His Private Nurse (10 page)

“I'm not leaving,” she said succinctly. “You still need my help.”

Several heartbeats passed before he said, “It might be best, anyway.”

Recrimination spilled out of her mouth before she even knew it was there. “Surely you aren't afraid I'll try to make love to you again.” He winced, and she immediately regretted the snide remark.

“No.” The word was spoken so softly that she might have missed it altogether if he hadn't accompanied it with a negative shake.

“But you still want me to go,” she whispered.

He bowed his head, pulled in a deep breath and quickly looked up again. For an instant their gazes touched, then Merrily glanced away. “Please understand that I'm afraid of hurting you,” he said.

“Why?”

“You'd have to understand Pamela to understand that,” he answered dismissively.

“Then you do love her.”

“Pamela?” Incredulity passed over his face at her timid nod. “Of course I don't love Pamela! Good grief, I despise Pamela!” His brow furrowed, and he went on almost apologetically. “I know I shouldn't. I know that she can't help herself, and if it was just me, I could bear it, I could find a way to cope. But my children…” He shook his head. “Dear God, the hell she's made of their lives. I can't cope with that, and I can't forgive it.”

“Then why?” Merrily pleaded, more confused than ever.

He placed his hand flat on the table next to his coffee
cup, his face twisted with the sheer weight of his sincerity and concern. “Merrily, sweetheart, don't you see? I can't bring anyone else into this tragedy that is my life. You're not the sort of woman a man can make love to and then let go. It wouldn't be fair to allow you to become part of the nightmare. You'd turn into another target for her insane animosities. I can't let that happen, not to anyone, but most especially not to you.”

She was out of her chair and around the table before he finished, comprehension bringing elation. “Then you do find me attractive?”

His mouth dropped open, and he lifted both eyebrows. “Attractive,” he echoed. “
Attractive?
You can't possibly think… Good grief. Come here.” He slid his arm about her waist and pulled her down, turning her so that she slid back over the side of the wheelchair and into his lap. Cupping her chin in his hand, he tilted her head back and kissed her until they were both breathless. She found the prickle of his morning beard quite erotic. Then again, she found everything about Royce Lawler erotic. Finally lifting his head, he muttered, “Now tell me I don't find you attractive.”

The evidence had been growing for some time and now seemed quite strong, rigid, even. She resisted the urge to squirm against it and looped an arm around his neck, lying back against the other arm of the chair.

“Maybe you think I'm too young,” she whispered mischievously, placing her right hand over his heart.

He chuckled tautly. “Not anymore.”

“Oh, good.” Turning her face into the crook of his neck, she warmed the skin there with her breath. The “evidence” beneath her bucked slightly. Smiling, she shifted, rubbing against him, and his resulting groan brought instant gratification. She sat up a little straighter, cupped his
face in her hands and tilted his head back. When she brought her mouth down over his, he reached up and pulled the knitted band from her ponytail, letting it sift through his splayed fingers as it fell. She poured her heart into that kiss, silently exulting when his hand left her hair and moved to cover her breast. She pressed against that hand, rubbed against it like a purring cat. His fingers flexed, squeezing her, and she gasped with the flash of pleasure that struck downward all the way to her groin.

Suddenly he jerked his hand away from her breast and broke the kiss, rolling his forehead against hers. “Ah, angel, what am I going to do with you?”

Sighing, she slid her arms about his neck and laid her head against his shoulder. “Well, you aren't going to send me away.”

“Merrily,” he began, but she silenced him by pressing her fingers across his lips.

“You can fire me,” she told him softly, “but until you're physically able to make me go, I'm staying right here.” She felt his lips curve into a smile and dropped her fingers.

“Right here?” he queried softly, coiling his arm around her waist.

“Any objections?” she whispered.

He pressed his cheek against the top of her head, sighing. “No objections. For now. But, sweetheart, you have to understand this doesn't change anything. Pamela is still the spider in the ointment.”

“Isn't that supposed to be the fly in the ointment?” she teased.

“Not in Pamela's case,” he replied morosely.

“I don't care.”

“You should,” he warned.

“But you can't let her dictate your life,” she argued gently, stroking her hand against his cheek.

He closed his eyes. “As long as she has custody of my children, I don't see that I have any other choice.” He folded her tighter against him, adding softly, “You have to know, darlin', that if not for my kids, I'd walk away, go someplace where that woman could never find us and happily start all over.”

Us. Merrily rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, glowing inside.

“For now that's enough,” she whispered. For now.

“A
t least sit down until they get here,” Merrily urged, trying not to hover as Royce pulled up onto the crutches once again.

“I will, I will.” His jaw was clenched, his face set with concentration as he positioned his weight. When he was standing firmly, he glanced at her nervously. “That was pretty quick, wasn't it?”

She nodded. “You'll have plenty of time to get up before they see you.”

“Are you sure the wheelchair is out of sight?” he asked, plopping down onto the recliner once more.

Merrily smiled. Ever since Dale had called to say that he was finally bringing the children to see their father, Royce had been on pins and needles. He had immediately declared that Tammy and Cory would not see him in “that damned chair.” Merrily knew that it was his way of as
suring them that he would make a full recovery, so she had little difficulty exercising patience with him.

“The chair is in your dressing room. No one's going to see it there unless they go looking for it.”

“All right. Good.” He carefully propped the crutches on the side of the chair, grumbling, “I wish I could answer the door myself.” He smoothed back his sleek blond hair. “I look okay, don't I? I mean, healthy?”

Merrily walked over and looked down at him. She had cut his hair and helped him shave that morning so he would look his very best, not that the man could look anything other than stunningly handsome. “You look great.”

One corner of his mouth tilted up into a smile. “Thanks.”

The doorbell sounded, a hearty two-toned gong that echoed throughout the main portion of the house. Royce instantly tensed. Merrily sent him an encouraging smile and hurried from the room.

She understood Royce's anxiety, but she didn't really share it—until she opened the front door and got her first look at Pamela Lawler. The woman was a tall, fashionably attired redhead with a stunning figure and perfect face. Her expertly styled, shoulder-length coiffure did not permit a single auburn hair to fall out of place. Her pale porcelain complexion glowed with health. Lips as red as ripe berries, a pert nose and high cheekbones, golden-hazel eyes fringed thickly with dark lashes and gracefully sweeping brows combined in a patrician oval to present the very image of classical beauty. The stiletto heels, miniskirt and surplice-wrapped blouse with plunging neckline added a heavy dose of sex appeal. Merrily felt like a homely child next to this paragon, and the paragon evidently shared the sentiment.

Pamela tilted her perfect little nose up as if she'd caught a whiff of something offensive and demanded imperiously, “Who is this?”

Behind her Dale shifted impatiently. “Nurse Gage,” he said meaningfully, “I believe you are expecting us.”

“Nurse,” Pamela snorted doubtfully. “More like the baby-sitter, from the looks of her.”

Merrily's face pulsed hot as Dale quickly pushed two children forward, presenting them to her. “Cory, Tammy, this kind lady is your father's nurse. She's been helping him since he came home from the hospital.”

Merrily hung on to her composure by ignoring the mother and bending forward at the waist to greet the children at their level. Cory was a little darling, a blond, blue-eyed, five-year-old replica of his dad, and though he smiled timidly, he wrapped an arm around Dale's leg as if for reassurance. Tammy had her father's blue eyes and her mother's straight red hair, which had been cropped at chin length and parted in the middle. She also possessed, perhaps, some measure of Pamela's sulkiness, for she folded her arms and glared at Merrily with undisguised belligerence, the smattering of freckles across her nose at odds with the fierce desperation that Merrily glimpsed behind the obvious anger. While Cory wore the standard little-boy uniform of shorts and striped T-shirt with crew socks and tennis shoes, Tammy's ensemble had been given considerably more thought. The pink, flowered capris fit her long, slender frame perfectly, while the orange and pink, cap-sleeved top seemed small by design, showing just a glimmer of bare skin.

“Hello,” Merrily said. “I'm so glad to meet you. Your daddy talks about you two all the time. He's missed you very much.” Cory's timid smile widened, but something like apprehension flashed in Tammy's blue eyes.

Pamela huffed and pushed past Merrily into the house, snapping, “Let's get this over with.”

Cory's smile disappeared; Tammy's hostility wavered, exposing an even deeper undercurrent of pure fear as she gazed up at Dale. Tears formed in her big blue eyes, and she complained peevishly, “I don't want to.”

“Tammy,” Dale said firmly, “we've discussed this. The judge says you have to visit your father.”

“So you can see for yourself that your dad's okay,” Merrily soothed. “He's not completely well yet. But he's much better. Don't take my word for it, though. Come in and see for yourselves.”

Bravely Cory loosened his hold on Dale's leg and slid forward to stand directly in front of Merrily. Tammy made a face, but she stepped up next to her brother with all the bravado of a soldier going to battle. After trading a troubled look with Dale, Merrily turned and led the children into the house. Following, Dale closed the door.

When Merrily entered the den, she knew instantly that Royce and Pamela were already arguing, though Pamela quickly turned away and Royce, balanced on his crutches, pasted a smile on his face. She gave him an encouraging nod and stepped aside to let the children come into the room. Little Cory took one look at his father and beamed from ear to ear. Royce laughed and wisely sank down on the corner of the recliner as his son ran toward him. Royce dropped the crutches and caught the boy against his left side, hugging him fiercely enough with his one good arm to lift his small feet off the floor.

“Oh, you've grown!” Royce teased, a catch in his voice. “You're so big.”

Merrily knew he was close to tears. The look he flashed Dale contained such gratitude that her own throat clogged up. He set the boy on his knee and kissed him.

“How's school?”

“'Kay,” Cory answered happily. “I can draw the aphabit.”

“
Draw
the alphabet? Already? That's wonderful. Oh, I'm so proud of you.” Royce turned the boy so that he sat with his back against Royce's chest and hugged him again, but his gaze stole anxiously across the room to Tammy, who hung back, her arms rigid at her sides, hands fisted. Royce smiled encouragingly. “Hello, honey. Pretty as ever, I see.”

Tammy's agonized gaze fell on him for one long, wrenching moment then jerked away. Royce leaned forward slightly, speaking to her over Cory's shoulder.

“I'm sorry I missed your first day of school this year. Won't happen again, I promise. So how's it going?” When she didn't answer, he pressed on as if she had. “Do you like your teacher? I know you loved Mrs. Sands last year and she promised that you'd like the new one, as well. Was she right?” Sullenly Tammy nodded. “Good. That's good. I want you to be happy, honey, not just in school, all the time.”

Tammy stared straight past him, silent as stone. Royce bowed his head. Merrily looked at Pamela, who brushed lint from the collar of her blouse, seemingly as disengaged from those around her as it was possible to be. Dale cleared his throat, hands folded in front of him almost as if he were standing guard over his friend. Royce straightened and tried again.

“Tammy, I want you to know how proud I am of you and how much I appreciate what you did the night of my accident. You were very brave, and you did everything just right.” As he spoke, Tammy began to quiver, her spine as rigid as a board. He went on in a smooth, even voice. “You may even have saved my life. I'm a very
lucky dad to have you for my daughter, and I love you very—”

Suddenly Tammy jerked around and screamed, “No! Don't! I don't want you to!”

“You can't mean that,” Royce said, both pleading and sternness in his voice, but Tammy was looking desperately at her mother, who merely turned and fixed the child with a bland, unconcerned gaze. Royce reached out a hand beseechingly, a troubled Cory balanced on his knee. “Baby, don't be upset. Listen to me. I do love you. I love you so much, Tammy.”

“Oh, ple-e-ease,” Pamela drawled, and Tammy immediately began screaming at her father again.

“I hate you! I wish you were dead!” Sobbing, she whirled and ran.

“Tammy, wait!” he cried, but she shoved between Merrily and Dan and kept going, zagging into the bedroom wing, her sobs and angry footfalls echoing behind her.

Royce slumped forward as Cory hopped off his knee, a lost look on his little face.

“Are you happy now?” Pamela demanded shrilly of Royce. “You've made everyone else unhappy, so you must be very pleased.”

Royce looked up at Pamela. “What have you told her? Can't you see what you're doing to her?”

“Me?” Pamela scoffed, throwing out one arm. “I'm not the one she hates! Is it my fault she realizes what a lousy excuse for a father she has?”

Dale, bless him, quickly stepped forward and swept Cory away, indicating that Merrily should follow. So much for the happy reunion, she thought, and reluctantly left the room with a last concerned glance for Royce, who
was imploring Pamela, “Could we just talk honestly about our daughter?”

“It's not about our daughter!” Pamela screamed. “It's about you! You're poison, Royce. Poison!”

In the breakfast room Dale leaned close to Merrily and said softly, “Take him to his room, and see what you can do for Tammy, will you?”

“Sure.” Merrily took Cory by the hand and began leading him toward his bedroom as his parents continued to argue.

“Just calm down, Pamela,” Royce was saying.

“Calm down? When you've ruined all our lives? I haven't even begun.”

Merrily forced a smile and said to the boy, “I'll bet you have some neat toys in your room.” Cory nodded, then looked back over his shoulder wistfully.

Hoping to divert the poor boy, Merrily kept up a steady stream of chatter as they navigated the house. Cory marched resolutely ahead, occasionally glancing up at her, his young face masking his emotions as his mother shrieked in the background. As they drew near, Merrily became alarmed at the sounds she heard coming from behind Tammy's door. Quickly she ushered Cory into his room, set him on his bed with a box of tiny cars and a teddy bear for company, and excused herself, saying that she had to check on his sister.

The destructive sounds coming from behind Tammy's door had lessened somewhat, but Merrily wasted no time in tapping and letting herself into the room. A book flew by and hit the wall right next to her head. Calmly she turned to the troubled little girl who had thrown it. For an instant Tammy seemed shocked to see her. Then she scowled defiantly. Merrily glanced around the room. A toppled desk chair lay on its side. Stuffed animals, cloth
ing, bric-a-brac, CDs and other items had been throw every which way. The filmy curtains puddled on the window seat; the rod above was askew. A poster hung in shreds against one wall. It seemed that this most personal item was the only thing Tammy had really destroyed. Merrily offered the child a sympathetic smile, and Tammy abruptly erupted in sobs of such despair that Merrily felt tears start in her own eyes.

“Don't cry, Tammy,” she crooned as she started forward, but when she reached out, the girl slipped away and stiffened, wiping madly at her eyes.

“Leave me alone! What d'you know, anyway?”

“I know your daddy loves you.”

“No-o-o!” Tammy wailed, her fists lifted to her mouth. “He doesn't! He can't!”

Merrily stepped forward and firmly wrapped an arm about the girl's shoulders. “Why would you say such a thing? I've been here for weeks now, Tammy, and I've seen how much he loves you and your brother. He's missed you more than you can know. Every day he talks about how brave and smart you are.”

Tammy lifted painfully hopeful eyes to Merrily's face, but then her bottom lip began to tremble and she stiffened her spine, muttering ominously, “At least Mommy would be happy if he died.”

Merrily recoiled. “Don't say that. I-I'm sure it's not true. I know they argue, but surely no one wants anyone else to die.”

Tammy ripped away and flung herself against the edge of the window alcove, sobbing uncontrollably. Determined to somehow help the child, Merrily moved to Tammy's side, only to realize that Tammy stared down on the very place where her father had almost died, where she must have surely witnessed his headlong plunge. The
hair lifted on the back of Merrily's neck, but the next instant she shook it off.

“Now, you listen to me, Tammy,” she began firmly, “whatever you saw, whatever you think you saw, it's going to be all right. I know that your father's…
fall
has been horribly traumatic for everyone, but your father is putting it behind him, and you must do the same.”

Tammy looked at her, tears rolling down her oddly impassive face. “You don't know anything,” she said contemptuously.

Quite without meaning to, Merrily seized her by the shoulders. “What do you mean? Tammy, if you know something about your dad's fall that you aren't saying, then you should tell someone. Are you saying that his fall was not an accident?”

Tammy blinked and turned her head in order to stare once more out that window. Silent now, she hardly seemed to breathe. Suddenly aching for the girl, Merrily pulled her close, vowing, “It's going to be all right. It's going to be all right.”

A small sound alerted her, and she turned her head to find Cory standing with his cheek pressed against the doorjamb, a book clutched against his chest. Sad eyes too large for his little face asked fearful questions that Merrily couldn't begin to answer. Not wanting to let go of Tammy, who stood stiffly and silently against her, she lifted a hand to the boy. Cory ran across the room, zigzagging around the debris of his sister's desperate tantrum, and threw himself against Merrily's side hard enough to rock her. He hid his face against her hip, and she pressed him to her with a hand splayed across his back. He looked up at her and in a tiny, quavering voice asked, “Is my daddy gonna die?”