The Nurse's Brooding Boss (12 page)

E
LANA
lost track of how many times Brock made love to her throughout the rest of the night. Each time surprisingly better, tender and yet more intense than the last.

He held her close, even while they were asleep. She’d always preferred to keep her own personal space around her, but, somehow, with Brock, she didn’t mind so much. Even more amazing, she found she was able to fall asleep despite his heavy weight pressing against her.

When the morning light streamed in through Brock’s bedroom window, she swallowed a groan and stretched her aching muscles. The bright light of day brought her old insecurities to the surface, so she quietly slid from his bed, trying not to disturb him.

Feeling acutely self-conscious, she picked up his shirt, thankful it covered her down to her knees. She made her way quietly to his bathroom.

Emerging a few minutes later, she searched for her dress, wishing she’d brought along some comfy, casual clothes to wear. Brock’s cell phone rang loudly, startling her so badly she let out a high-pitched squeak.

“What are you doing?” Brock asked sleepily, ignoring his cell phone as he stared at her. “Sneaking out on me?”

“No, I was going to cook something for breakfast.” She felt a little guilty because she had, for a split second, considered sneaking out on him. His cell phone continued to ring. “You’d better answer that,” she said, gesturing to the phone while still holding the wrinkled red dress in front of her. “What if it’s Lacey or, what’s his name, Rufus?”

Brock muttered a curse under his breath and dug in his discarded pants for his phone. It had stopped ringing by the time he grabbed it. He stared at the screen. “I can’t believe it. I missed Joel’s call.”

The sheet pooled at his waist as he punched Redial. She had trouble keeping her gaze off his chest as he waited for Joel to answer. “Joel? I’m so glad you called. I’ve been looking all over for you. Are you all right? Where are you?”

Elana held her breath, blatantly listening to Brock’s side of the conversation with his missing brother.

“Yeah, I know things have been rough,” Brock said, scrubbing a hand over his jaw as he talked. “Tucker needs you, Joel. You were right: his crying was an indication of something more. He’s in the hospital, being treated for pneumonia.” There was another pause as Joel said something.

“Yeah, don’t worry. He’s doing better, I swear. I wouldn’t lie to you, Joel.”

Elana edged closer, wishing she could hear what Joel was saying. “Is Lacey with him?” she whispered.

“Joel, listen, Tucker needs you. Hurry home, okay?
No, don’t hang up! Dammit!” Brock stared at his phone in dismay. “I can’t believe he just did that.”

“What? Where is he? Is Lacey with him?”

“No, Lacey isn’t with him. He told me he’s tried to call her, but she didn’t answer her phone. He said to tell her he loves her and that he’ll be back soon.” Brock’s tone was laced with helplessness. “I didn’t get a chance to tell him Lacey disappeared too.”

“You could try calling him back.”

“No. He’s in Pelican Point. One of his buddies got him an interview with a home remodeling company that pays better than what he used to make at the gas station.”

“Well, that’s progress.” Elana sank down onto the bed beside Brock.

“Yeah. Progress.” He let out a heavy sigh. “I only wish he would have told me his plans before he took off. At the very least, he should have told Lacey.”

“He wasn’t thinking clearly, I’m sure. He was probably feeling trapped,” Elana said, relieved that they’d at least heard from Joel. Now if only they knew where Lacey was, things would be back to normal.

“No kidding.” Brock’s tone was dry.

“He needed a break, and then when he realized he couldn’t simply run away from his problems, decided to look for a better paying job,” Elana rationalized.

“You’re right.” Brock grinned, obviously in a better mood now that he’d heard from his brother. “He promised to call me back in a few days once he finds out for sure about this home remodeling job. Says the owner is willing to make him some sort of apprentice.”

An apprentice sounded promising.

“Do you think he and Lacey will move to Pelican Point?” She knew Brock would miss Tucker if that happened.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I could help them find a place, get them settled so they’re not starting out too financially in debt. Or they could commute for a while, until they save up for a house.”

Brock to the rescue. Again. First her scholarship, then getting himself through medical school, and now supporting his brother and his nephew. She leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss. “I’m glad Joel called. See? You didn’t need that private investigator after all. And I bet Lacey will be back soon too.”

He pulled her close, returning her kiss with passion. “Now I remember where we were before my brother rudely interrupted us,” he murmured between kisses.

She was tempted to give in and crawl back into bed with him. Yet she was worried about her scars. And she hadn’t been lying earlier. She was really hungry. Must be all the calories they’d burned throughout the night.

“Where are you going?” he complained when she pulled away. He held on to her hand, refusing to let go.

She grinned. “I promised to make you breakfast, didn’t I? I always keep my promises.”

“Wearing only my shirt?” he asked with a frankly hopeful gaze.

She let out a wry chuckle. “Well, it’s either your shirt or my dress, since that’s all I have.” Elana stood and turned away, draping her dress over the bottom of the
bed. She’d wait to change until after she’d had a chance to eat. Maybe then she’d borrow Brock’s shower.

“Hurry up,” she added as she walked away, buttoning up his shirt. “Because I’m hungry enough to eat your portion too.”

“You wouldn’t be that cruel,” he protested. After a few minutes, she heard the water running in the bathroom.

No, she wouldn’t be that cruel. She smiled and hummed to herself as she gathered the ingredients to make French toast.

So this was how it felt to be happy.

Brock used the bathroom and then hurried out to share breakfast with Elana.

“Smells wonderful,” he said, pleased that she’d made the effort to cook for him. Not that he thought it was a woman’s job. Far from it. He’d taught himself to cook years ago. “Thanks, Elana.”

“You’re welcome,” she said in a muffled voice. There was only half a piece of French toast left on her plate, and a surplus of syrup indicated she’d already eaten her share.

“You’re amazing. I like a woman with a hearty appetite.” He helped himself to several slices of French toast and took the seat across from her. The way she looked, wearing nothing but his white dress shirt, the dusky tips of her breasts visible through the cotton fabric, made him hungry for something other than food.

The night they’d shared had been amazing. He wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the day with her.

“How many more would you like?” Elana asked,
getting up from the table and going over to the electric frying pan.

“This is enough for me, thanks.”

She frowned at him over her shoulder. “Something wrong with my cooking?”

“Of course not, you went above and beyond making breakfast.” How could he explain he was too keyed up about having her in his home to eat? “I should have cooked for you.”

“Next time,” Elana murmured.

“Absolutely,” he agreed, thrilled at the thought of there being a next time. He couldn’t deny he was feeling very possessive where she was concerned.

“You’ve mentioned your dad a few times,” Elana said as she returned to her seat across from him at the table. “But you haven’t mentioned your mother.”

His family. Of course Elana wanted to talk about his family. A chunk of French toast lodged in his throat, and he swallowed with an effort. “That’s because she passed away my first year of medical school.”

“I’m sorry, Brock.” Elana’s empathetic expression made him feel ashamed. After everything she’d been through, his family issues were nothing. “I’m guessing your father didn’t handle it very well.”

He lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. “Dad was always the disciplinarian of the house. Believe it or not, I was the one who tended to follow the rules. Joel, on the other hand, rebelled.”

“You were close,” she guessed.

He nodded. “After Mom died, I think things between
my dad and my brother got even worse. I felt bad I couldn’t be there for Joel when he needed me.”

“I can imagine.” Elana stared down at her plate for a minute. “Give him a chance, Brock. He’ll come around.”

“I know.” His brother had more of a chance of coming around than his father did. “Tucker’s crying really bothered Joel. I’m sure he took off because he was afraid of turning out like our father.”

Elana sucked in a harsh breath. “Are you saying—your father hit you?”

“Not really,” he answered honestly. “But he did use his tongue as a weapon, saying hurtful things.” He didn’t go into detail, trying to shelter her as best he could. “I often wondered why my mother stayed and put up with him.”

“Maybe she loved him,” Elana said, her troubled gaze meeting his. “Maybe she loved you and your brother too much to leave.”

His gut clenched, and he automatically shook his head. “I don’t understand that kind of love.”

“I do.”

He snapped his head up to look at her in surprise.

Elana continued in a low voice. “I was a sullen, angry teenager, but Chloe still loved me. And I thank God every day for bringing her into my life.”

He winced, realizing the extent of his blunder. “I’m sorry, Elana. You’re right—”

“I’m going to take a shower,” she interrupted. “Excuse me.”

She stood and practically ran from the room,
taking the mangled mess of his heart with her. For a moment all he could do was to curse at himself under his breath.

What was wrong with him? Why didn’t he learn to think before he spoke?

Elana would surely leave now that he’d insulted her.

Suddenly, he couldn’t bear the idea. He wasn’t going to let her go. Not without a fight. Maybe he was an idiot, opening his mouth and blabbing about things he didn’t know anything about, but he could learn.

He loved her. The realization hit him, hard.

He loved her!

Shaky, he splayed his hands on the table. Okay, he loved her. That didn’t mean Elana was ready to hear the truth about his feelings. They’d only just made love.

But he could show her, with actions rather than words.

He wolfed down the rest of his breakfast and then hovered for a moment outside the bathroom door. Images of a naked Elana in the shower tortured him, but, somehow, he knew this wasn’t the time or the place to encroach on her personal space.

He told himself to leave her alone. To wait until she was finished, but then the shower turned off, and a few seconds later he heard a yelp and a loud thud.

“Elana?” He opened the door a crack. When he saw her lying on the floor, her face drawn in pain as she clutched her knee, he didn’t hesitate but barged the rest of the way in. “What happened?”

“I was stupid. I reached for the towel, slipped on a wet spot in the floor, and jammed my knee.” She leaned against
the sink, clutching a towel to her chest. He didn’t have the heart to tell her the small cloth didn’t provide much cover.

“Let me see,” he said, dropping to his knees to examine her. Her skin was silky soft, and he found it difficult to concentrate. He focused on the swollen spot on her knee. “We need some ice. This is going to bruise.”

“I hope it doesn’t get to the point I can’t work.”

He traced the swollen area carefully. “It feels superficial.” This close to the front of her thighs, he noticed the scars. Numerous thin white lines, about an inch long, running in parallel lines up the surface of both legs.

Puzzled, he ran his finger up the length of her leg. Glancing up, he saw similar scars on her arms. Had she been in an accident too? “My God, Elana. What on earth happened to you?”

She froze, her muscles going stiff. At first he didn’t understand the significance, but then she jerked away from him, nearly giving herself another vicious bruise as she leaped over him in her haste to reach the door.

“Elana?” The cold air was nothing like the icy fist of sheer panic that squeezed his heart. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Seeing the tortured expression in her eyes moments before she bolted from the bathroom, he suddenly understood. Mentally, he smacked himself for being so stupid.

She’d known about Lacey’s cutting herself, in a desperate need for control, because Elana had done the same thing.

Those thin, faint scars on her skin were evidence of her self-inflicted cuts.

How could she have forgotten her scars?

Limping, she ran into Brock’s bedroom and swiped the towel over her body before tossing it aside. She grabbed her dress, her fingers shaking so bad she nearly dropped it.

With a determined yank, she pulled the wrinkled fabric over her head, without bothering to track down her undergarments.

She had to get out of here. Now.

Where were her shoes?

Her stomach lurched, and she had to swallow hard to keep from throwing up the French toast she’d eaten. Her shoes were on opposite sides of the room, and after she found them both, she jammed her feet into the ridiculously high-heeled pumps, wincing as the stupid shoes made her knee hurt worse, and headed for the door.

Only to stop abruptly, completely horrified to see Brock standing there, blocking her means of escape.

“Elana, please wait.” He stood there, his expression anguished. “Don’t go.”

She momentarily closed her eyes, wishing she could just disappear, that this nightmare would be over. But she knew clicking her ruby heels together wasn’t going to work to get her home. Gathering every ounce of self-control, she opened her eyes and struggled to find her voice. “Move out of my way.”

He didn’t budge. “I caused this to happen to you?” he asked hoarsely, his gaze full of self-recrimination.
His fingers were clenched into white-knuckled fists. “I did this?”

No matter how mortified she was that he’d discovered the truth, she couldn’t let him take the blame. He hadn’t shied away from her scars in horror.