His Private Nurse Read online

  Royce struggled once more to a standing position, only to discover that he had reached the end of his strength. Swaying dangerously, he reached back to catch himself on the arm of the wheelchair and found warm flesh. Merrily stepped up under his arm and steadied him while Dale quickly pulled the shorts up around his waist inside the robe. Any other time, Royce would have burned with embarrassment. Just then, however, his injuries were exacting too great a toll to leave him strength even for humiliation.

  He turned blindly toward the bed, Merrily on one side, Dale on the other, and somehow managed to hop the short distance to it. They turned him and eased him down to a sitting position. Then, pivoting on his hips and with Merrily carefully lifting his injured right leg, he lay back with a groaning sigh. His own bed. Heaven. Exhaustion clutched him, but his eyes managed to find Dale.

  “Will you get her settled?”

  “Sure thing, old buddy.”

  Royce smiled. He could always depend on Dale, but as his eyes drifted closed, an alarming picture branded itself on his brain, his best friend and confidant sliding an arm familiarly around the shoulders of his own personal angel.

  Dale placed the two large, mismatched bags in the center of the large, airy room and straightened. “What do you think?”

  Merrily dropped the two smaller bags on the bed and glanced around her, smiling. The four-poster bed was high and wide, its pale wood gleaming. A matching dresser stood across the room between the bath and closet doors. The single bedside table matched a larger table that stood before a deep shuttered window flanked by two small wing chairs. A rustic armoire, she had already discovered, contained a small television and CD system. She stood on thick, soft Berber carpet. The generous bath attached to this room was white-tiled, bright and pristine. Her own room at home was small and shabby by comparison.

  “This is some house.”

  Dale chuckled. “Yeah, well, what would you expect from the city’s finest home builder? Honestly, you haven’t seen anything yet. Wait until you see the pool under that massive deck out there.”

  Merrily gaped at him. “A pool under the deck?”

  Dale grinned. “Royce is nothing if not inventive, and he believes in making best use of the natural resources. Another builder might have come in here and leveled this spot before building. Royce had the house designed around the site. Besides, having the pool covered makes it usable year-round. Come on. Let me show you the rest of the place.”

  Merrily followed, her amazement growing, as Dale led her around the house as proudly as if he owned it himself. “Does he run his business from here?” Merrily asked, looking around the cluttered office.

  Dale shook his head. “Not really. He has an office downtown, and he usually drops in there several times a week just so the staff doesn’t forget what he looks like, but he’s usually out on the job sites. A lot of stuff winds up in here, though.”

  “So I see.”

  They moved on to the breakfast room, which commanded a sublime view, as did the large den and kitchen, which connected to the formal dining room through a sunken hallway. The kitchen, in Merrily’s opinion, was the very heart of the house, and she couldn’t disguise her eagerness to get in there and putter around. The cabinet bases and countertops were stone, the floor and cabinet fronts highly polished wood, the fixtures brushed steel and copper. A center island, over which hung a large wrought-iron pot rack laden with copper and cast iron pans, provided more than ample work space.

  The pool, accessed via the garage or the sunken game room was a marvel. The space was open on two sides, but the framing existed for panels that would close it in during the weeks of winter. The massive deck above it was a marvel of engineering genius, but when Merrily stood at the top of the stairs and looked down at the distance Royce had fallen, a shiver crawled up her spine.

  “A guy will be out tomorrow to put a gate at the top of these steps,” Dale told her. “Royce always meant to do it, but it was somehow overlooked during the building of the house, and he never got around to correcting that.”

  “It’s a miracle he wasn’t killed.”

  Dale nodded and said, “He might have died if not for Tammy.”

  “His daughter?”

  Dale nodded and looked toward the back of the house. “She apparently saw him fall from her room, and she immediately called 911 and me. Then she got a blanket, covered him and stayed with him until help arrived.”

  “She did everything right. Must be a bright, brave little girl.”

  “A troubled little girl,” Dale said.

  Merrily waited for him to go on and, when he didn’t, gently prodded him. “The accident must’ve been very traumatic for her.”

  “Just one more trauma of many, I’m afraid.” He looked away then, hand sliding into the pocket of his slacks to nervously jingle its contents. Finally, he jerked the hand free and made an agitated gesture with it. “Look, you’re going to find out soon enough so I might as well tell you. Royce’s divorce was and continues to be extremely acrimonious, and that’s had a detrimental effect on both his kids, but especially on Tammy.”

  Merrily bowed her head, disappointment pulling at her. Somehow she had expected better from Royce Lawler. “That’s too bad.”

  “It’s not Royce’s fault,” Dale quickly assured her. “That ex of his is a walking pestilence in my opinion. She’s done everything in her power to turn those kids against him. They’ve been locked in a bloody custody battle for the past two years.”

  Merrily’s head came up sharply. “He’s trying to take the children from their mother?”

  “He’s trying to protect them from her. Pamela’s just plain crazy.”

  “Well, if that’s true, then why has it dragged on all these months?”

  “Because Pam is as smart and manipulative as she is nuts.”

  Merrily wanted to believe that. She couldn’t picture Royce being cruel enough to deprive a loving mother of her children, but she didn’t really know him, and the luxury of this place merely served to point up that fact. Still, she was here to perform a service, not to judge. Shrugging, she turned away from the stairs and started toward the house, saying, “It’s none of my business, I’m sure.”

  Behind her Dale muttered something that sounded like, “It will be.”

  He followed her into the house and was waiting in the kitchen when she returned from looking in on a soundly sleeping Royce. “It, um, just occurred to me that you’re going to have to do the cooking.”

  She brightened immediately. “Really? I thought there might be a cook.”

  Dale shook his head and swiveled around on the stool to watch as she strolled into the kitchen. “The housekeeper comes in two afternoons a week, and a guy comes by every Thursday to take care of the lawn, but that’s it.”

  “Well, I guess I’d better take a look at the larder, then,” Merrily said happily, “see if there’s anything I can cook.”

  “Make a list,” Dale told her, “and I’ll pick up whatever you need.”

  Both the refrigerator and the pantry, as it turned out, were extremely well stocked. Still, she noted the lack of a few items. Finding a pad attached to a clipboard that hung just inside the pantry door, she jotted down her list, which she then presented to Dale. He glanced over it, eyes widening.

  “Okay,” he said doubtfully, “but I’m warning you now, that Royce isn’t going to drink herbal teas.”

  Merrily chuckled. “Maybe not, but I will. And you might be surprised. In addition to having medicinal purposes, many herbal teas are quite tasty.”

  “Royce still won’t drink ’em,” he stated firmly.

  “I think he will.”

  Dale lifted both brows. “Wanna bet?”

  She leaned her elbows on the counter, smiling. “I might.” He grinned, and suddenly she was struck by how handsome he was. Funny, but she hadn’t noticed before. “What did you have in mind?”

  “How about dinner?”

  She considered that and nodded, flattered e
nough to be enthusiastic. Going out was out of the question, however. “I win, you furnish takeout,” she said. “You win, I cook.”

  He stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

  She placed her own hand in his, surprised by its size. He was so thin that he didn’t look as large as he obviously was. Though taller than Royce, Dale had somehow seemed less substantial—until now.

  “Shall we put a time limit on this wager?” Merrily asked brightly, taking her hand back when it seemed that he would go on holding it indefinitely.

  “Good idea. How does a week sound?”

  “A week it is.”

  Dale shook his head, chuckling. “Like taking candy from a baby.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know my boy Royce.”

  “And I,” Merrily said confidently, “know my herbal teas.”

  Dale cocked his head then, studying her blatantly. Finally he nodded. “Like I said, I know Royce, maybe better than he knows himself, and now that I know you a little, I think I understand better why he’s so insistent that only you can help him get better.”

  “Oh?” She couldn’t for the life of her imagine what he meant.

  “You, Nurse Gage, are more than a pretty face,” he said sincerely. “You have a very calming manner about you.”

  Please, she smiled. “You can’t pay me compliments like that and go on calling me Nurse Gage. Let it be Merrily from now on.”

  He grinned. “My pleasure, and of course I’m Dale.”

  “Thanks for all your help today, Dale.”

  “Yeah, sure.” He slid the list into his shirt pocket. “But if there’s nothing else, I have to get going.”

  “We’ll be fine,” she assured him.

  “I’ll be back around six with these things. If you think of anything else you need in the meantime, I’m numbers three, four and five on the speed dial. If you don’t get me at the office or at home, try the cell, in that order.”

  “All right. Thank you.”

  “No problem,” he said, flipping her a wave as he strode toward the entry. “Oh, and when you concede defeat, I’d like a good steak.”

  Merrily just laughed, feeling that she’d landed in a very good place and perhaps had made a friend, too. Looking around her, she sighed with satisfaction, then she got busy making lunch for herself and her patient.

  Chapter Five

  Royce glanced at the syringe in Merrily’s hand and grimaced. He hated the way that stuff made him feel, almost as much as he hated the pain and the weakness. Besides, if Pamela decided to send over the children this morning as he’d begged her to, he wanted to be wide awake and in possession of all his faculties. She wasn’t likely to do it, mainly because she knew it would give him some peace of mind to see them, but just in case, he wanted to remain lucid.

  “I’m not taking that stuff,” he told Merrily flatly.

  She just smiled patiently and said, “We’ve had this discussion repeatedly.”

  “It’ll put me to sleep. I don’t want to go to sleep.”

  Sighing, Merrily sank down onto the side of the bed. “I understand that you don’t want to be knocked out, but you need rest. As you get stronger, you’ll naturally sleep less. If we medicate regularly, you can spend your days comfortable but awake—for the most part.”

  “For the most part,” he echoed doubtfully. “You mean, occasionally.”

  “Every day will get better,” she promised, “but you know you need this, so why do we have to argue about it?”

  “Arguing is better than sleeping,” he said, beginning to enjoy himself. She smelled good, his Nurse Merrily, lemon and vanilla, like the pudding she’d served him with dinner last night. He wondered what she’d say if he asked her to stretch out on the bed next to him. She began speaking again, and his gaze glued itself to her mouth. Watching her speak seemed to ease his pain a little. He suspected that a true kiss from her would be more drugging than any injection.

  “Arguing is not helpful,” she was saying, “and that’s what I’m here for, to help you. It’s also why the doctor prescribed these injections.”

  What a mouth she had, eminently kissable, absolutely luscious. He still remembered how it felt, even while out of his head and in pain, to press his mouth to hers. Just thinking about it now lessened the ache in his shoulder and leg. Better the doctor should prescribe her. “Why can’t I just use the pills?”

  “They aren’t strong enough,” she answered, those luscious lips forming each word carefully. “Tell you what, take the injections today, without argument, and we’ll try the pills tomorrow. Okay?”

  At the moment he’d have agreed to anything that would have kept her talking. “No more shots?”

  “Only at bedtime.”

  “You drive a hard bargain,” he grumbled.

  “I just want to spare you pain.”

  “It’s not that bad,” he lied.

  She lowered her head, keeping her gaze fixed. “I know I look young, but do I also look stupid?”

  He smiled, despite the persistent ache. “No.”

  “Well, then.”

  Resignedly he rolled onto his back and pulled his good arm from beneath the cover. He did hurt, and he was tired, and Pamela was not going to bring the children over. And he was having inappropriate thoughts about his nurse. Merrily swabbed his upper arm with a small square of alcohol-soaked paper, pinched the muscle into a bulge, uncapped the needle with her teeth and plunged the needle into his flesh. He didn’t feel a thing and told her so.

  “That’s the point,” she said, deadpan, recapping the needle.

  “Ha-ha. Nurse humor.” Smiling, she started to rise. Without thinking, he clamped his hand down over her thigh. “Don’t go.” She froze, her delectable bottom poised a mere inch above the bed. The heat of her thigh warmed his palm and sent blood surging to another part of his body. He removed his hand, and she subsided. “Talk to me awhile,” he pleaded. “I’m tired of talking to myself.”

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Don’t know. How do you like the place? Comfortable enough?”

  “The house is fantastic, as you well know,” she told him with an appreciative smile. “I adore your kitchen.”

  “Thanks. You like to cook, don’t you?”

  “I love to cook.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Really?”

  “It’s one of the things I’m missing most, frankly.”

  “I thought you’d have someone to prepare your meals for you.”

  He shook his head. “Uh-uh. When I was married, we had someone because she insisted, but even then I did all the cooking on the weekends.” He smiled, remembering. “I’d spend all morning making silver dollar pancakes for the kids.”

  “She?” Merrily said. “You mean your wife.”

  The sweet memory evaporated. “Ex-wife,” he corrected, shifting into a more comfortable position.

  Merrily looked away. After a moment she said, “Well, you have a wonderful kitchen. In fact, the whole house is wonderful.”

  “Wait until I can show you the pool.”

  “Oh, Dale already has,” she said quickly.

  Irritation flashed through him. Dale. “Has he?”

  “Yes, he showed me the whole house, except for the kids’ rooms.”

  Royce tried not to grind his back teeth. He had asked Dale to help her get settled, not squire her around the house. “What else did he do?”

  “Nothing much,” she answered blithely.

  He turned his head, sure he’d heard something more in her voice. “I don’t think I believe you.”

  She raised both eyebrows, and then she laughed. “All right. He made a bet with me.”

  Royce frowned. “A bet? About what?”

  She leaned toward him, one arm braced against the mattress, weight held against the palm of her hand. “I’m not going to tell you.” With that she pushed off the bed and stood. “You need to sleep now.”

  His eyes did feel heavy, and a li
ghtness was creeping over him, but he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. “Why won’t you tell me what the bet was about?”

  “Because it wouldn’t be fair.”

  “To whom?”

  “Either of us.”

  Us. “You mean you and Dale.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “What was the wager? I mean, the payoff.”

  “Dinner.”

  Royce narrowed his eyes. “He asked you to dinner?”

  “No.”

  He relaxed, and lightness swirled through him, invading his limbs. “Tell me.” His tongue didn’t want to move properly.

  “I will,” she promised, smoothing the covers with her hand. “In a few more days.”

  He wanted to argue about that, but she stepped back, moving out of his sight. “Don’ go yet,” he muttered.

  She appeared again at the foot of his bed, her smile the sweetest he’d ever seen. “All right.” She walked over to the chair in front of the fireplace and turned it toward the bed. “I’ll sit here awhile.”

  “’Kay.” His eyelids drifted closed, too heavy to keep open. An easy sigh floated up out of his mouth. Merrily was here, and he could sleep.

  Royce groaned, becoming aware of a stiff muscle in his neck and the all-too-familiar aches. Heavily he rolled to his back. Pain shot through his right shoulder. The blasted cast made it nearly impossible to lie comfortably. He’d have given half of what he owned to be able to bend his knee and flex his elbow. Opening his eyes, he knew at once where he was. Home.

  “How did you sleep?”

  His gaze shot to the side. Merrily. She had pulled the rocking chair close to the bed and curled up there like a kitten, a magazine in her lap. He smiled. “Okay, I guess.”

  “I guess. Since you slept through lunch. Obviously, you needed the rest even more than I thought.” She set aside the magazine and got up. “Hungry?”