Doctor And The Debutante
She just looked more confused. “I don’t know.”
No use pushing right now. She’d remember in time. Sean studied her huge blue eyes, the kind that could make a strong man weak. Then there was that cloud of jet-black hair and her lovely face without so much as a blemish, not even a freckle. To say nothing of her very feminine curves beneath the bulky sweater, her chest rising and falling with her nervous breathing.
He scooted the stool back a bit. “You haven’t told me your name,” he reminded her. Did she even remember it?
Good manners had been drilled into her from childhood. They had her setting aside her fear and responding to him. After all, he was a doctor, a caregiver. She had no reasonable reason to be afraid of him. The fear she felt was lingering from…from whatever it was she’d left behind.
“I’m sorry. Laura Marshall. I have an interior design studio in Old Scottsdale. My father’s Owen Marshall. He’s…”
“I’ve heard of him. He’s a Realtor.” Not just any Realtor, but one who owned half a dozen or so residential offices plus a large commercial division. He should have guessed from her clothes. Her family had pots of money. And yet, here she was, running from something. Or someone.
“Yes, that’s right. I decorate the company’s model homes, but I have a private clientele, as well.”
“Do you live with your father?” Sean had never met Owen Marshall, but he’d read that the man was widowed and lived in a large sprawling home on Camelback Mountain.
Something flickered in her eyes, a quick distaste, then was gone so quickly he wasn’t certain he’d seen it at all. “No, not since I left for college. I have a town house in Scottsdale in Old Town.”
“I’m not far from you. I have an older house on Mockingbird Lane that I’ve been renovating. Near Judson School in Paradise Valley.”
Finally, she believed him. “I know exactly where that is.” But a frown creased her forehead. “Why is it I can remember personal details, but not why I was in such a hurry to leave town?”
“It’s called traumatic amnesia. Someone who’s been traumatized by something fearful can’t recall the hurtful details but remembers common facts about her life. The rest will come back to you in time. Maybe gradually, or perhaps all at once. It’s the mind’s way of protecting you from an event too painful to recall. Something will trigger the memory when you’re ready to remember.”
Laura stared at his face, thinking he looked sincere and concerned. “You really are a doctor, aren’t you? I’m sorry I doubted you, but…”
“You don’t have to apologize. You had a frightful experience, then a bad accident and you woke up in a stranger’s house with injuries. Anyone would be skeptical.”
“My Bronco. Is it in bad shape?”
He shrugged. “Depends what you mean by bad. You must have veered off the road and down this incline, hit a small tree, then the Bronco spun around and wound up with its back end wedged between two trees. I think it can be repaired. If you’d have been driving a smaller car, you might not be here talking with me.”
She shuddered at the close call. “I just bought the Bronco about six months ago. I used to drive a BMW two-seater. But I have to carry around all these samples—carpeting, drapery, paint swatches, wood panels. I guess it was a good decision to switch.”
“Amen to that.”
Laura shifted on the couch, attempting to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through her shoulder. “Oh!”
“I think we’d better get your shoulder back in place,” Sean told her, getting to his feet. “I take it you’ve never had this type of injury before?”
Her face registered discomfort and reluctance. “No. How exactly do we get it back in place?” Laura had a feeling she wasn’t going to like whatever he was about to suggest.
“You’re going to have to trust me.” He bent to help her stand, moving gently, aware of her many sources of pain and that her ankle might prevent her from standing without help. “Put your good arm around my shoulder and hold on.” When she did, he lifted her into his arms.
Laura bit her lip so she wouldn’t cry out with the pain that stabbed like a knife through her shoulder. Her arm felt limp and useless. Despite that, as he carried her across the room, she couldn’t help but be aware of how strong he was, holding her as easily as if she were a child. His hands were large and powerful. She could scarcely imagine this big man delivering tiny babies. She’d always pictured obstetricians as middle-aged, comfortably solid, inviting confidence not speculation. Sort of neuter, sexless, harmless.
Sean Reagan was anything but. With his ruddy complexion, windblown sandy hair and athletic build, he looked more like a man who worked outdoors chopping down trees rather than bringing new lives into the world. Unbidden, her gaze settled on his mouth. Full lips, a small dimple in one corner, thoroughly tempting.
Lord, what was wrong with her, thinking sexy thoughts about a man she’d just met? That bonk on the head must have rattled her more than she’d thought. But there was a dormant sexuality about him that, even in her bruised and battered state, made her very keenly aware that she was a woman.
She didn’t need the reminder just now.
At the paneled wall, Sean stopped to explain. “I’m going to set you on your feet and brace you with my body up against the wall since I know your one ankle won’t hold your weight. I need you to hold very still, and I’m going to tell you now, this will hurt. But only for a few seconds.”
Eyes wide, Laura stared at him. “What are you going to do?” Laura remembered vaguely reading a story where someone had fixed a dislocated shoulder for a patient. It hadn’t been a pretty scene.
“The ball of your shoulder has slipped out of the socket. The only way to fix it is to yank really hard on your arm and allow the ball to jump back into place. Can you handle that?”
She wasn’t sure. “What if you yank and it doesn’t go in?”
He almost smiled. “It will. I’ve done this many times.”
“Ever lose anyone doing it?”
Now he did smile. “Keep that sense of humor.” Carefully, he stood her up and held on while she settled most of her weight on the uninjured foot. Only she was wobbly, perhaps even a little dizzy, and her knees kept buckling.
“I’ve got you. Don’t worry.” He aligned their bodies so that he was very close up against her, keeping her from sliding down by pressing himself into her as she stood with her back to the wall. The top of her head came to just under his chin. The warm womanly scent of her drifted to him as her hair nuzzled against his nose. Sean swallowed hard and dipped his head back. He’d better hurry before he embarrassed himself. “Ready?”
She felt light-headed, whether from her combined injuries, her painful arm or the reaction of being all but glued to this very male stranger, her breasts flattened against his chest, her ear pressed to his pounding heart, she couldn’t have said. “Let’s get this over with, please.” Praying she wouldn’t faint on him, Laura mentally braced herself.
Sean eased his upper body slightly away from her, placed one arm diagonally across her chest to keep her upright and took hold of her right arm with his left hand. Counting to three, he yanked hard and heard the pop as the ball slipped back into her shoulder socket. It was almost drowned out by Laura’s sharp cry.
Disliking having to hurt her any more than she was already hurting, he scooped her up into his arms and held her close, letting her absorb some of his strength. He’d always been a sucker for a woman in pain. Her face was again very pale and pinched, her eyes closed. She cradled her arm against her chest. “Are you all right?”
Just then, all the lamps went out, the furnace clicked off and the only light came from the soft glow of the fireplace clear across the room, the only sound that of their labored breathing.
Chapter Two
“Oh, no,” Laura muttered. What a time for a power outage.
“Just wait a minute,” Sean said, holding on to her. In seconds, there was a shuddering sound, then a large click. The lights blinked back on, and the furnace made a whooshing noise before resuming. “The generator kicked in,” he explained. “I have it as a backup since these winter storms often knock out our power.” He carried her back to the couch, easing her down carefully. “I’m sorry I had to hurt you.”
Laura held her injured arm close to her body, hugging it. “Had to be done.” She licked her lips, struggling with a sudden wave of nausea. Swallowing hard, she looked up at him, beginning to panic. “Where’s your bathroom? I think I’m going to be sick.”
She did look a little greenish. “Not far. Let me help you.” He slipped an arm around her and half-carried, half-supported her to a door off the kitchen. “I’ll be right outside the door if you need me,” he said, directing her inside, leaving the door slightly ajar so he could hear. He didn’t want her passing out on him.
Poor kid, Sean thought, walking away, giving her some privacy. Shock often brought on nausea. The jolt of repositioning her shoulder had likely been the last straw for her battered system. He wandered over to the front window. It was still coming down just as hard as ever. At this rate, her Bronco would be all but hidden by morning.
Sean walked over to the phone, picked it up to check. Sure enough, it was out, and would be for God only knew how long. Hands in his pockets, he slowly paced the perimeter of the large room, reluctantly admitting that he was stuck with his uninvited guest for quite some time.
Lousy timing. He wasn’t an uncharitable person, and it wasn’t that he didn’t want to help someone hurt and stranded. But he’d had a purpose in coming to the cabin at this particular time, and her arrival messed up his plans. Maybe it was for the best, he thought with a shrug. His partner had repeatedly told Sean what he thought of his annual pilgrimages, that they did more harm than good, and perhaps Jonah was right. Yet each year, as the fifteenth of February approached, Sean would feel compelled to return.
Glancing toward the bathroom door, he wondered how she was doing in there. And how she’d handle being marooned in a strange place with a melancholy man.
Laura splashed cold water on her face, then grabbed a hand towel to dry off. Standing with most of her weight on one foot, she leaned into the sink and stared at her image in the wall mirror. Oh, Lord, was that a black eye? Just what she needed. Hair a mess, face pale, eyes reflecting fatigue and remnants of fear. She wasn’t a beauty to begin with, and now this.
What on earth was she doing here in the house of a sexy stranger who, although he’d been kind, looked as if he wished she’d stayed home? Laura wished she had, too, except for a lingering uneasiness about the home she’d left behind so hastily. How had her life turned into such a chaotic mess in such a short time?
She finger-combed her hair back off her face, realizing that her head hurt too much just now to try to figure things out. She checked the medicine chest and found no new toothbrushes. Mostly shaving stuff, toothpaste, a bottle of aspirin and mouthwash. And a packet of birth control pills. Now that was odd for a man living alone.
Then again, maybe he didn’t live alone some of the time.
She used the mouthwash and felt fresher, but she wished she didn’t have to go out and face Sean. How embarrassing, to get sick like that. She reminded herself he was a doctor, but the reminder didn’t help. He simply didn’t look like anyone’s idea of a doctor. She would never choose a doctor so young and handsome, let him poke and prod her with her wearing only a skimpy gown.
Grimacing, she hobbled to the door and opened it.
He was standing at the window watching the snow and probably wishing he hadn’t gone out and found her. Yet when he turned to look at her, his face registered what seemed to be genuine concern as he walked over to her.
“Are you feeling better?” Sean asked, noticing the bruised look about her huge blue eyes. The right eye was definitely turning black.
Involuntarily, her face flushed. “Yes. I’m so sorry. I never get sick like that, but…”
“Don’t apologize,” he said, slipping a supportive arm around her before she lost her balance. “Shock does that to people. How’s your shoulder?”
“Sore,” she answered, allowing him to help her back to the couch where she sat down gratefully. She’d give anything if he’d go about his business and just let her lie here. A short nap and she was sure she’d feel all right again.
“Can I get you something to eat?”
The mere mention had her stomach churning. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” She hated this feeling of helplessness, of not being able to remember, of needing assistance. Her ankle was throbbing, but she wouldn’t let on. Doctor or not, the man would soon tire of her aches and pains, her complaints, if he hadn’t already.
Sean ignored her polite refusal of food. She needed something in her stomach if he was to give her a pain pill or she might get sick again. “I’d been about to warm some soup before I heard the crash and went out. I could make a sandwich. There’s tuna salad and…”
“Tuna? Oh, heavens!” Laura’s voice was agitated.
“What is it?” he asked. How could the mention of tuna upset her?
“Max, my cat. He was in the Bronco with me.”
Sean frowned. “Are you sure? I looked into the back seat and I didn’t see anything but a large handbag and an old blanket on the floor.”
“That’s Max’s blanket. He was probably hiding under it.” Panic colored her voice. “What if he’s hurt? Or if he got out? He’ll freeze to death in this storm.”
“I’ll go look.” Reluctant resignation tinged every word. A cat. She would have a cat.
“I…I hate to ask you, but he’s ten years old. He’s not used to fending for himself and…”
“Don’t worry.” Sean was already pulling on his boots. “If he’s out there, I’ll find him.” Macho man, taking on the world. Was he nuts, making such a promise? He shouldered into his jacket. “You’re absolutely certain he was in the Bronco with you?” After all, her memory was spotty at best.
“Yes, positively.” She remembered grabbing her purse and scooping Max into her arms, then hurrying to the Bronco, her need to get away uppermost in her mind. She’d been afraid of…of what? Damn, why couldn’t she remember the rest? “You’re awfully nice to go back out there.”
That he was, a truly nice guy. Wordlessly, Sean zipped up and went out. He didn’t even like cats. Dogs were more his thing. One day, he’d get a dog, when he could be home more. He didn’t feel it was fair to coop up an animal all day, not with the hours Sean worked. Head bent against the wind and blowing snow, he made his way toward the incline.
From the couch, Laura twisted about, gazing out the window across the room. The snowflakes were so thick she could scarcely make out anything. She couldn’t blame Sean for being annoyed at going back out in that. But they couldn’t let Max die, which he surely would if he wasn’t found soon.
With no small effort, she shifted painfully until she was lying down on the couch, then pulled the afghan over herself. She ached so much she couldn’t even define where it hurt most. To distract herself, Laura gazed around the room.
It was big with large, comfortable furniture, the couch she was on and two deep chairs facing the bricked hearth and the crackling fire. For the first time, she noticed a framed drawing hanging above the fieldstone fireplace. Laura’s studio in Scottsdale was next to an art gallery, and she recognized that this drawing had been done in pastel chalks.
A young boy no more than three years old was standing alongside a gnarled tree. His hair was blond and his smile mischievous. From one small hand dangled a bedraggled brown bunny with one ear missing. An old-fashioned red wagon sat off to the side. She was no expert, but the picture was well done, seemingly drawn by someone who loved the boy. Laura wondered if the subject was Sean as a child.
Her gaze swept to the far left where a serviceable kitchen was set off by a counter with two high-backed stools and, off to the side, a maple table with four captain’s chairs. There were three closed doors off the kitchen, the middle one the bathroom she’d used, the other two probably leading to bedrooms. A nice compact cabin, the walnut-paneled walls lending a cozy warmth. It lacked a woman’s touch, though, with no curtains on the windows, no photos on the end tables, no cloth on the sturdy oak table. The half dozen pillows on the couch were the only hint of softness.
Definitely a man’s retreat, Laura decided, struggling with a yawn. Leaning back, she spotted an easel facing away from her in front of an overstuffed bookcase off to the right. Was Sean the artist or perhaps someone who visited him? None of her business, she decided, closing her eyes.
What was keeping Sean?
Darkness had settled in, but the whiteness of the snow allowed Sean to see. The drifts were thigh high, however, which made the going very slow. And treacherous, he thought as he slid down the embankment and stopped just short of the almost buried Bronco.
Cursing under his breath, he scrambled to his feet, feeling cold, impatient and annoyed. He didn’t even want to think about what he’d do if Max wasn’t in the vehicle. If the animal had gotten out, his paw prints would have been covered over by now. The thought of tramping about in this storm looking for some old cat that could be anywhere didn’t thrill him.
With gloved hands, he scraped accumulated snow from the passenger door and managed to wedge it open again. Ducking inside, he knelt on the front seat and looked around. He picked up the large leather shoulder bag thinking Laura might need it. No luggage anywhere, but then she’d said she’d left in a hurry. On the floor he noticed a box of assorted tiles. On the back seat were material remnants and three large books of wallpaper samples. Sean remembered what she’d said about the blanket and gingerly picked up one end, whipping it to the side.
He heard a hissing sound, then a paw lashed out at him, the claws digging into his leather gloves. Yellow eyes peered up at him, looking unfriendly and combative. Max was shorthaired, yellow and beige, kind of skinny and obviously frightened. “Okay, shhh. You’re okay,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. The cat hissed again, louder.
“Look, Max, I’m a friend, honest.” Feeling foolish trying to pacify a stubborn cat in a tangled wreck of a vehicle in a raging snowstorm, Sean leaned forward and grabbed Max under his front legs, maneuvering him into a body hug, sharp claws pointed away from him. Pushing back, he ignored the cat’s protests as he backed out of the Bronco and shoved the door shut with his hip. The strap of Laura’s shoulder bag dangled from one arm.
Max struggled as cold snow enveloped them both, but Sean held on. He’d have put him inside his jacket, but he knew the cat would start clawing him. So he trudged back up the incline, realizing that he now had two guests he hadn’t been prepared for. “Listen, if you stop fighting me, I’ll give you a dish of tuna for dinner. How’s that?” Max told him what he could do with his offer in no uncertain hissy terms.
“Okay, chum,” Sean said, high-stepping through the snow. “Your loss.”
By the time he stomped some of the snow from his boots and propelled his way into the cabin, Sean was soaking wet from the waist down, and the silly cat was still hissing at him. He wished he could say that seeing Laura’s relieved face was worth his effort, but Sean didn’t think so.
“Here you go,” he said, thrusting Max into her lap and laying her bag on the floor.
“Oh, thank you, thank you.” Mindful of her sore shoulder, she hugged the frightened animal and cooed to him. “Max, Max, I’m so sorry. You’ll be fine, baby.” The cat allowed her to soothe him, but he shot Sean a look that seemed to say this was all his fault.
Grumbling under his breath about the inequities of life where a mangy cat gets hugged and he, the rescuer, gets wet pants, Sean brushed snow from his hair and went to his room to change for the second time in a matter of hours. He took his time drying off, then pulled on a pair of gray sweatpants and thick socks. Towel-drying his hair and face, he heard his stomach growl. The invasion of Laura and Max had caused him to miss dinner. Maybe she wasn’t hungry, but he was.
Sean came out and saw that Laura had her eyes closed, the cat cuddled up against her, purring away. In the kitchen, he paused, considering dinner. “How about that soup now?” he suggested.
“I honestly couldn’t, but thanks.”
All right, he’d let her have it her way. He filled a glass with cold water before bending to his medical bag and pulling out a vial of pills. “I think you’ll feel better if you take one of these,” he told her.
Laura opened her eyes. “I don’t like taking pills.” Especially when she didn’t know what they were.
“Look, isn’t it time you started trusting me? I’m a doctor, remember? There’s a time to be brave and a time when it’s plain silly to insist you’re not hurting when I know you are.” He held out the water and medication. “This will help you rest.”
Laura swallowed the pill, then burrowed back into the nest of pillows, closing her eyes and hoping the medicine would put her to sleep until the pain passed. “Thanks. Please, go back to whatever you were doing. I don’t want to inconvenience you any further. I’ll just lie here for a bit, if you don’t mind, and then I’ll call someone.” But who? she wondered, frowning. Her father was never around, it seemed. She couldn’t ask her friend Molly to drive up all this way when the roads were undoubtedly worse than before. She’d sure picked a rotten night to have an accident.
Sean sat down on the stool, noticing the cat’s yellow eyes watching his every move. “I’m afraid the phone’s out. Has been since before I found you. It could come back on any minute, or not for a couple days. Hard to tell.”
“Oh. Well, maybe I can make it over to our cabin on Ridgeway. The snow’s bound to stop soon and…”
“Not likely. It’s coming down heavier than before. Have you ever been up this way in the winter?”
“Not since I was a child.”
He’d thought as much. “The snow probably won’t let up until tomorrow sometime, the wind blowing drifts as high as the roofline.” He tucked the afghan around her legs. “And you’re in no condition to go anywhere. You’re bruised all over, your ankle’s probably aching like the devil and your shoulder will be sore for several days.”
His assessment was right on the money. Still, she hated to impose, to be a problem for anyone. She was used to being on her own, fending for herself. And although a doctor, he was a total stranger. “I’m so sorry I stumbled onto your property and messed up your plans. I’ll bet you could throttle me.”
She looked genuinely regretful, erasing Sean’s resentment at being inconvenienced. She should have looked bedraggled, dissipated, cranky even. Instead she look intriguing with those wounded eyes and that haunted air about her that made her seem vulnerable and very appealing. “Not a problem, really. I have a spare room with a bed that’s a lot more comfortable than this couch.”
Laura thought she’d be just fine on the couch if he’d just go off and leave her be. But she’d have more privacy in another room where she could close the door and be alone with her cat. “All right, if it’s not too much trouble.” She moved to sit up, the pain somewhat dulled by the medicine beginning to kick in.
He reached over to pick her up, but she stopped him. “I can walk, I think.”
Sighing, he shoved a hand into his pocket, searching for a coin. Already he knew she was stubborn and used to being independent. “My lucky Indian coin. I’ll flip you for it. Heads I carry you, tails you walk.”
Warily, she studied him. “A two-headed coin?”
“You really don’t trust easily, do you?” He showed her both sides, then tossed the coin up in the air, slamming it down on his hand. It came up heads. “There, now put your arms around my neck.”
Too tired to argue, Laura did as he asked. He carried her easily, heading toward the farthest door. She struggled against an urge to lay her head on his shoulder. He smelled of the outdoors, of woodsy aftershave, unmistakably male. He was so big, so solid, and it felt so good to be held, to feel safe. It had been so long since she’d given in to the very human need to just be held.