Never Let Go (5 page)

“Oh, but I am. What was the problem? Flu? Pneumonia? A conflicting engagement?” Her blue-green eyes sparked with innocent interest.

Justin scowled at her, then sighed in resignation. She already knew. He might as well admit it. “There was no date.”

To his astonishment, she
suddenly smiled brightly. “Thank you.”

“What on earth for? For making a fool of myself?”

“No, for telling me the truth.”

“You’d just have poked and prodded until you got to it. I figured I’d save us both the effort.”

“Why did you lie in the first place?”

As always, her directness unnerved him. “I thought it was for the best,” he murmured.

Mallory rolled her eyes in disbelief. “Please. Not that again.”

He toughened his attitude. “Why won’t you listen to me? It’s the truth. You and I…” He gestured helplessly. “It just can’t be. Accept it.”

“Not on your life.”

Suddenly he laughed at the incongruity of the situation. Here he was fighting like crazy to maintain his distance from the most attractive, beguiling woman he’d met in years. Maybe he should sleep with her and get her out of his system. Then go back to living the serene, if empty sort of bachelor life he’d had before she’d come along and turned his emotions all topsy-turvy. He looked into the depths of her clear blue-green eyes, saw the spark of humor, the intelligence, the bright flare of desire, and knew it would never end that simply.

“Mallory, what am I going to do with you?”

“I have some ideas.”

“I’ll just bet you do. It’s probably best if you don’t discuss them here. In fact, it’s probably best if you sublimate them.”

“Sublimation isn’t healthy, and actually, I was only going to suggest that you come join Rachel and me,” she said primly. He felt the oppressive mass that had weighted his chest since he left her in the park begin to lift, even though Rachel’s presence was a complication he hadn’t counted on. Damn it all, he wanted to be with this woman.

“We’re not exactly having
a clandestine affair here, but in case you’re worrying about the hospital rumor mill, Rachel knows how to keep her mouth shut,” Mallory said, reading his mind. “She won’t tell a soul that you sat down to dine with a couple of coworkers.”

He capitulated all too easily. “In that case, I’d love to join you.”

The atmosphere at the table was so pleasant and relaxing that Justin found himself wondering why he’d deprived himself of Mallory’s company in the first place. Surely they could be friendly, have an occasional dinner, some casual conversation without it developing into anything complicated.

Mallory reached across just then and touched his hand. He’d lost track of the discussion even before she made the gesture, but with her fingers resting lightly on his, he couldn’t think at all.

Friendly?
Was that what he’d been telling himself? Not in a million years. If he and Mallory Blake were to spend ten minutes in a room alone, they’d generate enough spontaneous combustion to burn down an entire forest.

“I’ve got to be going,” he said abruptly, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat. “I’m going back on duty early tomorrow.”

A protest formed on Mallory’s lips, but she didn’t voice it, thank goodness. He wasn’t at all sure that he could walk away from her tonight as it was. If she asked him to stay for another drink, to drop by her apartment, the temptation would no doubt overcome every little bit of common sense he had left.

Instead, she said only, “We should be going, too.”

Justin called for the check
and insisted on paying for the dinner.

“That’s hardly fair. You just had a couple of drinks,” Rachel argued.

“I had good company, too. Lovely ladies. It’s worth it. My own company was pretty lousy tonight.” It was a telling remark and he knew it. From the smug look on Mallory’s face, he guessed she knew exactly what he meant. Rachel, though, seemed unaware of the undercurrents or was wise enough, at least, to ignore them.

“Hal and I will have you over for dinner soon,” she said. “I assume you can tolerate kids.”

“I can tolerate them,” he said lightly. “It sounds nice.”

“You haven’t seen my kids,” Rachel said and grabbed Mallory’s valet parking ticket out of her hand. “I’ll go get the car and meet you out front.”

“Fine,” Mallory said, her gaze locked with Justin’s. She had accepted his retreat without a murmur, but keeping quiet was costing her. Her insides were tied in knots and she knew she was going to be awake long into the night, tossing and turning in frustration. She searched for a neutral topic, so she wouldn’t stand on tiptoe and kiss the man. “You’re going back on duty tomorrow?”

“At 7:00 a.m., unless I get beeped during the night.”

“Will you see Davey?”

“First thing.”

“He’s probably missed you.”

“Actually, I’ve stopped by every day, even though I’ve been off. I didn’t want him to start feeling abandoned, just when we were seeing some sign of progress.”

“Has he said any more to you?”

“Not much. At least he opens
his eyes for me now and says hello.”

“That’s terrific.”

“The first step, isn’t that what you said?”

“That’s right. It’s always the hardest.”

Suddenly it was very clear to Mallory that they were talking about far more than Davey. Justin was trying to say something to her about their relationship as well. Why was it so difficult for him to be direct? Why was he fighting the attraction so hard? Why couldn’t he manage that first step that would take the two of them on to something more? She was all the more confused now that she knew with virtual certainty that there was no other woman.

Apparently it wasn’t something she was likely to find out tonight, however. Outside he simply squeezed her hand, even though she’d turned her face up just a little in anticipation of a kiss. “I did enjoy dinner,” he said softly, as he held the car door open for her.

“So did I.”

He seemed to hesitate for an eternity before saying, “Maybe we could do it again sometime.”

“I’d like that.”

A heavy sigh shuddered through him then, and he closed the door and vanished without so much as a good-night to Rachel.

“Sorry,” Mallory apologized. “Justin’s manners could use a little work.”

“He was a saint tonight, compared
to most of the times I’ve had to deal with him. You’re obviously good for him.”

“I’m not sure he sees it that way.”

Rachel laughed uproariously. “Oh, he sees it that way, girl. He’s just fighting it.” She grinned at her conspiratorially. “They all do, you know.”

After picking up the promised ice cream for Deanne and dropping Rachel off, Mallory felt far too keyed up to go home herself. She decided to pay a late-night visit to Davey. More and more, she felt an urgent need to draw him back into the world, to see him smile. Besides, he was her link to Justin and if she couldn’t be with him tonight, Davey was the next best thing.

She stopped at the nurses’ station on her way to Davey’s room and visited for a few minutes before wandering down the hall. Opening the door slowly, she found the room bathed in nighttime shadows. She tiptoed over to the bed and peered down at the still form. Davey was lying on his back, his arms and legs askew, the covers kicked aside. His bruises had faded now and his bandages were smaller. For once, he looked at peace.

Mallory pulled up a chair and sat by the bed, leaning her forehead against the railing. She closed her eyes and thought about Davey and what was in store for him, then about Justin and her own future.

Suddenly a high little voice whispered tentatively, “Where’s Joey?”

Her eyes snapped open to see Davey staring at her solemnly. Her heart lurched unsteadily, and joy surged through her.

“I left him in his room sleeping,” she said gently, fighting for composure. “Which is what you should be doing, big guy. How come you’re awake so late?”

He squeezed his eyes
shut, and a tear rolled down his cheek. Mallory only just resisted the urge to reach over and brush it away. The moment was still too fragile.

“Scared.” He mumbled the word so softly she could barely make it out.

“I get scared at night, too, sometimes,” she confided. “What scared you?”

“I was bad. Mommy was going to hit me.”

This time it was Mallory who closed her eyes and fought tears. “Davey, your mommy’s not going to hit you anymore. We won’t let that happen.”

“Promise?” That single softly spoken word held such a mixture of hope and fear that it tore at her heart. Wide blue eyes gazed at her with the desperate appeal of a cornered animal.

“I promise, baby.”

Mallory’s fingers were curled tightly around the railing on the bed. Davey reached over tentatively and touched them, the way a child would stroke a beloved stuffed animal for comfort. Then with a whisper of a sigh he rolled on his side and went back to sleep.

Shaken, Mallory sat by the bed and let the tears—of relief, of sorrow, of joy—flow freely down her cheeks. At last she knew with certainty that despite the pain, Davey was going to get well. The emotional healing had finally begun. Davey was beginning to trust again. He was reaching out.

The burden of responsibility weighed heavily on her. It was up to her and Justin to see that they didn’t let him down.

“D
r. Blake, could I see you
for a minute?” the head nurse from one of the surgical floors asked just as Mallory was getting ready to step into the elevator.

“Sure, Carol. What is it?”

“It’s about Dr. Whitmore.”

Mallory’s breath caught in her throat. Surely the gossip mill hadn’t latched onto news of those two innocent dinners so quickly. “What about him?” she asked warily.

“Well, you seem to have a way with him.” At Mallory’s startled expression, she added quickly, “I mean, I’ve heard you two are working together on that little boy’s case up in pediatrics and I was wondering if maybe you could help me out.”

“What’s the problem?”

“I have a patient here scheduled for surgery in two days and he’s scared to death. He knows it’s possible he’ll be paralyzed. Actually I’m amazed he’s holding up as well as he is. Anyway, I thought it would help if Dr. Whitmore talked to him, tried to give him the straight facts about his situation. All the wondering isn’t good for him. I think he’d feel a whole lot more confident going into surgery, if he really knew his doctor was being honest with him.”

Mallory sighed. Carol was
absolutely right, but how was Justin going to feel about her interfering in another one of his cases, especially when the patient was an adult? Still, she couldn’t ignore the situation, now that she knew about it. She believed too strongly in the healing power of communication between doctor and patient.

“What would you like me to do?”

“Couldn’t you talk to Dr. Whitmore and persuade him to spend some time with the man? That’s all. I just know it would help. I’ve tried, but he just brushes me off with promises that he’ll do it later. At this rate, later will be after the guy’s surgery.”

“I’ll talk to him, Carol,” she agreed reluctantly, already envisioning the argument that would follow her mention of the case to Justin. “What’s the patient’s name?”

Carol’s expression brightened measurably. “Harrison. He’s in 615. He’s a great guy, too. He got mangled in an auto accident, and they’re trying to patch him up without damaging the nerves any further. He’s only twenty-eight, and he’s got these two little kids and the nicest wife you’d ever want to meet. They’re all being so brave, even though I know they’re worried sick about the surgery and paying the bills and all.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Thanks, Dr. Blake.”

An hour later Mallory ran into Justin in the corridor.

“Hi,” she said cheerfully, her
heart thumping right on cue. For a muscle, it was amazingly discerning since it only pounded like that when Justin appeared. For once he returned her smile without any apparent reservations. The effect was as powerful as an intimate caress. Her body seemed to sway toward him with a will of its own, until she caught herself and wrapped her arms around her middle in a gesture that any student of psychology would recognize as one of denial. It didn’t do a thing to stop the thunder of her heart or the racing of her pulse, but it did keep her from reaching out to touch him.

“Do you have some time?” she asked, the words coming out in a nervous rush that made her want to bite her tongue and start the whole encounter over. Justin grinned at her knowingly, and she hurried on. “I have a couple of things I’d like to discuss with you.”

Justin glanced at his watch. “Will a half hour do it? I have surgery again at two.”

“A half hour’s fine. Want to come to my office?”

“I’d rather try the coffee shop across the street. I haven’t had anything to eat today and I’m not up to tuna fish in the cafeteria.”

Mallory opened her mouth to protest his poor eating habits, but he silenced her with a look. “No lectures, doctor. It’s the first break I’ve had all day.”

She grinned back at him. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

It was one of those gloomy San Francisco days, when the fog never seemed to lift and the air was damp and chilly. They hurried across the street and into the steamy warmth of the restaurant. Several nurses were just vacating a booth, and as Justin and Mallory approached, the women regarded her curiously. She could hear the interested buzz of speculation as they walked away.

As soon as Justin had
ordered the homemade vegetable soup and a hamburger, he leaned back and asked, “Now, then, what’s so important?”

“It’s Davey.”

Instantly his eyes were alert and his body tense. “What about him?”

“Calm down. It’s good news. After I saw you Saturday night, I stopped by here. I didn’t realize it when I first went into his room, but he was awake. He spoke to me. He asked about Joey.”

“Who’s Joey?”

“The puppet I’ve been using to try to reach him. He wanted to know why I didn’t have him with me. Then he really began to open up. He admitted he was scared and he talked about his mother.”

“What did he say?”

“That he was afraid of her. That he’d been bad and that she was going to hit him.”

“Had he been having a dream or was he remembering a specific incident? That could be important when his case goes to court.”

“It’s hard to tell. A little of both, I imagine. Don’t you see, though, now that it’s out in the open, I can really begin to work with him.”

Justin relaxed and grinned at her. “That’s the best news you could have given me.” His hand enveloped hers and squeezed, setting off tingles that raced through her and made her toes curl. She had to force herself to concentrate on what Justin was saying. “Maybe we make a pretty good team after all.”

The words echoed in
Mallory’s head. If Justin had spent a lifetime searching for just the right thing to say, he couldn’t have done any better. She just wondered when he’d let that professional trust expand to include the personal side of their relationship as well.

“So, what happens now?” he said as the waitress put his food down.

“We try to keep him talking and try to reassure him that not all adults behave the way his mother did. He has to understand that his mother has a kind of illness, that her behavior doesn’t necessarily mean she doesn’t love him.”

Instantly Justin’s lips curved down in an angry slash. “Do you really believe that hogwash?” he said incredulously, and she felt the fragile rapport between them begin to slip away. He released her hand and began eating his soup.

“Yes, I do, and it’s more than hogwash,” she said staunchly, ignoring his reaction. “Maybe she was an abused child herself. Maybe she’s just responding the way she was taught to respond.”

“You’re saying you can’t break the cycle, then?” Justin said in a voice gone suddenly flat. Mallory regarded him curiously.

“I didn’t say that at all. I think she can be helped, given time. She has to understand what drove her to harm Davey. Once she does that, it’s possible to break the pattern.”

“I guarantee you, it’ll never happen.” He shoved the soup bowl away and grabbed his hamburger, biting into it angrily.

“What makes you so certain? You’re not an expert in this field, are you? Or have they added psychology to the neurosurgical program?”

“I know what I’m talking about,” he said unequivocally, and his hazel eyes
glittered dangerously. Mallory beat a hasty tactical retreat. It was not the time to fight this particular battle. She didn’t want to upset him, when he had to go back into surgery in a few more minutes.

“Okay. Don’t get angry.”

“Who’s getting angry?” His voice rose, and his eyes flashed.

Suddenly Mallory grinned at him and propped her chin in her hand. “Do you do impressions?”

“What?” The question came out hesitantly. He stared at her, wide-eyed, clearly baffled by the seemingly irrelevant question.

“You say you’re not angry. I believe you. That must mean you’re into doing an impression of an angry man.”

Justin moaned at her attempt at humor, and his fierce expression faded instantly. “You win.”

“Were we having another contest?” she inquired innocently.

“You won’t even let me give in gracefully, will you?”

“Nope,” she said sweetly. “I think maybe I like watching you squirm.”

“You would. It’s probably a defect in your character. Now what else did you want to talk to me about? You said you had a couple of things.”

“You have a patient named Harrison.”

Justin looked instantly wary. “What about him?”

“Carol says he’s nervous about his surgery.”

His shoulders visibly tensed again. “And why would Carol be telling you this?”

“I ran into her this
morning. She wanted me to mention it to you.”

“Damn it, I know the man is nervous. He’s my patient. I don’t need some nurse running to you to tell me what’s going on with him. If she had something to say, she should have come directly to me.”

“She said she had.”

“Well, she should have tried again.”

“Why? So you could yell at her?”

“I don’t yell.” His fist thumped angrily on the table, shaking the silverware and sending his coffee cup skittering toward the edge. Mallory saved it from certain disaster.

She grinned impishly. “Oh, this is just another of your impressions, then?”

Justin regarded her sheepishly. “I was yelling?”

She nodded.

“Sorry.”

“So, have you talked to him?” she asked reasonably, determined not to allow his fit of temper to distract her from getting a promise from him.

“Of course, I’ve talked to him.”

“And exactly what have you told him?” she asked. “Aside from the basics such as when his surgery is scheduled? Have you discussed the risks with him, told him his chances for a full recovery, reassured him at all?”

“Mallory, has anyone ever mentioned to you that nagging has destroyed many a relationship? I let you get involved with Davey because I thought he needed you. That doesn’t mean you can start barging into the middle of all my cases.”

“I am not barging in,” she responded calmly. “I haven’t even seen the man. I’m just passing along a message.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Message received.”

“Will it be acted on?”

His gaze swept over her angrily, then he shook his head. A faint smile appeared
at the corners of his mouth. “You have the persistence of a gnat. I’ll see the man this afternoon. Satisfied?”

She beamed at him. “Very.” She laid a hand on his. “And you won’t go back and yell at Carol for talking to me, right?”

“Right,” he muttered, scowling at her. “You’re going to ruin my reputation as a tyrant, you know.”

“I’m trying.”

“Care to celebrate your victory by going to a movie with me tomorrow? I’m not on duty and I could use a night out.”

The invitation took her by surprise. She’d been sure they would ease into dating far more slowly, probably beginning with some chance encounter that would lead to casual meals. That Justin was apparently ready for more sent a sharp tingle of anticipation through her. She struggled to match his casual tone, when what she wanted to do was tap-dance on the tabletop. “Sounds good to me, as long as it’s not a medical thriller. They hit too close to home.”

“How about a Woody Allen film?”

“They usually hit pretty close to home, too.”

“Yes, but at least they’re funny,” he said as he paid the check. They walked back to the hospital in companionable silence. As they entered the lobby, Justin noticed that the elevator door was about to close and he took off at a run. “Tomorrow,” he called back over his shoulder. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

At least half a dozen nurses
turned to gaze at Mallory enviously. Holding back a grin, she admitted to herself that she didn’t blame them one bit. The idea of finally going out on an official date with Dr. Justin Whitmore was enough to send the most resistant woman’s pulse racing and she’d stopped resisting days ago.

The movie had been billed as funny and poignant, but it didn’t stand a chance of competing with Justin for Mallory’s attention. She found herself so conscious of him sitting next to her in the darkened theater, his arm draped casually across the back of her seat, his fingertips brushing her shoulder, that she couldn’t have described the plot if someone had offered her a million bucks.

Fortunately, Justin was one of those people who liked to rehash every scene over coffee, so she had ample opportunity to learn all about the story line secondhand. She missed that, too. She was intent on studying the curve of his lips, when they were gentled by a laugh, and the spark in his eyes, when they lingered on her.

“Are you listening to me?” he finally asked, his voice laced with laughter.

“Umm.”

“Mallory?”

She was thoroughly absorbed in contemplating the pulse that was beating in his neck. Her fingers practically itched to caress the column of flesh that promised heat and literally throbbed with life. “What?” she murmured absentmindedly.

“Are you with me here?”

“Umm.”

“I was thinking it might be nice
to go for a ride on the zebras at the zoo. What do you think?”

“Whatever you want.” Suddenly his words registered, and she glanced at him in shock. “You want to ride the zebras?”

He chuckled and she flushed with embarrassment. “I’m glad I finally got through to you,” he said. “Where have you been?”

She couldn’t very well admit she’d been mentally assaulting the man’s body. “Just thinking.”

“Dare I ask what about?”

“The hospital, Davey, my schedule for tomorrow, stuff like that.” The words spilled out too quickly, too unconvincingly. Only a very dense man would have believed her, and she knew perfectly well that Justin wasn’t dense.

“Do you always get such a dreamy, faraway look in your eyes when you think about work?” he inquired with tolerant amusement.

That proved it. He knew exactly what she’d been thinking or had guessed at some particularly sensual variation of it. She gulped nervously. “Well, I do love my job,” she said with a valiant attempt at bravado.

“So do I, but I guarantee you it never makes my pulse race.”

“Who says my pulse was racing?”

“I do,” he responded. “It pays to be a doctor, you know. When I took hold of your hand a minute ago—which was barely noticed, by the way—I took your pulse. I’ve had patients in the emergency room with a slower heartbeat.”