Tender Loving Care

“Susan Mallery is warmth and wit personified. Always a fabulous read.”

—New York Times bestselling author Christina Dodd

“Ms. Mallery’s unique writing style shines via vivid characters, layered disharmony and plenty of spice.”

—Romantic Times BOOKclub

“A gifted storyteller, Ms. Mallery fills the pages with multi-faceted characters, solid plotting and passion that is both tender and sizzling.”

—Romantic Times BOOKclub

“If you haven’t read Susan Mallery, you must!”

—New York Times bestselling author Suzanne Forster

SUSAN MALLERY is a USA TODAY bestselling author of over eighty books and has been a recipient of countless awards, including the National Reader’s Choice Award. Her combination of humor, emotion and downright sexiness has made her a reader favorite. She makes her home in Southern California with her husband, her very dignified cat and her not-so-dignified dog. Visit her Web site at www.SusanMallery.com.

Tender Loving Care

Susan Mallery

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

“If you don’t cooperate and put this thermometer under your tongue, I’ll be forced to take your temperature the old-fashioned way.”

Logan Phillips obligingly opened his mouth, then clamped his lips around the offending plastic-covered device. Frustration mingled with irritation when he realized the bandages around his eyes prevented the graduate from the Attila the Hun School of Nursing from seeing his glare. He didn’t belong in the hospital—he had a business to run and a daughter to take care of. They couldn’t keep him here….

The electronic thermometer beeped, indicating it had taken his temperature. “There. Was that so bad?” The instrument was pulled from his mouth. “In a little while, I’ll send someone in to give you a nice sponge bath, Mr. Phillips.”

Sponge bath? He rose up on one elbow and addressed the general direction from which he’d last heard her voice. “Just wait a minute, Nurse whatever-your-name-is. You can’t expect me to…hell, I’m a grown man, and there isn’t any way that…are you listening to me?”

Murmured conversations from the hall and the overloud ticking of a wall clock were the only responses. Perfect, Logan thought as he settled back on the pillow. First the accident, then an eye infection. He’d thought he’d reached bottom when his doctor had forced him into the hospital, but he’d been wrong. They’d poked and probed his sore eyes and ignored his very reasonable demands. Now they were sending in a strange nurse to wash his body. With his luck, they’d probably assign some green first-year student and the poor girl would get a lesson that hadn’t been covered in Anatomy 101. Where the hell was his doctor? He had to get out of here.

Under his eyelids, the insistent throbbing began again, like miniature jackhammers at work. He didn’t know what time the night nurse had given him his last dose of painkiller, but it was starting to wear off.

Logan reached a hand over to the small table beside his bed. His fingers brushed against something that felt like the call switch, then the plastic square slipped out of his grasp and fell. He couldn’t find the cord to pull it back up, and his attempts sent the water jug flying off the stand, as well. It crashed to the floor and bounced twice. There was the sound of ice settling, then silence. He swore under his breath.

Just as he found the thick ribbon of tape that connected to the call button, he heard the click of feminine footsteps on the linoleum.

“Where were you when I needed you?” he asked as he retrieved the small box. “And if you’re here about the sponge bath, you can just forget it.”

There was only silence. Logan located the switch to raise the bed so that he was in a sitting position. There were two more footsteps and then more silence.

“How very disappointing,” the woman said finally. “I hadn’t hoped for more than a handshake on our first meeting, Mr. Phillips, but then I’ve been out of town for quite some time. Are sponge baths now a popular form of introduction?”

Logan felt heat creep up his face. “You’re not here to bathe me?” He wasn’t really asking a question, it was more a form of self-torture to verify how big a fool he’d just made of himself.

“I can be, if it’s that important to you.”

Despite his lack of vision, he could almost see her smiling. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Only if you’re sure.” The woman’s voice was low. Not at all masculine, it was more of a combination of smoky sounds, with long slow vowels. Not Southern, exactly, but definitely intriguing. The way his day was going, she was about eighty…and bald.

He shifted on the bed. “If you’re not here to bathe me or draw blood, then what can I do for you, Ms…?”

“Melissa VanFleet, Mr. Phillips. But please call me Melissa.”

She moved again. Her voice was right beside him and he instinctively looked up. There was only darkness. The subtle scent of her perfume drifted by his face. The fragrance was unfamiliar, floral but with a hint of spice, almost like magnolias. His eyes had only been bandaged two days, but already his other senses seemed heightened.

“You keep saying my name, so I guess you know I’m Logan Phillips?”

“I did assume that, yes.”

“What can I do for you, Melissa?”

“I’m here about the job.”

Melissa stared at the man in the hospital bed. She’d been working with the ill and injured since she was eighteen, and Logan had to be one of the healthiest specimens she’d seen since a pro football player had come into emergency with a broken leg.

Even with the bandages covering his eyes, he was handsome. His tanned skin and dark hair contrasted with the white gauze wrappings. Angry red streaks across the lower half of his face highlighted the strong lines of his jaw. The hospital gown stretched tight across his shoulders; the thin cotton clung to the broad expanse of his chest.

His large, powerful hands toyed with the light blanket; the restless movements were the only indication of unease. No doubt Logan Phillips was as comfortable in the bedroom as the boardroom.

She looked back at his face. His mouth was curving into a half smile.

“I don’t know what my office told you, but I’m not really prepared to conduct interviews, Melissa, let alone look at a building design. Perhaps you could contact my secretary and set up an appointment.”

Was he kidding? “I’m a practical nurse, Mr. Phillips, not an architect. Your boss wants to hire me to look after you for the next three weeks.”

“I don’t need a nurse,” he said flatly.

Melissa pulled the plastic chair in the corner closer to the bed and sat down. “Really? How are you going to get home?”

“Call a cab.”

“Who’s going to change your bandages?”

“I’ll do it myself.”

“I believe that’s what landed you in the hospital in the first place. Untreated corneal abrasions can easily get infected.”

“Maybe I learned my lesson.”

She shook her head. The man was completely pigheaded. “What about cooking dinner, going to the grocery store, driving to the doctor’s office….”

“Enough,” he growled.

“Your boss and my boss are in-laws, Mr. Phillips. I need a break from my usual assignments and you need a nurse/ housekeeper/personal slave.” His mouth quirked up at the corner, but she decided not to let her hopes go too high. “This seemed a way to solve both our problems.”

Logan’s jaw tightened in what she could only assume was his tycoon-in-action expression. “Very well, Ms. VanFleet, you’ve made your point. What are your qualifications? You said you were a practical nurse. I assume that means you have some knowledge of…”

He was impressive, she thought as he went on with questions about her schooling and years of experience. A far cry from her last patient. Bobby had been only six years old. His idea of an interview had been to ask what her favorite flavor of ice cream was and if she’d mind if he watched cartoons in the afternoon.

“Mr. Phillips,” she interrupted.

“Logan.”

“Logan, I don’t think you understand the process going on here.”

He sighed. “But you’re about to fill me in on the details?”

“Yes.” Melissa cleared her throat and glanced away, before she remembered he couldn’t see her amusement. “I didn’t explain myself before. Your boss is hiring me, but I’m the one who makes the decision about whether or not I want to take the job. I guess, in a way, I’m interviewing you.”

“I see.”

If the grim set of his lips was anything to go by, he did indeed see and was very much less than pleased. Even sitting in a hospital bed, Logan Phillips looked like the kind of man who got things done in a hurry and his way. Melissa knew that without the bandages, his eyes would be holding her captive. No doubt they were dark and formidable and could have intimidated her into retreat, but today they were safely hidden.

She’d always heard wild animals were most dangerous when injured. The barely controlled specimen in front of her did nothing to disprove the theory. He made her want to bolt for cover.

“I don’t think…” He rubbed his temple.

She recognized the involuntary sign of discomfort and sprang up to move to the edge of the bed. “When was your last painkiller?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t been issued my braille watch yet.”

“I’ll be right back.”

She walked into the hall and saw the nurse carrying the medicine tray. After identifying herself, she collected Logan’s medication and returned to his side.

“I’ve got your pills right here. Let me get you water and…” Her foot hit something and she glanced down. A plastic jug rested next to the table. “What were you doing? There’s water all over the floor.”

“I was looking for the call button, but I couldn’t find it.”

Melissa went into the bathroom and came back with several towels. After tossing them onto the spill, she filled up his glass and pressed it into his hand. “Here.” The pills were next. “Open.”

“I’m perfectly capable of…”

“I’m strong and burly, Logan. I could take you out with one punch. Now open.” She grabbed his jaw and placed the pills on his tongue. “Drink,” she ordered.

He sipped the water. “Do they send you all to boot camp before giving you the starched hats?”

“No. I’ve just had a lot of practice dealing with difficult patients.”

“A mental hospital?”

“I usually work with children.”

“Are you trying to tell me I’m being childish, Ms. VanFleet?” One side of his mouth quirked up, then the other.

That grin should be declared a lethal weapon, she thought as she looked at him. He finished the water and handed her the glass. For a moment, their fingers brushed. Now that she wasn’t trying to get him to do something he didn’t want to do, she had a chance to notice small things. Like the way his touch sent her heart flying up into her throat and then down into her stomach. Must have been the breakfast she’d eaten downstairs in the cafeteria. Hospitals were notorious for questionable cuisine.

“I’m just trying to decide if I can work for you, Mr. Phillips.”

One eyebrow raised above the bandage. “I’m sure my boss told you I was very charming.”

“Something like that.” Melissa remembered Mr. Anderson’s promise that Logan Phillips could be stubborn and difficult. The sum he was paying was large enough to let her take the rest of the summer off, so she’d told the senior partner at Logan’s architectural firm that she was sure she’d be able to deal with him. It was herself she was worried about. Why were her palms suddenly damp? Maybe she needed to get out more.

“Have I passed inspection?” he asked.

“Almost. I understand you have a daughter.”

“Yes.” He smiled at her. Obvious pride and warmth at the mention of his child made her like him even more. The flash of white teeth and the single dimple that appeared on his right cheek caused her to catch her breath. “Wendi’s twelve. In fact, the mother of one of her friends should be dropping her off here soon.”

“Good. I need to meet her before I make my final decision. It’s important that all the family members accept my presence in the house.”

She didn’t mention that she knew he was divorced, and he didn’t volunteer any information about there being a girlfriend to contend with. That bridge could be crossed, if and when she came to it. After all, the job was only for three weeks. Changing bandages once a day and helping Logan stay quiet until he healed was a cushy assignment.

“The ward nurse will point Wendi out to me when she arrives,” Melissa said. She saw one of the licensed vocational nurses pushing in a cart. “I see Mrs. Roberts is here for your sponge bath, so I’ll just leave you two alone.”

She patted Logan’s arm, but he grabbed at her hand. His grip was like steel. Instinctively she stepped closer and leaned down. “What is it?”

“What does she look like?” he whispered.

Melissa glanced at the pretty young woman unashamedly listening to their conversation and winked. “She’s fifty-five years old and about two hundred pounds. Oh, and there’s a wart on her chin.”

Logan sighed with relief. “Thanks, Melissa.”

“Anytime. I’ll be back when I’ve spoken with your daughter.”

Melissa automatically waved goodbye as she left the room, then laughed when she realized he couldn’t see her. Just as well. If he could, he’d find out what Mrs. Roberts really looked like and they’d probably have a full-scale riot on their hands. A straightforward man like Logan Phillips wouldn’t take kindly to deception, however well-intentioned, or confinement, however necessary.

She walked over to the nurses’ station and chatted with the two women sitting there. In about fifteen minutes, the elevator doors opened and a young girl stepped out. She was slim and pretty, with none of the gawkiness usually associated with preteen girls.

“Wendi?” she asked.

The girl stopped in the hall. Green eyes met Melissa’s and she wondered if Logan’s were the same color. “Yes.”

At twelve, Wendi was already as tall as Melissa. Her hair was the same color as Logan’s, a rich dark brown that reflected the light. Whereas his had curled around his ears and would have barely brushed a shirt collar, hers tumbled down her back in an artfully arranged display.

“Hi, I’m Melissa VanFleet. I’m a nurse and I may be taking care of your dad for a few weeks.”

Wendi smiled. The impish grin was pure Logan. “Great. I was afraid I’d have to look after him and it would be totally like gross. I mean, what if there was blood? Yuk.”

Melissa laughed. “No blood, I promise. You won’t mind then?”

“Nah.” She glanced at Melissa’s tailored pants and plain cotton blouse. “You won’t wear a uniform, will you?”

“Never.”

“Good.” Wendi glanced down the hall to see if they were alone, then leaned forward and whispered, “I mean they’re totally uncool. And the shoes.”

“I know, they’re like combat boots.” She remembered Logan’s boot-camp remark.

“So when’s my dad coming home?”

Despite her trendy clothes and air of sophistication, Wendi suddenly looked like a scared little girl. The fear in her eyes convinced Melissa to take the job. She knew kids, and this one needed reassurance that her father would be fine. “He’ll be home later today. I’m going to find the doctor and make the arrangements, then I’ll need to go to the house and check on food and that sort of thing. Can you show me where you live?”

“No problem. I’ll just say hi, then we can get going.”

Wendi went down the hall, and Melissa turned back to the nurses’ station.

After speaking with Logan’s physician, she headed toward his room to pick up Wendi. As she walked through the doorway, Logan was speaking.

“So this Melissa person is okay?” he asked.

Wendi looked up and saw her, then smiled. “Yeah. She seems nice.”

Melissa bit back a chuckle. Not a bad endorsement from a twelve-year-old.

“What does she look like?”

Logan’s question seemed casual enough, but Melissa felt her humor fade. Here it comes, she thought.

Wendi studied her thoughtfully. “I don’t know, Dad. Nothing like Mom. She’s at least thirty.”

Melissa put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows.

“Or younger,” Wendi hastily amended.

“And?” he prompted.

“Blondish. Not very tall.” Wendi shrugged and looked away. “Jeez, Dad, this is embarrassing.”

Logan laughed. “I should know better than to ask a girl whose idea of high fashion is anything from MTV.”

Melissa forced a smile. She knew why Wendi was uncomfortable. What was the girl supposed to say? It wasn’t as though she didn’t know she was…plain. She saw the proof every day in the mirror. Wasn’t her mother always telling her that beauty came from within? Just once, though, she’d like to be pretty enough that no one had to look deeply to notice.

She listened a few more minutes, but the conversation had moved on to another topic. Taking a deep breath, she walked closer to the bed.

“Hi.”

Logan wasn’t sure if he recognized the voice first or the scent. “Melissa?”

“Very good. I’ll tell the staff that you won’t be needing that guide dog after all.”

“Thanks. I just want to go home. What’s the verdict? Did I pass inspection?”

“Was that a note of pleading I heard in your voice?”

He laughed. “At this point, I’ll do anything to get out of here.”

There was a rustling noise and the sound of her heels on the floor. When she next spoke, he could feel her soft breath tickling his ear. “How was the sponge bath?”

“I got by.” With her help, he thought. Knowing the nurse was old and unattractive combined with him mentally reciting all the states and their capitals had kept him relaxed.

“Here’s the deal. I’ll work for you for three weeks. While your eyes are bandaged, I’ll help with day-to-day living. After the dressings come off, I’ll be around to make sure you follow the doctor’s orders. Can you live with that?”

He nodded. “I’m yours to command.”

“Yeah, right. And pigs fly. You’re the type of patient that gives nurses nightmares, Logan.”

He tapped his chest in an expression of innocence. “Me?”

“Yes, you. I’ve cleared your discharge with the doctor. He’ll be by in an hour to check your eyes one last time, then you can leave. Wendi’s going to take me to the house, now. I’ll make sure there aren’t any hazards waiting to trip you, and stock up on groceries.”

She sounded cool and competent. Wendi’s description was clear in his mind, but he still didn’t have a clue as to what Melissa looked like. Blondish and not very tall from a twelve-year-old could mean anything. He hadn’t realized how much he depended on his eyes to tell him about a person. For now, he had no choice but to trust his instincts. And his gut said Melissa was okay. He had to like someone who could match him quip for quip and even come out on top.

“I’ll be waiting for you to rescue me,” he said. “Wendi, come give your old man a kiss.”

He heard Melissa step back and Wendi move forward. “Bye, Dad. I’m going to spend the afternoon at Kelly’s house and have dinner there. The number’s on the counter in the kitchen.”

“Fine. But be home by eight, kitten.”

“Yes, Dad.” She sighed with bored resignation and planted a kiss on his cheek. He was still smiling when Nurse Attila walked in, her rubber soles squeaking on the linoleum. “Do we need to use the bedpan, Mr. Phillips?”

Melissa pulled the red Volvo station wagon up to the curb by the hospital entrance. She’d wanted to bring her own small car, but Wendi had told her that Logan’s long legs would never have fit. Watching him being wheeled out the door, she had to concede that his daughter might have been right.

Even in the wheelchair, with the white bandages covering his eyes, Logan exuded an air of power. He was a man on the move. The fact that he was wearing jeans and a cotton long-sleeved blue shirt didn’t lessen the impact of his presence. If anything, the casual attire clinging to his masculine body emphasized the strength. After six years of dealing with children, a virile, adult male was going to take some getting used to. But she’d better keep her misgivings to herself. Once he sensed her fear, he’d pounce and show no mercy.

Melissa shook her head and grinned. Get a life, girl, she told herself. He’s just a guy, like a million others. The fact that her heart was racing and her palms felt sweaty was a problem she’d deal with another time—like the year 2000.

She stepped out and moved to the sidewalk. “Ready to go home, Logan?”

He smiled gratefully. There were lines of tension and pain bracketing his mouth. “Yeah. The doctor gave me a very thorough exam before I left. If you were looking for a way to keep me in line, it worked.” The red marks on his face had been treated with a clear ointment that made them seem more raw.

Melissa patted his arm sympathetically. Logan’s corneal abrasion was quite severe. He’d ignored his physician’s orders and now had an infection to deal with, as well. Just the thought of someone probing his already painful eyes and lids was enough to make her shudder.

“Let’s get you home and in bed.”

“Not tonight, dear, I have a headache,” he joked as she helped him to his feet. He towered above her—six feet of injured, frustrated male. “But it’s a hell of a generous offer. I…” He clenched his teeth and drew in a slow breath. “When did the earth start spinning so fast?”

“Hold on to me.” She nodded for the orderly to take Logan’s other side and then turned him toward the car. “You’ve been flat on your back for two days. It takes a second to get your balance. Put your hand out in front of you and feel for the car. There. I’m going to put my hand on the top of your head, so you don’t bump yourself while you get in. Slowly.”

He lowered himself onto the seat and sighed. “Is this the Volvo?”

Melissa closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. “Yes. How did you know?”

“I recognized the smell.”

She reached across him and grabbed the shoulder belt. His skin had paled to an unhealthy shade of gray, and his lips were pulled into a tight line of pain. After snapping the buckle, she gave his forearm a reassuring squeeze. “Wendi said my car wasn’t big enough for you. Besides, it’s a cheap model and I don’t think she wanted the neighbors watching it pull in and out of the driveway.”

Her attempt at humor was rewarded with a slight smile. “That’s my girl, always worrying about what the neighbors will think. She gets it from her mother.” He fumbled on the far side of the seat, then lowered the back down. “Home, James.”

“Yes, sir.”

Melissa started the engine and carefully put the car into drive. After easing out of the hospital parking lot, she turned onto the canyon road that would take them to Logan’s place.

The house wasn’t that far from the bustling west side of Los Angeles, but once in the hills the only hints of the large city were the occasional glimpses of high rises that flashed through the trees. Houses were set back from the street, with heavy gates and thick, tall trees standing guard.

She watched for the correct turn. Logan lived on a long cul-de-sac, third house from the corner. Although slightly more modest than its neighbors, his house was still impressive. The used-brick facade was elegant. A circular driveway curved in front, then veered off toward a three-car garage.