LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Mom doesn’t cook at all.” Wendi uttered the words with all the innocence of youth, but Logan sensed Melissa stiffening in her chair.

      “I’m sure she doesn’t have time,” Melissa said casually.

      “Maybe you can meet her when she comes to pick me up,” Wendi offered.

      Over my dead body, Logan thought with a fierceness that startled him. Fiona had women like Melissa chopped up and served for breakfast.

      “Sure. If you’d like.”

      He wasn’t certain, but he could have sworn there was a slight tremor in Melissa’s voice. He wanted to reassure her that she’d be safe, that he’d protect her, but it wasn’t his place. His reaction was simple gratitude, he told himself. She had been there for him and he owed her. She was just his nurse and he’d better not forget that. If he did, he might do something they’d both regret.

      

      “I’m too cool for you, boy…”

      Melissa hummed to herself as she folded the laundry. Except for cooking, domestic chores weren’t part of her job description. There were two ladies who came in twice a week to clean the house, but she found the simple tasks of washing and ironing actually quite fun. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d ironed a man’s shirt. No, that wasn’t strictly true. It had been Jeff’s shirt…the night of the banquet…when he’d announced he was leaving her for a very successful, very beautiful, pediatrician. Six years was a long time between creasing sleeves, she thought humorously. She’d better get all her fun while she could.

      She’d already been with Logan and Wendi for six days and they’d settled into a comfortable routine together. On the days she wasn’t at camp, Wendi spent her time with friends or had them over. The kitchen still hadn’t recovered from seven twelve-year-olds practicing their baking skills at the same time. The cleaning people would be digging flour out of corners and cracks for weeks yet.

      Logan spent his mornings working by phone. Then they’d have lunch together and she’d read to him for an hour or so. After dinner by the pool, the three of them would play games, with Wendi or Melissa taking turns reading the cards or telling him what number he’d rolled with the dice. The temptation to conspire against him was strong, but so far they’d only given in once…well, twice, if she counted the time they’d dug for a really hard question when playing Trivial Pursuit.

      After Wendi drifted off to catch up on her MTV, Melissa would spend time with Logan. She’d change his bandages, then they’d stretch out on the big bed in his room and talk, or she’d simply read to him. With the crickets calling outside the windows and soft music playing in the background, she allowed herself to pretend the nights were real. For those few hours, Logan was her handsome prince…and she was as beautiful as Fiona.

      All that would change shortly. When she’d driven Logan to the doctor a couple of days ago, he’d been told he was healing nicely. The bandages would come off this morning.

      Melissa picked up the pile of T-shirts and headed toward Logan’s room. He was pacing restlessly, counting the steps from the wing chair to the doorway.

      “Coming through,” she called as she ducked past him.

      He grabbed her arm. His unerring sense of direction never ceased to amaze her. “Take them off now,” he commanded.

      She twisted out of his grasp and walked to the armoire. “The doctor is due here any minute. Try and control yourself.”

      He smiled. “You sound so tough, Melissa, but I won’t be blind much longer. Then how will you keep me in line?”

      That’s what she was dreading most. Part of her felt guilty for wanting to keep his eyes bandaged. She knew it was difficult for him, and he’d handled himself amazingly well. But when he could see, he really wouldn’t need her anymore. And all the touching—the gentle brush of her fingers to tell him where she was, the embrace to lead him to the patio—would be unnecessary and inappropriate. She hadn’t realized how much she savored those moments, until they were about to be taken from her.

      Besides, he’d be able to see what she looked like. She tried to console herself with the thought that it was unlikely he’d run screaming from the room, but still…his blindness had been a mask, allowing her to be who she really was. Once he could look at her, she’d become scared and tongue-tied and foolish. Was it so very wrong to want the fantasy to continue just a little longer?

      “You’ll be here until I go back to the office?” he asked.

      “Yes, Logan. You can’t do any close work for two weeks. I’ll be here to make sure you follow directions.” Two weeks until he was out of her life forever.

      She shut the drawer and stood up. He was right behind her. For a second, she thought about leaning against him and allowing his arms to comfort her and chase away all her fears. But since that second day, when she’d rationalized their kiss, Logan had been a perfect gentleman. It was driving her crazy.

      The sound of the doorbell rescued her from her own fantasies. “That must be Mr. Anderson and the doctor.” She scurried away before Logan could detain her.

      “How’s the patient?” John Anderson asked as he walked into the foyer. The older man was as tall as Logan, but his build was heavier with a round belly hanging over his belt.

      “Pacing and cranky, as you can imagine.” She turned to greet the doctor. Both men were dressed in bright plaid slacks with matching shirts. They had spent the morning together golfing. Melissa shook her head. The thought of an entire course of men dressed in gaudy attire was enough to keep her inside with the door locked.

      “Lead the way, young lady,” the gray-haired doctor said, his blue eyes twinkling behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “John is buying lunch when we’re through here and I feel an appetite coming on.”

      “It’s just down the hall.” She escorted them to the back of the house.

      Logan was sitting on the edge of the bed. When he heard them, he stood up and moved forward. “Melissa?”

      “Yes. Mr. Anderson and the doctor are here.”

      “Who won?” Logan asked.

      John sighed. “It was that damned sand trap on the thirteenth hole.”

      The doctor set a small bag on the bed. “Hope you appreciate the house call, Logan. Your boss is a persuasive man.”

      “Yeah,” John said. “It’s costing me a bottle of ‘42 Bordeaux.”

      The men laughed, but Melissa inched her way closer to the door. She had to get out before the doctor took off the bandages and Logan saw her and…

      “Nurse?”

      She froze, not quite out in the hall. “Yes, Doctor?”

      “Would you remove the patient’s bandages, please?” He opened his bag and withdrew a small flashlight.

      She swallowed, then walked to the nightstand. The scissors were right where she kept them. Slowly she moved around the bed and waited for Logan to sit down.

      He smiled confidently. “I’ve been counting the days, Melissa.”

      “I bet.”

      The men watching, combined with her own nervousness, made her fingers tremble. The sound of gauze being cut seemed loud in the still room.

      She peeled away the dressings and removed the pads. Logan’s lashes were matted from the cream, but they were still long and dark. As he blinked, she resisted the urge to look away or hide her head. At least she’d find out what color his eyes were, she told herself.

      But when he looked straight at her, she couldn’t breathe. Instead of blue or green, his irises were a rich tawny brown. Flecks of gold radiated out from the black pupil, creating an almost magical glow, as if he had the power to see into her heart. She’d always thought

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