When Hearts Collide (9 page)

It was a good time to make a necessary phone call. Pearce was sleeping, and Molly had a few minutes before his next antibiotic dose. She needed to call Carmen and find out what was happening at Saint Christopher’s. Had they found out who took the Percocet? It wasn’t Molly, but she couldn’t image it being any of the other nurses she worked with, either. Molly slipped into the family room. Her hands shook as she dialed the number.

“Hey, Molly, how are you?” Carmen asked.

“Surviving.”

“We miss you.”

“I miss everybody, too. Is anything happening?”

“No. I’m keeping my eyes and ears open, but nothing yet. Randy is being his usual pompous self, making sure he has us dancing to all his new rules and regulations.”

Molly cringed at hearing her ex-boyfriend’s name.

“Did you talk to a lawyer yet?” Carmen asked.

“I’ve got one looking into it.”

“If I hear something, I’ll let you know,” Carmen promised.

Molly replaced the receiver. Had she made the right decision leaving Hillsborough? Maybe she should have stayed and fought the suspension, instead of running away and leaving it to a lawyer she barely knew. Too late, though. She’d already committed to taking care of Gracie, and now Pearce.

She glanced at her watch. It was time for Pearce’s antibiotic. Molly crossed the hall to the office and approached the bed where Pearce lay snoring softly. His hair had grown during his illness, and soft tendrils curled at his nape and spread across his forehead, reminding her of a shaggy Bouvier.

Molly had a sudden urge to stretch out her hand and brush away the errant black strands that veiled his eyebrows. Resisting, she crossed to the table where her medical supplies were stored.
Molly, what are you thinking? This man is your patient
. Adding sterile water to the vial, she shook it until all the particles dissolved, then injected it into the mini intravenous bag.

Would she be able to run it without disturbing him? He’d been having pain, and she’d given him something for it so he didn’t have another restless night. The intravenous lock in his left hand was covered with a blanket. Easing back the cover, she exposed the lock. She was connecting the intravenous tubing when his eyes flickered open. It took him a few seconds to get his bearings, then his lips curved into a smile. “Molly, my guardian angel.” His hand reached out and touched hers.

Her shoulders stiffened at the contact, but her heart began to beat erratically. Her skin burned, and a thousand tiny electric shocks radiated up her arm. He smiled up at her, unnerving her with the sudden flash of heat in his eyes. She secured the intravenous line before turning away. She didn’t want him to see the flush burning her cheeks.

“You need to go back to sleep.” She tried to keep her voice professional.

“I will. Perchance to dreams of angels.”

Molly started at his words, but when she looked back at him, his eyes were already closed. Crossing to the sideboard, she gathered her supplies for his next dose of antibiotics. Her fingers trembled, and she found it hard to concentrate as her mind kept recalling the potency of his gaze and his dreamily spoken words. She needed to focus on what she was doing instead of letting her emotions run wild.

She should race out of the room, away from this man, away from the feelings he roused in her. But she was trapped. She had to wait for the antibiotic to finish infusing. Then she could sprint out of this house as fast as her feet could carry her. But she knew they would bring her back before the next dose was due.

Molly answered Doctor Graham’s knock on the front door.

“Hello, Molly. How’s our patient this morning?”

“He’s been doing his physiotherapy and is getting more sensation back in his foot and toes.” Molly led him toward the converted office.

“That’s wonderful. He’s doing much better than I anticipated. He may regain mobility in no time.”

“Yes, he is doing well.” Molly grimaced. “But he’s not the easiest patient I’ve looked after.”

“No?” Doctor Graham raised one eyebrow and his blue eyes twinkled. “Pearce has a mind of his own. This immobility must be driving him crazy.”

“He resists taking anything for pain, says it makes his thinking fuzzy. Then when he can’t take it anymore, it takes longer for the medication to work. Can you talk to him about not waiting so long?”

Doctor Graham chuckled. “I don’t think he’ll listen to me any more than he will you. And he’ll be less polite to me.”

Molly shrugged one tanned shoulder. “Well, if you could try.”

“Will do, though I don’t know how much good it will do.”

“I’m glad you’re coming to check on him. It saves me bundling him and Gracie into the car and going to the hospital.”

“Gets me out of the office. Can’t stand being trapped there all day. Let’s go see our patient, shall we?”

Pearce, still in bed for Doctor Graham’s visit, looked up when they walked in.

“Can we get this exam over with so I can get up?” Pearce barked.

“Let’s get on with it then,” Doctor Graham said after directing a raised eyebrow at Molly.

Molly turned away so Pearce wouldn’t see her responding grin.

After his abdominal incision had been examined and declared to be healing well, Doctor Graham checked his vital signs and added more exercises to his physiotherapy regime. Together, he and Molly assisted Pearce into the wheelchair.

“You’re doing well, Pearce. You’re lucky your wife’s such an excellent nurse. You’ll be back to your old self in no time.”

“Not soon enough,” Pearce muttered.

“Patience.”

“Patience was never one of my strong suits.”

“Right now you don’t have much choice.” Doctor Graham laughed and glanced at his watch. “I have more calls to make, but I’ll be back in a couple of days to check on you. We should be able to switch from the intravenous to an oral antibiotic. You’ll be able to start walking on crutches soon.”

“Finally. When can get out of this wheelchair?” Pearce asked.

“Give it a few days. You’ll have to be careful, no weight bearing,” Doctor Graham warned. “I’ll be on my way now.”

“I’ll show you out.” Molly accompanied him to the front door.

“You’re doing an excellent job of looking after him. Your husband is progressing well.”

Molly couldn’t keep up the lie any longer. Pearce was home and Gracie was safe. “Doctor Graham.” Molly hesitated. “I have to tell you something.”

He tipped his head, concern in his eyes. “Is something wrong?”

“Not really wrong.” Molly shrugged. “Pearce and I aren’t married.”

Doctor Graham grinned and his eyes cleared. “Molly, I’m not judgmental. Living together isn’t a sin anymore.”

“No, that’s not it.” Molly brushed red strands away from her face and looked away. “I just feel that I’m living a lie.” She paused and looked him in the eye. “I just met Pearce. I saw the accident and rescued him from the car. He begged me to pretend to be his wife so no one would take Gracie away.”

One eyebrow shot up. “Take her away?”

“I guess she was in foster care when she was a baby. He was desperate it didn’t happen again and begged me to pretend to be her mother.”

“No wonder he calls you his angel.”

“Please don’t say anything. I just felt I needed to tell you the truth. Once he’s better, I’ll be on my way.”

“You could always stay in the area, get a job at the hospital. They’re always looking for good nurses. I’ll give you a reference.”

Molly grinned. “That might be something to consider.”

“I better go. Old Mrs. Parker will be having a fit if I don’t get to her soon.”

Molly waved him goodbye and went back to check on her patient. While she was gone, Pearce had wheeled himself to the large casement window overlooking the garden. He turned when she came in and watched her cross to stand beside him.

“You were a long time. Is there something I need to know?”

Molly started. She hadn’t thought Pearce would be timing her absence. She shook her head too quickly. “No. We were just chatting.” Why couldn’t she tell him she’d told the doctor the truth about their relationship, that it was all a pretense?

His hand reached out and closed over hers. “Molly.”

Her breath caught in her throat, forming a great lump that made it difficult to breath. She stood shy and awkward, the heat of his hand sending a flame up her arm. Tingles shivered up and down her spine, and her heart was doing a funny little pitter-patter. She had a sudden urge for his hand to touch other parts of her body, an urge she needed to suppress. He was her patient. This shouldn’t be happening. Molly wanted to pull away, but another part of her wanted to lean close and let her lips taste the sweet wine of his.

There was a commotion at the door, and Gracie raced into the room. She made straight for her father. “Daddy, Daddy, come and watch. Trooper is playing ball with me.”

Pearce laughed. “Okay. Let’s go see what this mutt of yours is doing.”

Gracie pouted. “He’s not a mutt, he’s Trooper.”

Pearce ruffled her blond hair. “Let’s go see Trooper.” He turned to Molly and smiled invitingly. “You’d better come, too. It’s your dog.”

Molly smiled at the thought. Her dog. She had never in her life been able to call a dog hers. It had always been the foster family’s dog, or a neighbor’s dog, never hers. Was Trooper hers? The dog was better now, his wound healing, and he’d gained weight. She’d called the local humane societies and veterinarians, but no one had reported a missing dog matching Trooper’s description.

“Hop up here.” Pearce patted his lap and winked at his daughter. “Maybe, if we ask nicely, Molly will give us a push.”

Gracie clapped her hands. “Please, Molly. Please, push us.”

Molly bowed, and after a Musketeer wave, she grabbed the rubber grips of the wheelchair. “Your wish is my command.”

Pearce raised an eyebrow. “All my wishes, Molly?”

The mischievous gleam in his eyes sent more flames up her arms, flowing up to her cheeks. Molly hoped they weren’t as crimson as the blouse she wore. Tightening her grip on the wheelchair’s handles, Molly jerked the chair into motion. Pearce’s low chuckle kept the heat blazing.

Every time Pearce closed his eyes, he saw her face. The riot of red curls, the rosy cheeks, and those long sooty eyelashes. Were they natural? He would have expected her to have fine red lashes, not the thick black ones that framed her green eyes.

When she wore her hair pinned back, the severe, simple style accented the already high cheekbones, highlighting her beauty rather than detracting from it. He thought of the feel of the silky strands and the overwhelming urge he had to reach out and pull out the pins holding her hair so tightly in place. His fingers tingled as he imagined it tumbling like autumn leaves, floating around her shoulders, creating a crimson headdress.

Why did this woman have such an effect on him? Her beautiful face seemed to be imprinted on his consciousness. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw a vision of her bending over him, her smile soft, sweet. He could feel the hot breath of her lips against his ear and hear the whisper of soothing words.

She’d enchanted him with a witch’s love spell. Molly, his very own angel, and she’d cast a spell on him. His mind drifted. An image came out of the blackness, a white-robed priestess with a wreath of rosemary, lavender, and violets entwined in her red tresses.

She waved a slender hand and stroked his cheek with an alabaster feather. The vision disappeared into the darkness. Pearce stretched out his hand, the action rousing him from his dreams. The bed felt lumpy, and he couldn’t get comfortable. Every movement sent shooting pains down his legs. He moaned.

“Pearce, are you okay?”

Opening his eyes, a vision of his angel manifested in front of him. Her red hair hung in soft curls around a porcelain petal skin. Her eyes shimmered like smoky topaz gemstones.

When had she come in?

Pearce stared at her, at the generous curve of her mouth, at the soft hazel eyes, at the high sculptured cheekbones. He stared, unable to draw his gaze away. He felt lost in the depths of her luminous eyes.

She bent across him to adjust the flow of the antibiotic. Her hair fell in a crimson curtain over her profile. He wanted to touch the silky strands, draw them back so he could feel their softness. She was so close the scent of her lavender soap sent his hormones soaring. Unbidden, his hand reached out to stroke the red waves caressing her bare shoulders.

He hadn’t thought about kissing her. He was so tired all he could think about was drifting back to sleep. Yet, here she was, so close, so tantalizing, so tempting. One minute he was gazing at the cascading waves, inhaling the intoxicating smells, and the next minute his fingers were entwined in the soft strands of hair, and his hand guided her face to his.

Their lips touched. He kissed her, and she was kissing him back, her mouth opening as he drew her closer. She pulled away, her cheeks as crimson as her hair. She shook her head, but the heat of passion in her eyes told him another story.

“I’m sorry, Molly. I guess I got used to the taste of your lips.”

“You’re home now. We don’t have to pretend anymore.”

“But what do I tell my body?”

“What?”

“What do I tell my body when it yearns to feel the touch of your lips again?”

He turned, and the sudden movement caused pain to shoot down his leg. A groan came unbidden from his lips.

“You need something for pain. I’ll get it now, then give you your antibiotic.”

He smiled weakly. “Please.” The pain medication worked quickly, and he relaxed into the sheets. He was whispering her name as sleep overtook him.

Pearce’s fist hit the mattress. “Molly, I want to get out of this damn bed.”

“Can you wait till the antibiotic finishes? It will just be a few minutes.”

“I’m so tired of being confined. I want to get up, get active again!”

“I’ll get the wheelchair ready, and your shaving gear. By that time, the antibiotic will be done.”

“Sorry. I’m not used to immobility.”

“No, I can see that.” Molly grinned at him.

She brought the wheelchair close to the bed, transferred him to it, and wheeled him to the bathroom where his shaving supplies were set out. By the time he was done, the last drops of the antibiotic were draining out of the intravenous bag. Molly disconnected the medication tubing.

The soft material of her blouse shifted seductively as she bent to re-tape the lock. It brushed against his forearm sending shivers of arousal up his arm. As if a flame had torched his dormant emotions, desire like a forest fire out of control blazed through his body. His heart raced and he could feel the testosterone sparking out of every cell. He reached out, but she had already slipped away.

He jerked his hand back. What was she doing to him? Damn these feelings. And what was wrong with him? He needed to get well, not fall for some woman. When he spoke, his voice was gruffer than he intended.

“I want to try the crutches.”