His Private Nurse (15 page)

“Yeah, well, I have a feeling that number two is way behind number one.”

Merrily tilted her head apologetically and said softly, “I love him.”

Dale reached out and briefly squeezed her hand. “I know.”

Merrily bit her lip. “Do you think he does?”

Dale lifted an eyebrow. “You haven't told him?”

She shook her head. “Not flat-out.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged and looked away. “The time just hasn't seemed right. He has so much on his mind.”

Dale inhaled deeply through his nose. “I take it he hasn't expressed his feelings, either?”

“Not exactly.”

“Well, as you pointed out, he has had a lot on his plate.”

Nodding, she punched the appropriate code into the keypad mounted on the wall behind the door, then flipped the lock and pulled the door open. “He'll tell me,” she stated firmly, “when the time is right.”

“My thought exactly,” Dale agreed, starting through the door, but then he paused. “By the way, you shouldn't take the risks lightly. Believe me, when Pamela gets wind of this new court order, she's going to go over the edge, so keep that alarm armed. Hear me?”

Merrily nodded. “Don't worry. I'll take care of him.”

“And yourself.”

Merrily made a face. “She's not going to come after me, no matter what Royce says. She doesn't even know we're together now.”

“I wouldn't be too sure of that. The pair of you send
out pretty strong vibes. Besides, if you stay together, she's bound to catch on eventually.”

Merrily lifted her chin. “I don't intend to go anywhere. Oh, Royce thinks it's too dangerous for us to be together after he's well, but I don't believe that, and even if I did, I still wouldn't leave him.”

Dale smiled and winked. “My money's on you this time, kid.”

Merrily laughed. “Never let it be said that you're a slow learner.”

“Amen.”

“It's going to work out,” she said fervently, “because he loves me, too. I know it.”

“He'd be a fool not to,” Dale told her. Then he chucked her under the chin and walked away.

Merrily closed the door, locked it, and rearmed the alarm. No matter what happened she was staying put right where she was. The only thing that could move her now was Royce convincing her that he didn't love her, and she couldn't believe that would ever happen. Royce couldn't touch her as he did, make every night an intimate adventure beyond her wildest dreams, if he didn't really, deeply love her. Could he?

 

“So how's it going with the new doctor, sweetie?” Royce asked his daughter. Cory, as usual, sprawled in his lap. The boy must've grown an inch and gained ten pounds since the last time he'd seen him. Seated on the couch opposite the recliner, Tammy shrugged, folded her arms and looked away.

He had been greatly relieved and very pleased when he'd learned from Dale that Dr. Denelo had strongly recommended to Pamela and the judge that the children resume regular visitation. Pamela had insisted that the visits
be kept short, and Royce didn't want to appear demanding by insisting otherwise. All things considered, it was probably best that Tammy didn't stay overnight just now, anyway. She had so much to work through, his beautiful little girl, but at least they seemed to be on the right track now.

“I understand the first time was just sort of a get-acquainted session,” Dale said helpfully, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees, hands folded together. Tammy sat silent.

“Has Dr. Denelo shown you her doll collection, yet?” Merrily asked from behind Royce's recliner. Tammy shot her a surprised look and nodded warily.

“She gots a train in her waitin' room,” Cory piped up, vying to be the center of attention. “It goes under the chairs and around the pot trees, I mean, tree pots, an', an' everywhere!”

“They aren't
real
trees,” Tammy retorted in a superior tone.

“Uh-huh, they are,” Cory insisted. “I climbed one!” He looked at his father and admitted warily, “It fell over.”

“I hope you picked it up again,” Royce said, trying not to chuckle.

Cory nodded. “The lady in the window that works there helped me.”

Royce couldn't catch his grin. Obviously the boy was referring to the receptionist, who undoubtedly sat behind the usual glass shield. “That was very nice of her.”

“I'll bet Mama slapped you,” Tammy said spitefully.

“Uh-uh,” Cory denied. “The lady told her not to.”

Royce glanced at Dale, his ire immediately rising. Merrily said quickly, “Did you get to play with the train?”

Cory nodded. “Yeah, it was fun, but Mommy said I
couldn't have one 'cause—” He suddenly broke off, his hand going to his chin.

“'Cause Daddy doesn't give us enough money,” Tammy finished for him.

It felt like a kick in the gut to Royce. “Uh-uh!” Cory yelled in his defense. “'Cause I was bad and made the tree fall over!”

“It doesn't matter why,” Royce said firmly. “Maybe I can convince Santa to bring you a miniature train for Christmas, son. I'm sure you'll be a good boy until then.”

“And, Tammy, your father pays more child support than the court mandates,” Dale said quietly.

Royce shot him a grateful look and changed the subject, speaking to Tammy. “It so happens that Nurse Gage knows Dr. Denelo and thinks very highly of her.”

“Yes, I do,” Merrily confirmed. “Dr. Denelo used to come to the hospital where I worked, and she used to bring a different doll with her every time to show to the children who were patients there.”

“Why were they patients?” Tammy asked suspiciously.

“Oh, for different reasons,” Merrily answered. “Sometimes they were having their tonsils out, or maybe they had a bad case of flu. Once in a while we had a little girl who'd been in an accident of some sort.”

“Were any of them crazy?” Cory asked, bending his head far back to look up at Merrily. Tammy's face drained of color, and Royce felt his nerves coil tight.

“No,” Merrily said calmly, “a few were troubled about something. One or two were very, very sick and frightened because of it.”

“'Cause Mommy says she's a doctor for crazy kids,” Cory went on. “Daddy, do you think Tammy's crazy?”

Royce nearly jumped out of his chair, so angry he could spit. “Absolutely not!”

“'Cause Mommy says—”

“Your mother's mistaken,” Merrily interjected smoothly. “Both Dr. Denelo and your father know that there is no such thing as a ‘crazy kid,' only those who are confused or afraid or hurting inside.”

“I don't care,” Tammy snapped, her hands fisting. “I don't want to see dumb old Dr. Denelo or her stupid dolls again!”

“You said she was nice!” Cory accused, leaning forward on his father's lap.

“I did not!” Tammy sprang up onto her feet, adding, “I want to go home now. Mama said we can go home when we want to, and I want to go home now!”

“No!” Cory shouted. “I don't want to go! I want to stay with Daddy! I want to stay all night!”

“That's enough,” Royce said, gripping Cory's knee. He could have cried for them, for all of them. Instead, he swallowed down his disappointment and tried to look on the bright side. Tammy liked Dr. Denelo more than she wanted to let on, and Cory wanted to spend the night. Plus, he'd had another visit with his kids. It was a step forward. He hugged Cory, saying softly, “I love to see you, son. One day soon you'll spend the night with me again, I promise, but maybe it's better if Uncle Dale takes you back to your mother's now.”

“Sure,” Dale said, getting to his feet. “It's about that time, anyway.” He offered a hand to each of the children. Tammy ignored him, folding her arms, but Cory reluctantly slid off his father's lap and put his hand in Dale's. “Tammy, are you going to tell your father goodbye?”

Tammy shrugged, then flipped a hand in what might have been called a wave. “'Bye.”

“Goodbye, honey. I love you. I love you, too, Cory.”

“Love you,” Cory echoed as Dale led him from the room, Tammy marching along beside them.

Just as she got to Royce's chair, Tammy stopped. For a moment she seemed frozen, her face stoically blank. Only when she fidgeted, bouncing one knee slightly, did she give herself away. Royce reached out with his left arm, and she melted. He swept her against him, hugging her tightly for as long as she would allow. Then she pulled away and bolted from the room. He put his head back, more grateful for that one moment of raw need breaking through her belligerent exterior than he would have been for all the gold in the world.

Merrily's hand slid down the back of his chair and onto his shoulder. “She's getting there,” she whispered.

“God, I hope so,” he admitted, reaching up to clasp her hand in his. Merrily came around the chair, and he pulled her down onto his lap.

“She's coming around, Royce. You'll see.”

He nodded, praying she was right. Tammy had seemed a little softer, but Cory had been competitive and mouthy rather than his usual reserved self.

“Maybe you ought to talk to Dr. Denelo,” Merrily suggested, “fill her in on what's going on.”

Royce shook his head. “I can't, not until she asks to speak to me. Pamela can't, either. It's part of the court order, an attempt to ensure that the doctor remains truly unbiased.”

Merrily nodded. “I guess that makes sense.”

“I guess.” He sighed and added, “I feel like I'm running out of time, angel.”

“What do you mean?”

“This cast comes off next week,” he reminded her, lifting his right arm.

“But your leg's a long way from healed. The doctor just took the pins out.”

“And next week I get a walking cast,” he whispered, barely able to speak of it. “How do I justify keeping you on then?”

“Why should you have to justify it?” she countered. “If we want to be together we can be, Royce.”

He shook his head. “It's not that simple, honey, and you know it. I'd be putting you directly in harm's way.”

“It doesn't matter,” she argued gently. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know,” he answered, unwilling to argue with her. Brushing her hair off her shoulder, he bared her neck there where she so loved to be kissed. He had made it his mission to find and uncover all her erotic secrets these past couple of weeks. It had been the most rewarding undertaking in which he'd ever engaged. She had healed him in so many ways, his sweet nurse, given him the greatest pleasure he'd ever known. God, how could he go on without her? But what other choice did he have?

“Let's turn in early tonight,” he whispered. She smiled and got up off his lap. Good golly, what a seductive smile the woman had grown in these past weeks. How he would miss it!

“Is now too early?” she asked in a sultry tone.

“Now is perfect,” he told her, struggling up out of the chair.

Maybe he'd get lucky and break a few more bones.

“W
ell, look who's here,” Merrily said, smiling at Dale. “Sorry I couldn't get to the door.”

The tall, lanky attorney got up from the deck chair next to Royce's chaise. “On one hand, I suppose it's an improvement to have gimp-boy himself let me in. On the other hand, he's not nearly as good-looking as you.” He opened his arms, and Merrily briefly hugged him, laughing. “Hmm, is it possible the worm has turned?” he asked, obviously needling Royce.

“This worm has just scrubbed the shower,” Merrily retorted, pushing away a lock of hair that had fallen from the heavy twist atop her head. A black, plastic bag sitting at the top of the stairs caught her eye, and she frowned.

She'd been on her way down to the alley earlier to drop the closed garbage bag in the collection can there when Royce had called her back into the house to answer a phone call. By the time she'd convinced the nurse re
cruiter, who'd gotten her number from her brother, that she was not interested in leaving her current employment, she'd forgotten about the trash. She made a note to take it down before she started supper. It wouldn't do to leave the thing sitting out after dark. Some raccoon, armadillo or coyote would have it scattered all over the place by morning.

Dale, meanwhile, had brought his hands to his hips and was scowling down at Royce. “You slave driver, you. What happened to Mercedes, anyway?”

Royce sucked the last of his iced tea from the tumbler in his hand, set it on the low table at his right and bent his head back, his eyes hidden by dark sunshades that wrapped around his face. “Mercedes has been downsized or, rather,
Merrilyized.
She cut back her own hours, says she doesn't have enough to do with Merrily here.”

“So I pick up after myself!” Merrily exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “Why does everyone have so much difficulty with that concept? It's not like
I
cut the woman's hours, and you pay her too much, anyway.”

“Scrubbing the shower equates to picking up after yourself?” Dale queried skeptically.

Merrily rolled her eyes. “It does when I'm the one who got the shower dirty to begin with.”

Dale dropped a look on Royce. “Women are so strange.”

“Some are stranger than others,” Royce said. He looked at her and added, “Some are so delicious you don't care whether you ever understand them or not.”

Merrily bent down and kissed the top of Royce's head, noticing that the tips of his ears were slightly sunburned. He caught her by the wrist and pulled her down onto the chaise next to him.

Dale sighed and parked himself in the chair. “I must be doing something wrong.”

“Oh, there's a girl out there for you somewhere,” Merrily predicted. “You just haven't found her yet.”

“Either that or someone else found her first,” Dale muttered.

“Pessimist,” Merrily accused.

“It'll happen when you least expect it,” Royce counseled. “In the meantime, it would help if you'd quit trying to steal my girl.” He folded his arm around Merrily's neck and dragged her head closer for a quick, but not too quick, kiss.

“Got you worried, have I?” Dale teased.

“I've been worried about you for a long, long time,” Royce drawled, turning his face up to the sun again.

Merrily laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. The evening sun blanketed them with muted-yellow light and warm peace. It was the perfect time of the year for sitting on the deck and soaking up some rays. Warm but not hot, the air felt soft and substantial on her skin. Soon it would grow crisp as the days cooled and drew deeper into autumn. Would she cuddle here in the chaise on the deck with Royce then?

“Well, for once in a long, long time, I'm not worried about you,” Dale was saying to Royce.

Royce and Merrily both lifted their heads and looked at him. He sat there grinning like an idiot, staring at the two of them. Royce tipped up his shades and wryly teased, “Why, Dale, I didn't know you cared.”

Dale ignored that and said, “As much as I hate to say it, you two are perfect together. You know that, don't you?”

Merrily traded a look with Royce, who then dropped
his glasses back in place and said, “You're certifiable, but you do have your moments of brilliance.”

“Of course, your mother doesn't see it that way,” Dale said pointedly.

Merrily groaned in concert with Royce. “My parents deigned to visit again day before yesterday,” Royce said, “and after Mother made her usual snippy, snide remarks about Merrily, I sort of got fed up.”

“What he means is that he flaunted our relationship,” Merrily added, quoting, “'Darlin', angel, sweetheart, baby doll.' I almost clobbered him over that one. By the time they left, Katherine was livid and Marvin goggle-eyed. I'm sure his mother thinks I'm a gold digger now.”

Royce looked at Dale and surmised, “Mother called you.”

Dale chuckled happily. “Fit to be tied.”

Royce cursed under his breath. Merrily whacked him lightly for it. “It's your own fault.”

“Well, she made me mad, calling you ‘that unfortunate child' and ‘girl.' I wanted to strangle her.”

“Instead you waved me under her nose like a red flag,” Merrily pointed out. “Honestly, if her snide remarks don't bother me, why do they bother you?”

“They just do,” he grumbled. “She's so damned shallow that if she was a river we'd pave her over.” Dale clapped his hands and hooted with glee. “What'd you say to her, anyway?” Royce wanted to know.

“Told her I was cheesed off that you'd beat me out or words to that effect.”

“Oh, great!” Merrily huffed. “I'm sure
that
elevated me in her opinion.”

“Sugar, for that to happen you'd have to learn to kiss butt in the same league as Pamela,” Dale told her dryly.

“Surely she doesn't approve of Pamela,” Merrily scoffed.

“Why, according to my mother it's bad form to get upset about little things like infidelity, threats and abuse,” Royce said, the lightness of his tone belied by the underlying edge. “Divorce is so tacky, and of course once these things are in the public record one can never quite live them down again. Better to suffer in silence and put up a good front. After all, Pamela
looks
the part.”

“And I do not,” Merrily muttered, truly insulted now. “I don't think I like your mother very much.”

“Angel, that makes two of us.”

“Three,” Dale said, holding up the requisite number of fingers.

“But I'm crazy about you,” Royce told her silkily.

“Two,” Dale announced, putting down one finger.

Merrily laughed and said, “I think you've both had too much sun.” That reminded her of her earlier observation, and she switched her gaze to Royce, adding, “By the way, darling, the tops of your ears are turning red.”

Royce reached up with his left hand to feel the top of one ear. “No wonder they've started burning. I thought it was just Dale's envy boiling over.”

“Possible,” Dale teased dryly.

Merrily shook her head and got to her feet, saying to Dale, “Take him inside, will you? I want to take the trash down before I start dinner.”

“Oh, I'll take down the trash for you,” Dale offered, quickly popping up out of his chair, but Merrily waved him off and started for the top of the stairs.

“No, no, you're wearing a business suit,” she told Dale. “I'll take care of it. I won't be a minute, and when I'm done I'll put together some dinner.”

“Yes!” Dale rubbed his hands together eagerly.

“Is there no one else who will feed you?” Royce gibed as he grabbed hold of Dale's arm and pulled himself up.

“Sure,” Dale said, “but you have the best-looking cook.”

Chuckling, Merrily went on her way. She lifted the black garbage bag by the top with one hand and opened the gate at the head of the stairs with the other before starting down to the back driveway below. Only moderately heavy, the bag contained mostly nonrecyclable paper products, the odd tin can, coffee grounds and few food scraps not suitable for the garbage disposal, but Merrily took her time, nevertheless. Whenever she did this, which was every few days, she thought about Royce falling down these same stairs, and a shiver ran up her spine.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and turned toward the large refuse container tucked out of sight beneath the stairwell. Lifting the hinged rubber top with one hand, she dropped the black plastic bag on top of the two others already deposited there. Trash pickup was scheduled for the next morning. As she straightened and let the lid fall again, movement on the edge of her peripheral vision made her turn her head in that direction. Gasping, she stepped back just as Pamela reached out and clamped a hand around her wrist.

“I want to talk to you.”

Merrily yanked her arm away, mind racing. “You'd better not let Royce see you here.”

Dressed from her chin to her running shoes in form-hugging, gray knit athletic apparel, Pamela still managed to look chic and stylish. In jeans, canvas shoes and a T-shirt tucked in at the waist, Merrily felt positively grungy by comparison. Pamela widened her stance.

“I said, I want to talk to you.”

“You have the telephone number.”

“What I have to say needs to be said face-to-face.”

Merrily folded her arms. “So say it already. I have to start dinner.”

Pamela mimicked her gesture, emphasizing the hefty proportion of her bust, and walked in a circle around Merrily. “You'll never hold his interest.”

Pamela's tone left no doubt that she knew of the affair, and once again a chill kissed Merrily's spine, but she maintained her composure. “Okay. Anything else?”

“What's he told you?” Pamela abruptly demanded.

“About?”

“Don't be coy with me, Nurse Gage. I know where you live.”

“Is that a threat?”

“You don't want to underestimate me, little nurse. I've spoken to your brothers, you know.”

“And that obviously did you a lot of good.”

“I also spoke to your supervisor at the hospital.”

Anger at the other woman's high-handedness warred with humor at the absurdity of her assumptions, but Merrily refused to show either to Pamela. “Is there a point to this conversation, or is this just about sizing up the competition?”

The smooth beauty of Pamela's face abruptly contorted into a mask of malice. “You dare put yourself on the same plane with me?” She raked her gaze up and down Merrily in disdain. “You are nothing and no one, without enough sex appeal to so much as rate a second look from the average male.”

“Is that so?” Merrily retorted smugly. “Funny, Royce doesn't seem to agree with you.”

Anger flared white-hot in Pamela's gold-dominated hazel eyes, but the next instant they had gone as cold as the metal itself. “Don't delude yourself. Sex means nothing.
It's an itch that's easily scratched. You're convenient for Royce, too convenient, but that's all it is.”

“If that were so,” Merrily reasoned, desperately trying to hide her despair, “you wouldn't be here.”

“On the contrary,” Pamela rebutted smoothly. “That's precisely why I am here. I want you out of this house.”

“Which proves that you just can't stand the competition,” Merrily said.

“I want you gone because you're a convenience to him,” Pamela insisted, “a convenience he doesn't deserve.”

“And who appointed you his judge and jury?” Merrily wanted to know.

“He did,” Pamela answered, “when he married me.”

“He divorced you, too.”

Pamela took a menacing step forward. “Do you think that gets him off the hook? He deserves to pay for what he's done to me!”

“For what he's done to you?” Merrily scoffed. “
He
didn't push
you
down the stairs!”

“So? He's hurt me in other ways. Do you know how many doors closed to me when I ceased to be his wife? People who used to be my friends turned their backs on me—people who matter.”

“People whose names get mentioned in the society pages, you mean,” Merrily sneered, “people as vacuous and insincere as you and Kathryn.”

“People with money!” Pamela exclaimed. “You wouldn't know what it's like to live as they do. You can't even imagine it because you're so far beneath them.”

“And you're not?”

“I was meant for that world,” Pamela declared, the fervency in her eyes bordering on the fanatical.

“And being a Lawler, Royce was your ticket in, wasn't
he? Well, you should've thought of that before you cheated on him.”

“It was just sex!” Pamela snapped.

“Oh, really? All those people who supposedly turned their backs on you don't seem to think so.”

“It wasn't the affair!” Pamela contended hotly. “It was the divorce! People like that, people like us, aren't bound by the same silly conventions as the rest of you. We're beyond that.”

“Guess not,” Merrily rebutted succinctly.

“And whose fault is that?” Pamela hissed. “He cost me everything!”

“You did that to yourself!”

Pamela lifted her fists to her temples in frustration. “What I did shouldn't have mattered! Love is unconditional!”

“That works both ways,” Merrily pointed out.

“I loved him!” Pamela exclaimed. “He's everything I ever wanted, wealthy, handsome and from one of the best families in Texas. He's invited to all the best parties, all the best homes. You should see the way they fawn over him. And he couldn't care less!”

“But you do,” Merrily muttered, finally understanding the depth of Pamela's distorted reasoning. In truth, it bordered on insanity. “You can't understand that a man like Royce would never place value on something as shallow as that.”