Lisa Jackson's the Abandoned Box Set (49 page)

“I'm not so sure about that.”

“And about those nurses of yours. Always fussin' over me. Pokin' and proddin' and cluckin' their tongues. You're lucky I'm still in this hospital.”

Dallas swallowed a smile. The old coot was lovable in his own way. But stubborn. “I don't think you're being realistic about your health.”

“Hell, I didn't get to my age by lyin' in a hospital, with tubes run through my body and pills bein' stuck in my mouth every hour of the day. I live alone, I'm proud
of it, and I don't need no mamby-pamby women stewin' over me.”

“I see he's his usual jovial self,” Lenore Newell said. She placed the thermometer into a disposable cover, and with a smile, stuck the thermometer under Mr. Hasting's tongue. “This should keep you quiet a while,” she said.

He sputtered, but didn't spit the thermometer out as Dallas had expected.

Nurse Newell took the old man's pulse and, while eyeing her watch, added, “Some people would think spending a few days being pampered by women would be heaven.”

“Humph,” Ned growled around the thermometer. “They're just plain stupid or they haven't been in this damned place,” he mumbled.

“Shh,” she ordered, winking at the doctor as she waited for the beep and digital readout of her patient's temperature.

“Keep giving him the medication,” Dallas said, seeing the glint of fondness in the old man's glare. “And don't take any abuse from this guy.”

Hastings's thick eyebrows shot up.

“I'll be back,” Dallas promised him. As he left the room, he heard Ned Hastings still growling around the thermometer.

Lenore caught up with Dallas in the staff lounge. “Cantankerous old son of a gun,” she said with a ready smile. Behind big glasses, her eyes gleamed with affection.

“He keeps life interesting,” Dallas remarked.

“Don't they all?”

Dallas poured himself a cup of coffee while Lenore rummaged through a basket of tea bags. The lounge was nearly empty. Three nurses surrounded a round table by the window, and a couple of residents, who looked as if they'd each pulled thirty-six-hour shifts, were stretched
out on the couches, one in scrubs, the other wearing a rumpled lab coat and slacks. Each supported more than a day's growth of beard and bloodshot eyes.

“Been here long?” Dallas ventured.

One of them, the lanky one with long blond hair, shoved a hand through his unruly locks. “Days, weeks, years…I can't remember.”

“We came on duty in 1985,” his companion joked. He was shorter and thin, with a moustache and eyes that appeared owlish behind thick glasses.

“Time for a break,” Dallas suggested.

“Man, I'm gonna sleep for a week,” the tall one said.

“Not me. I'm going out for a five-mile jog and set of tennis.”

“Yeah, right!” They struggled to their feet and headed out the door.

Dallas stirred his coffee before glancing at Lenore. “I heard you might have another mouth to feed.”

She smiled. “Yep. The abandoned baby. Judge Reinecke seems to think that the baby would be best at our house, at least for a while. We've cared for more than our share of orphans.”

Dallas stared into his coffee, not knowing whether he should bring up Chandra or not. Maybe she was better off away from the baby. But he remembered her look of desperation at the thought that the child would be taken away from her. Knowing he might be playing with emotional fire, he nonetheless had to do anything in his power to help her. “Look, there's a woman, the woman who brought the baby in, Chandra Hill. I know she'd like to visit the baby fairly often.”

Lenore dunked a tea bag into a steaming cup of water. “I've heard about her. Seems she's pretty attached to the boy.”

“Well, it wouldn't hurt for her to drop by.”

“Of course not. Tell her to stop in anytime.”

“Lenore! Hey, what's this I hear about you and the Baby John Doe?” one of the other nurses called over. “You got any room left over there?”

Dallas took his coffee and left as the two other nurses joined into the conversation. He'd done what he could. Now it was up to Chandra.

He spent the rest of the day in the hospital and finally, at five, stopped in at pediatrics for one last look at J.D. Holding the child, he sighed. “What're we gonna do with you?” he wondered aloud. “You're giving the woman who found you fits, y'know.”

The baby yawned, as if he were bored to death.

“Okay, okay,” Dallas said, smiling down at the child. “We'll see what we can do.”

He left the infant with a nurse and walked outside. The storm that had threatened earlier had cleared up and the day was dry and warm, no lingering clouds in the sky. Whistling under his breath, he walked to his truck and stopped when he spied his half brother chewing on a toothpick, one lean hip resting against the fender, his knee bent and the sole of one boot pressed against the front tire. A grimy duffle bag had been dropped on the asphalt near the truck.

“I thought I might have to spend the whole weekend here waiting for you,” Brian said as Dallas approached. As usual, Brian's cocky grin was in place, his eyes squinting slightly against a lowering sun. His jeans were so faded, they'd ripped through the knees, and the denim across his butt was frayed, on the point of giving way completely. His shirt was bright orange, faded neon, and said simply, SURF'S UP!! diagonally in purple letters that stretched from his right shoulder to his left hip.

“What's doing?”

Brian grinned, as if he read the caution in Dallas's eyes.
He straightened and held out his hands, surrendering to his half brother's suspicion. “Don't worry, I haven't gone through the money yet. I just came by to say I'm shipping out. On my way back to school.”

About time.
“That's good.”

“Right, and I probably won't see you until Christmas. You'll come to Mom's?”

“I'll see. Christmas is a long way off.”

“She'd be disappointed if you didn't come.”

Well, maybe. From Brian's point of view, their mother loved Dallas as much as she did her other children. But Dallas remembered a time when, after the divorce from his father and her remarriage, Eugena O'Rourke McGee had been so involved with raising a daughter and the twins that she hadn't so much as smiled at him. She'd been tired most of the time from chasing the younger kids.

Dallas, a reminder of her marriage to a military doctor who had never been able to show any emotion, was, for the most part, left on his own. He'd been enrolled in boarding school while his parents were married, and his status didn't change when his mother remarried, even though none of her other children had ever stepped foot in a school away from home until college. Joanna, Brian and Brenda had been raised at home.

Yes, there was the possibility that his mother might miss Dallas at Christmas, but not for the reasons Brian expected. In her later years, she'd developed a fondness for her firstborn, probably born of guilt, but never had Eugena given him the love she'd lavished on her younger children.

Dallas was no longer bitter about that particular lack of love; he just didn't dwell on it.

“Ahh, come one, it'll be fun. And Joanna and Brenda will kill ya if ya don't show up.”

That much was true. For all the love he hadn't received
from his mother, his sisters had adored him. “I'll think about it.”

“See that you do. Well, I'm outta here.” Bending down, Brian slung the strap of his duffle over his shoulder and offered his brother one of his killer smiles. “Thanks a lot. For everything. And, oh—did you manage to go on the raft ride?”

Dallas grinned. “An experience of a lifetime.”

“What did you think of the lady?”

“She's something else.”

“I'll say.” Brian's grin turned into a leer. “Strong little bugger. And great legs! Boy, I bet she's a tiger…” His voice faded away when he caught the set of his brother's jaw. “So you noticed?”

“Just that I already knew her.”

“A nice piece.” When Dallas's lips thinned, Brian laughed. “Of work. Hey! What did you think I meant?” He glanced down at his brother's hands and grinned even more broadly. Dallas realized that he'd instinctively clenched his fists. “Hey, bro', is there something you're not tellin' me?”

Dallas forced himself to relax. This was just Brian going into his macho-man routine. “Nothing. Just that I already know her.”

“And you've got the hots for her.”

Dallas didn't reply, but just glared at his half brother, wondering if they had anything in common at all.

“Well, go for it, man! I don't blame you. The lady's nice…real nice.”

“What do you mean, ‘go for it'?”

“Ask her out, spend some time with her, get to know her. For crying out loud, here you are and—pardon me for pointing it out—in the middle of no-friggin'-where, and a woman like that falls into your lap. Take a chance, man. I
know you got burned by Jennifer the Jezebel, but not all women are Wicked Witches of the West.”

“I should take advice on my love life from you?” Dallas asked, slightly amused.

“Well, you'd better take it from somebody, 'cause the way I see it, your ‘love life,' as you so optimistically call it, doesn't exist.”

Dallas wanted to smack the smug smile off the younger man's face, but, for once in his life, Brian was right. Instead, Dallas stuck out his arm and shook his brother's hand. “Thanks for the advice.”

“Don't thank me. Just do something, man.”

“I could give you the same words of wisdom.”

Brian's grin was positively wicked. “Not about
my
love life, you couldn't.” With a cocksure grin, he strolled over to his car and yanked open the door. Throwing his bag into the back seat, he crawled into the interior, started the engine of the old Pontiac Firebird and took off in a cloud of exhaust that slowly dissipated in the clear mountain air.

Brian's advice hung like a pall over Dallas as he drove to his condominium. This morning he'd wanted to drive Chandra from his life forever. Then he'd seen her in the hospital and could hardly keep his hands off her. No, he'd better face facts, at least for the present. Brian was right; he should kick up his heels a little. He didn't have to fall in love.

That thought hit him like a bucket of ice water. In love?

I guess I'm in the market for a husband.

Her words ricocheted through his mind. Had she been joking, or had she been hinting? “Quit this, O'Rourke, before you make yourself crazy.”

But forget her he couldn't, and before he knew it, he was making plans to see her again. As soon as he walked into his home, he dropped his mail, unopened, on the table, then picked up the phone book. He punched out the
number of Wild West Expeditions. Chandra answered, and he couldn't stop the tug of the muscles near the corners of his mouth.

“I thought we should get together after work,” he said, feeling the part of a fool, like some creepy lounge lizard. God, he was just no good at this.

“Why?”

“We left on the wrong note. How about I take you to dinner?”

A pause. A thousand heartbeats seemed to pass. “Dinner?” she finally said. “I don't know….”

“Neither do I, but I've been thinking and…” He let out his breath slowly, then decided honesty was the best policy. “Well, I'd like to see you again.”

“Even though I'm only interested in a husband or, more precisely, a father for my yet-unadopted child.”

There it was—that biting sarcasm that he found so fascinating. No wimp, Ms. Hill. “Even though,” he said, smiling despite himself. “Dress up. I've got a surprise for you. I'll pick you up at your place at six-thirty.”

“What if I already have plans?” she asked, obviously flirting with him a little. It occurred to him that she was as nervous about this as was he.

“Cancel them.” He hung up, feeling a little like a jerk, but looking forward to the evening ahead. This morning he'd tried to drive her from his mind, but now, damn it all to hell, he was going to fulfill a few of his fantasies with the gorgeous Ms. Hill.

After all, it was just a date, not a lifetime commitment.

A
DATE
? S
HE COULDN'T
believe it. Yet here she was, pawing through her closet of work shirts, jeans and a few old dresses trying to come up with an outfit for Dallas's surprise.

And her heart was pounding as if she were a schoolgirl.
Take it easy, Chandra,
she told herself, knowing that Dallas's mood could change as rapidly as the weather in these mountains.

She settled for a rose-colored skirt and a scooped-neck blouse, and was just brushing her hair when Sam, ever vigilant, began to growl. “Jealous?” Chandra teased, her heart surprisingly light as she patted the dog on his head, and was rewarded with a sloppy lick of his tongue.

Dallas stood on the doorstep, balancing two grocery sacks. “Wait a minute—I thought we were going out,” she said as she opened the door and he stepped inside.

“We are.” He placed the brown paper bags on the kitchen counter. “Got a picnic basket?”

“You're kidding, right?” she asked, but caught the glint of devilish mischief in his eyes.
This
was the serious Dr. O'Rourke—this man who seemed hell-bent to confuse her? It seemed that he enjoyed keeping her equilibrium off-balance.

“Someone told me I wasn't spontaneous enough, that I needed to get out of my rut,” he said with a shrug. “So—the basket?”

“Right. A picnic basket.” Wondering what he was up to,
she rummaged in the closet under the stairs and came up with a wicker basket covered with dust. She blew across the top and dust motes swirled in a cloud. “Doesn't get much use,” she explained, finding a cloth and wiping the woven wicker clean.