Tender Loving Care Read online

  “You can’t buy makeup from a grocery store. It’s disgusting. You have to get it at the mall.”

  The rich truly are different, Melissa thought. “It’s about three times the price at the mall. I don’t need some fancy name on the label to make me happy.”

  “Melissa, packaging is very important. You wouldn’t want people to think…” The preteen floundered. “I mean, what would…”

  “Just as I’ve suspected. You’re a snob. But don’t worry.” She patted the girl’s shoulder. “I won’t hold it against you.”

  “I can’t stand this. I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to wait with you in the checkout line. I mean, what if one of my friends saw me with that package?” She pointed at the offending tube and sighed. “I don’t like to do favors, but I won’t tell my mother.”

  “I’m so relieved.” Melissa clutched at her chest dramatically and sighed. “Thank you, my child. I’d hate to lose my position over something like this. I prefer to risk my career over powder or deodorant.”

  “Ha, ha.” Wendi turned away. “I’ll be in the magazine section when you’re finished.”

  “Good thing,” Melissa called after her. “Because I’ll be using coupons.”

  “Whatcha doing, Dad?” Wendi asked as she walked into Logan’s study.

  He glanced up and smiled. “Reading. I know.” He held up his hand. “Don’t you yell at me, too. Melissa’s already been in here twice to complain I’m not following the doctor’s orders.”

  “I’m going to Mom’s tomorrow.” Her fingers played with the hem of her T-shirt, the twisting reminding him of when she’d been a little girl.

  “Come here.” Leaning back in the swivel chair, he held out his arms. When his daughter was settled on his lap, Logan stroked her long hair. “Are you worried about being gone?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll miss you.”

  “Really?”

  The raw concern in her eyes pulled at his heart. When she was scared, like now, he knew she’d be his forever. Yet there were times when she seemed all Fiona. The older she got, the more she reminded him of her mother. It wasn’t just the green eyes flashing like emerald flames. It was the walk, the smile, the need to possess the newest, most expensive whatever.

  “Don’t grow up, Wendi,” he murmured against her head. “Stay my perfect little girl forever.”

  “I will, Daddy. I promise.”

  The grandfather clock in the hall ticked loudly, marking the passage of time. “Want to go for a swim?” he asked.

  She jumped off his lap. “Last one in the pool clears the table after dinner.”

  Wendi ran out of the room, narrowly missing plowing into Melissa, who was standing in the doorway.

  “Where does she get her energy?” she asked with awe. “It tires me out just to watch her.”

  Logan shrugged. “Youth. Vitamins. Who knows? Are you back to check up on me? I wasn’t doing anything I shouldn’t.”

  “Don’t try and look innocent. It’s too late. I know you’ve been reading.”

  She tried to look angry, but he saw the smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Do I get a spanking?”

  “Not on your life. I don’t cater to any kinky demands by my patients.”

  “Three days,” he said.

  “Three days what?”

  He leaned closer and leered. “In three days you go from being my nurse to being my employee. Then who will be in charge?”

  She laughed. “I’m scared. See.” She held out her hand. “I’m shaking.”

  “Talk is cheap, little one. We’ll find out how brave you are when I’m the one signing the paychecks.”

  “Get a life.”

  He chuckled. At last his irreverent companion had returned. Good thing. He couldn’t have endured an entire summer of Melissa kowtowing to his every demand…it would be too boring for words.

  “Da-ad.” Wendi stood in the hallway, her hands on her hips. “You haven’t even put your suit on. I thought we were going swimming.”

  “Be right there.” He smiled at Melissa. “Want to join us?”

  “I…me, swimming with you? No. No.” She shook her head and backed out of the room. “I couldn’t. I mean I have so many things to do that are…”

  “Name one.”

  “Ah…I have some, ah, letters to write that, ah, need writing.”

  Her face became rosy. He leaned close and inhaled her perfume. “Chicken.”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  “Prove it.”

  “I have no need to participate in your childish games.”

  “Cluck, cluck, cluck.”

  The car was a Bentley, dark blue with gleaming chrome. Despite his conservative uniform, the driver stepping out to open the back door looked as if he could have modeled for Mr. July in a male swimsuit calendar.

  “Bye.”

  Melissa turned from the window and smiled at Wendi. “Bye. Have a good time.”

  “I’ll be back tomorrow. Probably after dinner. If you need anything…”

  Melissa walked forward and gave the girl a swift hug. “I’ll be fine. Really. Your dad has a doctor’s appointment in the morning, but other than that, we’ll be here.”

  Wendi’s hair was pulled back in a French braid. Her shorts set was preteen chic, but the expression on her face was all little girl. “You won’t have a good time without me, will you?”

  “Never. Now get out of here.”

  Wendi picked up her bag and darted out the front door. “Bye, Dad.” She ran across the driveway and ducked into the Bentley.

  Melissa saw Logan watch his daughter leave. His hands were clenched at his sides. The lean lines of his jaw tightened slightly as he swallowed.

  “She’ll be back.”

  “I know.” He spoke without looking away from the departing car. “But it’s always different. Her time with Fiona changes her and there’s nothing I can do to make it stop.”

  Melissa used the corner of the towel to wipe the steam from the bathroom mirror. After pinning back her wet hair, she began to apply a light coat of makeup. The steaks were ready to throw onto the grill. The salad was made, the potato salad was out of its carton and in a crystal dish. Everything was prepared but her.

  Somewhere in the distance, a door slammed. Melissa jumped and spilled base over her fingers. This is stupid, she told herself. After all this time, there was no reason to feel nervous around Logan. She’d seen the man practically naked. And this wasn’t the first time they had spent the night alone. The first evening he was out of the hospital, Wendi had stayed over with a friend. Nothing was different now. It was just a case of an active imagination working overtime.

  But it was different, a little voice whispered. Logan wasn’t injured anymore. He was mobile and virile and the best-looking man she’d ever seen. Help!

  She took a deep breath. I am calm. I am in control. Yeah, right. Then why was her heart pounding like a jackhammer? Hundreds, no thousands of women had dinner with men every evening. They all got through it without making complete fools of themselves. So could she.

  The tube of mascara sat on the counter beside the sink. A smile curved her lips as she applied the store-bought product to her lashes. Good thing Wendi wasn’t here; she’d probably die from shame-induced heart failure.

  She plugged in the curling iron, then flipped on the blow dryer and started on her hair. When the fine strands were dry, she brushed them away from her face and began the tedious process of adding body to limp, uncooperative hair. In five minutes, half-a-dozen fat sausagelike curls sat on the top of her head. A quick shake sent them tumbling down, leaving the tiniest bit of lift at her crown. Maybe she could puff them up with her comb, then spray with hairspray and…

  One hand dropped the metal rod into the sink, the other covered her mouth. What was she doing? This wasn’t a date. This was dinner with her soon-to-be boss. He expected a sensible woman who was going to look after his daughter, not some femme fatale in training.

 
; After unplugging everything, Melissa stormed into her room and stood in front of the closet. Shorts? Too casual. A dress? Too suggestive. How about…

  “He’s not going to even notice, so it doesn’t really matter,” she said aloud, then closed her eyes and pulled out a shirt.

  “When do we eat?”

  Logan’s voice startled her and the pot lid slipped from her hand. The aluminum crashed to the floor then spun several times before settling in silence.

  Without glancing in his direction, she reached down. Their heads cracked. “Ouch!”

  “Maybe I’d better let you do the cooking,” he said, stepping back and rubbing his temple. “I could watch and offer helpful suggestions.”

  “Thanks.”

  He motioned to the table in the kitchen. “Are we eating here or outside?”

  “It’s still over a hundred. How about in here?”

  “Great. I’ll do the honors.”

  His step was silent as he walked into the dining room. She looked down and swallowed…hard. His feet were bare. Her eyes moved back to her own naked toes. It was silly to be rattled, she told herself firmly. But somehow the two of them, like that, seemed so…intimate.

  “I thought we’d get wild and have another bottle of wine,” he said as he returned. A pale rose tablecloth was tucked under one arm, his other hand held the bottle and napkins.

  She stepped back to avoid him brushing too close to her.

  He grinned. “You are skittish, aren’t you? Always ducking out of the way.”

  The words were teasing, but his voice caressed each sound as though it were a priceless jewel.

  “Skittish? I don’t imagine that’s supposed to flatter me.”

  “I like it.”

  The day before, he’d stopped wearing his dark glasses indoors. His eyes glowed. The flecks of gold reflected the light as though a thousand prisms were contained within the darkening depths. Faint scars marred the perfection of his face. They’d continue to fade, but his cheeks would always carry physical proof of the accident.

  Firm lips tilted at the corner. The memory of their taste, their touch, was never far from her conscious mind. If she lowered her lids for just a second, she could relieve the exquisite contact.

  One strong masculine hand tossed the cloth on the table, then reached out and traced the line from her ear to her chin. Electric fire seeped from his fingers into her skin, then deeper…into her heart.

  “Melissa.” He dropped his arm. “The grill’s burning.”

  “What? Oh.” She quickly turned down the flames. “I’m ready to put on the steaks. Are you hungry?”

  “I guess you could say that.”

  He was standing so close, she had to look up to meet his eyes. “Logan, I…”

  “How tall are you?”

  “Five-three.”

  He tugged on her bangs. “That’s pretty short. I didn’t realize how much I like that in a woman.”

  Hope leaped briefly into her heart, then the vision of the tall and beautiful Fiona filled her mind. Who was she kidding? He wasn’t interested, he was just passing time. “Five-three isn’t short, it’s—”

  “Medium. Yeah, I remember.”

  She pushed her way past him. “You just like the fact that you get to look down on me. Now that your eyes are better, you think you’re hot stuff.”

  “And you’re determined to keep reminding me I’m not?”

  When had it gotten so difficult to lie? “Exactly.”

  “So what made you decide to become a nurse?”

  Melissa spooned more potato salad onto Logan’s plate. “I already told you. When I saw the naked guys in the locker room.”

  “Give me a break. Was someone in your family ill?”

  She jerked her head up to stare at him. “How did you know?”

  “Wild guess. I’ve heard that’s how a lot of people get interested in medicine.”

  She sipped her wine. The crisp taste lingered on her tongue and she savored the sensation. By the time summer was over, she’d have a lifetime of memories stored up—individual moments to be examined through the long winter that would follow her time with Logan.

  “My grandmother lived with us the year before she died. I guess I was about Wendi’s age.” Her brow furrowed as she tried to remember. “My sisters were busy with school projects and both my parents worked, so I took care of her. She was my best friend.”

  Logan leaned forward and touched her hand. “You must have loved her very much.”

  The lights in the kitchen had all been turned off, except for a single bulb above the stove. A lamp by the eating area door illuminated the table and three fat, dripping candles provided a flickering glow. She wasn’t sure if it was the night or the moment or the man, but for the first time she was comfortable with the past.

  “I spent every afternoon with her. We’d talk, or I’d read. Sometimes, we just sat in silence. I’d brush her hair or hold her hand.” She blinked to contain the burning moisture.

  “You’re a very restful person. And I should know. After all, I’m not the easiest guy in the world to get along with.”

  “No! You think so? I hadn’t really noticed.” She laughed.

  He poured more wine. “So then it was off to nursing school?”

  Melissa took a bite of her steak and chewed. “Not exactly. I wanted to be a…never mind.”

  “What? Tell me.” He leaned forward and grinned. “A what? A zookeeper?”

  “Hardly.”

  “A test pilot?”

  “A doctor, okay? I wanted to be doctor. Pretty stupid, huh?”

  “No. Why would you say that?”

  “Because I wasn’t that bright. I got average grades, but nothing special. My parents told me…” Even now she could hear them explaining, oh so calmly, why she couldn’t go to medical school. She wasn’t smart enough; there were more deserving students; the family needed the money for her sister’s wedding. Wouldn’t nursing school be more sensible? She looked away from him. “They convinced me that I’d be better off as a nurse.”

  “And now?”

  “And now I suppose they were right.”

  “So you went to school and met a handsome doctor?”

  She smiled. “Handsome, no. As for the doctor part, does podiatry count?”

  Logan laughed. “You’re kidding?”

  “Jeff wouldn’t have appreciated your humor.”

  “Jeff? So what happened?”

  She pointed at his plate. “Are you done?” He nodded and she stacked them together. “The usual. We dated, we lived together, I planned on getting married, he planned on getting out.”

  “What does that mean? He left? For another woman?”

  “Silly, isn’t it? They tell you at nursing school that young medical students are looking for a meal ticket. But it’s hard to remember that when you’re innocent and starry-eyed. I did warn you my life was boring.”

  She carried the plates to the sink and started running water to rinse them off.

  “Then you started nursing terminally ill children.”

  “If you’re planning on playing Dr. Freud, don’t bother. I’ve already figured it out for myself.”

  He put plastic wrap over the bowls of salad, then set them in the refrigerator. “I wasn’t going to say a word.”

  “That would be the first time,” she mumbled under her breath.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing,” she said sweetly.

  “I heard you, Ms. VanFleet. You better watch your step. I’m about to be the boss around here.”

  “Get out of my kitchen, Mr. Phillips.”

  He lingered in the doorway. “Are you reading to me later?”

  “As soon as I’m done here.”

  He smiled and left the room.

  After she’d wiped the counters and started the dishwasher, Melissa walked into Wendi’s room. She wanted to check that the young girl had turned off all her stereo equipment. A red light indicated that the VCR was sti
ll on. She flipped the switch, then stood staring at the portrait.

  The woman Jeff had left her for had been a successful and beautiful pediatrician. Only the best, he’d joked as he’d packed. Stunning as the tall blonde had been, she was no match for Fiona.

  She remembered reading somewhere that the world was divided into the haves and have-nots. What was true in economics was also true in love, she thought. Fiona and the doctor were the haves. They received the flowers, the diamonds, the Jeffs and the Logans. Where did that leave women like her?

  “I believe we left our intrepid detective about to give Belinda a rather thorough questioning.”

  Logan leaned back on the sofa. The night had finally started cooling off. The living room’s French doors were pushed open to allow in any breeze. Melissa sat across from him. The light shone directly over her shoulder, flooding the book and outlining her left breast.

  Not a bad way to spend an evening, he thought as he eyed the curve. A good book, a good wine, a good woman. There were worse…

  He sat up. Where the hell had that thought come from? Melissa wasn’t his woman. She was here to look after his daughter. If he came on to her, which he had absolutely no intention of doing, he’d not only be breaking his own rules, but he’d be acting as badly as the bastard she’d talked about at dinner.

  Melissa glanced at him, her eyes wide. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”

  “Stop asking me that. I just thought of something I need to take care of when I call the office on Monday.” He settled back down.

  “Okay. Chapter seven. ‘Julian stared at Belinda. Even as her red lips spoke the lies, he wanted to believe her. There was something about her voice that drew him closer and closer…”’

  Logan shifted. Maybe he should have left the air-conditioning on or chosen another book. The detective series had taken a turn for the romantic. He’d been without a woman for a long time. If Melissa continued to speak with her sultry voice embracing each word with innuendo, the direction of his thoughts would soon become graphically apparent.

  Maybe it was time to call one of his sophisticated lady friends and spend an evening indulging in uncomplicated sex. He glanced at Melissa. What was she like in bed? Was she silent and passive, waiting for the man to make the moves? Or did she initiate, meeting more than halfway, pushing out the limits of pleasure?