Her Kind of Hero (28 page)

The orthopedic man examined the X-rays and seconded Lou's opinion that immediate surgery was required. But Leslie didn't want the surgery. She refused to talk about it. The minute the doctors and Ed left the room, she struggled out of bed and hobbled to the closet to pull her pajamas and robe and shoes out of it.

In the hall, Matt came upon Ed and Lou and a tall, distinguished stranger in an expensive suit.

“You two look like stormy weather,” he mused. “What's wrong?”

“Leslie won't have the operation,” Ed muttered worriedly. “Dr. Santos flew all the way from Houston to do the surgery, and she won't hear of it.”

“Maybe she doesn't think she needs it,” Matt said.

Lou glanced at him. “You have no idea what sort of pain she's in,” she said, impatient with him. “One of the bone fragments, the one that shifted, is pressing right on a nerve.”

“The bones should have been properly aligned at the time the accident occurred,” the visiting orthopedic surgeon agreed. “It was criminally irresponsible of the attending physician to do nothing more than bandage the leg. A cast wasn't even used until afterward!”

That sounded negligent to Matt, too. He frowned. “Did she say why not?”

Lou sighed angrily. “She won't talk about it. She won't listen to any of us. Eventually she'll have to. But in the meantime, the pain is going to drive her insane.”

Matt glanced from one set face to the other and walked past them to Leslie's room.

She was wearing her flannel pajamas and reaching for the robe when Matt walked in. She gave him a glare hot enough to boil water.

“Well, at least you won't be trying to talk me into an operation I don't want,” she muttered as she struggled to get from the closet to the bed.

“Why won't I?”

She arched both eyebrows expressively. “I'm the enemy.”

He stood at the foot of the bed, watching her get into the robe. Her leg was at an awkward angle, and her face was pinched. He could imagine the sort of pain she was already experiencing.

“Suit yourself about the operation,” he replied with forced indifference, folding his arms across his chest. “But don't expect me to have someone carry you back and forth around the office. If you want to make a martyr of yourself, be my guest.”

She stopped fiddling with the belt of the robe and stared at him quietly, puzzled.

“Some people enjoy making themselves objects of pity to people around them,” he continued deliberately.

“I don't want pity!” she snapped.

“Really?”

She wrapped the belt around her fingers and stared at it. “I'll have to be in a cast.”

“No doubt.”

“My insurance hasn't taken effect yet, either,” she said with averted eyes. “Once it's in force, I can have the operation.” She looked back at him coldly. “I'm not going to let Ed pay for it, in case you wondered, and I don't care if he can afford it!”

He had to fight back a stirring of admiration for her independent stance. It could be part of the pose, he realized, but it sounded pretty genuine. His blue eyes narrowed. “I'll pay for it,” he said, surprising both of them. “It can come out of your weekly check.”

Her teeth clenched. “I know how much this sort of thing costs. That's why I've never had it done before. I'd never be able to pay it back in my lifetime.”

His eyes fell to her body. “We could work something out,” he murmured.

She flushed. “No, we couldn't!”

She stood up, barely able to stand the pain, despite the painkillers they'd given her. She hobbled over to the chair, where her shoes were placed, and eased her feet into them.

“Where are you going?” he asked conversationally.

“Home,” she said, and started past him.

He caught her up in his arms like a fallen package and carried her right back to the bed, dumping her on it gently. His arms made a cage as he looked down at her flushed face. “Don't be stupid,” he said in a voice that went right through her. “You're
no good to yourself or anyone else in this condition. You have no choice.”

Her lips trembled as she fought to control the tears. She would be helpless, vulnerable. Besides, that surgeon reminded her of the man at the emergency room in Houston. He brought back unbearable shame.

The unshed tears fascinated Matt. She fascinated him. He didn't want to care about what happened to her, but he did.

He reached down and smoothed a long forefinger over her wet lashes. “Do you have family?” he asked unexpectedly.

She thought of her mother, in prison, and felt sick to her very soul. “No,” she whispered starkly.

“Are both your parents dead?”

“Yes,” she said at once.

“No brothers, sisters?”

She shook her head.

He frowned, as if her situation disturbed him. In fact, it did. She looked vulnerable and fragile and completely lost. He didn't understand why he cared so much for her well-being. Perhaps it was guilt because he'd lured her into a kind of dancing she wasn't really able to do anymore.

“I want to go home,” she said harshly.

“Afterward,” he replied.

She remembered him saying that before, in almost the same way, and she averted her face in shame.

He could have bitten his tongue for that. He shouldn't bait her when she was in such a condition. It was hitting below the belt.

He drew in a long breath. “Leave it to Ed to pick up strays, and make me responsible for them!” he muttered, angry because of her vulnerability and his unwanted response to it.

She didn't say a word, but her lower lip trembled and she turned her face away from him. Beside her hip, her hand was clenched so tightly that the knuckles were white.

He shot away from the bed, his eyes furious. “You're having the damned operation,” he informed her flatly. “Once you're healthy and whole again, you won't need Ed to prop you up. You can work for your living like every other woman.”

She didn't answer him. She didn't look at him. She wanted to get better so that she could kick the hell out of him.

“Did you hear me?” he asked in a dangerously soft tone.

She jerked her head to acknowledge the question but she didn't speak.

He let out an angry breath. “I'll tell the others.”

He left her lying there and announced her decision to the three people in the hall.

“How did you manage that?” Ed asked when Lou and Dr. Santos went back in to talk to Leslie.

“I made her mad,” Matt replied. “Sympathy doesn't work.”

“No, it doesn't,” Ed replied quietly. “I don't think she's had much of it in her whole life.”

“What happened to her parents?” he wanted to know.

Ed was careful about the reply. “Her father misjudged the position of some electrical wires and flew right into them. He was electrocuted.”

He frowned darkly. “And her mother?”

“They were both in love with the same man,” Ed said evasively. “He died, and Leslie and her mother still aren't on speaking terms.”

Matt turned away, jingling the change in his pocket restlessly. “How did he die?”

“Violently,” Ed told him. “It was a long time ago. But I don't think Leslie will ever get over it.”

Which was true, but it sounded as if Leslie was still in love with the dead man—which was exactly what Ed wanted. He was going to save her from Matt, whatever it took. She was a good friend. He didn't want her life destroyed because Matt was on the prowl for a new conquest. Leslie deserved something better than to be one of Matt's ex-girlfriends.

Matt glanced at his cousin with a puzzling expression. “When will they operate?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Ed said. “I'll be late getting to work. I'm going to be here while it's going on.”

Matt nodded. He glanced down the hall toward the door of Leslie's room. He hesitated for a moment before he turned and went out of the building without another comment.

 

Later, Ed questioned her about what Matt had said to her.

“He said that I was finding excuses because I wanted people to feel sorry for me,” she said angrily. “And I do not have a martyr complex!”

Ed chuckled. “I know that.”

“I can't believe you're related to someone like that,” she said furiously. “He's horrible!”

“He's had a rough life. Something you can identify with,” he added gently.

“I think he and his latest girlfriend deserve each other,” she murmured.

“Carolyn phoned while he was here. I don't know what was said, but I'd bet my bottom dollar she denied saying anything to upset you.”

“Would you expect her to admit it?” she asked. She laid back against the pillow, glad that the injection they'd given her was taking effect. “I guess I'll be clumping around your office in a cast for weeks, if he doesn't find some excuse to fire me in the meantime.”

“There is company policy in such matters,” he said easily. “He'd have to have my permission to fire you, and he won't get it.”

“I'm impressed,” she said, and managed a wan smile.

“So you should be,” he chuckled. He searched her eyes. “Leslie, why didn't the doctor set those bones when it happened?”

She studied the ceiling. “He said the whole thing was my fault and that I deserved all my wounds. He called me a vicious little tramp who caused decent men to be murdered.” Her eyes closed. “Nothing ever hurt so much.”

“I can imagine!”

“I never went to a doctor again,” she continued. “It wasn't just the things he said to me, you know. There was the expense, too. I had no insurance and no money. Mama had to have a public defender and I worked while I finished high school to help pay my way at my friend's house. The pain was bad, but eventually I got used to it, and the limp.” She turned quiet eyes to Ed's face. “It would be sort of nice to be able to walk normally again. And I will pay back whatever it costs, if you and your cousin will be patient.”

He winced. “Nobody's worried about the cost.”

“He is,” she informed him evenly. “And he's right. I don't want to be a financial burden on anyone, not even him.”

“We'll talk about all this later,” he said gently. “Right now, I just want you to get better.”

She sighed. “Will I? I wonder.”

“Miracles happen all the time,” he told her. “You're overdue for one.”

“I'd settle gladly for the ability to walk normally,” she said at once, and she smiled.

T
he operation was over by lunchtime the following day. Ed stayed until Leslie was out of the recovery room and out of danger, lying still and pale in the bed in the private room with the private nurse he'd hired to stay with her for the first couple of days. He'd spoken to both Lou Coltrain and the visiting orthopedic surgeon, who assured him that Miss Murry would find life much less painful from now on. Modern surgery had progressed to the point that procedures once considered impossible were now routine.

He went back to work feeling light and cheerful. Matt stopped him in the hall.

“Well?” he asked abruptly.

Ed grinned from ear to ear. “She's going to be fine. Dr. Santos said that in six weeks, when she comes out of that cast, she'll be able to dance in a contest.”

Matt nodded. “Good.”

Ed answered a question Matt had about one of their accounts and then, assuming that Matt didn't want anything else at the
moment, he went back to his office. He had a temporary secretary, a pretty little redhead who had a bright personality and good dictation skills.

Surprisingly, Matt followed him into his office and closed the door. “Tell me how that bone was shattered,” he said abruptly.

Ed sat down and leaned forward with his forearms on his cluttered desk. “That's Leslie's business, Matt,” he replied. “I wouldn't tell you, even if I knew,” he added, lying through his teeth with deliberate calm.

He sighed irritably. “She's a puzzle. A real puzzle.”

“She's a sweet girl who's had a lot of hard knocks,” Ed told him. “But regardless of what you think you know about her, she isn't ‘easy.' Don't make the mistake of classing her with your usual sort of woman. You'll regret it.”

Matt studied the younger man curiously and his eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, I think she's ‘easy'?” he asked, bristling.

“Forgotten already? That's what you said about her.”

Matt felt uncomfortable at the words that he'd spoken with such assurance to Leslie. He glanced at Ed irritably. “Miss Murry obviously means something to you. If you're so fond of her, why haven't you married her?”

Ed smoothed back his hair. “She kept me from blowing my brains out when my fiancée was gunned down in a bank robbery in Houston,” he said. “I actually had the pistol loaded. She took it away from me.”

Matt's eyes narrowed. “You never told me you were that despondent.”

“You wouldn't have understood,” came the reply. “Women were always a dime a dozen to you, Matt. You've never really been in love.”

Matt's face, for once, didn't conceal his bitterness. “I wouldn't give any woman that sort of power over me,” he said in clipped tones. “Women are devious, Ed. They'll smile at you until they get what they want, then they'll walk right over you to the next sucker. I've seen too many good men brought down by women they loved.”

“There are bad men, too,” Ed pointed out.

Matt shrugged. “I'm not arguing with that.” He smiled. “I would have done what I could for you, though,” he added. “We have our disagreements, but we're closer than most cousins are.”

Ed nodded. “Yes, we are.”

“You really are fond of Miss Murry, aren't you?”

“In a big brotherly sort of way,” Ed affirmed. “She trusts me. If you knew her, you'd understand how difficult it is for her to trust a man.”

“I think she's pulling the wool over your eyes,” Matt told him. “You be careful. She's down on her luck, and you're rich.”

Ed's face contorted briefly. “Good God, Matt, you haven't got a clue what she's really like.”

“Neither have you,” Matt commented with a cold smile. “But I know things about her that you don't. Let's leave it at that.”

Ed hated his own impotence. “I want to keep her in my office.”

“How do you expect her to come to work in a cast?” he asked frankly.

Ed leaned back in his chair and grinned. “The same way I did five years ago, when I had that skiing accident and broke my ankle. People work with broken bones all the time. And she doesn't type with her feet.”

Matt shrugged. Miss Murry had him completely confused. “Suit yourself,” he said finally. “Just keep her out of my way.”

That shouldn't be difficult, Ed thought ruefully. Matt certainly wasn't on Leslie's list of favorite people. He wondered what the days ahead would bring. It would be like storing dynamite with lighted candles.

 

Leslie was out of the hospital in three days and back at work in a week. The company had paid for her surgery, to her surprise and Ed's. She knew that Matt had only done that out of guilt. Well, he needn't flay himself over what happened. She didn't really blame him. She had loved dancing with him. She refused to think of how that evening had ended. Some memories were best forgotten.

She hobbled into Ed's office with the use of crutches and plopped herself down behind her desk on her first day back on the job.

“How did you get here?” Ed asked with a surprised smile. “You can't drive, can you?”

“No, but one of the girls in my rooming house works in downtown Jacobsville and we're going to become a carpool three days a week. I'm paying my share of the gas and on her days off, I'll get a taxi to work,” she added.

“I'm glad you're back,” he said with genuine fondness.

“Oh, sure you are,” she said with a teasing glance. “I heard all about Karla Smith when the girls from Mr. Caldwell's office came to see me. I understand she has a flaming crush on you.”

Ed chuckled. “So they say. Poor girl.”

She made a face. “You can't live in the past.”

“Tell yourself that.”

She put her crutches on the floor beside the desk, and swiveled back in her desk chair. “It's going to be a little diffi
cult for me to get back and forth to your office,” she said. “Can you dictate letters in here?”

“Of course.”

She looked around the office with pleasure. “I'm glad I got to come back,” she murmured. “I thought Mr. Caldwell might find an excuse to let me go.”

“I'm Mr. Caldwell, too,” he pointed out. “Matt's bark is worse than his bite. He won't fire you.”

She grimaced. “Don't let me cause trouble between you,” she said with genuine concern. “I'd rather quit…”

“No, you won't,” he interrupted. He ruffled her short hair with a playful grin. “I like having you around. Besides, you spell better than the other women.”

Her eyes lit up as she looked at him. She smiled back. “Thanks, boss.”

Matt opened the door in time to encounter the affectionate looks they exchanged and his face hardened as he slammed it behind him.

They both jumped.

“Jehosophat, Matt!” Ed burst out, catching his breath. “Don't do that!”

“Don't play games with your secretary on my time,” Matt returned. His cold dark eyes went to Leslie, whose own eyes went cold at sight of him. “Back at work, I see, Miss Murry.”

“All the better to pay you back for my hospital stay, sir,” she returned with a smile that bordered on insolence.

He bit back a sharp reply and turned to Ed, ignoring her. “I want you to take Nell Hobbs out to lunch and find out how she's going to vote on the zoning proposal. If they zone that land adjoining my ranch as recreational, I'm going to spend my life in court.”

“If she votes for it, she'll be the only one,” Ed assured him. “I spoke to the other commissioners myself.”

He seemed to relax a little. “Okay. In that case, you can run over to Houlihan's dealership and drive my new Jaguar over here. It came in this morning.”

Ed's eyes widened. “You're going to let me drive it?”

“Why not?” Matt asked with a warm smile, the sort Leslie knew she'd never see on that handsome face.

Ed chuckled. “Then, thanks. I'll be back shortly!” He started down the hall at a dead run. “Leslie, we'll do those letters after lunch!”

“Sure,” she said. “I can spend the day updating those old herd records.” She glanced at Matt to let him know she hadn't forgotten his instructions from before her operation.

He put his hands in the pockets of his slacks and his blue eyes searched her gray ones intently. Deliberately he let his gaze fall to her soft mouth. He remembered the feel of it clinging to his parted lips, hungry and moaning…

His teeth clenched. He couldn't think about that. “The herd records can wait,” he said tersely. “My secretary is home with a sick child, so you can work for me for the rest of the day. Ed can let Miss Smith handle his urgent stuff today.”

She hesitated visibly. “Yes, sir,” she said in a wooden voice.

“I have to talk to Henderson about one of the new accounts. I'll meet you in my office in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, sir.”

They were watching each other like opponents in a match when Matt made an angry sound under his breath and walked out.

Leslie spent a few minutes sorting the mail and looking over
it. A little over a half hour went by before she realized it. A sound caught her attention and she looked up to find an impatient Matt Caldwell standing in the doorway.

“Sorry. I lost track of the time,” she said quickly, putting the opened mail aside. She reached for her crutches and got up out of her chair, reaching for her pad and pen when she was ready to go. She looked up at Matt, who seemed taller than ever. “I'm ready when you are, boss,” she said courteously.

“Don't call me boss,” he said flatly.

“Okay, Mr. Caldwell,” she returned.

He glared at her, but she gave him a bland look and even managed a smile. He wanted to throw things.

He turned, leaving her to follow him down the long hall to his executive office, which had a bay window overlooking downtown Jacobsville. His desk was solid oak, huge, covered with equipment and papers of all sorts. There was a kid leather-covered chair behind the desk and two equally impressive wing chairs, and a sofa, all done in burgundy. The carpet was a deep, rich beige. The curtains were plaid, picking up the burgundy in the furniture and adding it to autumn hues. There was a framed portrait of someone who looked vaguely like Matt over the mantel of the fireplace, in which gas logs rested. There were two chairs and a table near the fireplace, probably where Matt and some visitor would share a pot of coffee or a drink. There was a bar against one wall with a mirror behind it, giving an added air of spacious comfort to the high-ceilinged room. The windows were tall ones, unused because the Victorian house that contained the offices had central heating.

Matt watched her studying her surroundings covertly. He closed the door behind them and motioned her into a chair
facing the desk. She eased down into it and put her crutches beside her. She was still a little uncomfortable, but aspirin was enough to contain the pain these days. She looked forward to having the cast off, to walking normally again.

She put the pad on her lap and maneuvered the leg in the cast so that it was as comfortable as she could get it.

Matt was leaning back in his chair with his booted feet on the desk and his eyes narrow and watchful as he sketched her slender body in the flowing beige pantsuit she was wearing with a patterned scarf tucked in the neck of the jacket. The outside seam in the left leg of her slacks had been snipped to allow for the cast. Otherwise, she was covered from head to toe, just as she had been from the first time he saw her. Odd, that he hadn't really noticed that before. It wasn't a new habit dating from the night he'd touched her so intimately, either.

“How's the leg?” he asked curtly.

“Healing, thank you,” she replied. “I've already spoken to the bookkeeper about pulling out a quarter of my check weekly…”

He leaned forward so abruptly that it sounded like a gunshot when his booted feet hit the floor.

“I'll take that up with bookkeeping,” he said sharply. “You've overstepped your authority, Miss Murry. Don't do it again.”

She shifted in the chair, moving the ungainly cast, and assumed a calm expression. “I'm sorry, Mr. Caldwell.”

Her voice was serene but her hands were shaking on the pad and pen. He averted his eyes and got to his feet, glaring out the window.

She waited patiently with her eyes on the blank pad, wondering when he was going to start dictation.

“You told Ed that Carolyn phoned you the night before we
took you to the emergency room and made some cruel remarks.” He remembered what Ed had related about that conversation and it made him unusually thoughtful. He turned and caught her surprised expression. “Carolyn denies saying anything to upset you.”

Her expression didn't change. She didn't care what he thought of her anymore. She didn't say a word in her defense.

His dark eyebrows met over the bridge of his nose. “Well?”