“Try to sleep now, Logan. I’ll check in at regular intervals. Wendi said I could take the room next door. Is that all right with you?”
“That’s fine.”
She pulled her hand away, but he caught her wrist. His thumb brushed back and forth against the sensitive inner flesh.
“I could get used to this kind of treatment, Melissa.”
She tried to laugh, but the only sound that came out was a slight croak. She cleared her throat. “That’s what they all say, the first day. I’ll be a holy terror by the end of the week.”
The medicine was beginning to work, and she saw the muscles in his face relax. “Yeah, sure. I’m really scared,” he murmured, then released her hand.
Long after she’d left the room, the inside of her wrist tingled from his touch.
Chapter Two
Three hours later, Melissa crept back into Logan’s room. The past few times she’d checked on him he’d been sleeping soundly, but now it seemed as though he were starting to get restless.
The bedroom was large, with stark white walls and a deep blue carpet. Massive pieces of furniture, from the four-poster bed to the two matching armoires, proclaimed the territory as belonging to a man. A chair rail, in the same rich mahogany as the rest of the furniture, bisected the walls. Opposite the door was a white brick fireplace, flanked by two leather wing chairs. The only incongruous note was the French Impressionist paintings hanging on the walls.
The armoire to the left of the bed contained stereo equipment. She glanced at the CDs scattered on the table and picked up the sound track to The Phantom of the Opera. When the opening bars of music began to softly fill the room, Melissa moved to the bed.
Logan stirred, then rolled onto his back.
“Hi,” she said, stepping closer to him. “How do you feel?”
“You don’t want to know.” He touched his fingers to the bandage around his eyes. His color was no longer gray.
She perched on the edge of the mattress and pulled his hand into her lap. The literature she’d been reading about the newly blind had said that they need a lot of physical contact with the world around them. Feelings of panic and disorientation weren’t uncommon. Even though Logan’s eyesight would be fine once the bandages were off, it was her job to deal with his emotional well-being. She clasped the strong fingers within her own.
The contact felt nice…too nice. It’s just a job, she reminded herself.
“Are you in pain?”
“Not if you don’t count anything above the shoulders.” Logan pulled his hand away and raised himself to a sitting position. The sheet fell to his waist, exposing the expanse of his chest. Dark hair, curling across well-formed muscles cried out to be touched, or at the very least, admired. His fingers returned, tentatively searching for hers.
Melissa swallowed and tried to think of something to say. “Are you hungry?” The staff nurse had told her he hadn’t eaten any lunch and very little breakfast.
“I think so, but I’d like to wash up. I can still smell the hospital.”
“No problem. Only it’s too soon for a bath or shower. You mustn’t get the bandages wet.”
“You are bossy, aren’t you?”
“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.”