C
HAPTER
8
Bracing herself, knowing full well that she was in for the fight of her life, Shawna walked into Parker’s hospital room. “Ready?” she asked brightly.
“For what?” Parker was standing near his bed, fully dressed in gray cords and a cream-colored sweater, and balancing precariously on crutches.
“To go home.” She picked up his duffel bag and tossed it over her shoulder, overlooking the storm gathering in his eyes. “Hurry up, I’m double-parked.”
“I’ll call a cab,” he said quietly.
“No reason. Your house is on my way.”
“To where?”
“The rest of my life.”
Taking in a swift breath, he shoved one hand through his hair and shook his head. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered.
“So you’ve said. Come on.”
“Mr. Harrison?” A nurse pushed a wheelchair into his room and Parker swore under his breath.
“I don’t need
that.”
“Hospital regulations.”
“Change them,” he said, jaw tight.
“Come on, Parker, don’t buck the system now,” Shawna said, grabbing the handles of the wheelchair from the nurse. “Everyone has to use these chairs in order to get out.”
Muttering to himself he slid into the chair and grumbled all the way along the corridor.
“I see we’re in good spirits today,” Shawna commented drily.
“Don’t start in with that hospital ‘we’ talk, okay? I’m sick to death of it.”
“My mistake. But don’t worry. I’ll probably make a few more before the day is over.” She wheeled him into the elevator and didn’t say a word until they were through the emergency room doors—the same door she’d run through weeks ago in her soggy wedding dress. That day felt like a lifetime ago.
Once they were in the car and through the parking lot, Shawna drove south, down the steep fir-cloaked hills of west Portland toward Lake Oswego and Parker’s rambling Tudor house on the cliffs.
He stared out the window in silence, his eyes traveling over the familiar landscape. Leaves of the maple and oak trees had turned vibrant orange and brown, swirling in the wind and hanging tenaciously to black branches as Shawna drove toward the river. She glanced at Parker and noticed the tight pinch at the corners of his mouth and the lines of strain on his forehead as his stone house loomed into view.
Rising a full three stories, with a sharply gabled roof and dormers, the Tudor stood high on the cliffs overlooking the green waters of the Willamette. Trees and shrubbery flanked a broad, pillared porch and leaded glass windows winked in the pink rays from a setting sun.
Shawna cut the engine in front of the garage. She was reaching for the handle of her door when his voice stopped her.
“Aren’t you going to ask me about Melinda?”
She froze and her stomach twisted painfully. Inadvertently she’d been avoiding the subject. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
Swallowing, he glanced away, then stared straight into her eyes. “I—I’m starting to remember,” he admitted, weighing his words. “Part of the past is getting a little more clear.”
She knew what was coming and died a bit inside, her fingers wrapping around the steering wheel as she leaned back in her seat. “The part with Melinda,” she guessed, fingers clenched tight over the wheel.
“Yes.”
“You ... remember being with her?”
“Partly.”
“Sleeping with her?”
She saw him hesitate, then shake his head. “No, but there’s something ... something about her. If only I could figure it out.”
Licking her lips nervously, she forced her gaze to meet his. “I don’t believe you betrayed me, Parker,” she admitted, her voice rough. “I just can’t.”
“Maybe it would be easier if you did,” he whispered.
“Why?”
“Because I feel—this tremendous responsibility.”
She touched him then, her fingers light on his sweater, beneath which she could feel the coiled tension in his shoulders. “Give it time.”
“I think we’re running out.” Then, as quickly as he’d brought up the subject, he jerked on the door handle and shoved the car door open. Cool wind invaded the interior as he gripped the frame and tried to struggle to his feet.
“Hey—wait!” She threw open her door and ran around the car just as he extracted himself from his seat and balanced on one leg, his face white with strain. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
“Standing on my own,” he said succinctly.
She caught his meaning, but refused to acknowledge it. “Sure, but you were almost flat on your face,” she chastised. “How do you think Dr. Handleman would like it if you twisted that knee again and undid all his work?”
“I don’t really give a damn what he does or doesn’t like.”
“Back to your charming sweet self, I see,” she said, though her heart was pounding a rapid double-time. “Personally I’d hate to see you back in that hospital bed—in traction or worse—all because of your stupid, bullheaded male pride.” She opened the hatchback of her car and wrestled with the collapsible wheelchair, noting that he’d paled slightly at the mention of the hospital. Good! He needed to think that one over. “So, quit being a child and enjoy being pampered.”
“Pampered by whom?”
“Me.” She locked the wheelchair and rolled it toward his side of the car.
“I don’t want to be pampered.”
“Oh, I think you will. Think of it as a reward for all those grueling hours you’ll be spending with the physical therapist. I already hired him—he starts tomorrow.”
“You did
what?
” Parker was livid, the fire in his eyes bright with rage. “I’m not going to—”
“Sure you are. And you’re going to get off this self-reliant-male ego kick right now!”
She pushed the wheelchair next to him, but he held up a hand, spreading his fingers in her face. “Hold on, just one minute. I may not remember a lot about my past, but I know one thing, I never let any woman—even a lady doctor—push me around.”
“Not even Melinda James?” Shawna snapped, instantly regretting her words when she saw his face slacken and guilt converge over his honed features.
“I’ll deal with Melinda,” he said, his voice ringing with authority, “in my own way.” Then, ignoring the wheelchair, he reached down and tugged on the crutches she’d wedged into the car.
“You can’t—”
“I can damned well do as I please, Dr. McGuire,” he said cuttingly. “I’m not in a hospital any longer. You’re not the boss.” He slammed the crutches under his arms and swung forward, landing on his good leg with a jarring thud as he started up the flagstone path leading to the back door.
“You’ll be back in the hospital before you know it if you don’t watch out,” she warned. Walking rapidly, she caught up with him.
“You can go home now, Shawna,” he advised.
“I am.”
Cocking his head to one side, he asked testily, “You’re what?”
“Home.”
“What?” he roared, twisting to look at her, his crutch wedging in the chipped mortar to wrench out from under him. He pitched forward, grabbing frantically at the lowest branches of a nearby willow tree and landing with a thud on the wet grass.
“Parker!” Shawna knelt beside him. “I’m sorry—”
“Wasn’t your fault.” But he winced in pain, skin tight over his cheeks. “Now, tell me I heard wrong.”
“I moved in this morning,” she said, but her eyes were on his leg and without asking she pushed up his pant leg to make sure that the stitches in his knee hadn’t ruptured.
“I’m all right.” He caught her wrist. “You are
not
my doctor. And you’re not moving in here.”
“Too late,” she said, reaching into her pocket with her free hand and extracting a key ring from which dangled the keys to his house, car, and garage. “You gave these to me—for better or for worse, remember.”
“We didn’t get married.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m committed to you, so you’d better get used to it!” She met his gaze steadily, her green eyes bright with defiance and pride. His fingers were still circling her wrist, warm against her skin, and her breathing, already labored, caught in her throat as his eyes moved from hers to the base of her neck and lower still. “Whether the ceremony happened or not, I consider myself your wife, and it will take an act of God for you to get rid of me.”
“What about another woman’s child?”
Her heart constricted. “We’ll just have to deal with that together, won’t we?” Nervously, she licked her lips, her self-confidence slowly drifting away.
He studied her mouth. “Maybe I need to stand alone before I can stand with someone,” he said, sun glinting off the burnished strands of his hair.
“Are you telling me you won’t let me live here?” She could barely concentrate. Her thoughts centered on her wrist and the provocative movement of his fingers against her skin. And his eyes, blue as the sea, stared into hers, smoldering with desire, yet bewildered.
“I just don’t think we—you and I—can act like this accident didn’t happen, pretending that Melinda James doesn’t exist, that our lives will mesh in some sort of fairy-tale happy ending, when there are so many things pulling us apart.” He glanced down at her lips and then to her hair, shining a radiant gold in the afternoon sunlight.
“Please, Parker, just give me a chance. I—I don’t mean to come on like gangbusters, but we need time alone together, to work things out.”
He pulled her close, kissing her as passionately as she’d ever been kissed, his lips possessive and strong with a fire she knew burned bright in his soul.
Responding, she cradled his head to hers, feeling the texture of his hair and the warmth of his breath.
He shifted, more of his weight falling across her, his arms strong as they circled her waist.
“Parker, please—just love me,” she whispered against his ear. He groaned a response. “Let me help you—help us.” She placed both of her hands on his cheeks and held his head between her palms. “I can’t let go, Melinda or no Melinda. Baby or no baby.”
Before he could respond, Shawna heard the back door swing open and there, standing on the porch, her eyes dark with unspoken accusation, was Melinda James.
“What the devil?” Parker whispered. “How’d you—? Don’t even answer! It doesn’t matter.”
Shawna realized that he’d probably given her a set of keys, too, long before he’d met Shawna, and the wound she’d tried so hard to bind opened again, fresh and raw.
“Remind me to have my locks changed,” Parker muttered.
Shawna dusted off her skirt and tried to help him to his feet, but he pushed her hands aside, determined to stand by himself.
“I—I didn’t know she would be here,” Melinda said quietly, but her dark eyes darted quickly from Shawna to Parker and back again.
“I live here,” Shawna said.
Melinda nearly dropped her purse. “You what?”
Parker’s brows shot up. “Hold on a minute. I live here. Me. Alone.”
“Not anymore,” Shawna said, cringing at how brash she sounded. Two months ago she would never have been so bold, but now, with her back against the wall and Parker’s physical and mental health at stake, she’d fight tooth and nail to help him.
“You invited her?” Melinda asked, surveying Parker with huge, wounded eyes.
“She invited herself.” He forced himself upright and started propelling himself forward.
“Are—are you all right?” Melinda asked.
“Just dandy,” he snapped, unable to keep the cynicism from his voice. “I think we’d all better go into the house, and straighten out a few things.” He glanced over his shoulder to Shawna, who was attempting to comb the tangles from her hair with her fingers. “Coming, Doctor?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she quipped back, managing a smile though her insides were shredding.
What would she do if he threw her out, insisted that he cared about Melinda, that the child was his?
“One step at a time,” she reminded herself, following him inside.
Melinda was already halfway down the hall to the den. “I don’t like this,” Shawna confided in Parker as she caught up with him.
“Neither do I.” His gaze wandered to her face and she could feel his eyes taking in the determined slant of her mouth. “But then there’s a lot of things I don’t like—things I’m not sure about.”
“Such as?”
Before she could walk down the two steps to the den, he leaned forward, balanced on his crutches, and touched her shoulder. “Such as you,” he admitted, eyes dark and tormented. “It would be easy to fall in love with you, Shawna—too easy. I must have been one helluva lucky guy—”
“You still are.”
“—but now, things have changed. Look at me! I still can’t walk. I may never walk without these infernal things!” He shook one crutch angrily, his expression changing to violent anger and frustration. “And then there’s Melinda. I can’t say her story isn’t true. I don’t know! I can’t remember.”