The Wife He's Been Waiting For. Dianne Drake

but Ina was hard to refuse. Sometimes he wondered if she was in cahoots with the other women in his family who wanted to over-mother him. “I’d love a cup,” he lied.

      “Cream?”

      Cream did it no earthly good, and it was a waste of good cream. “I’d love cream,” he said, still forcing a polite smile.

      That was all Ina needed to be pleased, as she rushed away to brew up her hideous potion, leaving Michael to take Sarah Collins’s blood test. Well, that didn’t matter, did it? It was a simple finger stick. Took ten seconds. But there was something about her…something that bothered him. Maybe it was the way she’d clung to him when in the elevator, or the little tingle he’d felt when they’d touched.

      Or maybe it was the haunted look in her eyes. He knew that haunted look on a deeply personal level. Saw it in his own mirror sometimes.

      Yes, that had to be it. Someone afraid. Someone numbed. He didn’t often think about the battlefield these days, or all the wounded men he’d treated during those months on active duty. Grueling hours, hideous wounds. Another life altogether that he didn’t allow to spill over into this one. What was done was done, and he wasn’t going back. Now he worked on a cruise ship, drank insufferably bad tea with an overly protective surrogate mother and spent his off-duty hours in the lounge on the Lido deck, listening to bad karaoke and drinking diet cola.

      “This won’t hurt,” he said to Sarah, as he pressed the barrel of the lancet device to the index finger on her left hand, then pushed the button to let the lancet prick her.

      She flinched involuntarily, turning away her head when he squeezed a drop of blood from her finger and smeared it on the test strip. Probably squeamish, he decided. “Are you on this cruise with someone else?” he asked, as he counted down the seconds for the results to register. “Friend, family member, group tour?” Spouse?

      “Alone,” she said. “It’s the best way to travel. You get to go where you want, do what you want. No compromises, no one impinging on your time.”

      Spoken like a true cynic, he thought. Or somebody badly burned by life. “One hundred and one,” he pronounced. “I think you’re good to go, so long as you don’t overdo it.”

      Sitting up, then swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she said, “Believe me, I never overdo it.”

      “If anything, I suppose you could say that you underdo it. Which is why I’d like to have you check in here three times a day so I can do readings. For a couple of days anyway. And since there’s always food available, I’d like to see you eating five or six times a day.”

      She laughed over that. “What you’d like to see and what I’m able to do are two entirely different things, Doctor. I’ll take better care of myself until I get off the ship. That’s a promise since I don’t want to bother you again. But I’m afraid that doctor’s orders are falling on deaf ears otherwise. I can’t eat that many times a day.”

      “Small meals,” he said. “Constant fuel for your body, so your blood sugar doesn’t fluctuate so much.” Was that a small spark of defiance flickering in her eyes now? Did the lady have a little challenge in her? “Unless you like being a patient in here. Because if you don’t take better care of yourself, we’re bound to meet under these very same circumstances again.” Not that it would be a bad thing, the part where they met again, anyway. But he surely didn’t want it to be under these circumstances. And now that he knew Sarah Collins was here, on the ship, all alone…

      No! He didn’t do that. Hadn’t even been tempted before. He knew others of the crew indulged in little shipboard flings, but he didn’t. Even though the emotional scars had long since healed from his last try at something more enduring than a casual fling, he didn’t indulge at all now, and he was surprised that Sarah had brought out that little beast in him, especially with the resolution he’d made. Well, time to put the beast away. Michael Sloan was off the market, didn’t look, didn’t touch. Didn’t anything! Not until he knew what came next for him.

      “OK, so maybe you’re right. But I don’t like your prescription, Doctor, so here’s my compromise. I’ll eat my three meals a day, maybe have a small bedtime snack, but that’s still up in the air, depending on how I feel at bedtime. And I’ll stop in here once a day to have my gluco…blood-sugar level checked. Not the three times you wanted.” She smiled sweetly at him. “That’s my final offer.”

      “Most people don’t defy doctor’s orders.” He liked it that she did.

      “And most people don’t go on a cruise to avoid social interaction, which is why I’m here, Doctor. To avoid social interactions, or even professional ones such as yourself. Once I get myself accustomed to the ship and its schedule, I’ll be fine. I’m sure you’ll be very busy tending patients who really want your attention once this cruise gets well underway, so there’s no need to bother about me. I know how to take care of myself.”

      “No, you don’t, or you wouldn’t be lying here in my bed right now, arguing about it.” He charted her latest blood-sugar result then set the clipboard on the stand next to the bed. “I can’t force treatment on you, and I’m not even going to argue with you about it. You know what I want, and it’s up to you to decide how you want to take care of yourself. You can do it the right way, or…do whatever you want to do.” With that, he spun around and walked away. No use arguing with her. She was already dead set on what she intended to do and, as pretty as she was, that didn’t always translate into smart. Which seemed to be the case with Miss Sarah Collins.

      Or maybe not. He couldn’t tell. She’d be back, though. One way or another—following doctors orders, or going against them—she’d be back. He was counting on it.

      Sarah returned to her cabin under the escort of a nurse named Ina. She was a nice sort, had even fixed her a decent cup of tea, which had hit the spot. Ina probably would have stayed to tuck her into bed, but Sarah opted for a shower in preparation for going for a late-night meal. OK, so she was going to be good and eat the way she was supposed to. Either that or have herself another time of it in the hospital, and while she certainly had nothing against the hospital—it looked to be magnificently equipped—she had a thing against medicine in general. Loved it, hated it, wanted it, wanted to avoid it.

      Mixed feelings all the way around, and the best way to avoid that was to avoid the issue causing the problem. Which was why she’d eat, which was why she’d consent to one, maybe two blood tests a day. Her mother used to say something about an ounce of prevention being worth a pound of cure, and since with her condition a pound of cure came in the form of a hospital and a good-looking doctor, she would opt for the ounce of prevention. For a few days. Then she’d get off the ship and see what else she could find for herself. Maybe Japan. Or, better yet, Hong Kong. Nobody there would force food and blood tests on her.

      After a quick shower, Sarah finally gave in and went off in search of a light meal. Off the beaten path…not in any of the main dining rooms, or at the continual buffet of lobster and fruit and so many other delicacies it nearly caused her to go queasy thinking about all the choices. No, she stayed away from all the main sources and instead opted for a dark, cozy little lounge on the Lido deck where one of the passengers, who was a little too inebriated to show good sense, was attempting a tune on the karaoke, and doing a miserable job of it. He was singing about an anguished phantom and sounding more like a walrus with bellyache. Which suited Sarah’s purposes as the lounge was practically empty.

      She ordered a small salad and a cup of seafood chowder, and settled into one of the back booths to wait, trying hard not to listen to the off key warblings that were getting more off-key by the moment. Shutting her eyes, she leaned her head against the back of the booth, fighting away the image of the good doctor, which had been lingering there a while longer than was comfortable.

      Bad impression, she decided. That’s why she kept thinking about him. He’d made a bad impression on her. But the images there were anything but bad, which was why she decided to force her concentration on the second verse going on at the front of the lounge. More off key than the first. And much louder.