“Why do you think I’m worth saving?”

“Because you’re a good guy. You’ve spent your life being a hero for your country. You’re smart, occasionally funny and breathtakingly handsome, though I wouldn’t let that go to your head. Good looks rarely make up for a lousy disposition.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “I’ll try to remember that.”

Kelly regarded him seriously. “Michael, there are a lot of blessings in your life. You should try counting them, instead of focusing on what you’ve lost.”

“I will,” he promised, his own expression suddenly serious. “I hope you won’t mind if I put you at the top of the list.”

Kelly’s breath caught in her throat. “Dammit, why did you have to say something so sweet?” she asked. “I was just getting comfortable being furious with you.”

He reached over and gently brushed away a tear streaking down her face. “Well, now, I couldn’t have that, could I?”

Michael’s Discovery
Sherryl Woods

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SHERRYL WOODS

has written more than seventy-five novels. She also operates her own bookstore, Potomac Sunrise, in Colonial Beach, Virginia. If you can’t visit Sherryl at her store, then be sure to drop her a note at P.O. Box 490326, Key Biscayne, FL 33149 or check out her Web site at www.sherrylwoods.com.

Contents

Prologue

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

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Prologue

Even through the haze of pain, Michael was aware of the charged atmosphere in his San Diego hospital room. The doctors had just delivered their dire predictions for his future with the Navy SEALs. Nurse Judy, normally a fountain of inconsequential, cheery small talk, was fluffing his pillow with total concentration, carefully avoiding his gaze. Clearly everyone was waiting for his explosion of outrage, his cries of despair. Michael refused to give them the satisfaction—not just yet anyway.

“Okay,” he said, gritting his teeth against the hot, burning pain radiating through his leg. “That’s the worst-case scenario. What’s the best I can hope for?”

His doctors—the best orthopedic doctors anywhere, according to his boss—exchanged the kind of look that Michael recognized. He’d seen it most often when an entire op was about to go up in flames. He’d been seeing it a lot since a sniper had blasted one bullet through his knee, then shattered his thigh bone with another. The head injury that had left him in a coma had been minor by comparison. The patchwork repairs to his bones had apparently just begun.

He still wasn’t sure how long he’d been out of touch, left for dead by the terrorist cell he’d penetrated. He did know that had it not been for a desperate, last-ditch effort by his team members, he would have died in that hellhole. He should be grateful to be alive, but if his career was over, how could he be? Though he was determined not to show it, despair was already clawing at him.

“Just tell me, dammit!” he commanded the expressionless doctors.

“That was the best-case scenario,” the older of the two men told him. “Worst case? You could still lose your leg.”

Michael felt a roar of protest building in his chest, but years of containing his emotions kept him silent. Only a muscle working in his jaw gave away the anguish he was feeling.

His entire identity was tied up with being a Navy SEAL. The danger, the adrenaline rush, the skill, the teamwork—all of it gave him a sense of purpose. With it, he was a hero. Without it, he was just an ordinary guy.

And years ago, abandoned by his parents, separated from his brothers, Michael had made a vow that he would never settle for being ordinary. Ordinary kids got left behind. Ordinary men were a dime a dozen. He’d driven himself to excel from his first day of kindergarten right on through SEAL training. Now these doctors were telling him he’d never excel again, at least not physically. He might not even walk…at least not for a long, long time. As for losing his leg, that was not an option.

With that in mind, he leveled a look first at one man, then the other. “Let’s see to it that doesn’t happen, okay? I’m a mean son of a gun when I’m pissed, and that would really piss me off.”

Nurse Judy chuckled, then bit off the reaction. “Sorry.”

Michael shifted slightly, winced at the pain, then winked at her. “It always pays to keep a man who’s itchy to use a knife aware of the consequences.”

She touched a cool hand to his cheek and studied him with concern. Since she was at least fifty, he had a hunch the gesture was nothing more than a subtle check of his temperature. The woman hadn’t kept her hands to herself since he’d been brought in two days ago with a raging fever from the infection that had spread from his leg wounds throughout his body. She’d been with him when he was rushed straight into surgery to try to repair the damage that had occurred halfway across the world. The doctors in the field hospital had done their best, but there had been little doubt that his injuries would require a higher level of medical skill.

He gave the nurse a pale imitation of his usually devastating smile. She was beginning to show signs of exhaustion, but she hadn’t left his side, unless she’d stolen a catnap while he’d been out of it in the operating room. Obviously she’d been hired by his bosses because she took her private-duty nursing assignments seriously. And given his own level of security clearance, hers was probably just as high in case he started muttering classified information in his sleep.

“How about some pain meds?” she asked. “You’ve been turning me down all morning. This stoic act of yours is beginning to get old. You’ll heal faster in the long run if you’re not in agony.”

“I wanted to be alert for the prognosis,” he reminded her.

“And now?”

“I think I’d better stay alert to make sure those two stay the hell away from my leg.”

Just then there was a flurry of activity at the doorway, a hushed conversation, and then two tall, dark-haired men were pushing their way inside, ignoring the doctors’ protests that no visitors were allowed.

“Why not take that medication, bro? We’re here now. Nothing’s going to happen to your leg on our watch,” the older of the two said, pulling a chair up beside the bed and shooting a warning look at the doctors that would have intimidated an entire fleet of the Navy’s finest.

An image floated through Michael’s hazy memory. He looked again and suddenly a name came to him, a name he hadn’t thought of in years. “Ryan?”

“It’s me, kid,” his oldest brother responded, squeezing Michael’s hand. “Sean’s here, too.”

To his total chagrin, Michael blinked back tears. So many years, but there had been a time when he’d shadowed his two older brothers everywhere they went. They had been his heroes, at least until they had deserted him. To a shaken four-year-old that’s how it had seemed on the day he’d been taken away to live with a different foster family—as if the cornerstones of his world had abandoned him. Coming on the heels of his parents’ vanishing with the twins, it had been too much. He’d pushed all thoughts of the other Devaneys from his mind, kept them locked away in a dark place where the memories couldn’t hurt him.

And now, all these years later, his older brothers at least were back, the timely arrival just as mysterious as the untimely disappearance.

“How did you find me?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. “Where did you come from?”

“We’ll get into all that later. Right now, you need some sleep,” Ryan soothed.

Michael studied him, then sought out Sean. He would have recognized them anywhere, he thought. It was like looking in the mirror: the same black hair—even if his was military crewcut short—the same blue eyes. They’d all inherited Connor Devaney’s roguish good looks, for better or for worse.

Their father had been a handsome devil, one generation removed from Ireland and with a gift for blarney. An image of him crept into Michael’s head from time to time, always accompanied by deeply entrenched bitterness. If there was a God in heaven, Connor Devaney would rot in hell for taking his wife and their youngest sons and walking away from Michael, Sean and Ryan.

“Lieutenant, how about that pain medication now?” Nurse Judy asked gently.

Michael wanted to protest. He had so many questions he wanted to ask his brothers. But one glance at the way Ryan and Sean had settled in reassured him that they weren’t going anywhere. Nor was any surgeon going to get anywhere near his damaged leg as long as they were around.

“Sure,” he said, finally giving in.

Michael felt the prick of a needle in his arm, the slow retreat of pain and then his eyes drifted shut and for the first time since he’d been flown home to California, he felt safe enough to fall into a deep, untroubled sleep.

Chapter One

Six months later, Boston

Michael maneuvered his wheelchair across the floor and set the lock. He eyed the sofa and debated whether its comfort was worth the effort it would take to heave himself out of the chair. Every damn day was filled with such inconsequential challenges. After years of trying to sort through the life-and-death logistics of SEAL missions, it grated on him that the simple decision of where to sit to watch another boring afternoon of television took on such importance.

“You want some help?” Ryan asked, his expression neutral.

Over the past few weeks, when his brother had been popping in and out of California on a regular basis, Michael had learned to recognize that look. It meant that Ryan was feeling sorry for him and was trying not to show it.

The attempt was pretty lame, but Ryan was actually better at it than Sean. Sean’s obvious pity was almost more than Michael could take, which was one reason Ryan had been designated to pick him up at the airport and to help him settle into his new apartment.

Michael had discovered that the grown-up Ryan was a low-key kind of guy. He ran his own Irish pub and had settled into family life with a woman named Maggie who seldom took no for an answer. Michael had already had a few encounters with her on the phone and discovered she masked an iron will with sweet talk.

Sean, however, was a recently married firefighter, an active man who would have chafed at the restrictions on his life, just as Michael did. Maybe that was the reason that Sean couldn’t seem to hide his sympathy each time he saw Michael in this damnable wheelchair. They probably needed to talk about it, but neither one of them had gotten up the nerve. Besides, what was there to say?

“I still don’t know how I let you all talk me into moving back to Boston,” Michael grumbled as he waved off Ryan’s offer of help and struggled to move from the wheelchair to the sofa on his own. “There must be a foot of snow out there. In San Diego, I could be basking in the sunshine beside a pool.”

“But you wouldn’t be,” Ryan said wryly. “The way I hear it, you hadn’t set foot outside since you left the hospital.”

Michael scowled. His brother clearly had too much information about his habits. There were only a handful of people who could have given it to him, most of them men Michael could have sworn were totally loyal to him.

“Who ratted me out?” he inquired testily.

Ryan held up his hands. “I’ve been sworn to secrecy. Your men seem to think you have a particularly nasty temper when crossed.”

At least he could still intimidate somebody, Michael thought with satisfaction. It was a consolation. He certainly hadn’t been able to intimidate Ryan’s wife, Maggie, though.

Maggie was the one who’d called every single, blessed day pestering him to come East. She’d ignored his cranky responses, talked right over his blistering tirades and pretty much won him over with her silky sweet threats. He wondered if Ryan knew what a weapon he had living with him. Michael was convinced that Maggie Devaney could take over a small country if she was of a mind to. Michael could hardly wait to meet her in person, though he’d prefer to be in top-notch form when he did.

“Why didn’t your wife come to the airport with you?” he asked his brother.

“She thought you might like a little time to yourself to get used to things,” Ryan said. “She did send along a list of therapists for you to consider. She said you’d been discussing it, but hadn’t agreed to hire one yet.”

Michael frowned at the understatement. “Actually, what I told her was that I wasn’t interested. I could have sworn I’d made that clear.”

“You’re content to spend the rest of your life in that wheelchair?” Ryan asked mildly.

“The doctors are the ones who consigned me to a wheelchair,” Michael responded bitterly. The shattered bone in his thigh had taken two additional surgeries, and the doctors still weren’t convinced it would ever heal properly. His knee was artificial. He felt like the Bionic Man, only one who’d gotten faulty parts.

Even if everything healed and worked, he’d never have the agility to return to the kind of work he loved. His navy career was definitely over. He’d declined the offer to push papers behind some desk at the Pentagon. Michael shuddered at the very thought—he’d rather eat raw squid. So he was twenty-seven and out of work and out of hope. He’d learn to live with it…eventually.

Ryan leveled an uncompromising look straight at him. “Is that so? You’re blaming this on the doctors? The way I hear it—”

“You apparently hear too damned much,” Michael retorted. “Has it occurred to you that I was doing just fine before you and Sean—and your wives—came busting back into my life? I don’t need you meddling now. If I decide to stay in Boston, I won’t have all of you making me some sort of project.” He leveled a daunting look of his own. “Are we clear on that?”

“No project,” Ryan echoed dutifully.

Michael studied his brother with a narrowed gaze. That had gone a little too easily, he thought just as the doorbell rang. He scowled at Ryan. “You invite somebody else over?”

Ryan looked just the teensiest bit guilty. “It could be Maggie.”

“I thought you said she was giving me some space.”

Ryan shrugged. “Well, that’s the thing with Maggie. She has her own ideas about how much space a man should have.”

“Great. That’s just great.” Michael eyed his wheelchair with frustration. No way in hell could he haul himself back into the thing and get out of the room before Ryan opened the door. As curious as he was to see the woman who’d married his oldest brother, he wasn’t ready for the meeting to take place today. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about it. He resigned himself to an early introduction to his sister-in-law.

Before he could catch his breath, Maggie burst into the room, her cheeks red, her eyes flashing and her hair like something from a painting of an auburn-haired goddess. No wonder his brother had fallen for her. Michael was half in love himself, but that was before he caught sight of the curly-haired toddler clutching her hand.

“This is Maggie,” Ryan said unnecessarily. “And the pint-size replica is Caitlyn. She’s just learned to walk, and she has only one speed—full throttle.”

The warning came too late. Caitlyn took one look at Michael, broke free of her mother’s grasp and hurtled straight toward him on her chubby, wobbly legs. She was about to grab his injured leg in her powerful little grasp when Michael instinctively bent forward and scooped her up.

Wide green eyes stared at him in shock. He expected immediate tears, but instead a slow smile blossomed on her little face, and he was an instant goner. He’d never realized a kid could steal a person’s heart in less than ten seconds flat.

He sat her on his good leg. “Hiya, Caitlyn. I’m your Uncle Mike.”

She studied him intently, then lifted a hand and patted his cheek.

“She’s not saying too much yet,” Maggie said, “but trust me, she knows how to make herself understood.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Michael said, already thoroughly under little Caitlyn’s spell.

“Think you can handle her for five minutes?” Maggie asked. “I have groceries in the car. I’m afraid I overdid it. I could use Ryan’s help bringing them in.”

“Sure. Miss Caitlyn and I will be fine.” He wasn’t sure how he knew that. It was just that it was the first time in months that someone wasn’t looking at him with pity. His niece’s expression was merely curious. He could deal with friendly curiosity, especially from someone who hadn’t yet learned how to ask complete and probing questions.

But the instant Ryan and Maggie left, Michael had a sudden attack of nerves. He didn’t know a whole lot about kids. He had dim memories of his twin brothers, but he’d been little more than a toddler himself when the family had split up. He’d been the youngest in his foster family. Now both of his foster sisters were married, but so far were childless. A couple of the guys on his SEAL team had children, but Michael had tended to steer clear of the gatherings when they’d been present. He didn’t like the feelings of envy that washed through him when he was surrounded by tight-knit families.

“So, kid, what do you like to do?” he asked the toddler who seemed perfectly content to sit cuddled in his arms. “I’ll bet you have a doll or two at home. Maybe a stuffed bear.”

Caitlyn listened intently, but said nothing.

“Then, again, maybe you’re one of those liberated little girls who has cars and trucks,” Michael continued. “Your mom strikes me as the kind of woman who’d want you to grow up knowing that you have options.”

Apparently he’d said the wrong thing, because Caitlyn suddenly looked around the room and huge tears promptly welled up in her eyes.

“Mama,” she wailed loudly. “Mama!”

She sounded as if her little heart was breaking. Feeling desperate, Michael awkwardly patted her back. “Hey, it’s okay. Your mama is just outside. She and your daddy will be right back.”

That brought on a fresh round of tears. “Da-dada!”

Michael was at a loss. He was about to panic, when the door swung open and Maggie and Ryan came breezing in. Maggie grinned, set the groceries beside the door and swooped in to pick up the squalling child.

“Hey, baby girl, what’s all that noise?” Maggie chided.

Just like that, the wails trailed off and the tears stopped. “Mama,” Caitlyn said contentedly, patting Maggie’s cheek. Then she turned back to Michael and held out her arms.

Michael couldn’t help chuckling. “Fickle little thing, aren’t you?” he said as he reached for her. “You’re going to grow up and break some man’s heart.”

“She won’t be dating until she’s at least thirty,” Ryan said emphatically.

“Good plan. I can hardly wait to see how well you stick to it,” Michael said. “Especially since this one obviously has a mind of her own already.”

“Don’t laugh. You might be called on to help me chase off the boys,” his brother informed him.

Michael looked at the little angel who was now snuggled against him, half-asleep. “Just say the word,” he said solemnly.

“That reminds me,” Ryan said, taking a slip of paper from his pocket and handing it to Michael.

“What’s this?”

“Maggie’s list of therapists. She reminded me just now to be sure and give it to you.”

Michael’s gaze narrowed. “And the connection to your daughter’s social life would be?”

“If you’re going to help me protect Caitlyn from hormone-driven teenaged boys, you’re going to have to be in top form,” Ryan said. “You might as well pick one and call. If you don’t, Maggie will.”

Michael glanced toward the kitchen where his sister-in-law was busily arranging his groceries and dishes so things would be within reach. He took the list and stuffed it in his pocket without comment.

It was only later, after Ryan, Maggie and Caitlyn had gone, that he took out the paper and glanced at the names. One jumped out at him: Kelly Andrews.

Years ago his best friend, Bryan Andrews, had had a sister named Kelly. Was it possible that this was the same girl? He remembered her as being a cute, shy kid, but by now she would have to be, what? Twenty-four most likely.

Michael had lost touch with Bryan years ago. Maybe he’d track him down and ask if his sister was a physical therapist. Purely as a matter of curiosity. He had no intention of asking some therapist to waste her time on him, not when every doctor he’d seen had said that a full recovery was impossible.

And, he thought with self-derision, anything less meant he might as well be dead.

Kelly Andrews was as nervous as if she’d never worked with a patient before. She stood outside the small cluster of apartments in the freezing cold and tried to gather her courage. No matter how many times she told herself that Michael Devaney was a potential client, nothing more, she couldn’t help the rush of emotions that filled her.

Michael had been her first teenage crush. Three years older than she was, he and her brother had been friends throughout high school. Michael had never given her so much as a second glance, not as anything more than Bryan’s kid sister, anyway. That hadn’t stopped her from weaving her share of fantasies about the quiet, dark-haired boy with the intense, brooding gaze and a body that even at seventeen had been impressively well muscled.

It was Bryan who’d told her about Michael being shot and the doctors’ very real conviction that he would never walk, much less work as a SEAL, again. Bryan had come back from his visit with Michael sounding worried that his old friend was going to give up. That concern had communicated itself to Kelly.

“His brothers went out to San Diego and convinced him to come back here to recuperate,” Bryan had explained two nights before. “I spoke to Ryan after I saw Michael. He says his brother is going to be needing a lot of physical therapy, but so far Michael has flatly refused to ask anyone for help. He did ask about you, though.”

Kelly’s heart had taken an unsteady leap. “He did?”

“Apparently your name was on a list Ryan’s wife made of prospective therapists.” Bryan had regarded her with a knowing look. “You interested? I know how you love a challenge. I also know you always had a thing for Michael.”

“I did not,” she said, though the flush in her cheeks was probably a dead giveaway that she was lying.

As desperately as she wanted to be the one to be there for Michael now, she had hesitated. “From what you say, it’s going to be a long, difficult process. He’s going to need someone he trusts. Do you think he’ll pay any attention to me? In his mind, I’m probably still your kid sister.”

Bryan had grinned. “Sis, you forget, I’ve seen you in action at the clinic when I’ve come by to pick you up. You’re hard to ignore. So, should I tell his brother you’ll take the job, and that you won’t let Michael’s lousy, uncooperative mood scare you off?”

“Hold it. Back up a minute. You said that before—something about brothers. I thought there were only girls in his family.”

“The Havilceks only had girls, but Michael was a foster kid.”

“Of course. I knew that,” Kelly said, suddenly remembering. “At least, I knew he had a different last name. I guess I never really gave much thought to it, because he didn’t seem to. So, these brothers are his biological brothers?”

Bryan had nodded. “He hadn’t seen them in years till they turned up in San Diego.”

“That must have been a shock.”

“It was. They were separated when his parents bailed on all of them. Michael was only four. He barely remembered them.”

She’d stared at her brother with surprise. “Is this something you just found out, or did you know it when we were kids?”

He shook his head. “I knew he was a foster kid. But back then, Michael never talked about how he’d wound up with the Havilceks. Every time I started to ask about his real family, he told me the Havilceks were his real family, the only one that counted.”

The story explained a lot…and added to her fascination with Michael Devaney, a fascination she was going to have to ignore if she was going to do her job the way it needed to be done.

“I’m scheduled at the clinic tomorrow, but tell Ryan I’ll go by to see Michael the day after tomorrow,” she had told her brother. “Whether I stay, though, is going to have to be up to Michael. I can’t force him to do therapy if he’s not willing.”

Bryan had grinned at her. “Since when? I thought you specialized in difficult, uncooperative patients.”

She did, but none of them were Michael Devaney, who’d always left her tongue-tied.

Since that conversation with her brother, she’d had more than twenty-four hours to prepare herself for this meeting, but she was as jittery as if it were the first case she’d ever handled. Today she was only doing an evaluation, working up a therapy schedule and making sure that Michael was going to be comfortable having Bryan’s kid sister as his therapist. She was counting on a brisk, polite half-hour visit.

She was not counting on the crash of something against the door when she rang the bell. Nor on the bellow telling her to go the hell away.

Oddly enough, the tantrum steadied her nerves and stiffened her resolve. She had a key in her pocket, passed along to her by Bryan, but when she tested the door, she found it was unlocked. Michael might be furious at the universe, he might be testing her courage, but he wasn’t really trying to keep her out, or that door would have been locked tight with the security chain in place.

She plastered a smile on her face, squared her shoulders and called out a cheery greeting as she stepped across the threshold. From his wheelchair across the room, Michael glared at her, but he lowered the vase of flowers he had apparently been intent on heaving in her direction.

“Having a bad morning?” she inquired politely, ignoring the shock that seeing him had on her system. Incapacitated or not, he was still the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen.

“Having a bad life,” he snapped back. “If you’re smart, you’ll turn tail and run.”

She grinned, which only seemed to infuriate him more.

“I’m serious, dammit.”

“I’m sure you are, but you don’t scare me,” she said with pure bravado. In truth, what really terrified her was the possibility that he’d force her to leave when he so clearly needed someone with her skills to get him out of that chair and back on his feet.

His scowl deepened. “Why not? I’ve scared off everybody else.”

“How? Have you been waving a gun around?”

“Not likely. I believe they’ve all been removed from the premises,” he said bitterly.

“Good. Then that’s one less thing I need to worry about,” she said. “Mind if I sit down?”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

She crossed the room, paused in front of his wheelchair and held out her hand. “It’s good to see you again, Michael. You look great.” And he did. Despite the exhaustion evident in his eyes, despite his unshaven cheeks, he looked exactly the way she’d remembered him—strong and invincible and sexy as sin. Not even his being in a wheelchair could change that.

For a minute he seemed totally taken aback by her comment, but eventually he clasped her hand in his. To her very deep regret, the contact sent a shock straight through her. She’d been hoping she was past being affected by him, that a girl’s crush wouldn’t inevitably mean that there would be a woman’s attraction. It would make the next few weeks or months a lot easier on both of them if she wasn’t fighting unreciprocated feelings of attraction.

“You look good, too,” he muttered, as if he wasn’t all that comfortable with polite chitchat. That much at least hadn’t changed. Michael never had been much for small talk. He’d always been direct to the point of bluntness.

“I’m sorry you were hurt,” she said.

“Not half as sorry as I am.”

“Probably not. So let’s see what we can do about getting you back on your feet.”

His already grim expression turned to a glower. “Look, the doctors have already told me that I’ll never work as a SEAL again, so let’s not waste your time or mine.”

“And that’s the only profession out there for a man with a sharp mind?” she asked.

“It’s the only one I care about.”

She decided not to waste her breath trying to bully him out of such a ridiculously hardheaded, self-defeating stance. “Okay, then, if you’re not motivated to walk again so you can get back to work, what about so you can do a few simple things like going for a walk in the park or maybe going out to get your own groceries? The way I remember it, you’re an independent guy. Are you going to be content letting other people manage your life for you?”

He patted the wheelchair. “With a little more practice, I’ll be able to get around well enough in this.”

Now it was her turn to frown. “And you’re ready to accept that?”

“It’s not as if I have a real choice. The doctors said—”

She cut him off. “Oh, what do they know?” she asked impatiently. “The Michael I remember would take that as a challenge. Why not prove them wrong?” She looked him straight in the eye. “Or do you have something better you’d like to be doing?”

“I keep busy.”

Kelly eyed the computer across the room. A bingo game was on the screen. “I imagine you can earn pocket change playing bingo, but I also imagine you’ll be bored to tears in a couple of weeks.” She shrugged. “Still, it’s your choice. I certainly can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Damn straight,” he muttered.

She bit back a smile at the display of defiance. “So, Michael, what’s it going to be? Do I go or stay?”

Once again, she’d obviously taken him by surprise by leaving the decision entirely up to him. He blinked hard, then sighed. “Stay if you want to,” he said grudgingly.

She grinned at him. “Okay, then, let’s do this my way,” she said. “Here’s what I’m thinking.” She laid out the exercises and the rigorous schedule she’d already devised based on the medical information his brother had shared with her. “What do you think?”

“Do you have a masochistic streak I missed when you were a kid?” he grumbled.

Kelly grinned. “No, but I have what it takes to get you out of that chair.”

For the first time since she’d arrived, he actually looked her directly in the eye, then slowly nodded. “You may have, at that.”

“Then that’s all that really matters, isn’t it? I’ll see you first thing tomorrow. Be ready to work your butt off, Devaney.”

He chuckled. “You’re tougher than you used to be, Kelly.”

“You’d better believe it,” she said. “And I don’t have a lot of use for self-pity, so get over it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a salute.

She gave a nod of satisfaction. “It’s always helpful when the client realizes right off who’s in charge. Therapy goes much more smoothly.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

“Not to worry. I’ll make sure of it,” she said, winking at him as she closed the door behind her.

She paused outside and leaned against the wall, unsuccessfully fighting the tears she hadn’t allowed herself to shed in front of him. She’d put on a damn good show for him, but she’d been shaken. What if she couldn’t do what she’d promised? What if she couldn’t get him out of that wheelchair and back on his feet?

“Stop it,” she muttered. Failure was not an option, not with Michael.

As for getting personally involved with a client, that wasn’t an option, either, but she had a horrible feeling it was already too late to stop it.

Chapter Two

“So, how did you and Kelly get along?” Bryan Andrews asked Michael when he stopped by for a beer at the end of the day.

Michael studied his one-time best friend with a narrowed gaze. He still wasn’t sure how much he appreciated Bryan’s unequivocal recommendation of Kelly for the job as his therapist. “Did she do a tour in the marines I don’t know about?”

“Nope.”

“I remember her as a sweet kid. She’s changed.” And that was a massive understatement that didn’t even take into account the pale gold hair swept up in a knot that revealed the long, delicate line of her neck, the silky complexion and the woman’s body with all the appropriate curves.

“She deals with a lot of cantankerous patients at the rehab clinic. She’s had to change,” Bryan said. He gave Michael a warning look. “Give her any grief and you’ll have me to contend with, too.”

“Trust me, I don’t think she needs her protective big brother butting in,” Michael told him. “She could take me out in ten seconds flat.”

“Are you telling me there’s finally a woman who can get the upper hand with you?” Bryan taunted, clearly delighted. “And that it’s my baby sister?”

“Only because of my weakened condition,” Michael assured him.

“Good to know. Back in high school I used to envy the way you could take ’em or leave ’em. The rest of us were slaves to our hormones, but not you. There wasn’t a girl in school who could twist you in knots.”

That seemed like a lifetime ago to Michael. He’d had a purpose then, and he’d known that a teenage romance would only get in the way. “I was focused on what I wanted to do with my future. I didn’t have time to get serious about any girl.”

“That doesn’t mean you couldn’t have had any one you wanted,” Bryan said. “It was great hanging out with you. The girls swarmed around you, and I ended up dating them.”

Michael gave him a wry look. “I hope you’re not counting on that happening now. I doubt any woman will give me a second look while I’m in this chair.”

“If you ask me, that alone is a great reason to get out of it,” Bryan said. “Stick with Kelly. She’ll have you whipped into shape in no time.” His expression sobered. “Seriously, pal, she’s good. Cooperate with her. Let her do her thing. If anyone can help you, she can.”

“Stop trying to sell her. She has the job. And it’s not as if she’s going to give me much choice about cooperating,” Michael retorted, able to laugh for the first time in weeks as he thought of the way Kelly had held her own in the face of his display of temper.

Even as the unfamiliar sound of his laughter filled his cramped apartment, he realized that Kelly Andrews had brought two things into his life during her one brief visit—a breath of fresh air and, far more important, the first faint ray of hope he’d felt since his SEAL team had dragged him out of harm’s way.

He immediately brought himself up short. He had been in some tricky, dangerous situations over the years, but nothing had ever scared him quite so badly as the sudden realization, that well-intentioned or not, Kelly might be holding out false hope.

Fear crawled up the back of his throat until he could almost taste it. If he tried to walk and failed, it might be far more devastating than never having tried at all. In the real world, how many miracles was one man entitled to? He’d gotten out of his last mission alive. Maybe that was his quota of good luck for one lifetime.

He looked up and saw that Bryan was regarding him with concern.

“You okay?” Bryan asked.

“Just reminding myself of something,” he said grimly.

“Judging from that expression on your face, it wasn’t anything good.”

Michael shrugged. He wasn’t about to tell Kelly’s brother that he’d been reminding himself that she was a mere woman, not a miracle worker. It was a distinction he couldn’t allow himself to forget, not for one single second.

“Are you sure you ought to be taking on this particular client?” Moira Brady asked Kelly, her expression filled with concern.

“I’m a professional. I can keep my feelings under control,” Kelly insisted. “Besides, it’s been years since I had my crush on Michael Devaney. I was a kid.”

Moira regarded her skeptically. “Then you had absolutely no reaction to seeing him again? He was just a patient, someone you happened to know from years ago?”

“Absolutely.”

“Liar.”

Kelly frowned at her best friend, who also ran the rehabilitation clinic where Kelly worked part-time on days when she didn’t have private patients scheduled. “I don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal about this, Moira.”

“Because I don’t want to see you get hurt,” Moira said bluntly. “You always give your patients a hundred and ten percent, Kelly. You care about their progress. You feel guilty if they don’t achieve the results you’ve been anticipating.”

“Well, of course I do. Are you saying I shouldn’t?”

“No, but add in your personal history with Michael Devaney, and I see a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Oh, please,” Kelly said derisively. “Michael and I don’t have a personal history.”

“But you fantasized about one,” Moira countered. “I know that because you told me about him in glowing detail way back when we first met in college. He’d been gone for three years by then, but you hadn’t forgotten the least little thing about him. Can you honestly tell me that there wasn’t one teeny-tiny spark when you walked into his apartment yesterday?”

A spark? More like a bonfire, Kelly thought wryly. Not that she intended to admit it. “No spark,” she said flatly.

Moira’s gaze narrowed suspiciously. “Okay, is this one of those semantics things? What if I asked about fireworks? Would you admit to that?”

Kelly sighed. “It doesn’t matter. Michael Devaney doesn’t think of me in that way. I’m his friend’s kid sister.”

“Think he’ll remember that when you’re massaging his muscles?”

Kelly felt the heat climbing into her cheeks. She’d been wondering about that very thing herself. Anticipating it. She’d been itching to get her hands on those taut muscles of Michael’s for years. Now she had the perfect excuse. She swallowed hard and banished the totally unprofessional thought.

Scowling, she reminded both of them, “I’m a professional, dammit!”

“Yeah, sure,” Moira said. “You keep telling yourself that. And just in case you forget it, I’ll mention it to you every chance I get.”

Michael couldn’t seem to get his pants on. Lately he’d taken to wearing sweatpants because they were easy and comfortable and warm, but he’d gotten it into his head to put on a pair of jeans for this first session with Kelly. His bum leg wasn’t cooperating.

He had the pants half on and half off when the doorbell rang. Scowling, he gave one more forceful yank on the jeans and barely managed to stifle a howl of agony. Or at least he thought he had, until he looked straight up into Kelly’s worried gray eyes. Her cheeks were flushed and she was still wearing a bright pink ski jacket over a sweater that looked so soft he immediately wanted to stroke his hand over the material…and the woman under it.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Aside from having an uninvited guest appear in my bedroom, I’m just peachy,” he growled.

Her chin shot up and fire blazed in her eyes. “Not uninvited. I’m here for our appointment, and I’m not even a minute early. I only came in because you didn’t answer the door and I thought I heard you cry out.”

“I didn’t answer the door because I wasn’t dressed,” he retorted. “How the hell did you get in, anyway?”

“Your brother gave me a key,” she said. “And since you’re obviously okay, I’ll head on into the living room and get set up. You might as well strip out of those pants before you join me.”

The suggestion probably couldn’t have been more innocent, but something that felt a whole lot like desire slammed straight through him. “I beg your pardon?”

Kelly gestured toward his jeans. “The pants. Lose them. I’m going to start with a massage to loosen up those tight muscles.”

Michael swallowed hard. She intended to put her hands all over him? He frowned at her. “Did we talk about that when you were here yesterday?”

“I’m sure it came up,” she said briskly. “Five minutes, okay? I have another client in an hour, so there’s no time to waste.”

Michael stared after her as she left his room. They most definitely had not talked about this. He would never have agreed to letting her put her soft as silk hands on his body. He might be injured, but he wasn’t dead. One touch and he suspected this could go from a therapy session to something else entirely. It had been too blasted long since he’d felt a woman’s hands on his bare skin. His best friend’s baby sister was not the woman who should be testing his willpower.

Still wearing his jeans—zipped up and securely in place now—he wheeled himself into the living room. “We need to rethink this,” he said tightly. “It’s not going to work out.”

She leveled a look straight at him. “Oh? Why is that?”

“I don’t think you ought to be touching me.”

He could almost swear that her lips twitched at that, but she managed to cling to a perfectly serious expression.

Hands shoved into the pockets of her own snug-fitting jeans, she inquired curiously, “I don’t make you nervous, do I?”

“Of course you make me nervous,” he retorted. “What man wouldn’t be nervous when an attractive woman he barely knows suddenly announces that she’s going to be massaging him?”

“You’ve known me since I was fourteen,” she reminded him. “And it’s therapy, not seduction.”

“Tell that to my body,” he mumbled under his breath, very aware that the conversation alone was having an extremely interesting effect on certain parts of his anatomy. This was Kelly, dammit. What was wrong with him? Bryan would mop the floor with him—and rightly so—if he heard about Michael’s reaction to his sister.

“What was that?” she inquired, her expression all innocence.

“Nothing.”

“Come on, Michael. You were a SEAL. The way I hear it, they’re the bravest of the brave. Are you actually going to fire me before we even get started, just because I’m going to massage you? What would your buddies think of that?”

The challenge hung in the air. The woman was good. Really good. She knew exactly how to play him. He scowled at her. “If I had half a brain, I would.”

She did grin then. “Is that a yes or a no?”

Michael considered his options. He could fire her right now and hire somebody else—preferably some ox of a man—or he could try getting through at least one treatment before calling it quits. He owed Kelly for one session anyway, and something told him she wouldn’t take a cent if he didn’t let her do her job. He weighed fairness against self-preservation, and opted for fairness.

“We’ll see how it goes today,” he said finally.

She gave the slightest little nod of satisfaction. “Okay, then, let me help you out of those pants.”

One fierce look from him stopped her in her tracks. “Or you can get them yourself,” she said.

Wincing at the shooting pain that accompanied every movement, Michael finally managed to shed the pants and heave himself onto her portable massage table. At least he was on his stomach, so he wouldn’t have to see her face when she saw the jagged scars from the surgery. He didn’t miss her sharp intake of breath, though.

He felt a soft splash of warm oil on his injured leg, then the skimming touch of her hands as she smoothed it down the back of his thigh and over his calf. Her touch was gentle rather than provocative, but that didn’t stop the sudden shock of awareness that flowed through him. Michael forced his mind to detach itself from her actions and concentrate on counting backward from a thousand. It was a tactic that had served him well in other situations involving slow torture.

“Am I hurting you?” she asked.

The simple question dragged her from the periphery of his consciousness right back into his head. “No,” he said tersely, trying to mentally haul himself back to that nice, safe place.

For a few moments, blessed silence fell. Michael made it all the way down to nine hundred and two before she spoke again.

“What happened?” she asked.

He resigned himself to staying in the disconcerting moment. “When?”

“When you were hurt.”

“I walked into a trap,” he said, still filled with self-loathing at the stupidity of it. He should have known what was going on. He should never have trusted the intelligence report that the caves had been cleared of terrorists. He’d always relied on his own surveillance, his own instincts, but this one time he’d gotten anxious, a little careless. It was a bitter lesson that would have served him well in the future…if only he had one.

“Where were you?”

Too many years of keeping silent about his work kept him cautious even now. “I can’t say.”

“But you were a Navy SEAL, right? So I can assume that this had something to do with the war on terrorism?”

“You can assume anything you want to assume.”

Her fingers began to massage a little deeper, working muscles too long unused. Knots of tension in his legs seemed to ease, at least as long as she didn’t venture too close to the scars. That area was still amazingly tender. He yelped the first time she touched the bullet’s exit wound on the back of his thigh.

“Sorry.”

“I’ll survive.”

“I’m sure of that,” she agreed. “But I’ll be more careful around the scars. I can’t ignore them, though, because that skin’s going to need to be stretched.”

“Whatever you say.”

She patted his leg. “That’s it for today, then.”

He glanced up and regarded her with surprise. “You’re finished?”

“It’s been nearly an hour, and I have another appointment across town.”

“At this rate, we’re not going to make much progress,” he said, suddenly disgruntled by the too-quick end of the session and the complete lack of anything remotely like measurable improvement. “I thought you were going to work my butt off, or am I misquoting you?”

“Nope, that’s what I said, and that day will come. I’ve got you scheduled for two hours, day after tomorrow. We’ll start the exercises then.” She met his gaze. “That is, if I passed today’s probation.”

He ought to tell her to get the hell out and stay away, but he couldn’t seem to make himself do it. He was too afraid of the disappointment or disdain he’d see in her eyes. Either one would make him feel like a jerk. Besides, a part of him couldn’t help clinging to the possibility that she was his best hope for getting back on his feet again.

He met her gaze. Now that he was willing to give therapy a try, he wanted to see progress. He wasn’t scared of a little pain or hard work. In fact, he looked forward to it. “Make it three hours, day after tomorrow.”

“You’re not ready for three hours,” she said flatly.

He scowled at her reaction. “Let me be the judge of what I can handle. I’ve gone through training so rigorous, it would make your therapy seem like child’s play.”

“Have you done it since having several bones shattered, to say nothing of going through—what was it—three surgeries?” she inquired tartly.

The woman was tough as nails. It was a trait he couldn’t help admiring. “Okay, you made your point. Two hours, but if I’m up to it, we’ll go to three the next time,” he bargained. “Is it a deal?”

Kelly looked for a moment as if she might argue. Finally she held out her hand. “Deal.”

Michael took her hand in his and instantly regretted it. It had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed to ignore the way her hands had moved over his body earlier. Now, with something as simple as a handshake, he was once more thoroughly aware of her as a desirable woman.

Her skin was amazingly soft, her grip strong. A faint hint of the aromatic oil she’d used for the massage lingered in the air. It wasn’t the least bit feminine—quite the opposite, in fact—but it suddenly turned erotic. If he’d been another kind of man in a different situation, he would have brought her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. Instead, he released her hand as if he’d been burned.

A faint flicker of surprise flashed across her face, followed almost instantly by understanding. To his disgust she’d apparently guessed that for one brief second he’d let himself cross some sort of line.

“Is there anything I can do for you before I go?” she asked.

A thousand and one wicked possibilities slammed through him. “Not a thing,” he said tightly.

“Are you sure?”

“I thought you were in a hurry.”

“I can spare five minutes,” she said, regarding him with amusement. “I could fix you some breakfast if you haven’t had any.”

Forget breakfast, and five minutes wouldn’t be nearly long enough to act on a single one of those wicked possibilities, Michael thought wryly. He wondered what she would do, though, if he suggested, say, a kiss.

It wasn’t propriety or the thought of Bryan pounding him to a pulp that stopped him. It was the very distinct likelihood that it would backfire on him. If he was already having totally inappropriate thoughts about Kelly after one very brief therapy session, a kiss could very well send him over the edge. He might start obsessing about the way she’d feel in his arms. He might forget all about the reason she was there…to help him get back on his feet, not to help him prove he was still first and foremost a man.

Michael sighed heavily, determined to ignore the tantalizing sparks sizzling in the air. “I’ll see you day after tomorrow.”

She almost looked disappointed. “Whatever you say.”

To keep himself from doing anything foolish, he deliberately turned his wheelchair in the direction of the kitchen, putting his back to her. “Lock the door on your way out,” he said.

He expected to hear the door open and close, the lock click into place. Instead, there was nothing, not even a whisper of movement.

“What are you going to do with the rest of your day?” she asked finally.

“Planning my activities is not part of your job,” he retorted more sharply than necessary.

“I was asking, not planning,” she responded, evidently undaunted by his tone. “I hate to think of you being shut away in here all alone.”

“You might not think my company has much to recommend it,” he said. “But I’m content with it.”

“Have you called the Havilceks and told them you’re back? Have you even told them what happened to you?”

Back still to Kelly, Michael frowned at the question. He’d made one call to them from San Diego to let them know he’d been injured, but that he was recuperating. To his astonishment, Mrs. Havilcek had wanted to fly out right away, but he’d explained about Ryan and Sean being there.

“Oh, Michael, that’s wonderful,” she’d said with what sounded like total sincerity. “I won’t come now, then, but you call me if you need me. I can be there the next day.”

The memory of that promise had been enough to warm him whenever loneliness had crept in after Ryan and Sean had headed back East. It was enough to know that Mrs. Havilcek would come if called, and amazing to think that after all the years she’d cared for and loved him, that he’d even doubted for a minute that she would.

“Have you gotten in touch with them?” Kelly prodded.

“Not since I got to Boston,” he admitted.

She regarded him incredulously. “Why on earth not?”

He wasn’t sure he could explain it. He loved his foster family. The Havilceks had been great parents to him. And he couldn’t have been any closer to the girls if they had been his real big sisters. But when Ryan and Sean had turned up, he’d felt almost disloyal to the Havilceks, as if having feelings for his biological brothers was some sort of betrayal of all his foster family had done for him. He was still wrestling with how to handle keeping all of them in their rightful place in his life, a life that had changed dramatically since he’d last seen them.

“I’ll call them,” he told Kelly, “once things are a little more settled.”

“You mean after you’re back on your feet? Don’t you want them to see you when you’re not a hundred percent? Do you think they’d care about that?” she demanded indignantly.

He found the suggestion that he was acting out of misplaced pride vaguely insulting. “No, of course not. It’s not about that at all.”

“What then?”

He regarded her with a wry expression. “You know, Kelly, maybe there’s something we ought to get straight. You’re here to help me walk again. Leave the rest of my life to me.”

“I would, if you weren’t so obviously dead set on wasting it,” she shot back. “But that’s okay. I’ll drop it for now.”

“For good,” he countered.

She flashed him a brilliant smile. “Sorry. I can’t promise that.”

Before he could threaten to fire her if she insisted on meddling in things that were none of her concern, she was out the door. The lock clicked softly into place, just as he’d requested.

Michael should have felt relieved to have her gone, relieved to be alone with hours stretching out ahead of him to do whatever struck his fancy, at least given the limits of his mobility.

Instead, all he felt was regret.

Chapter Three

If Michael had been anticipating a lonely, boring day to himself after Kelly’s departure, he should have known better. Despite his admonition to Ryan that he was to be no one’s project, his brothers and sisters-in-law were apparently determined that he not have a single minute to himself to sit and brood. In fact, by the end of the day he wouldn’t have been surprised to discover a schedule of their assigned comings and goings posted outside his door.

Maggie was first on the scene, with Caitlyn in tow. His niece came in dragging a purple suitcase on wheels, which he discovered was filled with her favorite picture books and a doll that was apparently capable of saying all the words Caitlyn had yet to master. She shoved the doll in his arms, then climbed up beside him on the sofa, put a book in his lap and regarded him expectantly.

“She wants you to read to her,” Maggie said, as if that hadn’t been perfectly obvious, even to a novice uncle like him.

Michael studied the thick board book with its brightly colored pictures, started to flip it open to the first page, only to have Caitlyn very firmly turn it back to the cover and point emphatically. He gathered he was supposed to begin with the title.

“The Runaway Bunny,” he began.

Caitlyn nodded happily, then snuggled closer.

Michael glanced in Maggie’s direction, caught her satisfied smile and gave in to the inevitable. He discovered that reading to a one-year-old might not involve complex plots, but it had its own rewards. Caitlyn was a very appreciative audience, clapping her little hands together with enthusiasm and giggling merrily.

Even so, after five books, he was more than ready for a break. He uttered a sigh of relief when Maggie announced that lunch was ready. He prayed it would be accompanied by a good stiff drink, but since he hadn’t found a drop of liquor in his cabinets after Maggie had stocked them, he wasn’t holding out much hope.

“Shall I bring lunch in there?” she asked.

“Nope. I’ll come to the kitchen,” he responded. He glanced at Caitlyn. “How about it? Want to hitch a ride with Uncle Mike?”

She nodded happily and held out her arms.

“Whoa, sweet pea. Let me get settled first.” He struggled into the wheelchair, then lifted her to his lap and wheeled into the kitchen, where Maggie was pointedly ignoring the fact that it had taken a much longer time for them to get there than it would have taken for her to bring the lunch into the living room to him and Caitlyn.

“How did your first therapy session go?” she asked as she served the thick sandwiches and potato salad she’d prepared.

“Why am I not surprised that you knew it was this morning?” he inquired dryly. “And why am I stunned that it took you this long to get around to asking about it?”

Maggie gave him an irrepressible smile. “I’m learning restraint.”

Michael laughed. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty well today, apparently.” Her expression sobered. “So, how did it go? You didn’t scare Kelly off, did you? She seemed like a nice young woman when she came by the pub to pick up a key to this place from Ryan.”

“About that,” he began, intending to explain that his key wasn’t to be handed out at random to anyone who asked or professed a need for a copy.

Maggie held up a silencing hand. “I know. I told Ryan he should have consulted with you first, but he was afraid she’d show up for the consultation and you wouldn’t let her in. He figured the key would assure that you’d see her at least once.” She met his gaze. “You can always ask her to give it back. Did you?”

“No,” he admitted, not entirely sure why he hadn’t. Maybe it was best not to examine his reasons.

Maggie seemed to be struggling with a grin. “I see. Then things have gone okay with Kelly?”

He was not about to admit that Kelly had actually left today before he was ready for her to go. Maggie would clearly make way too much of that, though whether she’d deduce it was enthusiasm for therapy or for the therapist was a toss-up.

“She’ll be back day after tomorrow,” he conceded grudgingly, and let it go at that.

“Terrific.”

He studied his sister-in-law intently. “So, Maggie, who has the afternoon shift?”

She regarded him blankly. “Excuse me?”

“Is Sean coming by to take over when you take the peanut here home for her nap? Or maybe his wife? Then, again, Deanna has already called in today, so maybe it’s Ryan’s turn.”

Color bloomed in Maggie’s cheeks.

Michael sighed. “I thought so. You all divvied up the assignment so I wouldn’t be alone for more than an hour or so at a time, didn’t you? I’m amazed nobody took the night shift, or is somebody that I don’t know about sitting in the hallway from midnight to seven in the morning?”

Maggie’s chin rose, eyes flashing. “Your brothers are concerned about you. It’s perfectly natural.”

“Where was that concern twenty years ago? Or even five years ago?” he demanded heatedly. “Hovering now won’t make up for all those years they didn’t do a damn thing to find me.”

Maggie regarded him in silence.

“No answer for that?” he pushed, even though he knew he was being totally unreasonable by taking years of pent-up anger out on her. “I didn’t think so.”

Before he could wheel himself away from the table, Maggie rested her hand on his. “They were hurt, too, you know.”

“Not by me, dammit!”

“No, of course not. But you were all kids,” she reminded him with gentle censure. “None of you could have been expected to fight the system to find your way back to the others.”

“We’ve all been adults for a long time now,” he retorted.

She regarded him with an unflinching stare. “Then I’ll ask you this—did you look for Ryan or Sean?”

Michael’s heart throbbed dully as he thought of how hard he’d worked to block out all memories of his big brothers. He’d substituted the loving Havilceks for his family. They would never have turned their backs on one of their kids, not even him, though he’d spent a lot of years with his heart in his throat expecting the worst.

“No,” he admitted, “but—”

“Can’t you let it be enough that your brothers are back in your life now? We’re family, Michael. It may be late, but let’s not waste any more time by tossing around a lot of useless recriminations.”

Gazing into his sister-in-law’s troubled green eyes, Michael fought off the desire to prolong the argument. Maggie was right. There was nothing to be gained by holding grudges, and maybe quite a lot to be gained by forgiveness.

“Okay, then,” he said at last. “I’ll work on putting aside the past, if you’ll do something for me in return.”

“Anything,” she agreed readily.

“Can the hovering,” he said bluntly. “I have to learn to do things for myself. And if there’s something I can’t manage, I’ll call and ask for help.”

She studied him skeptically. “You promise that you won’t shut us out completely?”

He grinned at that. “As if you’d let me. No, Maggie, I won’t shut any of you out. You’re welcome here anytime…just not all the time.”

She laughed. “Okay, I get it. I’ll speak to Ryan, Sean and Deanna.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Of course, that puts you in my debt, at least a little, doesn’t it?”

He eyed her warily. “A little, I suppose. Why?”

“Will you come to the pub on Friday night? There will be Irish music, and the special’s fish and chips. Ryan can come by to pick you up.”

Michael was surprised to find that the prospect held some appeal. “You’re a tough negotiator, Maggie Devaney.”

“I know,” she said with unmistakable pride. “I had to be to win your brother’s heart. You may find this hard to believe, but he was even less trusting than you are.”

“You’re right. I do find that hard to believe.”

“Well, it’s true.” She smiled at him. “Will you come?”

“I’ll come,” he agreed. “But I’ll get there on my own.”

She opened her mouth, but he cut her off before she could protest. “If I can’t manage it, I’ll call.”

“Fair enough, then. I’ll do these dishes and get out of your hair.”

Michael glanced at his niece and saw that she was nodding off in her booster seat at the table. “I think maybe you ought to get Caitlyn home for her nap, instead. I can clear things away in here.”

“But—”

He deliberately scowled at her. “Go, Maggie, before you undo all the warm and fuzzy feelings I’m developing toward you.”

She laughed at that, picked up her daughter, then bent and kissed his cheek. “I’m glad to have you as part of our family. You’ll get to meet the rest of the O’Briens on Friday night. You might want to brace yourself. My family can be a little overwhelming. Ryan and I have been married for nearly two years now, and they still make him nervous.”

“Now there’s a fine recommendation,” Michael responded dryly. “I’m really looking forward to Friday night, after that.”

“The music will compensate for the chaos. I promise.”

Michael believed her, which was a bit of a miracle in and of itself. Other than the men on his SEAL team, he’d long ago lost his faith in promises.

Kelly wasn’t sure what to expect when she arrived for her second therapy session with Michael. Even though during her last visit he’d agreed to continue with his rehabilitation, he wouldn’t be the first patient to have a change of heart between sessions, especially if he’d spent the intervening hours brooding.

She rang the bell at his apartment promptly at 10:00 a.m., then waited to see what sort of greeting she got. She counted it a positive sign when nothing crashed against the door. Nor were there any cries of pain from inside. So far, it was going better than either of her earlier visits.

When another full minute had passed, she rang the bell again. “Michael, it’s me. Is everything okay? Should I come on in?”

More silence. She frowned at the door. Had he bailed on her, after all? Or was he inside, simply ignoring her, hoping she would go away? She was about to put her key in the lock, when the front door of the building crashed open. Kelly whirled around and found herself staring straight into Michael’s very blue eyes.

“Sorry,” he said as he awkwardly tried to manipulate the chair into the foyer. “I had to go out. I thought I’d be back before you got here, but everything took longer than I expected.”

Kelly stared at him. “You went out?” she said blankly. Where? How? She resisted the urge to ask questions he would no doubt find intrusive, if not downright insulting.

“To the store,” he said, holding up two small plastic bags crammed with groceries. He looked astonishingly pleased with himself.

“How did you manage?” she asked. “Did you call a taxi?”

“Of course not. The store’s only a few blocks away.”

Her incredulity grew. “You went in your wheelchair?”

“I sure as hell didn’t walk,” he retorted, his good mood evaporating.

Kelly immediately felt guilty for spoiling his moment of triumph. “Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting it. It’s terrific that you were able to manage on your own.”

His scowl stayed firmly in place. “You’re not out of a job just yet, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

“No, of course not. You caught me off guard, that’s all.” She gestured toward the apartment. “And I was worried when you didn’t answer the door.”

“Well, I’m here now, and that clock of yours is no doubt ticking, so let’s get started.”

Filled with regret about the tension she’d managed to cause, she merely nodded and stepped aside. “Go on in. I’ll be right behind you.”

He wheeled past without comment. Kelly leaned against the wall for a second and drew in a deep breath. Why was it that she couldn’t manage to have one single encounter with this man without some sort of misunderstanding? She’d never had problems making herself clear before, but Michael managed to keep her off-kilter and tongue-tied. When she finally did speak, everything kept coming out wrong. Sure, he was understandably prickly, but she seemed to have a special knack for setting him off.

Determined not to let it happen again, she squared her shoulders and carried her equipment inside. While Michael was putting his groceries away, she got set up.

A few minutes later he came into the living room wearing a pair of boxers, a T-shirt and a frown. He gestured toward the massage table.

“Are we starting with that again?”

Kelly nodded.

He struggled awkwardly from the chair to the table, then stretched out facedown. Kelly put some of her aromatic oil on his injured leg and began to massage, trying to ignore the body heat the man put out. If she were ever stranded outdoors in a blizzard, Michael was definitely the man she’d want with her. He emitted heat like a blast furnace.

His muscles were also knotted with tension, probably due in part to her. She smoothed her hands over his powerful thigh and down the length of his calf until she finally felt the tension begin to ease.

The massage probably went on longer than necessary because she enjoyed touching him so much, enjoyed the fact that for once they weren’t at odds, enjoyed even more the soft sigh of pleasure that eased through him.

It was the sigh, though, that snapped her back to reality and reminded her that the massage was not about her enjoyment, or even his. It was therapy, a prelude to some of the stretching exercises she’d scheduled for today. Kelly had a feeling that one reason she’d put off getting to those was the knowledge that Michael was going to be indignant that she wasn’t assigning him anything more strenuous.

“Okay, that’s it,” she forced herself to say finally.

Michael sat up slowly and regarded her with confusion. “For the day? We’re finished?”

She smiled at his obvious dismay. “Not just yet. I have some stretching exercises for you to try. It’ll help with getting those torn muscles and ligaments back into shape.”

As she’d expected, he frowned.

“Stretching?” he asked disdainfully. “Come on, Kelly, can’t we move beyond that?”

She regarded him evenly. “You straighten that injured leg out and do ten leg lifts and we’ll reevaluate my plan.”

“Piece of cake,” he boasted.

“Okay, then, let’s see it,” she said, her arms folded across her chest as she stood back and waited.

She wasn’t the least bit surprised when he couldn’t get his leg to straighten completely. Nor when his first attempt to lift it in the air had sweat beading on his brow. He was wincing in obvious pain as he finally managed to raise the leg a scant three or four inches.

“Okay, you win,” he grumbled, scowling fiercely. “But nobody likes a know-it-all woman, you know.”

“I don’t need you to like me,” she said cheerfully. “I just need you to trust me.”

“Sweetheart, there are very few people on earth I trust,” he said bitterly. “I don’t know you well enough for you to make the cut.”

The comment tore straight through her, but she forced herself not to let it show. “Then maybe we need to do something to change that.”

His gaze narrowed. “Such as?”

“Spend some time together.”

Her response clearly startled him.

“You’re asking me out?” he inquired warily.

Kelly’s pulse skittered crazily at the idea, but she kept her tone even. “As if I’d date an ill-tempered old man like you,” she taunted.

He frowned at that. “I’m only three years older than you.”

She grinned. “I notice you didn’t try to argue with the ill-tempered part.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t see much point in it. When you’re right, you’re right. I’ll try to stop taking my bad moods out on you.”

“Thank you.”

“So, if you weren’t suggesting a date, what were you suggesting?”

“Just getting out in the world. It’ll give me a chance to evaluate your motor skills in a more realistic setting, and you can ask me whatever questions are on your mind.”

He regarded her doubtfully. “And you think that will build trust?”

“Couldn’t hurt,” she said.

“What do you think your brother will have to say about you and me going out?”

“Bryan doesn’t interfere in my work. For that matter, though, he’s welcome to come along.” Maybe her brother could smooth things over between them, keep her from saying the wrong thing, or at the very least, keep Michael from misinterpreting what she said and taking offense. “Is it a deal?”

He seemed to be struggling with the offer, weighing it from every angle to see if he could find a catch. Kelly could almost see the wheels in his head turning. She realized then that this whole trust business was a far larger issue than she’d first assumed. Obviously it had to do with his family background. How on earth could she be expected to overcome that kind of distrust in a few short therapy sessions?

She looked him in the eye. “Or would you prefer to start over with another therapist.”

“No,” he said at once.

She might have found the quick response flattering if she didn’t suspect it had more to do with his dread of wasting time searching for someone new than it did with her.

“Okay, then,” she said. “Pick a day and we’ll get together.”

“Friday,” he suggested finally. “I promised my sister-in-law today that I’d go to the pub Friday evening. Why don’t you and Bryan come along?”

Kelly nodded. “Sounds good. Want us to pick you up? You’re on our way.”

“Sure,” he said eventually, as if he’d wrestled with that decision, too.

She grinned at him. “You’re not sacrificing your independence, you know. You really are on our way.”

He gave her a self-deprecating grin that made Kelly’s heart flip over.

“I know,” he admitted. “That’s why I finally gave in. I’m stubborn. I’m not an idiot.”

She laughed then. “A distinction I’ll try to remember.”

His expression sobered. “So will I. I really am sorry for giving you such a rough time. It’s just that all this is so blasted frustrating.”

She patted his hand. “Compared to some people I’ve worked with, you’re downright sweet-natured.”

Michael winced at the description, just as she’d expected him to.

“Don’t worry,” she reassured him. “I won’t let it get around. I imagine you big, tough SEALs pride yourselves on being as cantankerous as they come.”

“You’d better believe it,” he agreed, his fierce expression belied by the twinkle in his eyes. After an instant, the sparkle dimmed. “Of course, ex-SEALs are another breed entirely.”

There was no mistaking the return of bitterness and despair in his tone. Kelly desperately wanted to make things better, but she wasn’t sure if she could find the right words. She made herself try, though.

“You know, Michael, it seems to me that in some ways it takes as much bravery to face a future all alone without the SEALs as it does to take on some dangerous, covert mission surrounded by an entire team of highly trained experts,” she told him.

“In other words, if I don’t get over myself and face this whole therapy thing head-on, I’m a coward?” he asked.

“Your words, not mine,” she said.

He sighed heavily. “Then maybe that’s exactly what I am,” he conceded, his expression bleak. “Because if I’m no longer a SEAL, then I don’t know who the hell I am.”

Kelly could have offered a whole string of platitudes that would have meant nothing at all to him, but she didn’t. Instead, she merely touched his shoulder. “But you’ll figure it out,” she said quietly.

“I wish I were as sure of that as you seem to be.”

“You’re a smart man, you’ll find your way,” she insisted. “Trust me.”

His gaze captured hers and held. “Which brings us full circle.”

She gathered up her things and headed for the door. “I’ll see you Friday night and we’ll work on it,” she said, because suddenly there was nothing on earth more important to her than gaining Michael Devaney’s trust…unless it was giving him back his faith in himself.

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