Lisa grinned in appreciation of the picture this conjured up. “Oh, I don’t think you have much to worry about,” she said lightly. “The nurses wouldn’t forget about
you.
”
“Got the hots for me, have they?” he asked complacently. Lisa had to laugh at him, and he grinned back. “In that case, you better kiss me again to remind me who I belong to. Just in case one of them tries to run off with me.”
Lisa giggled, and complied. This time Sam’s hand came up to cradle the back of her head, holding her in place until she had been very thoroughly kissed.
“That’s better,” he said when he let her go at last. Lisa’s cheeks were flushed rosy from his kiss, and her lips were red and faintly swollen. He looked at her for a long moment, smiling slightly, and then he lifted her hand to his tips and pressed his mouth to the back of it.
“You’re beautiful,” he said huskily, his mouth still warm against her hand. His eyes moved over her from her shining blond head to as far down the jade suit as he could see, and his lips pursed in a soundless whistle. “Quite the fox.”
Lisa stared down at him. “Fox?” she repeated, nonplussed.
Sam grinned, turning her hand over and pressing the palm against his hard cheek. “That’s what Jay calls girls who knock him off his feet,” he explained.
“Oh.” Lisa laughed. “Thank you, kind sir. I think.”
Sam pressed another kiss into the palm of her hand, and then his eyes wandered around the room.
“I think you’d better fill me in on what’s been going on. I’ve already concluded that we’re safely back home, but I’d like to hear exactly how it came about. The last clear thing I remember is being in that damned boat while those soldiers took potshots at us. After that, everything is pretty much a blur.”
“You . . .” Lisa began obediently, only to break off as a white-garbed nurse, one of the older ones who wouldn’t swoon over Robert Redford if she found him naked at her feet, bustled into the room, then stopped short as she realized that her patient was conscious at last.
“You should have called us, Mrs. Collins,” the woman said reproachfully, approaching around the foot of the bed. Lisa withdrew her hand from Sam’s rather self-consciously.
“I didn’t think,” Lisa said, feeling guilty. Sam cast her a mocking look.
“I think I took Mrs. Collins by surprise.” Sam’s mouth had a wry twist to it, and he put a faint, but to Lisa unmistakable, emphasis on her married name. Lisa knew he didn’t like being reminded that she was married to another man, but she couldn’t do a thing about it. Whether he liked it or not, that
was
her name. For the time being, at least.
“You shouldn’t be tiring yourself out by talking,” the nurse said severely to Sam. “You’ve been very seriously injured, and you need to rest. How long has he been awake?” This question was directed almost accusingly at Lisa. Stammering, she answered. The woman sniffed.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Collins, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Dr. Peters asked to be notified
immediately
when Mr. Eastman woke up, and I really don’t think he should be tiring himself out with visitors until Dr. Peters has seen him and given the okay.”
Lisa and Sam stared wryly at each other. His hand moved out to capture hers again, telling her wordlessly that he did not want her to go, but to Lisa what the nurse had said made sense. Sam had been very ill; for the first several days it had been touch and go whether he would even recover. It would be silly to jeopardize his health at this point. . . .
“She’s right; I must go, Sam,” Lisa said softly. “I’ll be back later tonight—if Dr. Peters says it’s all right.”
Sam frowned at her, then nodded reluctantly. But when Lisa would have moved away, his hand tightened on hers and he refused to release her.
“Excuse us for a moment, would you?” he said to the nurse. She looked first surprised, then disapproving, but went out and left them alone.
“
She
doesn’t have the hots for me,” Sam muttered darkly when the woman had gone. Lisa had to giggle at the idea. He grinned back at her, his blue eyes caressing her face.
“Kiss me,” he directed huskily.
Lisa shook her head at him. “What would the nurse say?”
“To hell with her. Kiss me.”
“Then I really have to go,” Lisa warned, then bent to kiss him.
It must have been another ten minutes before she got out of that room.
It was late the next afternoon before Sam was allowed to have visitors again. Jay and Amos went on in while Lisa stayed in the hospital corridor for a few minutes talking to Dr. Peters. Sam was much better, the doctor told her, but still very weak. He needed plenty of rest, and since he was unlikely to lose consciousness now that he had finally regained it, he had to be kept as quiet as possible. Which meant that visitors would be strictly limited, for the next few days, at least. If all went well, Sam should be ready to be released within a month. After that, he could expect to spend another couple of months quietly convalescing.
When Lisa walked into the room, it was to find Amos standing silently and a touch awkwardly at the foot of the bed while Jay stood closer to his father and pumped his hand in a vigorous handshake. Jay was grinning from ear to ear, while Sam was grinning back with the kind of wry twist to his mouth that fathers have when they realize that their sons think they are now too old for any less-manly display of affection.
Lisa was just in time to hear Sam growl at Jay, “What the hell are you doing out of school?” Jay’s grin widened, if possible; he finally let go of Sam’s hand, to Lisa’s secret relief.
“If you go around doing dumb things like getting shot up, you can’t expect me to stay in school,” the boy retorted. “Somebody’s got to keep an eye on you.”
“Oh, is that right?” This squabble between father and son was not meant to be taken seriously, Lisa knew. They were both grinning affectionately at each other. “The day I need a smart-ass kid to keep an eye on me is far distant, let me tell you.”
“You could have fooled me,” Jay muttered unrepentantly, eyeing Sam from his bandaged head to his suspended foot. Sam fixed him with a steely eye.
“Now that you’ve seen that I’m alive, you can get yourself straight back to school. Like tomorrow.”
“It’s just three days till break!”
Lisa judged that it was time to intervene, and moved around the side of the bed to stand beside Jay, drawing Amos with her. Sam’s eyes softened as they met hers; admiration showed plainly in them for just an instant as they ran over her slender body in the rust-colored silk dress. He acknowledged Amos with a nod.
“Jay’s going to stay with us until his school starts again after Christmas,” Lisa told him. “He can go back after break.” Then, changing the subject hastily, as Sam seemed inclined to argue, she added, gesturing at Amos, “Sam, I don’t think you’ve met my grandfather.”
“Mr. Bennet.” Sam held out his hand. The older man took it and shook it briefly.
“Major Eastman.”
Lisa looked at Amos in surprise, while Sam’s eyes narrowed. Only Jay looked unperturbed.
“Amos . . .” Lisa turned to her grandfather questioningly.
Sam silenced her with a gesture and said to Amos, “You’ve been checking up on me.”
Amos shrugged unrepentantly. “You couldn’t expect me not to. She is my only granddaughter.”
“I see your point,” Sam conceded, while Lisa stared from one to the other of them, her bewilderment coupled with growing indignation.
“I can look after myself,” she said admonishingly to Amos, who looked unconvinced. Then, to Sam, she added accusingly, “You never told me you were a major.”
“It never came up.”
“He was promoted through the ranks in Vietnam when all his unit’s officers were killed,” Jay rushed in, fairly bursting with pride as he recounted Sam’s exploits. “They made him a major when he captured an enemy position almost single-handed. He’s got all kinds of medals: the silver star and—”
“Shut up, Jay.” Sam scowled at his son. Jay looked affronted, but he obediently fell silent.
“I want to thank you for saving my granddaughter’s life,” Amos said formally to Sam. “She tells me you did it more than once.”
Sam shrugged. “No thanks are necessary. It was my pleasure.” He sent a faint smile glimmering in Lisa’s direction. “Besides, she more than repaid me. Did she tell you how she saved my life?” Seeing that both Amos and Jay looked blank, he added under his breath, “I didn’t think so.”
“Lisa . . .” Amos and Jay spoke at once, turning to look at her with identical expressions of astonishment.
“It didn’t come up,” she repeated Sam’s words defensively.
Sam’s mouth tightened; he muttered, for her ears alone, “I can see a lot of things didn’t come up,” while she pacified Amos and Jay with a promise to tell them all about it later.
When the nurse came in to shoo them away, Sam caught Lisa’s hand.
“Excuse Lisa for a moment, won’t you,” he said pleasantly to Amos and Jay. “I want to talk to her.”
They looked surprised, then speculative as they observed Sam’s hand holding Lisa’s, but Jay left at once. Amos went out more slowly, and only after Lisa’s jerky nod told him that she had no objection to being left alone with Sam.
“You neglected to tell them any number of things, didn’t you?” Sam asked when they were alone. His eyes were hard as they met hers. Lisa felt guilty, which was ridiculous. She hadn’t done anything wrong!
“If you mean that I didn’t tell them that we’re—that I’m—that we’re going to get married,” she began, sounding defensive in spite of herself.
Sam inclined his head ironically. “That is what I meant, yes,” he murmured sarcastically.
Lisa glared at him. “I thought you might want to tell Jay first,” she snapped. “After all, it would be a little awkward for me to walk up to him and say, ‘Oh, by the way, I hope you like the idea of having me for a stepmother, because I’m going to marry your father’!”
Sam thought about that for a moment. “Sure that’s the only reason you haven’t told them?”
“Of course!” She was still glaring at him. Sam’s eyes lost some of their hard gleam as he looked at her, with her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed with temper. Her soft mouth was set mutinously.
“Now you look like the Lisa I remember,” he said softly. “At first, you were always mad at me. I couldn’t get over how beautiful you were, with your eyes spitting fire at me and your hair looking like a squirrel might have built a nest in it and your face dirty more often than not. I was going crazy for you. . . . But yesterday and today, in your fancy clothes and with makeup on your face and your hair all fixed up, I’ve hardly recognized you.”
The glare died out of Lisa’s eyes, to be replaced by tenderness as she met Sam’s wry gaze. This situation was as strange to him as it was to her, she realized. He was as uncertain as she was herself.
She sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, uncaring that the nurse might walk in at any minute, and bent to kiss him. When he let her go, she rested her cheek alongside his.
“I haven’t changed,” she whispered in his ear. “It’s just the clothes, Sam. I still want to marry you more than anything in the world.”
He pressed his lips into the curve of her neck, nuzzling aside the high collar to move his mouth hotly against her skin.
“Lisa . . .” he said huskily, only to be interrupted by the militant entrance of the nurse. At the sound of the door being opened, Lisa jumped away from him as if she had been shot. Sam’s mouth compressed at her instinctive movement.
“I’ll have to ask you to leave, Mrs. Collins,” the nurse said firmly, her professional training masking any surprise she might have felt at seeing a supposedly married woman in her patient’s arms. “Mr. Eastman needs his rest.”
“Yes—all right.” She smoothed her dress self-consciously before looking at Sam. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sam. Can I bring you anything? Magazines, or . . .”
“No, thanks,” Sam said politely. “Jay knows my taste in reading material better than you do. I’ll have him bring me something.”
Lisa nodded jerkily and turned to go. As she opened the door, Sam called after her.
“Yes?” She turned back to look at him. The hospital bed was still elevated to a semisitting position, as it had been ever since she had entered the room, and Sam was bare to the waist. He looked very dark and virile against the white sheets; if it hadn’t been for the bandages on his chest and forehead, and the I.V. unit still strapped to his arm, she would have thought he looked disgustingly healthy.
“I think you were right about that matter we were just discussing,” he said, face and voice expressionless. “Let’s keep it to ourselves for the time being, okay?”
Lisa stared at him. Those blue eyes were as fathomless as the ocean.
“If that’s what you want,” she said slowly after a moment.
“It is.”
“All right.” Then, with the nurse frowning at her, Lisa left the room. As she walked down the corridor to join Amos and Jay, Lisa was conscious of the most ridiculous urge to cry.
Sam made great progress over the next few days, and Dr. Peters, pronouncing himself delighted with him, said that if all went well, Sam might even be permitted to go home before Christmas. Lisa fully intended Sam to convalesce in her grandfather’s house, under her own eye, but persuading Sam took some doing. Finally he gave in, simply because Dr. Peters told him that unless he agreed to stay within commuting distance of the hospital and have someone available to look after him, he would not release him for another month. Privately, the doctor told Lisa that Sam would have trouble getting around for a long time, that he would have to use crutches for weeks or months and would probably have a limp for the rest of his life. This information made no difference to Lisa, although she was sorry for Sam; he wasn’t going to like the idea at all, she knew. But Dr. Peters had decided to say nothing of this to Sam for a while yet. He didn’t want worry to retard his truly remarkable recovery.
Sam’s attitude to Lisa was hard to define. He was glad to see her, she knew. His eyes lit up unmistakably when she came through the door on her daily visits to his room. He teased her, and laughed at her, and even kissed her, but he never once told her he loved her or referred to the fact that they were engaged to be married. When Lisa tried to broach the subject, he would smilingly refuse to discuss it. They would talk about it again when he was out of the hospital, he said, and would say nothing else.