Love - From His Point Of View!. Maureen Child

      I was patient with her. “I’m not planning to leave the hospital without Dr. Miller’s okay. He’s a sensible man, unlike the idiot in the E.R. I just want to have the option of leaving.”

      “You get the clothes when Dr. Miller releases you, and not a minute before.”

      “Dammit, Gwen, I’m not a two-year-old!”

      “You’re as stubborn as one! You’ve got a concussion, a banged-up knee, a big hole in your shoulder and a broken clavicle. You’re not going anywhere right away, and when they do discharge you, you’ll be coming home with me and Duncan.”

      No way in hell was that going to happen. “You live on the second floor. I’m not up to handling stairs yet.”

      “You’re not discharged yet, either.” She fussed with the flowers and stuff on the table by my bed, making room for the things she’d brought. “And once you are, you can lie around on the couch like a sultan and order everyone around. That should suit you.”

      Gwen had adapted well to being my sister-in-law. She sounded more like my sister all the time. Snippy. “I thought I was too banged up for Zach to see. That’s why you didn’t want to sneak him in here.” That, and the fact that, being an attorney, Gwen has a thing about rules, and the hospital didn’t allow kids under ten to visit.

      “I’m sure you’ll look better by the time you’re released.” She quit messing with the flowers and faced me. “You are not going home to an empty house in your condition, Ben. Forget that idea.”

      That hit too close to home. When I heard the snick of the door opening I turned to face it, relieved. Someone probably wanted more of my blood, or to see how “we” were doing, but that was okay. Better than looking at the concern in Gwen’s eyes.

      “You up for some visitors?” Duncan asked.

      Even better. I smiled. “You’re not a visitor, you’re a…” My voice trailed off. I forgot what I was going to say.

      He’d found her. Duncan had found my angel.

      Only she wasn’t, of course. Not mine, and certainly not an angel. A Valkyrie, maybe. Or an amazon. The top of her head was level with my brother’s, and Duncan hits a fraction over six feet.

      Her sweatshirt was blue and sloppy beneath a worn yellow parka, but couldn’t disguise beautiful, half-moon breasts. Faded denim stretched tight over a couple miles of legs—firm, rounded, muscular legs. Her hair was a messy riot of brown curls tumbling well below her shoulders. She was built long and lush, strong and stacked, every inch of her pure woman.

      It was a body that made quite an impact on a man. I blinked a few times before I got my gaze back to her face. That looked the same as I remembered…except, of course, she wasn’t glowing.

      “I don’t think you two were ever introduced,” Duncan said. “Ben, this is Seely Jones. Seely, this is my brother Ben—Benjamin McClain—and my wife, Gwen.”

      I had no idea what to say. I hadn’t thought beyond finding her, seeing her again. I cleared my throat. “Unusual name.”

      “My mother is an unusual woman.” She turned her smile on Gwen. “You have a very persistent husband. Nice, but persistent.”

      Gwen and Duncan exchanged one of those private smiles. “Yes, I do. I hope his persistence hasn’t inconvenienced you too much. I’m very glad to meet you.”

      “You’re okay, aren’t you?” I said. “I heard you were treated and released, but no one would tell me what you’d been treated for.”

      “Oh, that. I’m afraid I scared the police officer who was taking my statement by fainting, so they felt obliged to bring me in.”

      I’d never seen a woman who looked less likely to faint in my life.

      My expression must have given my thoughts away, for she laughed. “Absurd, isn’t it? I’ve done it all my life, though. Not often, thank goodness, and no, it is not a symptom of some dreadful underlying health problem—though I did have some trouble persuading the E.R. doctor of that. You seem to be doing well.”

      “Thanks to you. I, uh…that’s what I wanted. To thank you.”

      She smiled that slow, sweet smile I remembered. “Daisy says everything happens for a reason, but I never thought I’d be grateful to Vic.”

      “Vic?” I frowned. “You don’t mean Victor Sorenson.”

      “Don’t I?” Her eyebrows went up in elaborate surprise. “I thought I did.” She ambled up to my bed, click-click-click.

      I glanced down. She was wearing high heels. My own eyebrows went up. Got to respect the moxie of a tall woman who chooses to wear three-inch heels. “Sorenson’s a worm,” I mentioned, in case she hadn’t noticed.

      “I’ll agree with you there.” She spoke the way she moved—slow and easy, as if she’d never hurried in her life and didn’t intend to start. “He fired me last night. That’s why I left the resort so late and ended up finding you. Which is a roundabout sort of gratitude, but there you go. Roundabout is probably the only kind of appreciation Vic’s likely to get.”

      “I didn’t know Vic kept a paramedic on staff.”

      “I was working as a waitress, not a paramedic.” Her voice didn’t change but her eyes did—as if she’d closed a door, gently but firmly, on that subject. “Vic and I disagreed about the fringe benefits of the job. He thought he was one of them. I didn’t.”

      The thought of Vic putting his hands on this woman made me furious. “I’ll talk to him,” I promised grimly.

      Duncan gave me a level look. “Don’t do anything I’d have to arrest you for.”

      “You should consider filing suit against him,” Gwen said seriously. “Sexual harassment is wrong, and firing you for failing to agree to his demands—well, it sounds like you’d have a good case.”

      “Oh, he didn’t fire me because I wouldn’t go to bed with him. I think it was the cannelloni,” Seely said thoughtfully. “It didn’t go with his suit. Or maybe it was the chicken-fried steak. There was all that cream gravy, you see. He was not happy about the gravy.”

      A laugh took me by surprise. It hurt, so I stopped. “Dumped a tray on him, did you?”

      Her mouth stayed solemn, but her eyes laughed along with me. Extraordinary eyes. Not the color—they were blue, pretty enough, but nothing unusual. Maybe it was their shape, sort of elongated, with a flirty tilt at the corners. Or the way they seemed to offer confidences, as if she and I were old friends who didn’t need to put everything into words.

      “I found Miss Jones at the bus station,” Duncan said. “She was buying a ticket to Denver.”

      A frown snapped down. “You’re leaving town?”

      “Why not? I lost my job.”

      “But you have a car. What were you doing at the bus station?”

      She pulled a face. “The stupid thing decided to die on me. The mechanic says it’s either some gasket or the whole motor, and he can’t say which without taking everything apart, which will cost a fortune. You’d think he could tell the difference, wouldn’t you?”

      “Head gasket, sounds like,” I said, my brain clicking away on an idea. “Or the heads themselves. You must have lost compression.”

      “You do speak the lingo,” she said admiringly.

      Duncan asked her who she’d taken the car to, then assured her that Ron was a good mechanic. Gwen was looking fidgety.

      “But your things!” she burst out. “I can understand leaving your car if it wasn’t worth repairing, but surely you couldn’t take everything with you on the bus. Even if you didn’t have furniture,