Gift Wrapped Dad

* * *

“Okay, Will,” Krista said after she’d explained the rehabilitation center’s policies and procedures. “Let’s see what you can do.”

“I want to try to walk without these damn leg braces, that’s what I want to do.”

She heard the vehemence in his voice. Underneath, she also heard the worry. She’d read his chart carefully. News of the car accident that had left Billy the Kid, the golden boy from Nebraska whose cockiness and down-home charm had melted the hearts of baseball fans everywhere, had made national headlines three months ago. Today, she’d read the doctor’s version of his spinal injury. Periodically interspersed with notes about his progress were inferences to his bullheadedness and determination.

Crouching down close to the floor in front of his chair, she said, “I know you do. I want you to walk without those braces, too. That’s why you’re here. And that’s why we’re going to do this my way.”

Will’s blue eyes were narrowed, his chin set stubbornly. After a long silence, he said, “Three months ago the doctors thought I’d never get out of a wheelchair. Two weeks ago the therapist in New York took the liberty to tell me that she doubted I’d ever walk without crutches.”

Stilling her hand on the strap of his leg brace, she said, “Then she was wrong. If you say you’re going to walk again, I believe you will.”

Will hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until he noticed a burning sensation deep in his lungs. He let out that breath and took another, a sense of awe filling him. It was going to be all right. Krista wasn’t going to restrict his rehabilitation. He was going to be up and walking on his own in no time.

Her hand felt warm where it rested on his thigh as she loosened the straps of his leg braces. In his mind’s eye, he flexed the muscle beneath her palm.

In reality, nothing moved.

Until three months ago Will “Billy the Kid” Sutherland, had been considered the fastest base runner in pro baseball. Today he couldn’t even move one tiny muscle. Squaring his shoulders and straightening his spine, he decided he’d better take things one step at a time. He’d work on walking first. And then he’d work on running.

Half an hour later he was ready to scream in frustration. He was exhausted, and he’d barely done anything. His muscles refused to work no matter what he tried. He sat in a chair, gripping the armrest while Krista issued commands.

“Push against my hand. Push. Not from the hip. Use your leg muscles. Push.”

Nothing happened. He had some movement in his toes and all the feeling in his legs had come back, but without the braces his thigh and calf muscles were mush.

“Try it again. Push.”

Will tried it again, with no better results. He strained every muscle that moved, from his neck all the way down to his lower abdomen. He’d pulled his ham string sliding into third base during his first season with the Cougars. Today, no matter how hard he imagined it, no matter how hard he worked, he couldn’t make any of the muscles in his legs push against Krista’s hands. He wanted to learn to walk, dammit, but after forty-five minutes, all he felt was more frustrated than ever.

“Come on,” she said. “That’s it. Concentrate. Push. Again. Push.”

“I am pushing,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

Krista glanced up into Will’s face. His brow was glistening with sweat. Beads of perspiration dotted his upper lip. His teeth were clenched as if he wanted to bite somebody’s head off. She had a feeling that somebody was her. Good. She could deal with anger. In fact, it was a great motivator.

“If you want to get mad, go ahead,” she said. “This is going to take time, and your anger is going to help you get through it. You’ve made remarkable progress, and I’m sure you’ll continue to—”

“Don’t patronize me, all right? I got enough of that from Miss July!”

After a moment of silence, a sheepish expression stole across his face. She watched his shoulders move and his chest expand as he drew in a deep breath and said, “I guess I’m a little edgy.”

This was the Will she remembered. A little arrogant, a little cocky, and underneath it all, maddeningly sweet.

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied levelly. “One whole semester in college was dedicated to dealing with ornery, pigheaded patients.”

His blue eyes reflected the overhead lighting as he said, “Who are you calling ornery?”

Krista noticed he didn’t dispute the pigheaded portion of her statement and couldn’t help smiling. In that moment, the years seemed to fall away. She felt just as exasperated and infatuated with Will as she’d been when they were both young.

On impulse, she ran her finger along the bottom of his long foot. His heel jerked out of her hand, landing on the floor with a soft thud. She looked from his toes to his face and found his eyes mirroring her own surprise.

“You moved your leg!” she said from her position on the floor.

Featherlike laugh lines crinkled around his eyes, and a wondrous smile pulled at his mouth. Her instinctive reaction to him was powerful, nearly as powerful as the silent communication that passed between them. The shock of it ran through her body. Their gazes locked, and their breathing came in unison.

He reached for both her hands, slowly drawing her up toward him. Steadying herself against his chest, she spread her fingers wide across the expanse of strong muscles. His hand grazed her face, his fingers sliding into the hair near her ear. His eyes were half closed, his expression dreamily intimate. She breathed between parted lips, her eyelashes fluttering down the instant his lips touched hers.

The touch of his mouth on hers brought back so many feelings that tears moistened her eyelashes and a knot rose to her throat. He pulled her closer, his thighs straddling her, his arms wrapped snugly around her back, making her body respond in an achingly familiar way. For a moment, time stood still, and there was nothing in the world but this instant with this man.

Gradually, some thread of rationality filtered through her fragmented thoughts. Will was sitting in a hospital chair in a hospital room. Good heavens, he was her patient.

Krista jumped to her feet and spun around, pacing to the far side of the room. “That can’t happen again,” she cried, amazed to hear the huskiness in her own voice.

“I think it could.”

His deep, husky voice took her back to the old days, when kisses like the one they’d just shared had happened every day. Her memories calmed her in ways she hadn’t expected. This wasn’t the end of the world. Sure, she’d kissed a patient, but it hadn’t been just any patient. This was a man she’d once loved, a man who could still ignite her desire in three seconds or less.

Taking a deep breath, she tried again. “Let me rephrase my statement. That won’t happen again.”

“That isn’t going to be nearly as much fun.”

His simple reply brought her head up. The kiss they’d shared had been a natural, spontaneous reaction, just as the movement of Will’s foot had been a natural reaction to being tickled.

“You may be right,” she said, hating the way her voice caught on the last word. “But you’re my patient. And I don’t kiss patients.”

“Do you mean I’m the first patient you’ve ever kissed?”

“The first. And the last. I’m not like your Miss July. I’m not a package deal. I’ll be your physical therapist, but this time, our relationship will remain strictly professional.”

He seemed to digest her words, his gaze trailing down her body as he said, “That isn’t going to be easy. When you touch me, I find myself wanting to touch you back.”

His honesty was wreaking havoc with her senses. She hoped he didn’t notice the quaver in her voice as she said, “I have to touch you. I have to help you get those muscles to move. You can touch me back, Will. As long as you remain friendly and professional.”

He was looking at his left leg, which allowed her a moment to study him unobserved. He was wearing baggy gray sweatpants and a New York Titans T-shirt. She knew his legs were weak from his spinal injury, but they didn’t look it. His upper body was powerfully muscular, his chest and shoulders broad. A vein ran up his forearm, only to disappear inside the sleeve of his shirt.

The bruising to his spinal column had been traumatic, but Will hadn’t sat around sulking. A person didn’t acquire this kind of muscle tone that way. Yesterday he’d told her he’d come to her because she was the only person who could make him reach for the stars. Now Krista realized that wasn’t true. With or without her, he’d always reached for the stars.

The Will she’d known back in college had been on the wild side, but even then he’d been completely motivated. He’d run track to increase his speed and stamina and practiced his swing, his throw and his slide. He’d never been the kind of man who enjoyed inactivity. This type of injury was terrifying to everyone, but to a man like Will, it must have been ten times worse. Krista eyed his crutches and leg braces lying next to his chair, her admiration growing. He hadn’t taken it sitting down, at least not for long.

Trying for a friendly yet professional tone of voice, she said, “We used to touch each other a lot, and old habits die hard. But I’m your physical therapist now, and you’re my patient. I think we need to establish some ground rules, things that are safe, and things that are off limits. Kissing me is off limits.”

He started to speak, but she interrupted. “Don’t look so stricken. I’ve sworn off all men, not just you.”

With that, she strode to the wall and grasped the handles on a lightweight wheelchair. “Come on,” she said, pushing the chair toward him. “Let’s take a ride down to the patient exercise room. You still have an hour of time left this morning. Let’s put it to good use.”

Will eyed the gray chair dazedly. He was aware that it was there, but his mind couldn’t seem to get past the fact that Krista had just told him she’d sworn off men. All men.