Tender Loving Care. Susan Mallery

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      “I prefer to think of myself as having well-developed leadership qualities.”

      He grinned. The overhead light cast shadows on the hollows of his cheeks. “Like I said. Bossy.”

      She pulled back the sheets, then waited until he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He was very masculine…and virtually naked. Long legs stretched on forever; the lean muscles were covered by hair as dark as that clinging to his chest. The tight briefs around his middle only outlined the…uh…maleness below. Why did he have to be so damned good-looking?

      “I think I might be able to find my way,” Logan said, turning toward the hall. “I occasionally make this journey in the dark.”

      “Suit yourself.” She let him walk two steps and bang his shin on the end of the bed.

      “Ow. Why didn’t you warn me?”

      “Would you have listened?” she asked, filling her voice with as much sweetness as possible.

      He bent down and rubbed his leg. “I will from now on. Lead the way.”

      Melissa put his hand on her arm and counted out the steps to the bathroom. When they reached the door, she flipped on the light.

      “Why did you do that?” he asked.

      “What?”

      “Turn on the light. Are you planning to watch?”

      The outrage in his voice started her lips twitching. “It’s just this weird thing I do. When I walk into a dark room I reach for the light. Call me crazy. And as for watching…honey, you haven’t got anything I ain’t seen.”

      “We’ll discuss that another time. Just give me a shove in the general direction and leave me in peace.”

      “Two steps forward. The sink is to the right. I’ve left out your toothbrush, with toothpaste, and there’s a towel next to it.”

      He turned to her. “Is there anything you haven’t thought of?”

      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.”

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