The Rebel Doc Who Stole Her Heart (12 page)

If she touched him again, what would happen? She’d made a point to keep distance between them as they’d watched the movie she’d still been acutely aware of him the entire time. Particularly after their hot unforgettable kiss earlier. Fear controlled her. She was afraid she could go into his arms far too easily, into his bed. And why shouldn’t she? He’d be gone soon. She’d be able to return to her settled life. But could she keep her heart uninvolved? She knew what losing someone did to a person. Would it be worth it?

“It isn’t a commitment for life. I just need a tug up.”

The man was perceptive. He didn’t miss much about her or people in general. That was a trait to be admired.

“Come on, Michelle, ma belle,” Ty sang, “live a little. Help a man out.”

His grin, as always, was infectious.

Michelle put out her hand and his firm, large one encircled hers. It was emblematic of what he was doing to her life. Blanketing it, binding her more securely to him.

She stepped back on one foot and pulled. Ty, in a lithe movement that made her suspect that he might have been faking his aches and pains, came to his feet. As he moved upwards she leaned further back. When she started to stumble his grip became stronger. He pulled her forward against his solid body, his arm circled her waist and held her firmly in place.

Ty’s eyes captured and held her attention. His mouth hovered inches from hers. She wanted to lean forward and touch them with her own, feel them pressed against hers again. Swallowing, she said, “You made up needing help.”

“Truthfully, I didn’t but it worked out well anyway.” His mouth lowered, taking hers gently, testing. This time he was asking.

Her cellphone sitting on the table rang and rattled against the wood.

“You’re not on call. It’ll keep,” Ty whispered against her ear, before he kissed the sweet spot behind it.

She wanted to do as he’d asked but she couldn’t throw away ingrained habits so easily, despite being on the road to heaven.

“I can’t.” She stepped away and Ty let her go.

“I know. It’s who you are.”

Michelle picked up the cellphone and answered. She listened, suddenly feeling sick. “I’ll be right there.”

Tears hit her cheeks before she could get them under control.

Ty put his hands on her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“My mom’s in the hospital. She collapsed. Her neighbor found her. I forgot to call,” she said frankly.

“Because of me.”

Michelle didn’t answer. “I have to go.” She headed towards her room for her shoes.

“I’m going with you.”

She stopped and looked at Ty. “No, you need to stay here and rest. You look like a postcard for a hospital stay yourself. Being black and blue.”

“If I were a man with less self-esteem I might be devastated by that comment. I’m going with you.”

“You don’t—”

“I said I’m going.”

She’d been alone with her mother’s illness for so long that she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have someone along for support. It sounded nice, really nice. “Okay, but I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll stay as long as you do.”

“If you start hurting you’re getting a taxi back here. I don’t need two people in the hospital to care for.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She knew that tone well by now. Ty would do as he pleased, no matter what she said.

“Michelle.”

She looked at him. “Yes.”

“Don’t think what was happening here is over.”

Heat zipped through her, carrying anxiety, apprehension and the sweet thrill of anticipation. Ty wanted her. Not only now but later.

CHAPTER SIX

T
Y
WAS
GLAD
to see Mrs. Ross settled in a room and comfortable. Her blood count had dipped, making her feel light-headed and causing her to fall. With a blood transfusion and a couple of days’ stay in the hospital, she’d be home again.

Michelle had stress written all over her face. Was this the same self-assured woman Ty was beginning to know so well? Her mother’s illness was taking its toll. Her breakdown in the OR and the over-the-top fear she’d experienced when she’d been called about her mother said her emotions were tissue-paper thin. She’d been carrying the load of worry by herself for far too long.

At least he was here for her now. He hadn’t been for Joey. That pure, raw panic in Michelle’s eyes had reached deep in him, to the place where he didn’t want to return.

Ty looked at the mother and daughter as they spoke quietly. Where it had once been a strong woman and a weaker one, now all Ty saw was two fragile women who loved each other. Even though he wasn’t completely comfortable with how involved in Michelle’s life he had become he would support her to the best of his ability until it was time for him to leave.

“You two need to go home. I’m all right. The nurses will take good care of me tonight,” Mrs. Ross said, looking past Michelle to where he sat.

“Mother, I don’t want to leave you in here alone,” Michelle said.

In a stronger voice Mrs. Ross said, “Ty, please see that Michelle gets home safely. She’s tired and you don’t look much better. You shouldn’t have come anyway with all those injuries.” She looked back at her daughter. “I’ll go to sleep as soon as you are both gone.”

“Mom—”

“No argument. Ty, take care of her.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He went to stand beside Michelle’s chair. “Come on. We’ll come back first thing in the morning.” He took her elbow with his uninjured hand and urged her to stand.

Michelle leaned over and kissed her mother. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I’ll be here.” Her mother gave her a weak smile. “Thanks, Ty.”

He nodded. In the parking lot he said, “Let me have your keys. You’re too done in to drive.”

“You drive a motorcycle.” Michelle yawned wide and long.

“I assure you I remember how to drive a car.”

Michelle handed over the keys without further argument. Ty helped her into the passenger side of the car and closed the door. She was dead on her feet. He’d had induced sleep the night before while she’d been up checking on him every hour or so. He didn’t remember every time she had, but as conscientious as she was he knew she’d done it. If he didn’t miss his guess he’d say she’d not slept any today either.

As a surgeon part of her job was to have the stamina to work long hours but that wasn’t when you were emotionally involved. Worry over her mother had drained her.

Before he’d pulled out of the lot, Michelle’s head was bobbing. “Put your head on my shoulder.”

She shook her head. “You’re bruised.”

“I’m a big boy, I can handle it.”

She didn’t fight him or argue further. Leaning her head against him, she was resting peacefully seconds later. There was something right about having her under his care. It made him think of what-ifs. But he didn’t do long term. Didn’t stay in one place. Guilt ate at him. He’d let Joey down. Would end up letting Michelle down also.

It was better not to get involved. But on some level wasn’t he already?

* * *

Michelle woke to Ty calling her name. What a wonderful way to come out of sleep.

“We’re home. I wouldn’t have woken you and just carried you into the house but my hand and arm…”

“Hey, it’s the thought that counts. I can walk.”

“Thanks for letting my ego down easy.”

She went in ahead of him. “I’ll get your medicine.”

Ty stepped to the kitchen counter to stand beside her. He took the prescription bottle out of her hand and put it down. He cupped her cheek with his good hand. “I can take care of myself. You’ve looked after everyone but yourself today. Go and get into bed.”

Michelle blinked slowly with a drowsy look that made him think of tangled sheets and her beneath him. She had no idea of the power she was gaining over him. Thankfully she didn’t argue, which told him just how worn out she was.

“Goodnight,” she mumbled as she walked off.

Ty groaned. He needed to take something that would make him sleep because every fiber in him wanted to follow right behind her and straight into her bed. But he wouldn’t take the medicine. He wanted to be alert if Michelle needed him during the night.

After securing the condo for the night, he headed down the hall towards his room. As he was entering, a sound of glass breaking came from Michelle’s room.

Ty went to her door, which was slightly open. “Michelle, is everything all right?”

A muffle sound was all the response he received.

He nudged the door wider. “Michelle, are you hurt?”

“I…need your help,” came from the direction of what had to be the bathroom. Ty stalked across the room and didn’t hesitate to enter the bathroom.

Tears ran down Michelle’s face. She sat on the edge of the tub with a towel haphazardly wrapped around her, leaving more skin exposed than covered. If she hadn’t looked so distraught he would have tugged on that towel and finished what they had started earlier in the evening.

Instead, he saw shattered glass surrounding her feet and some type of pink-colored liquid on the floor. Michelle held her hand in her lap. A finger dripped blood.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she sobbed.

Ty’s heart contracted. An emotionally brittle Michelle tore at his soul.

Still wearing his shoes, he stepped further into the bathroom and snatched a hand towel off a hook. Lifting Michelle’s injured hand, he wrapped the towel around it. He ignored his injuries that screamed against the pressure as he scooped her up into his arms.

She didn’t resist, leaning her head on his shoulder. So frayed, she didn’t comment on his wounds either.

He laid her on the bed. “Stay put. I’ll get something for that finger.”

She rolled away from him and pulled her knees up to her chest. The towel around her body slipped upwards, barely covering her bottom. Ty turned away and made his way to the kitchen to find the first-aid supplies she’d used on him earlier in the day. Locating them in a small drawer, he took out what he thought he’d need. By the amount of blood he’d seen, it looked as if she might need stitches.

Returning to her room, he found Michelle still curled on the bed. She looked so lost and pitiful. This was no longer the self-assured, in-control, sharp-tongued woman he knew from the OR. Michelle had morphed into a scared, exhausted and heartbroken daughter with an ill mother. The ice queen had turned human.

His chest tightened. All he wanted to do was to gather her up and hold her tight, reassuring her that all would be well. But if he did, could he stop there?

She needed someone to care for her. To help her carry her burdens. To stand beside her when she required help. Could he be that person? His past said no. But he was here now. He would take care of her while he was here.

Ty sat on the edge of the bed. “Michelle, you’re going to have to roll over and let me see your finger. We need to get it covered or you’ll get blood all over the bedspread.” He reached out to touch her shoulder but only let it hover, unable to trust himself if he came in contact with the creamy skin. He rested his hand on the bed. “Come on, ma belle, let me see your finger.”

Michelle rolled but remained in the same fetal position. She flopped her hand out into his lap. Ty undid the towel and was pleased to see that the cut wasn’t as extensive as he’d expected. Using the wet cloth he’d brought from the kitchen, he cleaned the blood away. A sticking-plaster would do.

She watched him work with blank eyes. She didn’t even wince when he touched the cut with the cloth. Her detachment worried him. Had she become so despondent that she’d given up?

As he finished applying the dressing he smiled at her and said, “You know, at this rate the two of us aren’t going to generate much trust in our patients. We both look like accidents waiting to happen.”

He was pleased to see a slight smile form on her lips. He liked it. She didn’t do it often enough.

“I’m going to clean up the mess in the bathroom. While I’m doing that why don’t you put on a nightgown and get into bed? You’ll feel better after a good night’s rest.”

Not waiting for her answer, he took the first-aid supplies back to the kitchen and found the broom and dustpan. When he returned Michelle was asleep but still covered in only the towel and lying on top of the spread.

Putting the broom and dustpan in the bathroom, he came back and pulled the spread away on the opposite side of the bed from Michelle. Circling around to her side again, he lifted her. She snuggled against him, warm and perfect. She was very appealing with her hair disheveled and so much smooth skin showing. Most troubling of all was that she smelled wonderful. Like springtime flowers and rain.

Ty placed her on the sheet and gently pulled the towel from her with a growl of remorse and a straining of his manhood. Reminding himself that at this time she was more patient than lover, he resisted the urge to linger and look his fill. With a jerk of the covers he pulled the top sheet and spread up over Michelle’s shoulders.

After turning the bedside table lamp on and the overhead light off, he headed to the bathroom to clean up. Minutes later he had what he assumed was bath oil removed from the floor. The smell was strong but it reminded him of the sleeping woman who so tempted him in the bed just a few feet away. With a sharp note to keep his mind on the job, he went back to sweeping.

This clean-up job was the most domestic thing he’d done in years. In fact, the last few days had been most unusual. Eating in a kitchen. Sleeping in a real home. Being a part of someone’s life. For once in a long time he wished for more. These types of thoughts wouldn’t lead to anything positive. He’d already learned more than once that he couldn’t take a chance on having those feelings. It was too easy for it all to be gone. It wasn’t worth the pain.

Replacing the broom and dustpan, he threw the towels he’d used to clean up the oil into the washer. He’d check on Michelle and head to bed.

Unable to resist touching her and making the excuse that she might have a fever, he pushed a ribbon of hair away from her face. He was pleased to find that her skin was cool. Satisfied she wasn’t sick but unsatisfied where his body was concerned, he reached over and turned out the lamp.