Midnight, Moonlight & Miracles

“Do we?”

“Maybe not. Mine is compounded. I lost my grandchild, too. It was a shattering loss. And I’m still trying to put myself back together. But we could help each other. I need to talk about it.”

“I don’t. And the last thing I want is help. Nothing will bring them back.”

He wanted to recall the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Her expression made him wince. She didn’t deserve his abuse. He was very fond of her, but he wasn’t fit company. He just didn’t have enough reserves to play nice.

She stood. “Not that you care, but at least I’m trying to move forward with my life. You’re living in perpetual midnight.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Doom and gloom. Your new best friends. As much as I wished it was me who had died, I had to come to grips with the fact that it wasn’t. Every day without them hurts like hell. But I put one foot in front of the other. You taught me that. And it takes courage. But I guess you’ve got more brains than guts. You talk the talk without walking the walk.” She stared at his bum leg, then slung her purse over her shoulder and walked toward the door.

“Janet, I—”

She turned back and held up a finger to stop him. “Don’t say anything. I’m really ticked off. You lashed out on purpose to get rid of me. It worked. You hurt me, and I’m leaving. But that’s not why I’d like to punch your lights out. You’re wasting your life, Simon. I have no patience for waste.”

Maybe this time he’d finally gotten through to her. He wasn’t worth her effort.

She took two steps, then pointed at him. “And don’t think for one minute you’ve gotten rid of me. I’m not through with you yet, buster. If it takes the rest of my life I’ll keep after you. But I’m finished for today. I’ll leave you alone now, since that’s what you seem to want. But if there’s any justice in this world and a god in heaven, each time you haul yourself up off that sofa, every muscle and nerve in your body will hurt like a son of a gun.”

Then she opened the door and slammed it after herself.

Simon let out a long breath. That certainly wasn’t his finest hour. And he’d definitely gotten his wish. He was alone. Although he didn’t feel a whole lot of satisfaction from it. If only the kitchen, the TV remote and everything else he needed could be within arm’s reach.

In spite of the fact that he’d sworn not to consume liquid, he was so thirsty he couldn’t stand it. Steeling himself for the pain, he pushed to a sitting position, then grabbed his crutches and stood. By the time he had accomplished that feat, he was sweating and dizzy. He’d held his breath against the discomfort he knew was coming and had forgotten to breathe.

The doorbell rang. Since he was already standing, he hobbled across the short distance to answer it. Maybe Janet had come back and he could make up for his churlish behavior. She reminded him of one tough, straight-talking ER nurse.

But when he opened the door, it wasn’t his former mother-in-law standing there.

“Megan.”

Chapter Three

Megan stared at the man with a death grip on his crutches and struggled to keep the shock from her expression. He looked terrible. Black, blue, and a rip-roaring case of the tired crankies. No, even more than that—tired clear to the bone. More than anything, she wanted to put her arms around him. The urge came suddenly and with such force it shocked her socks off. If she’d ever seen a soul in need of comfort, it was Simon Reynolds.

Hours had passed since she’d seen him through last night’s emergency, but she still felt that somewhere, somehow, his soul had taken an even bigger hit. And she wanted to hold him and try to make it better. But she didn’t. Gut instinct told her he was proud, stubborn and macho. He wouldn’t take kindly to any comfort offered. Besides, she wouldn’t treat him any differently than her other patients. She didn’t make hugging a habit—unless they were children.

And he was definitely not a child. His wide, bare chest with the masculine sprinkling of hair testified to that. Last night in the ER it had been safe to acknowledge her attraction. She’d never expected to see him again. But here she was. Still attracted. Maybe more so. Her strong reaction to this particular patient convinced her that she needed to proceed with caution.

She retreated behind her trademark sassiness. “Hi, Simon.”

“Megan. I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“Pat’s my friend. If I can save her the hassle of a nuisance malpractice suit—” She shrugged.

“I wouldn’t have sued.”

“We’ll never know. I’m surprised you answered the door.”

“Because you predicted I’d be flat on my back—if I made it home at all?”

“I thought you’d be out practicing for a world record in the walking-wounded Olympics.”

“You just caught me. Another second or two and I’d have been out the door for a training hobble.” His mouth turned up at the corners.

Unfortunately, it didn’t make him look any less battered. Even more unfortunately, his words picked up where he’d left off last night—charming her.

Coming here was a really bad idea.

But the first nurse Pat had sent hadn’t worked out and Megan had heard about his ultimatum. Her boss had coaxed and cajoled, then when all else failed, she’d brought out the big guns and called in a personal favor. Pat had given Megan a job when she’d desperately needed one. Megan had gratefully told her—if you ever need anything… So here she was, but with great personal misgivings.

She looked up at him—way up. “You’re a tall one,” she commented, the first words that came to mind.

“I’m the same height I was last night.”

“But you were flat on your back then.”

“Until I jumped off the gurney and you propped me up,” he reminded her.

“So I did. Although ‘jump’ is a pretty ambitious description.”

She’d tried to put the encounter out of her mind and couldn’t, which meant she’d probably lost her mind. What she needed to do was look at this as an opportunity to sort out and put to bed the feelings he’d evoked.

Looking past him, she noticed the entryway floor was distressed wood. That suited Simon Reynolds, she thought wryly. She could see a stairway going up and one going down. The town house had three levels. And she knew it was a block from the Pacific Ocean. An expensive piece of real estate. His paperwork from previous admits had said he was an engineer. Apparently, it was a lucrative line of work.

“May I come in?” she asked.

“Sorry. I guess last night’s little spill has put me off my manners.” To let her pass in front of him, he started to back up on crutches he was quite obviously unaccustomed to navigating.

“Don’t move,” she cautioned, fearing he would topple backward. “You get points for good intentions, but let’s save the backing up and parallel parking for another lesson. Until you get the hang of it, I suggest you move in a forward direction only.”

“You’ll get no argument from me.”

“Like I believe that.”

Megan smiled. She couldn’t help it. One minute, she was secure in the knowledge that her defenses were squarely in place; the next, he said something cute. The further she got into this opportunity, the worse it looked.

But she didn’t have a choice so she simply moved past him. Close enough to feel the warmth of his body. If she hadn’t been wearing a sweater against the cool November weather, her arm would have touched his—bare skin to bare skin. She was suddenly jittery. The close contact, his disarming grin—so attractive and so unexpected, the sheer masculinity of his unshaven jaw all combined to mobilize her hormones. If there was an antidote to his powerful appeal now was the time to take it. But she couldn’t think of a single course of treatment to slow her reaction.

God help her—she was smack-dab in the devil’s domain.

“Go sit down before you fall down,” she ordered. “If that happens, no way can I scrape you off the floor by myself.”

He winced at the words. “Falling’s not high on my to-do list, either.”

“What are you really doing up?”