Liability, page 6
He heard a bubbly laughter next to him. “Carole, I believe this man is hungry."
"You came just in time, Doctor Ben.” Carole's gray eyes danced as she handed him a diaper. “If you want to take charge of that,” she said pointedly, “I'll warm his dinner."
She must be kidding he thought, eyeing the softhearted and slightly spherical nurse standing beside him. Nope, she meant it. “It's been a while since I tackled the backside of this job,” he said, trying to remember how long ago it was since his sister decided he should learn the skill on his niece. She survived.
Carole gave him a wicked grin. “If you put it on the end that isn't crying, you can't go wrong. Be back in a minute,” Carole said, backing away from him. She laughed as she disappeared behind a partition, and Ben was positive she was enjoying the situation much too much.
"All right, amigo,” Ben murmured, laying the baby on the table, “we have to muddle through the basic stuff first.” The baby stopped crying and looked at Ben. “See, I'm being good. I haven't even touched you with a stethoscope or a tongue-depressor.” The baby blinked and put his fist in his mouth.
Carole reappeared and handed Ben a small baby bottle. “I have it, Carole. Nicholas. Yep, Nick it is. I mean—we can't keep calling him ‘the baby.’ It's cold-hearted, and down-right disrespectful to—"
"Doctor Ben,” Carole interrupted him, “you are simply amazing. Nicholas is the perfect name for him.” She wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes with her fingers. “I'm sorry, Ben, but sometimes you are incredible."
"Now, Carole—"
She waved a hand at him. “Don't pay any attention to me, just go ahead and feed our little imp. I have to go and see how the other babies are doing with their dinners."
When she disappeared behind the partition again, Ben carried Nick across the room and eased onto the rocking chair near the wide viewing window, after he made sure the curtain was secure and not gaping open. No sense in the whole blasted place knowing what he was doing. “Okay, good buddy,” Ben said, as Nicholas latched onto the nipple. “Enjoy."
* * * *
It was three hours later when Ben finally relaxed and sipped an after-dinner brandy in the bar at the Family Tree restaurant, La Vista's finest, and listened to Victoria Nelson tell him about her latest trip to the Caribbean. With her bright-blue eyes flashing, along with the diamond choker decorating her neck, and wearing an exclusive-designer dress, she appeared completely out of place in La Vista's best, and only, relax-with-the-family watering hole.
"Nassau was beautiful, darling. Especially Paradise Island, and you wouldn't believe the amount I won at the tables.” Victoria checked the polish on her lengthy, perfectly manicured fingernails and continued. “The casino was fabulous and the shows were the best I've seen in a long while."
Ben smiled and grabbed a handful of popcorn. “How did prince What's-His-Name do?” Victoria had a new escort every time she departed on one of her frolics, and as he watched her lovely animated face, he thought about his luck—or hers. If she hadn't changed her mind three years ago, they would now be man and wife—and miserable. As friends, they were very successful.
Victoria wrinkled her nose and sipped her Ruffino. “Oh, he didn't gamble. The poor man didn't have enough time, what with all the dignitaries constantly hounding him."
She raked her long, rose-colored fingernails lightly across his arm. “We could get out of here, darling. My family took off to spend a few days in Tucson, and we can have that big ranch house all to ourselves."
Ben took a slow sip of brandy. A sense of tiredness moved within him, reaching to his soul. Victoria's spirited loveliness wasn't what he needed. However, he didn't want to be alone tonight, and he'd already tried everything he could think of to leave the hospital behind and simply enjoy Victoria's company, but a pair of hazel eyes and an infant scarcely big enough to find, distracted his thoughts with unmitigated tenacity.
Being honest with himself was the best place to start. Why not admit it? What he needed was what he had decided he could live without—that second commitment. The covenant which allowed a man to sit quietly with the woman he loved, a woman who would share ideas, a woman who wouldn't mind, once in a while, hearing about the frustrations that could twist a man's gut into a square knot. He wanted love and marriage; however, if he tossed such an idea at Victoria now she would laugh him right out of La Vista's finest bar-and-dinner establishment. Ben shook his head. What was he thinking about? Remember the oil-and-water concept, old man, he told himself determinedly, and stick to what you understand. But somehow, unexpectedly, ideas swayed, and he wasn't so certain he even understood that anymore.
Ben finished his drink and raised to his feet. “They're playing some good music for a change, Vic, let's dance."
Victoria accepted his outstretched hand immediately, but her expression was quizzical. “If you're certain, darling, it's all right with me."
"I'm sure,” he said, pulling her into his arms. Now what he needed was to forget about today. He smiled inwardly. Maybe he needed to see a good doctor, because his body didn't give a damn that Vic was brushing her firm, rounded breasts against his chest and inviting him to share a whole lot more. A week ago he probably would have accepted, after all he was a healthy, red-blooded yank, but today—today, what she offered wasn't enough—
He remembered how his body reacted while he touched Maggie Rand's satiny cheek and inhaled the delicate womanly scent that surrounded her.
What he needed was to go home and get some sleep.
Chapter 7
Instinctively Maggie's eyes clamped back shut as the bright light from the window stung them.
She opened them again, hesitantly. The nightmare must still be going on, because this was unquestionably the room she'd been dreaming about all night. Good Lord, what was happening?
Get hold of yourself, Rand, she thought. All it requires is a little concentration—like recalling a pair of ebony eyes and a soothing, coaxing, deep-timbered voice. It was also arrogant, demanding, maddening, and always disturbing the peace she craved by refusing to let her rest.
A slight swishing noise shifted her attention toward the door. No, the man with the black velvet eyes existed and was not a dream. They looked at her from the darkly tanned and ruggedly handsome face approaching her.
"I see you have decided to rejoin us,” the man drawled, taking in everything about her as his long strides carried him across the room. He took a familiar looking photo album from under his arm and placed it on her bed stand.
The voice wasn't a fantasy either, Maggie thought, bemused, staring at him. Doctor Ben I presume, she decided, as he drew closer. Just relax, keep cool; the determined look on his face couldn't be all that dangerous. Long-limbed and energetic, he moved toward her as lithe as an athlete, and with shoulders designed to carry more than his share of trouble.
He wore a dull-blue hospital shirt with a V-neck that revealed a tangle of dark curling hair on his chest. Maggie raised her glance to his face and took in his tired appearance and disheveled coffee-brown hair.
"Yes,” Maggie answered huskily. Her throat was dry, hampering her ability to speak, and her mind was flitting around like a new baby chick struggling to get loose from its shell. Sorting out the tangible from the dreams wasn't going to be especially easy.
Had this doctor touched her cheek and her eyes and murmured demands to her the way she was remembering?
What really happened?—and what hadn't?
Reaching across her, Ben gave her a sip of water, and Maggie savored it, letting the cool wetness trickle slowly down her throat. There were definite possibilities that this man was too intuitive.
His hands felt gentle as he clasped her wrist to register her pulse. Ignoring the warmth she could feel from his dark gaze as he inspected her, wasn't working, and her awareness of his intense scrutiny set her cheeks flaming. Maggie took a deep breath and looked away to conceal her unexpected and confusing emotions. His touch on her arm was so pleasurable that her heart was thudding solidly against her chest, and since she couldn't do a thing about it, he was going to notice her reaction because he still had her wrist between his fingers.
This was ridiculous. Medication—that was it—medication could do all sorts of strange things to people.
When he leaned forward to touch her with the stethoscope, her nostrils picked up a faint, pleasing musk scent. Yes, positively, he was the constant irritation that invaded her tranquility. This doctor undoubtedly took his occupation seriously; however, it would be most agreeable with her if he would go practice it on someone else.
Ben gently nudged the hospital gown from her shoulder. “How is the pain this morning?” he asked, checking the heavy bandages.
Maggie moved her right hand to her abdomen. The IV tubing didn't permit her bearable freedom, and she stilled the impulse to rip it from her wrist and hand it to him. She wasn't in the mood for ridiculous questions. “Not exactly tickling,” Maggie muttered, lowering her eyes to her hand where the IV needle was an annoying restriction.
"Doctor Clive will order the IV removed today, Maggie, if you drink lots of fluid,” Ben said, giving her another sip of icy liquid. “Do this right, and tomorrow morning you can enjoy breakfast while sitting in this.” He spun a chair away from the wall, settling it beside the bed and sat down, straddling it.
She saw his forehead wrinkle with a frown as his eyes leveled on her.—here come the questions I don't want to answer. “I can't remember who I am. I don't remember why I'm here, and I'm mildly allergic to aspirin,” she lied, looking toward the window and praying he would go away.
He didn't take the hint.
"Will you talk to me about the cave, Maggie?” Ben asked, and deliberately ignored every word she'd said. He had to know.
After quickly searching for a credible excuse, she came up with nothing useful. “There just isn't anything to tell you, Doctor, except that I was camping.” It was, most likely, fruitless not revealing more. The police would discover everything anyway because of Ken, and this doctor knew her name and, no doubt, where she came from. All her plans seemed doomed to failure.
"If you won't explain why or how you came to be in the cave, how about telling me about your family?"
When he touched her arm, the warmth in his hand softened her mood despite herself. For a moment she felt tempted to divulge everything, but she couldn't do it. “There isn't any family,” she said. “They're all gone.” Maggie's hand rotated absently on her abdomen. But not quite, there is one I'm waiting for. “My husband and my babies were my family.” She took in a slow, shaky breath. “They left me behind one day, and it was the last time I—” Lord, she couldn't say it. It hadn't been this hard to talk about it before; she'd gotten over all the rough places. “I don't have anyone else,” she said finally.
His fingers were gently massaging her hand, and she recognized the tender compassion in his touch. Maybe he understood the bleak ache in her heart, maybe he didn't, but in her frustration, understanding wasn't what she wanted. What she wanted was to get on with her life, despite the complications that were too astonishing to overlook.
"How about any friends to notify? We can advise them as to where you are,” he offered. With ease, she maneuvered away from any direction Ben took. Somehow, he would get her to trust him.
As his gaze caught hers, a muscle twitching along his rigid jaw line was the only signal Maggie could detect that implied her story didn't please him. He didn't betray any emotions in the seemingly infinite depth of his black eyes. She could confide in him, could tell him about Sue and Jacob. No, it wouldn't be a good idea, because Ken was probably calling them for information. Sue believed Ken was the generous, compassionate friend-of-all-friends and would give her location to him without a thought.
"None,” she replied.
She'd made an effort to tell Sue about her suspicions regarding Ken; only Sue thought she was being hormonal and in need of more rest. The lack of communication stressed their friendship, but didn't sever it. Maybe she would call them once she found a place to settle and started living again. Once she felt certain Kenneth Remley would leave her alone.
Having come with more than one tactic in mind, Ben lifted the photo album from the table and placed it beside her on the bed. “I thought you might enjoy having this with you."
Maggie fingered the album cover. “Thank you,” she said huskily. She hadn't been able to look inside since the accident, and she couldn't do it in front of this man who watched her so perceptively. She flicked a glance at the photo beside her bed. That was the only one she could handle. A studio picture with nothing concerning their home or the tense friction in their lives evident in the background.
Remembering Ken and his constant intrusion into her life was suddenly more than she could handle. “Why didn't you leave me be on that mountain?” she asked desperately. “Why—why didn't you just leave me alone!"
He tried not to show his disappointment. So much for believing her emotions had changed, Ben thought, hanging on to his patience. When Maggie touched her abdomen, love radiated from her eyes. He'd felt certain she'd decided life was what she wanted. Now she had the identical expression she had when she implored him to let her to die.
He clasped her chin loosely so she would have to look at him. Maybe her sudden fear had something to do with the photo album.
Maggie instinctively flinched and cried out in pain from his abrupt movement.
"I didn't mean to startle you,” he said hoarsely, softening his hold to a mere touch. “Look at me."
"I am looking,” she said defiantly between clenched teeth.
"I had hoped you would remember what I told you. Since you don't seem to, I'll go through it again. I'm a doctor, and you were in my care. You managed to get injured on my property.” He sucked in a deep breath and lowered his voice. “I don't understand what the hell you were doing there, but I wasn't about to leave you bleeding to death. I realize you're miserable in your condition, nevertheless you need to savvy that I have no intention of letting you die—or allowing you to will yourself to die. You belong here with me, and among the living."
He hadn't meant to say that. It sounded bizarre and autocratic and he'd better reword it, because the heat of her anger was winding through his fingers and up his arm. But Ben couldn't release the frustration and anger in his own mind. “We have one orphan to many around here, and I sure as hell don't need you to purposely leave another one."
"What! How could you say—Why, you don't even know me,” Maggie sputtered, her voice a rasping whisper as she tried to turn her head and escape his hand. “And what do you mean willing myself to d—"
He released her chin, backing away. “Oh yes, Maggie, I know you,” he interrupted, flinging his hand in exasperation. “I've held you, felt your blood on my skin.” He heaved a sigh. “I was there when gunshots blasted all over the place, and I was the one who performed surgery on you.” He lowered his tone sensuously. “Oh yes, my lovely Maggie, I know you. I—"
This had to stop. What for Pete's-sake was he doing?
No matter what the circumstances, he'd never allowed himself to lose control with his or anyone else's patient before. He wanted to shake her. There had to be another way to reach her besides making an ass of himself. Turning on his heels, he made for the door, but it swung open before his hand reached the handle and a short, slightly balding man walked in.
"Ahh,” Doctor Clive said. “I see our patient is wide awake this morning."
Ben stepped into the open doorway and turned toward Maggie. “Maggie, can you recall meeting Doctor Clive?"
She was shaking her head slightly with a confused expression on her face. He had a feeling the confusion didn't stem from thinking about Clive. “He will be your medical doctor until our obstetrician returns from his vacation. Doctor Clive will answer the questions you have.” He grabbed the door handle. “Now, if you'll both excuse me, I have rounds to make.” Not waiting for an answer, he pulled the door shut behind him.
He would send Cheryl in to watch her when Clive left, and he would stay away until he could control himself. Sit down with a cup of coffee, drag on a cigarette, cool off and think reasonably, rationally—maybe, just maybe figure out why this woman could scare the hell out of him. He might as well admit it; he was ready to pounce on her if she so much as sneezed.
Cheryl was coming along the corridor toward him. When she reached him, he put his hand up to stop the questions she was about to ask. He gestured down the hall. “I'm going into my office to drink coffee and possibly pace a few holes in the floor. When I get finished with that, you'll find me in the nursery checking on the babes.” He paused as he saw the astonished look on Cheryl's face. “Any questions?"
She shook her head. “None coming from me, Doctor,” she said, looking at him as if he were carrying a heavy bullwhip and a chair.
"Good. Then you can check with Doc Clive for orders on Maggie while I get busy."
* * * *
Maggie stared at the door as it closed behind the gentle old doctor. She still tried to digest what had happened before he arrived. Doctor Clive had come and gone and she'd hardly been able to listen to a word he said. The throbbing in her shoulder was making it difficult for her to think; plus the dark-eyed doctor had spoken rapidly, and so emotionally she couldn't remember it all.
Orphans and dying?
She wanted to ask him why he thought she wanted to die. As she remembered his words about surgery, about knowing her, and the tone of voice he used, she flushed at how vulnerable her position seemed. She wasn't even sure what her condition was. The pain seemed constant and she was weak—
Interrupting her thoughts, the nurse from her nightmare hastened through the door with a tray in her arms.
"I'm Cheryl, Maggie. I've been your nurse for the last couple of days. Do you remember any of it?” Cheryl asked cheerfully, as she crossed the room. Her uniform was making light, wispy sounds as she moved, and her dimpled smile was contagious.
