Never Let Go (11 page)

Mallory wondered if there was any added stress in his voice when he mentioned that it was her home, but the look in his eyes was warm, and no shadows lurked in the hazel depths.

They sat down on the carpet and Justin poured the wine, then touched his crystal goblet to hers. The clear pinging sound was a light and cheerful counterpoint to the low huskiness of his voice as he said, “May you always be happy here.”

Only if you’re here, Mallory wanted desperately to say, but sensed it was not the time for that sort of pressure. Justin had to reach his own conclusions about them, about their future. For the moment, it was enough that he was here at all, that he was sharing such a special beginning with her.

With a heavy sigh, he put down his glass and reached for her, cradling her against his chest.

“Do you like the apartment?” she asked hesitantly.

“I love it. It’s like you, all brightness and sunshine.”

She looked into his eyes, struck again by the urgent need to feel a part of him. “Make love to me, Justin,” she pleaded. “Make love to me here, now. Make this a day I’ll never forget.”

Justin needed no further urging, and with the glow of the fire warming them and the pink-hued tint of the sunset splashing over them, they came together in an exquisite blending of familiar ecstasy and timeless passion. It was the loving they’d grown accustomed to, sharpened by the intensity of the present.

The only thing missing,
Mallory thought as a tear of joy rolled down her cheek, was a hint of what lay ahead.

A
fter Justin left on Sunday Mallory worked compulsively around the apartment. In part she needed to feel the move was behind her, but in greater measure she was trying to keep at bay those odd, disturbing sensations about her relationship with Justin. Instinct told her it was teetering on the edge of a precipice, and an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach told her which way it was likely to go.

“You’re going to wind up being just like your mother,” she muttered to herself in disgust. “Borrowing trouble, worrying about things that might never happen.”

Certainly there had been nothing she could put her finger on in Justin’s attitude to stir
such concern. He had been attentive and supportive the previous day. During the night he had held her in his arms, surrounding her with his warmth and with what she wanted to believe was his love. He had teased her all the next morning about her books, which ranged from ponderous scholarly publications to racy and tender romantic fiction.

“How can any one woman have such diverse tastes?” he’d asked with a shake of his head.

“I like to think of it as being well-rounded,” she had retorted. “Besides, a good psychologist can learn all sorts of things about human behavior from reading fiction.”

“What have you learned from these romances?” he asked teasingly, a wicked flame of desire sparking to life in his eyes.

“I could show you a few things,” she offered and she did. Unpacking was forgotten as they indulged in a feast of sensuality, discovering again how in tune their bodies were.

She reminded herself of that incredible tenderness as she crawled into bed and picked up the intricately plotted popular mystery that she’d been trying to finish for days. Despite what she’d said to Justin about the allure of books, she couldn’t get involved in this one. The characters no longer compelled her the way thoughts of Justin did. She finally tossed the book aside, pounded her pillow and tried to go to sleep. It was much harder to do without Justin’s heavy leg draped across her thigh and his arm tucked protectively under her breasts. She missed the pressure of his solid length against her back.

In the morning she awoke
with a throbbing headache. Every muscle and joint in her body seemed to hurt as well.

“It’s back to the gym for you,” she muttered as she stood under the shower, waiting for the hot spray to ease the aches. “If you can’t even push a little furniture around without winding up in pain, you are definitely out of shape.”

At the hospital she saw her early-morning patients, then retreated to her office. Usually she would have worked out all the kinks in her muscles by this time of day, but if anything she felt worse. She was leaning back in her chair, eyes closed, massaging her temples, when the door opened and Justin poked his head in.

“How about lunch? I know it’s a little early, but it actually looks as though I have an hour free.”

The thought of food turned her stomach, but she definitely needed some kind of relief. Perhaps lunch would do it after all. “Maybe that is what I need,” she said without much enthusiasm. She got slowly to her feet. Justin regarded her worriedly.

“Are you okay? You look a little pale and you sound terrible. Did you have breakfast?”

“I wasn’t hungry. I’m just tired and sore from all that moving. I’m sure I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

He scowled. “I suppose you kept at it after I left.”

“I just moved a few things and unpacked the rest of the boxes,” she said defensively. “It wasn’t all that much.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t paint the walls.”

“Actually, I thought about it, but I didn’t have the energy to run to the paint store.”

He threw up his hands in a gesture of impatience. “Mallory, I was joking. Leave the damn walls. I’ll help you next time I’m off. You don’t have to be superdecorator on top of all you’re doing around here.”

“But I want it to be finished.”

“And it will be. It
doesn’t have to be perfect within seventy-two hours after you bought it. I’ve heard that some people even take months to decide exactly what color scheme they want. Slow down before you wear yourself out.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he held up his hand. “Check that. You’re already worn out. No more until I can help. Promise?”

She felt too crummy to argue with him. She didn’t feel one bit better as they stood in the hot food line in the cafeteria. She opened her mouth to say something to Justin, when a wave of dizziness washed over her and left her feeling cold and clammy.

“Justin.” Her voice came out in a croak, and he gazed at her in alarm.

“Mallory, what is it? Are you okay?”

She shook her head. “Don’t feel good,” she mumbled and suddenly felt as though the lights were dimming. Then the whole world went dark. The last thing she was conscious of was Justin’s muttered expletive and his arms catching her as she sank toward the floor.

When she came to, she was lying on a stretcher in the emergency room. There was an argument going on, and she felt as if both participants had been punching her in the stomach as she slept.

“Damn it, Justin,” an unfamiliar voice said, “get out of here, so I can examine her.”

“I’m a doctor. Why can’t I stay?”

Mallory opened her mouth to agree, but suddenly she felt too exhausted to get even a whisper past her lips. Besides, the other doctor seemed adamant.
She hoped he and Justin were friends. Otherwise, with Justin’s temperament, the man was risking a bloody nose, even though he sounded as though he was trying very hard to be reasonable.

“Because in this instance you have no objectivity whatsoever,” he said calmly, then added pointedly, “and you’re in the way. Now move it.”

Justin sent one last look of concern in Mallory’s direction, then reluctantly left the cubicle and stalked up and down outside.

“Damn arrogant doctor,” he muttered as he paced. He was about to march back through the curtains when he was paged. Cursing under his breath, he went to a phone.

“Your one o’clock patient is up here,” his scrub nurse said. “Are you on your way?”

“Damn. Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute. I’ve got an emergency down here. I just want to make sure it’s under control.”

He stuck his head back through the curtains around Mallory’s cubicle. “Mack.”

“Go away.”

“Mack, I’ve got to get back up to surgery. How is she?”

“She’ll be a lot better if I can finish checking her out. Go do your surgery.”

Justin didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay right there until he knew exactly what was wrong with Mallory. She’d looked so pale and still against the white sheets. It had terrified him and left him feeling absolutely helpless. He was a doctor, after all. He should have been able to do something. Instead, he’d been forced to relinquish her care to Mack.

Mack was only a second-year
resident, for heaven’s sake. What did he know? Was he even running the right tests? She could have had some sort of brain hemorrhage. Maybe there was even a tumor. He’d never even thought to ask her if she’d been having severe headaches. Then again, there’d been no time to ask anything. One minute she’d been standing there talking to him and the next her knees had buckled and she’d started sinking slowly to the floor.

He reached the OR and found Dr. Hendricks already scrubbing. “What’s this about an emergency?” the chief of neurosurgery asked. He’d been Justin’s mentor ever since he’d joined the residency program, and the two of them had developed the sort of father-son affection and respect Justin had never experienced before.

“It’s Dr. Blake,” Justin blurted out anxiously as he began methodically lathering his arms. “She collapsed while we were standing in line in the cafeteria. She’s down in the ER now, and Mack is checking her out. I don’t know, though. He’s awfully young, and he could miss something. What do you think? Should I call up one of the attending physicians?”

He caught the grin on Dr. Hendricks’s face before the older man could hide it. “Justin, you’ve told me repeatedly that Mack Davis is one of the best residents in internal medicine you’ve ever seen. A real genius for diagnosis, isn’t that what you called him?”

“Yes, usually he’s great, but he didn’t know anything when I left down there. What if it takes him too long to figure out what’s wrong with her? She could get worse.”

“Exactly how long had he been working her up?”

“Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes,” Justin admitted grudgingly, finally sensing the absurdity of his reaction.

“Maybe you should give
him a little longer before making any judgments,” Dr. Hendricks suggested. “Are you sure you’re up to doing this case? I can get another resident to scrub, if you want to get back down to the ER. You won’t be any good to me if you’re distracted.”

“No, I’ll be okay once we get started. Mack won’t let me near her anyway,” he grumbled. “It’ll be good for me to concentrate on something besides what’s going on downstairs.”

Fortunately, it was a relatively simple procedure, because, despite Justin’s protestations, his mind kept wandering. It was two hours before he could get back to the emergency room. When he walked over to the cubicle where he’d left Mallory, she was gone. He ran to the desk.

“Dr. Blake? Where is she?” he demanded breathlessly, his heart thudding in his chest. Dear God, if anything had happened to her…

“Just a second, doctor. Let me check.” The nurse ran over the list of the day’s patients as he drummed his fingers impatiently on the counter. “It says here she went home.”

“Went home?” he said incredulously. “How did she get home? She certainly couldn’t drive. She should have been admitted. Where the hell is Mack?”

“It says here that Rachel Jackson came by to give her a ride home, and I think Dr. Davis is on rounds on the fourth floor. Do you want me to page him?”

“Never mind.”

Justin found another resident to cover the rest of his shift for him and raced out of the hospital. His thoughts were in such turmoil, he was hardly aware of
time passing as he drove to Mallory’s apartment. What could Mack have been thinking of? Why hadn’t he waited to consult with him before discharging Mallory? She had no business being home all alone. What if she had a relapse? If she did, he would personally break every bone in Mack’s body.

Rachel opened the front door within seconds after he knocked.

“Don’t beat the door down,” she admonished. “You’ll wake Mallory.”

“Is she okay? What’s wrong with her?”

“After the fuss I heard you raised earlier, I’m surprised you didn’t read the chart in the ER.”

“I didn’t stop long enough to do it, and Mack wasn’t around. He never should have sent her home without running more tests and keeping her in the hospital for observation. The woman passed out, for God’s sake.”

Suddenly he realized that Rachel was grinning at him, exactly the same way Dr. Hendricks had. “Getting a taste of your own brand of medicine, doctor?” she taunted with delight.

He had started toward the bedroom, but Rachel’s words caused him to halt in his tracks and whirl around to stare at her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Now you have some idea of how your patients and their families feel when you don’t stop long enough to give them a complete picture.”

The barb struck home. “Okay. You’ve made your point, but this is no time for lectures. You still haven’t said how she’s doing. I want to check on her.”

“Get back in here and let her sleep. She ought to be just fine in another forty-eight hours or so. She has the flu.”

Justin blinked. “The flu?” he muttered disbelievingly.

“That’s it. Sorry to
disappoint you.”

He came back into the living room, sank down on the sofa and put his head in his hands. Relief flooded through him. “That’s it? You’re absolutely sure?”

“That’s it. It’s going around. In fact, I wouldn’t be too surprised if you don’t wind up with it as well, considering the amount of time you two have been spending with each other.”

He quirked one brow at her. “You sound almost pleased about that.”

“Which part?”

“That I might wind up with the flu, too.”

“Why, Dr. Whitmore, I would never wish you ill health.” Rachel hesitated thoughtfully. “Unless, of course, I thought it might do you some good to see things from the other side of the fence.”

“Don’t start on me again.” He gazed at her plaintively. “Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

Rachel sighed then and sat down next to him. This time the teasing tone was gone as she touched his hand gently. The expression in her eyes was compassionate. “I think I do. I’m sorry I gave you such a rough time and I’m really very glad you care so much. Does she know?”

“That I care? I don’t know. I’ve been fighting it so hard, I’m not sure even I realized it until this afternoon. When she passed out on me, practically in midsentence, I thought I’d go crazy.”

“Why don’t you tell her that, when she wakes up? It would probably be the best medicine she could have.” Rachel got up and picked up her purse. “As for me, I’m out of here. If you need help,
give me a call.”

“I’ll be able to handle things until tomorrow at least. I’ve got someone covering for me at the hospital.”

When Mallory awoke, Justin was sitting in a chair beside the bed, his eyes closed. He looked as though he’d been through a battle and wound up on the losing side.

“Are you okay?” she croaked.

His eyes snapped open and finally focused on her. “You’re awake.”

“Not by choice. If I’d known I was going to feel this lousy, I’d have stayed asleep.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“Maybe a little water.”

Justin brought her a glassful and lifted her shoulders off the pillow, while she took several sips. She waited for a moment to see what effect drinking would have on her stomach. So far, so good.

“Enough,” she said finally, not wanting to press her luck.

“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well this morning?”

“I didn’t know it was anything serious. I just thought I’d overdone it this weekend.”

“You scared the living daylights out of me.” He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand in his. Despite the chills that had her shivering under the covers, the look in Justin’s eyes warmed her. “I realized today how lost I would be without you. I just want you to know…”