When Lightning Strikes Twice. Debrah Morris

to the other doctor. “Mitchum’s awake.”

      Mac gulped down the lukewarm brew, and they hurried out into the corridor. “Did the nurse say anything?”

      “Just that he asked to see me.”

      “I’ll need to assess his cognitive function to determine whether he suffered brain damage,” Mac said as the elevator doors closed.

      “Well, the guy was on a utility pole stealing electricity during a storm,” she reminded. “All things considered, I’m not sure you’ll be able to tell.”

      The Ranger opened his eyes when the man with Mallory introduced himself. “I’m Dr. McKinley. I guess you know Dr. Peterson.”

      “Yes, sir.” He’d known her so long, she seemed like an extension of his own being. She looked different, yet he knew her immediately. He would have recognized the spark in her warm sherry-colored eyes anywhere. For a hundred years, he’d longed to kiss her heart-shaped lips. “I owe you my thanks, Doc.”

      “It’s a miracle I was there when it happened,” she said.

      “They don’t call it a miracle,” he muttered.

      “What?” she asked.

      “Never mind.” He had to be careful. He was somebody else now. He could not reveal himself and had to start thinking like this Joe fella before anyone got suspicious. Will Pendleton, Texas Ranger, was gone, dead over a hundred years. He no longer existed, not even as a memory. Molly, the last person who might have held him in her thoughts, was long gone, too.

      There was no turning back now. He’d bet it all when he did a walk-in to Joe Mitchum’s life. But who was the man whose coil he now inhabited? What was he like? What kind of relationship did he have with Mallory? Blessing or curse, he didn’t know much about Joe. He was on his own.

      Dr. McKinley explained his medical condition, reassuring him he’d sustained no long-term physical damage. His feet were injured because the steel spikes on his boots had conducted an electrical charge through them as it exited his body. The second-degree burns were limited and would respond well to treatment. Joe was a very lucky man, given the fact that he’d just been struck by lightning.

      “When can I get out of here?”

      “Don’t be in a hurry,” McKinley said. “When you’re feeling stronger, we’ll run some tests. If everything checks out, you should be able to go home in a couple of days.” The doctor’s belt chirped, and he excused himself, explaining he had rounds to make.

      “What’s wrong with those folks?” He gestured to the forms in the other beds. “Did they come back, too?”

      Mallory frowned. She’d watched him with a confused expression since arriving in the ICU. “What do you mean, come back?”

      “Nothing. I didn’t mean anything.” He didn’t want Mallory to leave. He’d waited so long to be with her; now that she was here, a few minutes were not enough. He wanted more. “The nurse said you saved my life.”

      She shrugged. “All in a day’s work. Do you remember what happened?”

      “Not much.” He closed his eyes because they were tired and heavy. What could he tell her? That the first thing he’d become aware of as Joe Mitchum was the weight of her body as she straddled him to pound on his chest? That her warmth had comforted him? That he’d recognized her familiar scent? He’d settled uneasily into his new body, like a weary man cramming his feet into boots a size too small. Knowing she was there had made the transition easier.

      He was still grappling with the knowledge that a stopped heart could be made to beat again. It was truly a wonder. One of the last things Celestian had said was how there had been all kinds of changes in the world since he’d left it last. The time-out monitor hadn’t gotten a chance to explain those changes. He’d promised that although Joe’s mental and emotional memories were gone, departed with his alighted spirit, Joe’s physical memories would kick in once Will’s spirit acclimated to the unfamiliar coil.

      “Why don’t you tell me what happened?” He’d say anything to keep her near a little longer.

      “Not tonight. You’ve been through an ordeal. Don’t try to talk. You need to rest.” She stood uneasily by the bed, shifting from foot to foot as though torn between the desire to go, and an inexplicable urge to stay. “I’ll try to stop by tomorrow to see how you’re doing.”

      When she turned to leave, he grabbed her hand, and held it. “Don’t go!” Sadly, he couldn’t remember how her skin felt against his own. Yet there was something infinitely right about their touch.

      She must have felt it, too. Surprise and shock washed over her face as she pulled her hand from Joe’s. She stepped back and folded her arms across her chest. “Dr. McKinley is a fine physician. He’ll take good care of you.”

      “I want you.”

      She blinked, as though he’d spoken in a language so foreign she could not comprehend his meaning. “What?”

      He struggled to sit, but she pressed him back onto the bed. “Don’t try to get up. Rest. Please.”

      He stared into her golden brown eyes, and for a fleeting moment, he glimpsed the healer he had loved so much. Overcome with emotion, he flung his arms around her, pulling her close in a fierce bear hug that nearly upset the pole with the hanging bag. “I want you…to be my doctor.”

      Tensing, she pulled from his desperate embrace to right the pole and stepped behind a shield of professionalism. Did she think it would protect her from personal involvement? She cleared her throat. “Maybe I can see you on an outpatient basis after your discharge. If you require additional care.”

      She watched him closely, but he couldn’t tell if she was attracted or repelled by what she saw. Before she could be swayed by either emotion, she spun on her heels and pushed her way through the swinging door. He couldn’t do or say anything to stop her.

      He slumped back on the bed, longing burning in him like a fever. He could almost taste the acrid tang of disappointment on his tongue. He couldn’t reveal himself, and there had been no spark of recognition in her eyes. She had no idea who he really was. When she looked at him, she saw nothing of the men he’d been, or the lives they’d shared. She saw only Joe Mitchum, a fellow unlucky enough to get himself struck by lightning.

      Mallory believed he was Joe. Judging from her reaction, that fact would clearly work against him.

      Chapter Two

      Mallory spent Sunday afternoon cleaning house. She lived alone and was compulsively neat, so housework didn’t eat up a lot of her time. She saved her least favorite chore—ritual refrigerator cleansing—for last. Trying to focus on the stimulating task of clearing out tiny dishes of petrified lasagna and mummified peas, she was distracted by Friday night’s events. Leave it to Joe Mitchum to require lifesaving measures in such a bizarre and dramatic fashion.

      Instead of enjoying much needed time off she had spent the weekend thinking about him and the desperate way he’d grabbed her in the hospital. The look in his eyes haunted her. He’d been glad to see her, but she’d seen more in the dark brown depths than relief. Like elation. Too bad she couldn’t toss out unwanted thoughts of Joe as easily as Wednesday night’s chicken.

      Strangely enough, she’d felt something too. His touch had made her shiver in a wow-what’s-going-on-here way. She’d had a déjà vu moment, like being hugged by Joe was nothing new. Which was absurd. She’d known Joe for years, but they’d never shared anything but animosity. Since he’d moved in next door to the clinic, he’d gone out of his way to aggravate and provoke her. So why had he been so happy to see her?

      She finished spraying the inside of the fridge with antibacterial cleanser, and carefully replaced the contents on the shelves. Pickles on the left. Jelly on the right. She was imagining things. He’d been relieved to see her