Tender Loving Care. Susan Mallery

and pain bracketing his mouth. “Yeah. The doctor gave me a very thorough exam before I left. If you were looking for a way to keep me in line, it worked.” The red marks on his face had been treated with a clear ointment that made them seem more raw.

      Melissa patted his arm sympathetically. Logan’s corneal abrasion was quite severe. He’d ignored his physician’s orders and now had an infection to deal with, as well. Just the thought of someone probing his already painful eyes and lids was enough to make her shudder.

      “Let’s get you home and in bed.”

      “Not tonight, dear, I have a headache,” he joked as she helped him to his feet. He towered above her—six feet of injured, frustrated male. “But it’s a hell of a generous offer. I…” He clenched his teeth and drew in a slow breath. “When did the earth start spinning so fast?”

      “Hold on to me.” She nodded for the orderly to take Logan’s other side and then turned him toward the car. “You’ve been flat on your back for two days. It takes a second to get your balance. Put your hand out in front of you and feel for the car. There. I’m going to put my hand on the top of your head, so you don’t bump yourself while you get in. Slowly.”

      He lowered himself onto the seat and sighed. “Is this the Volvo?”

      Melissa closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. “Yes. How did you know?”

      “I recognized the smell.”

      She reached across him and grabbed the shoulder belt. His skin had paled to an unhealthy shade of gray, and his lips were pulled into a tight line of pain. After snapping the buckle, she gave his forearm a reassuring squeeze. “Wendi said my car wasn’t big enough for you. Besides, it’s a cheap model and I don’t think she wanted the neighbors watching it pull in and out of the driveway.”

      Her attempt at humor was rewarded with a slight smile. “That’s my girl, always worrying about what the neighbors will think. She gets it from her mother.” He fumbled on the far side of the seat, then lowered the back down. “Home, James.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      Melissa started the engine and carefully put the car into drive. After easing out of the hospital parking lot, she turned onto the canyon road that would take them to Logan’s place.

      The house wasn’t that far from the bustling west side of Los Angeles, but once in the hills the only hints of the large city were the occasional glimpses of high rises that flashed through the trees. Houses were set back from the street, with heavy gates and thick, tall trees standing guard.

      She watched for the correct turn. Logan lived on a long cul-de-sac, third house from the corner. Although slightly more modest than its neighbors, his house was still impressive. The used-brick facade was elegant. A circular driveway curved in front, then veered off toward a three-car garage.

      He probably paid more in property taxes than she’d earned all last year, she thought as she slowed the car to a stop. Maybe she should have gone into a different line of work.

      “We’re here, Logan.”

      He sat up slowly and opened the car door. She half expected him to go barreling off toward the house, but he seemed to have learned his lesson at the hospital. He swung his legs out, then waited impatiently on the seat.

      Logan inhaled and smelled the roses in the front yard. He remembered fighting Fiona about the color so many years before, but he’d never noticed the scent. Once the yard was finished, it had ceased to demand his attention. Today the heavy perfume filled the air. There was the sound of a car going down the street and a dog barking in the distance. His world had been reduced to blackness, intruded upon only by sound and touch and smell. He felt alone and isolated.

      “It’s about fifteen feet to the front door and there’s one step. I’ll tell you before we get there. Now stand up slowly and lean on the car. When you’ve got your balance, put your arm around my shoulders.”

      Logan thought about arguing. He disliked being told what to do, by anyone. But the dizziness he’d experienced before, combined with the pain in his eyes, was enough to dull his natural charge-ahead instinct. Most of all, he hated the helplessness.

      He rose and gripped the top of the car. The world lurched a couple of times and settled into still blackness.

      “Ready?” she asked.

      He nodded. As she slipped his arm around her shoulder, he recalled Wendi’s description. Melissa was short; he had to lean down to let her help him. Her hand held on to his side, providing him with a surprising amount of support for a small person. The gentle round flesh pressing against his ribs could only be her breast. He grinned. His daughter had neglected to mention that Melissa was curvy. Something inside rumbled as if to remind him he’d been alone for too long.

      Soft strands of hair brushed against his bare forearm, swaying back and forth with each step. It was like being tickled with silky feathers. He would have teased her about the sensation or wondered about the tingling in his groin if he hadn’t tripped on an uneven flagstone.

      The sense of falling into nothing jerked him back to reality. He felt Melissa throw both of her arms around him, in an effort to steady him. Her petite body pressed next to his. From chest to knee, flesh warmed flesh.

      “Who the hell designed this walkway?” she asked.

      He could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and the indignation in her voice made him smile. Heaven forbid that anything should threaten her patient. He moved his hands over her back, then up to her face. She was warm and soft and ready to go to battle for him. He hadn’t known he liked that in a woman.

      Tilting her chin so that she was looking at him, he spoke. “I did.”

      “Figures. Concentrate on your footing, Logan. There will be plenty of time for woolgathering when I get you in bed.”

      She moved back to his side and they began to walk again.

      “Step now.”

      He raised his foot and felt the higher level. “The door should be right in front of us.”

      “It is. Stay still. I’ll go open it.”

      He heard the sound of metal against metal, then the lock turning. Melissa stepped back and placed her arm at his waist. “Let’s try and get through the house without breaking anything.”

      By the time they reached his bedroom, Logan was covered with sweat. The pain in his head made every inch of the journey painful, and negotiating the furniture and turns had stretched his nerves tight.

      He sat on the bed. “Just let me lie down for a couple of minutes. I’ll be fine.”

      “Don’t move a muscle until I get back.” Melissa ran into the bathroom and dampened a couple of cloths. When she returned, he was sitting exactly where she’d left him. “Come on, Logan. Let’s get you out of these clothes and then you can sleep the rest of the day.”

      “You seem awfully anxious to get me into bed. Is that all you nurses think about?”

      Not until today. Just the thought of undressing his powerful body was enough to send sparks skittering through her, but he was her patient and he was in pain. There’d be time to remember the look and feel of his body when she was at her next assignment.

      “No. We also think about ways to torture innocent people. I need you to cooperate.”

      He nodded wearily.

      Biting her lower lip, Melissa leaned forward and started unfastening his shirt. As she worked the small buttons, she could feel his breath on her face. Each puff of air made her fingers stumble slightly before resuming their task. The fabric parted obligingly and exposed a well-muscled chest covered with rich dark hair. The pattern continued down his flat stomach, only to disappear into the waistband of his jeans.

      When she finished with the buttons, he shrugged out of the shirt, then untied his athletic shoes, pulled