Midnight, Moonlight & Miracles

“Not yet. But it can be arranged,” she said, breathing hard.

“Look, Megan—”

Accusingly she pointed a finger at him. “No, you look. I don’t know what your game is, but I’m not playing.”

“It was no big deal.”

“You’re right about that. But it was also completely inappropriate.”

“Nothing personal,” he said.

“Doggone right. And I was right about you, too. Big-time rule-breaker.”

“Don’t get your stethoscope in a twist. I was just trying to shake you up.”

“Is that so?” She glared at him. “It certainly confirms my assessment of you.”

“That I’m the saturated fat in the veins of your life?”

“Right on, buster. But in case I didn’t make myself clear, I don’t play games. I came here to do a job and you just made it impossible for me to do that. I don’t see signs of concussion—there’s an understatement,” she muttered.

“No, I’m pretty alert—”

“And your temp is normal,” she said, ignoring his comment. She gathered up her medical paraphernalia and stuffed it into her leather bag. “I don’t think there’s any infection. At least not in your most recent wounds. And if you’ve got one somewhere else, there’s not a darn thing I can do about it.”

“What are you saying?”

“I hope for your sake the abrasions are clean because I’m outta here. I’ll have the agency send someone else.”

She turned on her heel and walked out the door.

Chapter Four

Megan slammed the door and stomped the length of the town house walkway, hurrying to the sidewalk. Her stride was just shy of a full-on run. The sun was warm, but a fog enveloped her. A fog that had nothing to do with being a block from the beach and everything to do with…anger? Or worse—passion?

No way. She’d deftly and dispassionately fended off advances from male patients before. She’d certainly never worked herself into a fog about any of them. She wanted to believe she’d handled the Simon situation in a professional manner, but she didn’t buy the lie. Plain and simple: she’d lost it with Simon Reynolds. Everything: her temper, her composure, her objectivity, her professionalism—and that was the worst.

She’d gotten a late start in her career because of Bayleigh’s medical problems. She couldn’t afford mistakes now that she was on her way. What was it with Simon?

Oh, she knew he’d kissed her to scare her off. And it had worked. But not for the reason he thought. A come-on she could handle. It was herself she was worried about. She’d liked kissing him—far too much.

She didn’t have to touch a hot stove more than once to know it hurt. After a crash and burn in the romance department, she knew guys like Simon should be avoided. If it was just her, she might be tempted. But Bayleigh came first. Megan wanted to give her a father, but the wrong man could scar her daughter more deeply than the trauma of cornea transplant surgery.

Nothing could compel Megan to take care of Simon. No amount of money, calling in personal favors or fear of a lawsuit could convince her to go back inside. Simon Reynolds was too tempting and too dangerous.

In her peripheral vision, Megan registered a car parallel-parking at the curb.

“Megan? Is that you?”

She turned and instantly recognized the woman getting out of the car. “Janet.”

The older woman smiled, stepped onto the sidewalk then held her arms open for a hug. Megan easily slipped into the embrace and returned it. Janet Ward was the most loving, generous, courageous woman. When her daughter and grandson were mortally injured in a car accident, she’d made the decision to donate their organs for transplant. Thanks to her, Bayleigh had received the little boy’s corneas and the gift of sight. After the operation, Megan had asked to meet the family and thank them. But the boy’s father had refused.

Janet had graciously accepted Megan’s gratitude in spite of her profound grief. Because Janet’s loved ones were alive through the transplant recipients, she’d insisted on staying in touch with all of those who were open to the idea. Megan had a picture of her daughter with Janet in her wallet and knew the other woman carried Bayleigh’s school picture in hers. And Janet had very carefully avoided personal references to the grandson she’d lost, not wanting to make Megan or Bayleigh feel anything but grateful for the miracle. They owed this woman so much more than it was possible to repay.

“What are you doing here?” Janet asked, then shook her head as she looked down at Megan’s clothes. “The scrubs are a dead giveaway. You’re working.”

“I was. The patient is impossible.” She smiled ruefully at her taller friend. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see someone impossible, too.” Something flickered in her eyes and an expression that looked like comprehension crossed the older woman’s face. “Your difficult patient isn’t a man, is he?”

“Yes.”

“His name isn’t Simon Reynolds by any chance?”

“How did you know?” Megan asked, surprised. “Since when did you become psychic?”

“Oh, Megan—” She put a hand to her chest and shook her head. “I can’t believe this.”

“What is it? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Janet glanced to her left and nodded toward a bench, the focal point of the corner and surrounded by landscaping that included flowers and bushes marking the entrance to the condominium complex. “Let’s sit down for a minute. You might not need to, but I definitely do.”

“Okay.” Megan held her elbow.

Together they walked the several steps, then sat side by side on the wooden slats. Megan took a deep, bracing breath. The previous day’s rain had washed the air clean and left behind a brilliant blue sky. In the distance she could hear waves from the Pacific Ocean crash against the shore. The only storm on her horizon had been Simon Reynolds, but he was behind her. Or was he? Megan had the strangest feeling that life as she knew it was about to change. Now who was getting psychic?

She looked at her friend. “What are you doing here, Janet? How do you know Simon?”

“He’s my son-in-law. Ex, technically.” She waited.

Megan felt the impact of those words wash over her in shock waves. “He’s Marcus’s father?” she whispered.

The precious little boy who’d donated his corneas to Bayleigh was Simon’s son?

“Yes.” Janet sighed and clutched her purse in her lap. “I was here a little while ago to check up on him.”

“So you know about his motorcycle accident?” When the other woman nodded, she said, “But in the ER last night he said there was no one to notify. How did you find out?”

“I just knew.” She laughed without humor. “It’s not as twilight zone as it sounds. Marcus and Donna died two years ago yesterday. I had a bad feeling he would hurt himself.”

Megan remembered his haunted look last night when he’d said he knew the date. Oh, God. “Are you saying he deliberately dumped his motorcycle?”

“No. Nothing like that. But since he lost them, he’s been rash, reckless. It’s as if he doesn’t care.”

“I gathered,” Megan said. “His hospital rap sheet is proof of that.”

“He takes chances without regard for his personal safety. I came by to check on him so I guess you could say I had an informed gut feeling.”