Tender Loving Care. Susan Mallery

of his neck. He was silk and steel. His skin was hot like fire, his hair was cool like satin.

      He pressed his thumb lightly on her chin, urging her to allow him entrance. No, she thought. But the deep moan in his chest was her undoing. She opened her mouth and welcomed his tongue with the touch of hers.

      It was like drowning in fire. Flames of sensation ran through her body, pausing only to collect in her breasts and between her thighs. Fighting against his touch became impossible and she gave herself up to the inferno.

      Logan’s fingers traced the line of her neck, then moved down to her shoulder. He longed to discover the curves he’d earlier wondered about. Even through her clothes, he could feel the roundness of her body; the lush fullness, so different from Fiona’s harsh angles and protruding bones, made him ache. He…

      Logan drew back with a suddenness that caused his head to swim. What the hell was he thinking of? Melissa was his nurse and hired by his boss. He had no business making love with her…or any other woman like her, for that matter. Hadn’t he learned his lesson? He only wanted sophisticated types who knew the rules of the game: no commitments, no pain. Despite her humor and intelligence, she didn’t strike him as the worldly kind.

      “Logan, I…” Melissa’s voice cracked, but it wasn’t enough of a clue to tell him what she was thinking. The mattress moved and he knew she’d stood up. He wanted to rip the bandages from his eyes and study her face.

      “I’m very sorry,” she said, her voice sounding nearby. “I should never have allowed things to get so out of hand. It was very unprofessional of me.”

      The genuine shock and remorse in her tone filled him with irritation. He swore.

      “Logan? Are you hurt?”

      He turned away. “I’m fine.” He ached, but it couldn’t be helped by one of her little pills. The only cure would be to bury that part of him deep within her waiting softness and carry them both to a place beyond pain.

      Melissa touched her hand to her kiss-swollen lips. She felt like a fool…or worse. An incident like this could cost her her job, or at the very least, her self-respect.

      She’d heard about patients coming on to nurses. It hadn’t happened to her before, but she recognized the symptoms. A caring woman helping a man in need. They were isolated together in a world of their own making. It was a volatile situation.

      Logan tried to smile. “I’m sorry, too.”

      She silenced him by pressing her fingers on his arm. “Don’t apologize. It happens all the time. Not to me, of course. The only thing Bobby ever did was give me his favorite stuffed animal, but I think the sentiment was the same.”

      “Thanks.”

      She stared at his face for a moment longer, memorizing the planes and angles and hollows. If only his feelings had been real, she thought. When he touched her, she burned with a fire she’d never felt before. Who are you, Logan Phillips?

      “You’re reacting to the blindness,” she said quietly, almost afraid to speak the truth. In a way, these words were as much for her as for Logan. “It’s very natural to reach out for physical contact. I should have been more prepared. After all, looking after you is my job.”

      Her matter-of-fact tone doused his desire faster than a cold shower. Part of her job? Did she think he was some weak-kneed mental case who needed to be pampered and coddled? “I see. Thanks for the information. I’ll try not to trouble you again. Just get rid of the flowers. I want to know when you walk in the room.”

      Melissa picked up the nearest arrangement and carried it out. Explaining away his sensual invitation was the hardest thing she’d ever done. But there’d been no other option. She was his nurse.

      Besides, Logan had turned to her because he needed a woman…any woman. But she’d turned to him because she was starting to care. It was a combination destined to break her heart. There was no place for her in Logan Phillips’s life, now or ever.

      

      When the last bouquet had been placed in another part of the house, Melissa returned to her room. She’d kept the arrangement from John Anderson, Logan’s boss, on her dresser. The peach roses had been from Fiona. The card had been signed with just her name. Melissa had stuck them in Wendi’s room. She smiled as she remembered the young girl turning over sleepily and calling out good-night. Wendi had just enough of her father’s charm to make her hard to resist.

      Melissa paced the space between the dresser and the bathroom door. Her room had been decorated in dusty rose. She didn’t have a view of the pool, but her window looked out on the side garden. The queen-size mattress was covered with a satin bedspread, and a cherry-wood dresser held all her clothes, with several drawers to spare.

      Somewhere in the house, a clock chimed the hour. It was getting close to noon. She couldn’t hide from Logan forever; he was her responsibility.

      Since her disastrous relationship with Jeff Bernard, she’d avoided entanglements of any kind. Working as a practical nurse protected her from pain. If she didn’t date, she couldn’t be used or dumped. But at what price? After six years of running from men in general, she was starting to see that she’d given up her chance for love and a family. Not that she expected to be rescued by a handsome prince. They were reserved for the Fiona Phillipses of the world. Still there might be someone—a medium kind of man, who was looking for the love of an honest, giving woman.

      If nothing else, her reaction to Logan’s kiss proved she wasn’t as immune to men as she had thought. It had to mean that; she wouldn’t let herself think that the only thing she wasn’t immune to was Logan.

      Maybe when she was done here, she would take some time off and think about her future. She couldn’t run forever. However, before she made any grand plans for her life, she still had to face her very attractive patient. The best way to handle the situation would be to pretend nothing had happened between them. She could do it; she’d been hiding her real feelings all her life.

      

      Logan sat in bed, listening to the radio. Maybe he was just getting old, but he didn’t understand rap music. The words didn’t make sense and the beat hurt his head.

      The fragrance of magnolias drifted into the room. Was she angry? Would she leave him now?

      “I was wondering where you’d run off to,” he said as he held his fists tightly against his sides. He’d suffer whatever was necessary to avoid embarrassing either of them again. Her words still echoed in his ears: reacting to the blindness.

      She sat next to him and touched his arm. “I was thinking. We need to talk about a bath.”

      He wanted to jerk away from the contact but couldn’t. By kissing her, he’d broken all his own rules. When she’d explained away the intimacy, he’d reacted with anger and hurt pride. But in his world of blackness, he felt isolated. Her voice and gentle hands provided a guide through this difficult time; she was his anchor. He needed her.

      Wiser than he, she’d apparently decided to ignore his outburst. “Am I the biggest jerk you’ve ever known?” he asked quietly.

      She hesitated. “I once knew this guy who was about two inches taller than you.”

      “Very funny.”

      She laughed. “Now about cleaning you up…”

      “If you mean a sponge bath, you can forget it.”

      “Isn’t this where I came in, Logan?”

      “Don’t change the subject. I’ll take a shower.”

      She sighed. “You can’t get your bandages wet.”

      “So we’ll cover them.”

      “You know that wouldn’t work. I can’t very well tape up your face.” She touched the gauze around his head.

      “Okay. What’s the compromise?”

      “You