Harlequin Special Edition November 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Weaver Christmas Gift\The Soldier's Holiday Homecoming\Santa's Playbook (24 page)

She blew out a ragged sigh. The flash of physical attraction she'd initially felt had magnified and left her feeling awkward and uneasy.

After placing the washcloths on the shelf where they belonged, she returned to the kitchen. It would be lunchtime soon, so she might as well whip up something to eat. She wondered if he'd like a tuna-salad sandwich.

She pulled the can opener from the drawer, a small mixing bowl from the cupboard, and mayonnaise, pickles and celery from the fridge. Then she searched the pantry for a can of tuna. She'd no more than shut the door when Joe said, “The bathroom is free now.”

If she could have gotten away with pretending she hadn't heard him, she would have done it. As it was, she slowly turned to face him, her cheeks warming all over again.

She glanced down at her feet, willing herself to cool. When she looked back to his freshly shaven face and those striking blue eyes, her breath caught, her heart thumped and her cheeks warmed all over again.

“I'm sorry about walking in on you,” she said. “I should have realized that you might have been in there.”

“Like I said, it wasn't a big deal. I was covered up.”

Yes, but just barely.

Fortunately, he was dressed now, although in Dave's clothing. The pants were at least an inch too short, and the T-shirt, which stretched across his broad chest, didn't hide the rippling muscles underneath.

“I promise to knock next time,” she said.

Joe chuckled. “And I'll put ‘Repair the Bathroom Lock' at the top of my to-do list.”

“Good idea.” She offered him an appreciative smile, then turned her back and continued her search for the canned tuna.

Now that she'd seen the handsome marine in the buff—or pretty close to it—fixing that door lock would only solve half her problem because the image of him wearing only a smile and a skimpy towel was engrained in her mind.

And that was one breath-stealing memory she wasn't likely to forget any time soon.

* * *

Joe couldn't help enjoying Chloe's obvious discomfort. In fact, ever since she'd walked in on him shaving—and up until the time they sat down to eat lunch—she seemed to avoid making eye contact with him.

A couple of times, he'd been tempted to tease her, but he decided to let it go. No need to stir up those kinds of sexual thoughts when he wasn't in any position to do anything about them.

As Chloe stood from her seat at the kitchen table and picked up their empty plates, she asked, “Do you need anything in town?”

Some clothing that actually fit him would be nice. But since he didn't want to ask any more of her than he had already, he said, “I can't think of anything. Why?”

“I'm going to visit a friend who's living in a nursing home near the Brighton Valley Medical Center. Afterward I'm going to stop at the market and run a few errands. I thought, since the sheriff didn't want you to go into town that I could pick up anything you might need.”

“I can make do with whatever is here.” He just hoped that he and Dave actually were friends. If not, and the guy came home to find Joe staying in his house, wearing his clothes and using his shaving kit, things could become awkward.

“All right,” she said. “I won't be gone too long. And when I get back, I'll fix dinner.”

“Is there anything I can do for you while you're gone?”

“If you happen to see Tomas, will you ask him to bring in the plastic storage boxes filled with Christmas decorations? I think Teresa kept them in the hayloft.”

“I can get them for you.”

“No, I'd rather you took it easy and rested today. Believe me, there's still going to be plenty for you to do once you're feeling better.”

“I feel better already.”

“Is that right?” She crossed her arms and tossed him an impish grin. “Then why are you still taking that pain medication?”

“Okay. So I'm not quite back to fighting weight. But I'm definitely better.”

“I have no doubt about that. Still, I'd rather have Tomas bring in the decorations when he has time. I'll save you for bigger, more important things.”

“Like what?”

She flushed again, and this time he couldn't resist teasing her. “What's the problem?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your cheeks are red, and you keep looking at everything except me. Are you that bothered about walking in on me in the bathroom?”

“You're wrong. It didn't faze me a bit.”

He didn't believe her. In fact, he suspected she was still reeling from having seen him half-dressed. And since she seemed to be so flustered by it, he found it a bit flattering. But he didn't want her to feel awkward about it.

“Don't be embarrassed,” he said. “Those things happen.”

“I'm not.” She stood a little taller and lifted her chin. “It's a hazard of being blonde and fair. I flush easily—and usually for no reason whatsoever. It's really no big deal.”

“Good. I'm glad to hear that.”

She might claim to be immune to him, but he wasn't buying it. Still, it was nice to know that her body easily displayed the effects of heating up.

Without any conscious effort on his part, a vision came to mind—her curvy, fair-skinned body stretched out on his bed sheets, pink and rosy from his caresses, her hair splayed on his pillow, her eyes glazed with passion.

“So,” she said, her voice interrupting his erotic daydream, “since you don't need anything, I'll take off and run my own errands. Try and get some rest while I'm gone.”

He'd try, but he doubted he'd get much rest at all, especially if he was plagued with any more sexy visions of her. But on top of that, he also had something that would keep him busy for a while.

“By the way,” he said, “I noticed a computer in the den. Would it be okay if I used it while you were gone?”

Her movements stilled, and her eyes grew wide. “Do you remember how?”

Judging by the way his thoughts had veered off course a few seconds ago, he also remembered how to make love to a beautiful woman. But there was no point in making Chloe any more uncomfortable than she already was.

“I still have all my same abilities,” he said. “The only thing I've forgotten is the past.”

“What do you plan to use the computer for?”

Something told him that he was a man who kept his thoughts and tactics close to the vest. But Chloe didn't appear to be suspicious, just curious. So he would let her in on his plan. “I'm going to search for clues about who I really am—not that I even know the first place to start looking.”

“Good idea. I'll get you logged in. Then, when I come home, maybe you can share some new information with me.”

Sure,
he thought.
I'll share with you, just as soon as you share that letter with me.
But he smiled and kept that thought to himself.

He followed her to the den, where she set him up on an old desktop device that looked as though it was about to give up the ghost. Joe had no reason to suspect that he was any big computer whiz, but he could easily see that the PC was out-of-date. He couldn't recall having any expertise in technology or electronics, but he'd seen the fancy Geekon laptops that the nursing staff had used at the medical center.

There'd been something about the brand name that had struck a chord and triggered a feeling of familiarity. But he hadn't said anything to anyone about that. Why get excited about something he still couldn't put his finger on?

When his sexy Florence Nightingale was satisfied that he could operate the machine and that he wouldn't stay on it for more than an hour before giving his mind and body another rest, she left him alone in the den to search for clues he didn't know how to find.

Outside, the engine of the old ranch pickup started up, letting him know he was on his own for a while. So he typed in his name, only to get eighty-two thousand hits. So he narrowed his search.

Okay, apparently he was somewhat computer literate. But even that tidbit of information didn't tell him squat. And even an hour later, he still hadn't found anything to go on. He suspected that he'd be out of luck until his brain sorted itself out—or until the sheriff came by with more information.

But he wasn't going to give up that easily. So he typed in Dave Cummings, Brighton Valley and the Rocking C Ranch. This time, the search yielded a better result.

He found an article about the Brighton Valley High School music club and spotted a black-and-white photo of Dave and several of his bandmates.

As he continued his search, he uncovered obituaries for both Mr. Cummings and his wife. As he read them, a heaviness filled his chest, but he'd be damned if he knew why. The fact that they'd died fairly young, he supposed.

He found quite a few articles about Brighton Valley, and so he spent the next fifteen minutes reading through the city's online newspaper in the hope that something about the small Texas town would jump out at him.

The only article that came close to triggering any sense of significance was a fairly recent one about Clay Jenkins, the founder of Geekon Enterprises and mastermind behind creating its computers and repair stores. Jenkins had gone to school in nearby Wexler, but apparently Brighton Valley had claimed him as a native son.

The brains behind all the impressive Geekon products had recently moved back to town and had married a woman who'd been working in the local Zorba the Geek computer repair shop.

As Joe studied the picture of the billionaire, another sense of familiarity settled over him.

Why was that? Did he know the man? They appeared to be close in age.

After looking up more information on the big shot in the software industry, Joe decided that Clay's popularity and fame led to what little recognition he'd sensed.

He glanced at the small antique brass clock on one of the bookshelves. It was getting close to three o'clock, well after the hour when he'd promised to shut down the computer and take an afternoon nap. But he wanted to run one more search.

So he typed in Chloe Dawson. It wasn't the most common name, but it still garnered several hits. She'd said she was an army brat and had moved around a lot, so Joe wasn't really sure where her hometown of record would be. But a picture of a homecoming queen at a small school just outside of Fort Hood, Texas, certainly resembled the lovely woman who'd volunteered to nurse a poor, unknown former marine back to health.

She stood next to a handsome jock wearing a crown and a sash over his football uniform. Like her, he was holding a bouquet of roses and flashing a happy smile.

Chloe had been a pretty teenager who'd blossomed into a stunning beauty—even when she'd traded in the fancy gown for a pair of faded jeans and a flannel shirt.

That's why Joe had a difficult time wrapping his head around the possibility that a popular homecoming queen could be attracted to a short, scrawny band geek like Dave. Of course, Dave must have grown up and filled out after joining the Marines. But still, something didn't compute.

Maybe the two weren't involved in any sort of intimate relationship. Chloe had said they were only friends. But if that were the case, then why would she stay here on the ranch, breaking her back to keep things running for a guy who couldn't even find time to call or otherwise check in?

It seemed like a waste, especially when her heart and talents should be pursuing her desired career in the nursing field.

Another question continued to nag him. Why would Dave task a buddy with a mission to hand deliver a letter to the beautiful Miss Dawson when a phone call or a certified letter could have done the same job—and been a whole lot easier?

The delivery method he'd chosen meant the message had to be personal. And as much as Joe would like to get his hands on that letter to find out what was so important that he'd come to Brighton Valley in the first place, he'd sure hate to find out that he was lusting after his buddy's girl.

Chapter Five

T
he Sheltering Arms Nursing Home was located just two blocks down from the Brighton Valley Medical Center and next door to a senior apartment complex that also offered assisted living for the residents who needed additional care.

On the outside, the two-story brick building didn't look much different from any of the other medical offices that had sprung up around the hospital. But on the inside, the staff and volunteers did their best to provide a warm, cozy environment so the patients would feel more at home.

That was one of the things Chloe liked about the place. Most of the staff cared about the elderly residents and went above and beyond when it came to their comfort and care. The other thing was the seniors themselves, two of whom she'd grown especially close to.

After stopping by the market and running a few errands, she pulled into the parking lot. She hadn't been back to the Sheltering Arms since the day she'd been fired, and while everything inside her urged her to stay away, she couldn't just abandon Sam Darnell, the elderly man who reminded her of her great-grandfather, a one-time rodeo cowboy who'd passed away just weeks after losing his wife of fifty-eight years.

Sam had been a cowboy, too, although he'd been a rancher and had never competed in rodeos. He and his wife, Nellie, had moved into the senior apartment complex just down the block, intending to live out their remaining years together. They hadn't wanted to be a burden on their nephew, an attorney who lived and worked in Los Angeles.

But Nellie had died in her sleep last winter, and Sam had taken her loss hard. By spring he'd moved into the assisted-living facility because he'd grown weak and unsteady on his feet. And he'd continued to decline physically to the point that he had to move into the nursing home.

Chloe had been assigned to his room, and the two of them had connected in a special way. Sam had actually begun to eat again, and she'd seen an improvement in both his attitude and his physical condition.

She'd written to him regularly since her termination, but that wasn't the same as a real visit. So she'd set aside her own uneasiness and had made the effort today.

While she'd been at the market, she'd seen a display of small potted Christmas trees. So she'd picked one up for him to keep near his bed. She'd also made a stop at Caroline's Diner, where she'd purchased blueberry muffins.

Sam and his wife had been big fans of Megan Adams, who not only had a popular booth at the Brighton Valley farmer's market, but who also supplied homemade jams and baked items for Caroline.

Megan had recently married Clay Jenkins, but she was still baking up a storm and canning her award-winning jams. From what Chloe had heard, she'd even struck a big deal to sell her products regionally through a supermarket chain.

Sam had always claimed that Megan's muffins were the best he'd ever eaten, so Chloe knew the unexpected treat would please him. She'd also picked up a muffin for Ethel Furman, another of her elderly friends.

Upon entering the lobby, which boasted a fully decorated, seven-foot noble fir with a variety of brightly wrapped presents underneath, Chloe carried the small potted tree and made her way to the elevator and rode it up to the third floor.

When the doors opened, Merrilee Turner, one of several aides who took turns manning the nurses' desk, looked up from her work. When she spotted Chloe, she offered a warm smile. “Hey, girl. It's good to see you. How's it going?”

“Fine. Thanks.” Chloe wondered if Merrilee would realize she'd chosen to visit on the hospital administrator's day off. Not that the man would object to her being here. It's not as if she'd been banned from the nursing home. But she'd hoped to avoid running into him.

“I thought I'd stop in to see Mr. Darnell,” Chloe said. “How's he been?”

“About the same as when you were working here. He sure brightens up when one of your cards arrives in the mail.”

Then it was well worth the effort of sending them to him every few days.

Chloe scanned the corridors, hoping that Sarah Poston still worked the same split shift. No need to run into her if she didn't have to. Ever since Chloe had reported Sarah's unprofessional behavior to the administrator, a charge that hadn't been followed up on and which had resulted in Chloe being discharged, there'd been bad blood between them.

Relieved not to see the dark-haired nurse, Chloe lifted the bag that held the muffins she'd brought for her elderly friends. “I brought Sam a treat as well as something to brighten up his room.”

“I'm sure he'll appreciate that.”

Chloe returned Merrilee's smile, then made her way to Sam's room. When she approached his door, she could hear his television cranked up a bit too loud, something Sarah had always chided him for.

“Anyone home?” Chloe asked, as she entered the room.

The silver-haired cowboy, who'd been watching a John Wayne movie, tore his gaze from the television screen. When he saw Chloe, he broke into a full-on grin. “Well, look who's here. If it ain't my favorite gal. Where have you been keeping yourself?”

Chloe hadn't shared any of her work-related issues with him before and wasn't about to do it now. So she told him about Joe's accident, the resulting amnesia and how she'd taken him in to live with her at the Rocking C.

Sam furrowed his craggy brow and wagged an arthritic finger. “You let a stranger move in with you? That's plain foolish. You don't know anything about him.”

“I know he's a friend of Dave's—and that when he served in the Marine Corps he had an impressive service record.”

“Humph.” Sam shook his head. “He's still a man. And you're a beautiful woman. Besides, consider your reputation.”

The only reputation she was really concerned about was the one here at the Sheltering Arms, which her firing had tarnished, but she merely smiled. “I'm sure Joe will be heading back to wherever he calls home as soon as his memory returns. So there's not much chance of people talking.”

“I hope you're right.”

“So what does Dr. Crenshaw have to say these days? Has he been in to see you?”

“The dermatologist?” Sam clucked his tongue. “Not sure if he even graduated from medical school.”

“He's definitely a real doctor—but for the record, his specialty is internal medicine, not dermatology.”

“What difference does it make?” Sam's eyes twinkled. “If you ask me, they all try and skin you.”

Chloe laughed. That's what she loved about Sam. He might be gruff and crotchety on the outside, but he had a dry wit that contributed to his awesome sense of humor.

They continued to chat for a while. Then, after she left him the blueberry muffin, which he set aside and promised to eat later, she gave him a hug. “I'll stop by to see you again next week.”

“I hope so.”

“You can count on it.” She gave him one last smile, then headed down the hall to Ethel Furman's room. Ethel was another special patient—and one Chloe missed. Unlike Sam, Ethel didn't have any family to look after her. And even though she'd been a schoolteacher in Brighton Valley for more than forty years, her students rarely visited.

Chloe gave a little knock on the doorjamb, then slowly entered Ethel's room, where the frail, silver-haired lady dozed in her bed.

“Good afternoon,” Chloe said.

Ethel's eyes flickered open, and she turned her head toward the doorway. A slow smile stretched across her face. “What a nice surprise. How are you, dear?”

“I'm doing well. How about you?”

“I can't complain, although I need new glasses. My eyesight isn't what it used to be, and I miss being able to read.”

“Did you tell anyone?” Chloe asked, as she made her way to her friend's bedside.

“Yes, but it doesn't seem to help. Apparently, they're much too busy around here to worry about an old woman.”

Chloe reached for Ethel's hand, noting the frailty of her wrist—and that it was bare. “What happened to your allergy alert bracelet?”

“The clasp is broken, so I took it off.”

“But you're allergic to penicillin. It's important that you wear it.”

“I mentioned something to Sarah. She said she would either get it fixed or order a new one for me.”

Sarah, the incompetent nurse? Good luck with that.

“How long has it been broken?” Chloe asked.

“A week or two. I'm not sure. My memory isn't what it used to be, either.”

And apparently, Sarah's wasn't any better.

“I'll talk to Merrilee,” Chloe said. Sometimes it seemed that the third-floor aides were more responsive and reliant than the nurse in charge.

After giving Ethel the last muffin, Chloe promised to return for another visit. Then she gave her friend a hug and left the room. But before she could reach the safety of the elevator, she spotted the one woman she'd hoped to avoid.

Apparently, Sarah wasn't working her usual split shift today. Great. Chloe hated confrontations, and this was sure to be one.

“Well, I'll be,” the dark-haired nurse said. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Chloe flinched—at least, on the inside. Then she scolded herself for letting the snide comment get to her.

Sarah crossed her arms. “I didn't expect you to come around again.”

“Why not?” It wasn't as though she'd done anything wrong. “I have quite a few friends here.”

Sarah made a noise that sounded like a muffled snicker.

“By the way,” Chloe said, “Ethel isn't wearing her allergy alert bracelet. The clasp needs to be repaired—or she'll need a new one.”

“It's been ordered.”

“Maybe you should provide her with some kind of temporary—”

“That won't be necessary. Her allergy is noted in her medical record.”

“Maybe so, but the bracelet serves as a reminder that would eliminate the risk of someone making a mistake.”

“And that's why I ordered her a new one.”

Maybe so, but Ethel had been without it for quite a while already. Chloe was about to suggest that Sarah check on it, but decided she'd said enough already. At least, about Ethel. “I hear that Sam Darnell hasn't been eating well.”

“We can't force him to do something against his will. Nor do we have the time to spoon-feed him. However, we offer him a healthy plate of food at each meal. If he doesn't like the taste, it's not my fault. Besides, his family should bring him other options—just like you did with that muffin today.”

So Sarah had talked to Merrilee, the aide at the desk. Or maybe she'd seen the muffin in Sam's room and he'd told her who'd brought it. Either way, she'd known that Chloe was here today. Had she come looking for her?

In the scheme of things, Chloe supposed it didn't matter. “Sam and his wife never had children. And his nephew lives out of state. Since Nellie died, he has no one nearby to worry about him. Maybe, if someone sat with him during meal-time—”

“He isn't the only patient on this floor.”

No, he wasn't. But something told Chloe the old man was different from the others in the nursing facility. “Another thing you might consider is sending him back to his apartment. In a more homelike setting he might get better—and stronger.”

Sarah clucked her tongue. “Aren't you full of helpful ideas. You're suggesting that we take a gamble that a move might help. And I can't do that. What if he fell and broke a hip? Besides, he can't very well return to the assisted-living complex when he's resistant to any kind of assistance.”

Chloe was tempted to go over Sarah's head and report her to the administrator again for her lack of compassion and her complete disregard of the feelings and wishes of the patients. But a lot of good that had done last time. So she decided not to bother. After all, she only had the training of an aide—even though she felt more qualified than the third-floor nurse in charge of the patients she'd come to know and love.

Maybe, after she graduated from nursing school, she'd have more knowledge and would feel better about challenging the woman and facing the powers that be.

Still, that didn't mean she couldn't step up to the plate and be an advocate for both Sam and Ethel.

Especially when it seemed that Chloe was the only one they had.

* * *

The sun had begun to set by the time Chloe arrived home. After parking the old ranch pickup near the barn, she made her way to the porch. As she placed her hand on the railing, it wobbled. She made a mental note to ask Joe to fix it—if he knew how.

However, she hated to overload him with chores to do. She and Tomas might need the help, but she didn't want to ask too much of the man. Even if he didn't figure out who he was and hightail it out of here in the first rental car he came across, he was still recovering from a pretty serious head injury.

She reached for the doorknob and let herself inside. The moment she stepped into the living room, the spicy aroma of meat, tomatoes and cumin filled the air.

Apparently, Joe had been busy while she'd been gone. She wondered what he'd found to cook, especially when, after looking into the pantry earlier, she'd decided that she would have to go to the market in order to come up with an appealing menu for dinner tonight.

She placed her purse on the hutch near the front door, then scanned the living room, where several red and green plastic storage containers were stacked near the hearth.

Oh, good. He'd remembered to have Tomas bring in the Christmas decorations. Chloe might not be able to go home for the holidays, but she could at least make the best of it here on the Rocking C, just as her mother always had.

No matter where in the world her parents were stationed or who was gone on deployment, Chloe's mom, an army nurse, made sure that Christmas was a special time of the year and always did things up big. And because of her efforts and the decorations they'd transported from house to house, the spirit of the season, had always been magical and had brightened their home.