for something that’s not there.”

“Hmm, that’s true.” Watching Marlea slide out of her shorts and shirt, Anita lowered her thick fringe of lashes. “Scientists are still studying amputees, trying to determine the cause of this pain. One of the studies I’ve read concludes that the pain occurs because the body doesn’t understand what’s missing, so the sensations go to other body parts.”

She’s trying to tell me that my toes are missing, so I get hot for the therapist? Lord, help me…
“Way to make me feel better,” Marlea muttered, ignoring the gown Anita passed to her. Reaching, she tried to massage her leg.