Tender Loving Care

The subtle praise of her efficiency caused her stomach to flip-flop a couple of times. “Just call me Florence,” she said, and pulled the door shut.

What was wrong with her? she wondered. Had she spent too much time working with kids and not enough time dating? If she wasn’t so sure she was really twenty-eight, she’d swear she was back in high school with a major hormonal crush on the football captain.

Later, when he was asleep, she was going to have to give herself a stern talking-to. She’d always prided herself on being competent, disciplined and, above all, professional. Logan was making her feel like a new recruit. None of her other patients had made her think about touching and kissing and…not even once.

Maybe it was just the position of the moon or something, and these feelings would go away by themselves. Until then, she’d have to keep a tight rein on her reactions and be the soul of propriety.

By the time Logan stepped out of the bathroom, she had most of herself under control. She led him back to the bed and plumped up the pillows on the headboard. “I’ll be right back with your dinner. Don’t try anything foolish while I’m gone.”

“I wouldn’t even think of it.”

His expression was shameless. She was sure that if his eyes hadn’t been bandaged, he would have been batting his eyelashes at her, like a Southern belle.

Melissa walked down the hall and across the large living room. Once in the kitchen, she poured the soup she’d been simmering into a cup and set the china onto the tray. She hesitated over coffee and decided against it. The caffeine would only interfere with his sleep, and that was the last thing he or she needed. She’d be up checking on him most of the night, anyway.

When she entered the bedroom, she paused. Logan was resting, with his head leaning against the pillow. The lines of his face were clenched tight, and his hands were balled into fists.

“Melissa?”

His voice startled her. “Yes. How did you know I was here?”

“I thought I smelled food. What’s for dinner?”

She set the tray across his lap. “Spaghetti.”

His mouth dropped open. “You’ve got to be kidding. I can’t eat…”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” He lifted his head toward her voice.

“Yes, I’m kidding. Here’s a cup of soup. Careful, it’s still hot. Then we have broiled chicken, sliced and chilled, and steamed vegetables, also sliced and chilled.” She moved his hand to the small dish on the side of the plate. “A light honey-mustard dressing you can use for dipping. And for dessert…strawberries.”

Logan felt the bumpy texture of the fruit as Melissa touched his fingers to the plate. The nurse at the hospital had brought him a regular meal and had then spent fifteen minutes telling him that his plate was like a clock. In theory the idea worked, but as soon as she’d left, he’d forgotten if his peas were at nine or noon. In the end, it had been easier to go hungry.

“I’m going to put a napkin on you, Logan.” Melissa’s voice was quickly followed by the pressure of her hands smoothing a linen square across his chest. “Eat up, or I’m going to make good on my threat to serve you spaghetti.”

He chuckled. “Are you going to join me? Or don’t nurses eat?”

He sensed her hesitation. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

After she’d left, Logan searched for and found a chunk of chicken. He took a bite and chewed slowly. The taste of the food seemed exaggerated, yet he wasn’t sure he would have known what it was if he hadn’t been told. He wanted to throw the tray across the room and shout his frustration.

He’d been alone before; he’d even been scared before. But nothing compared with the black void that was now his world. The simplest task, like brushing his teeth, took on herculean proportions, now that he couldn’t see. And he would only be blind for a week.

“You’re not eating, Logan. Don’t you like my cooking?”

“It’s great.” He grabbed one of the vegetables and took a bite. “Yum, thanks.”

“Okay. You’ve made your point.”

Her voice got farther away, then he heard several grunts. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to move this…chair. What’s it made of? Lead?”

“Just wood. I thought you were big and burly, Melissa.”

“I lied.”

“Come on.” He patted the bed invitingly. “It’s a king-size mattress. I’m willing to share.”

“I…I shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be right. I’m your nurse.”

He moved his head as if looking for intruders. “I don’t see anyone here but us chickens.”

“Well, they’re here just the same. My professor from nursing school is right there in the corner, glaring at me.”

“Come on. I could use the company.”

“I don’t think…”

He could feel her weakening and grinned. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re…chicken?”

“Give me a break.” There was a slight dipping as she took a seat. Then he felt her lean forward and place something on his tray. “Your water. Don’t spill it.”

“Yes, Mom.” He found the glass and took a sip. “Do you always cook for your patients?”

“No. I work with children, and their parents usually take care of that. Sometimes, I’ll be alone with the kids for the day and then I’ll fix lunch, or we’ll go out for hamburgers.”

She kept her tone light, but he could hear traces of pain behind the words. “You sound sad.”

“I’m fine, really.”

He didn’t believe her for a minute. “Do you miss the kids when they get better and don’t need you?”

“They don’t get better. I work with terminally ill children.” She made the statement casually.

“You sound very calm. Doesn’t it ever get to you?”

“It’s my job to be calm, Logan. And of course it gets to me.”

He heard the catch in her voice and knew that if he could see her, there’d be tears in her eyes. Cursing his lack of sight, he picked up the cup of soup.

“Tell me what you look like.”

Melissa glanced at the man watching her with his covered eyes. If his daughter was anything to go by, his ex-wife was stunning. What should she say? That she wasn’t even pretty? Not that her looks really mattered. Even if she did find him handsome and sexy and interesting and very male, he’d only see her as an employee.

“I’m kind of medium,” she said finally.