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  Okay, fine, Macy was a good person. I’d agree with that. Hannah might’ve believed Macy would make me laugh, but my dear wife hadn’t realized how utterly mismatched Macy and I were.

  The kiss was a fluke and wouldn’t be repeated. That was the end of that. Leanne and I would go to dinner and I’d make an effort to get to know her. Based on how this evening went, I might even ask her to attend the awards banquet with me two weeks from now.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Macy would’ve left Michael’s office early that afternoon, anyway. She’d been contracted to record another radio ad at two o’clock. This one was for a big charity event to be held in July. The producer said her voice was pleasant and engaging, and the more commercials she read, the more familiar she’d become to the listening audience. According to him, a recognizable voice evoked a sense of trust.

  The money wouldn’t buy her a vacation home in the San Juan Islands, but it was decent. The only reason Macy had stayed at Michael’s office for lunch was that she enjoyed his staff.

  She left the office at precisely 12:55 p.m. and went to retrieve her bike. Larry, the guy in security, had promised to keep an eye on it for her. The middle-aged retired military man was a sweetheart. She didn’t understand why almost everyone seemed so wary of him. The guy had a big heart and he loved cats.

  “You ready for your bike, Macy?” Larry asked as she approached his desk.

  “Please, and again, thanks so much.”

  “No problem. Anytime you need me to look after something, you let me know. I’ll lock it up, and it’ll be safer than inside Fort Knox.”

  Despite feeling so dispirited, she managed a smile. She followed Larry into the basement. He’d confided in her that after retiring from the air force, he’d taken the security job to help his youngest daughter with college expenses.

  “He doesn’t like me.”

  “Who, Macy?”

  “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize I’d spoken out loud. I do that sometimes.” Living with cats, Macy habitually verbalized her thoughts and often without being aware of it. “I guess I’m not his type. After Hannah and all.”

  “Did you say something?”

  “No, no, sorry, it’s nothing.” Except that it bothered her, especially after the way Michael had kissed her. She just wasn’t good with romantic relationships. They hadn’t worked out before, so her expectations weren’t high when it came to Michael, either. That kiss, though… A single kiss and it’d been so exciting. So exquisite. For hours afterward she’d walked around in a daze. It was as though she was fourteen all over again, when Tommy Whittier had kissed her for the first time. The only time, actually. She’d loved Tommy with all the passion in her teenage heart. His kiss had stayed with her all these years and now…now Michael’s kiss was the first to match that incredible sensation. Why, oh, why did it have to be him?

  Larry got her bicycle and, after securing her helmet, she was off to the recording studio. As she hit the Seattle streets, her mind spun as fast as the wheels of her bike. Michael couldn’t have been any more obvious about his feelings if he’d rented a billboard. He wasn’t interested. She’d heard his phone conversation loud and clear, just like he’d intended. He wanted her to know he had another date with the woman called Leanne. Even the sound of her name was elegant and refined. Macy had gotten her own name when her mother went into labor while shopping. She supposed she should be grateful it hadn’t happened at Neiman Marcus. Macy would admit she was neither sophisticated nor stylish. She’d never fit in with his friends.

  That kiss, though, had surprised her. Michael’s reaction told her he’d been equally taken aback. He wanted her to know it had been an accident, and that he regretted it. She didn’t.

  Macy didn’t realize how upset she was until she arrived at the recording studio and had no recollection of getting there. She’d pedaled through maybe a dozen streets, and the entire time she’d thought of Michael.

  Fine, she decided. He didn’t have to tell her twice. She’d do everything within her power to stay out of his way. He wouldn’t even know she was there. As quickly as possible she’d finish—yes, finish—that darn mural and that would be it. They need never see each other again. The recording session didn’t go as well as the previous one and Macy had to read the commercial twice as often as any of her other bookings.

  The producer wasn’t pleased. On her way out the door, he patted her shoulder and reassured her that everyone had an off day now and then. He followed that by letting her know he wouldn’t be as forgiving the next time. Wonderful.

  She might lose the best-paying job she’d found to date and all because of Dr. Michael Everett.

  Macy climbed on her bike, grateful she could just go home. She hadn’t talked to Harvey since Wednesday. He’d been avoiding her and she was going to put an end to that. Now more than ever, Macy was determined to persuade him not to give up on life. He was the only family she had in the area, since her parents had retired to New Mexico and her brother lived in Hawaii. Okay, so Harvey wasn’t actual family; it just felt as though he was. He’d squirm and fuss if she ever told him, but he was grandfather and friend in one, and she loved him.

  Macy was less than a mile from the house when it happened, although she wasn’t quite sure how. What she remembered later was that one moment she was on her bicycle, and the next she was jolted from behind. Before she had time to react or even brace herself, she went flying over the handlebars.

  She landed hard on the asphalt and must have blacked out for a second. When she came to, she heard the sound of screeching brakes and loud voices. A man was bending over her and yelling for someone to call 9-1-1. From then on, all she felt was pain. White-hot pain in her head, her arms, her legs. A group of people gathered around her and everyone seemed to be giving her advice.

  “Don’t move until the aid car gets here.”

  “Take deep breaths.”

  “Don’t close your eyes.”

  Macy tried to do what everyone asked, but it was impossible. A siren wailed in the distance. Then two men arrived and a blood-pressure cuff was slapped on her upper arm. Her neck was secured in a brace and she was being lifted. When she glanced down, she saw her bicycle helmet lying on the ground. It looked as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. The paramedic seemed busy, but she had an important question and grabbed his sleeve, holding on until he turned to her.

  “Yes?” he said. He seemed annoyed that she’d interrupted his work.

  “Is that my blood on the pavement?” She’d always been a little squeamish about the sight of blood. He nodded.

  “Is my bike in any better shape than the helmet?” That bike had cost more than she could really afford and she’d hate to lose it.

  “Afraid not. Listen, I’d rather you didn’t talk.”

  “Okay.” She closed her eyes. The pain was bad. She wasn’t kidding herself about that. She could deal with it more easily when she didn’t have to look at anything or anyone. Instead, she concentrated on taking one breath at a time. The paramedic asked questions, which she did her best to answer. The aid-car siren screamed as it wove in and out of traffic. The next thing Macy knew, they were at the hospital and everything started again.

  She was examined by a doctor, who ordered a battery of tests. Macy was wheeled into X-ray, then taken for an MRI. They stitched her up and she had bandages on her head, her knees and her arms. There wasn’t a single spot on her entire body that didn’t throb with pain, despite the medication.

  Everything hurt, up to and including her eyelids. People stood around her and spoke, acting like she wasn’t even in the room. They were all saying how fortunate she was. From where she was lying, with her head pounding as though someone had put it in a vise, she didn’t feel too fortunate. A familiar voice joined the others. Certain she must be hearing wrong, Macy forced her eyes open and looked up.

  “Michael?” she whispered, shocked to see him. Without answering, he took her hand and wrapped his fingers around hers. His hold
was tight and yet his touch was the most comforting one she’d received.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. How could he have known she’d been in an accident?

  “You gave them my name,” he told her.

  “I…couldn’t have. I did?”

  “It’s all right. I came as soon as the hospital phoned.”

  He stroked her head. “I’ll be back after I speak with the attending physician. Will you be okay?”

  She nodded, stunned that she didn’t remember mentioning Michael’s name. The paramedics had asked so many questions; she seemed to recall that, among other things, they’d asked who they should contact on her behalf. Had she really said Michael?

  She was mortified to realize that of all the people in the world she’d given them Michael’s name. Perhaps she’d said he was her physician. That was it.

  Maybe.

  The reality of time escaped her; he could have been away two hours or fifteen minutes. When he returned, she stared up at him, hardly knowing what to say. She felt dreadful that she’d taken him from the office.

  “Were you just here or was that a long time ago?” she asked him.

  “About five minutes.”

  “Oh. It must be the pain.”

  “Probably. But the Tylenol should kick in soon.”

  “Can I get out of here? Someone needs to feed the cats, and then there’s Sammy. Harvey depends on me to feed him. Sammy’s fifty percent Harvey’s dog but he—I mean Harvey—refuses to admit it. So Sammy comes to visit and stays for dinner every night.” She paused. “He usually eats on the porch. Because of the cats.”

  “I’m taking you home.”

  Macy felt tears in her eyes, so grateful that she was close to dissolving with emotion. “I’m s-sorry to trouble you.”

  “It’s no trouble.”

  “Wh-what about your date?”

  “I phoned Leanne. We put it off until tomorrow.”

  “Oh…sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing.”

  “Okay. Except that I feel responsible and you made such a point of arranging this date with her…. I know it’s important to you.”

  Michael pressed his finger to her lips. “Stop.”

  “I didn’t mean to give them your name,” she mumbled against his finger. “I must’ve been talking to myself again.”

  He sent her an odd look. “Don’t explain that.”

  The ride to her house was miserable and seemed to take forever. While he drove, Michael gave her a detailed medical report. Most of what he said went over her head. Basically, nothing was broken. She had several deep cuts. That much Macy knew, although she barely remembered being stitched up. The primary concern was the possibility of concussion, he explained. She needed someone to stay the night with her.

  “I’ll call a friend,” she told Michael. Joy Williamson could probably come over. Or maybe Sherry Franklin…

  “No, I can do it,” he said.

  “You?”

  “I know what to look for. I’ll be waking you every few hours and checking your eyes. To see if your pupils are dilated.”

  Once they got to the house, Michael helped her out of the car. Wearing an unusually worried expression, Harvey stood on her porch and held open the front door. Sammy immediately started to whine. Her cats didn’t seem to care what the problem was; they didn’t take kindly to having their dinner delayed. But that was cats for you.

  “I’ll get you into bed and then feed them,” Michael promised.

  Macy tried to assure the cats that food was forthcoming, but Snowball, Lovie and Peace weren’t interested in excuses. When her cats were cranky, they let everyone in the vicinity know.

  Michael discreetly helped her change into a nightgown—really an oversize T-shirt with pictures of kittens all over it. Once she was settled in bed, her head nestled in the pillows, Macy was almost comfortable. She could hear Michael and Harvey talking in the living room, but their voices were too low to distinguish the words.

  “Talk louder,” she called out and winced at the sound of her own voice. If she was the main topic of conversation, she figured she had a right to hear what was being said. The two men were silent then or they’d moved out of earshot—it was difficult to tell from her bedroom. The oddest things were going through her mind and she must have fallen asleep because when she opened her eyes Michael was standing over her. The curtains had been drawn, and he’d turned on the bedside lamp. She blinked, blinded by the light, and blurted out,

  “Mom was right. I should’ve worn new underwear.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I was in an accident. My mother told me that putting on nice underwear’s important in case I’m in an accident.”

  Michael seemed to find that amusing, although she didn’t understand why.

  Another time he helped her up and into the bathroom, then stood outside the door, giving her privacy. He was so gentle with her.

  “Where are you sleeping?” she asked as he supported her with an arm about her waist. They slowly made their way back into the bedroom.

  “On the sofa.”

  “Oh, dear. That’s Lovie’s bed.”

  “So I discovered.”

  Macy felt the need to explain.

  “I tried to convince her to sleep elsewhere when I got the new sofa,” Macy said. “But she made it clear that she’d slept on the old one and she was sleeping on this one, too, and she didn’t care how much I paid for it.”

  Another smile.

  Macy tilted her head to the side. “You’re quite handsome when you smile. Did I tell you that before?” Reaching out she touched his cheek with the tips of her fingers. His face was bristly because he needed a shave. “You should smile more often.”

  “I’ll take it under advisement.”

  The final time he woke her it was around four in the morning. His clothes were badly wrinkled and he looked as if he hadn’t slept all night.

  When Macy woke on her own, it was six. She sat up carefully and waited for the pain to assault her. The throbbing in her head was nearly gone. Although every muscle in her body cried out in protest, she moved her legs, first one and then the other, over the side of the bed. She sat there for several minutes until she’d regained her bearings.

  When she felt brave enough, she stood, holding on to her nightstand with both hands. Once she was upright, she felt more confident. Taking baby steps she walked out of her bedroom and into the living room and saw Michael sprawled on her sofa. One arm was flung above his head and one leg draped over the edge, with his foot resting on the braided rug. Lovie and Peace were sleeping on his chest. Snowball lay on the back of the sofa, curled up in a fluffy white ball. Sammy was asleep, too, snoring softly next to the coffee table. The cats had apparently called a truce and permitted him to spend the night.

  Lovie woke up first. On seeing Macy, she stood and stretched, arching her back and digging her nails into Michael’s shirt. His eyes flew open and, when he saw Macy in her kitten shirt, he smiled.

  “You shouldn’t be up,” he said.

  “But I am.”

  He sat up awkwardly, displacing the two cats. “How do you feel?”

  “Like I took a flying leap off my bicycle. How do I look?”

  He grinned almost boyishly. “Like you took a flying leap off your bicycle.”

  Standing now, he ran his fingers through his already disheveled hair. “I could use some coffee.”

  “Me, too.” It suddenly occurred to her that Michael had probably missed dinner on account of her. “When’s the last time you ate?”

  “I found something in your refrigerator.”

  Macy went still. “What did it taste like?”

  “I don’t know. I think it was leftover salmon casserole.”

  “It wasn’t. That was cat food.”

  His expression was priceless. His eyes widened and he made jerky movements with his tongue against his lips, as though attempting to banish the taste from his mouth. If it hadn’t hurt so mu
ch to move, Macy would’ve laughed. Instead, she held up her hand. “I often make my own, so don’t worry. You weren’t eating processed cat food. Didn’t you find it a bit blah?”

  “Not really. It was good, but no wonder the cats were all over me.”

  When she moved toward the coffeemaker, Michael stopped her. “I’ll make it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Once it’s finished brewing, I need to get home. After I have a cup, of course.”

  Macy nodded. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  He seemed eager to be on his way. The coffeepot was only half full when he grabbed mugs for each of them. He gulped his down, then started for the door. He hesitated. “Promise you’ll call me if you need anything,” he said.

  “Sure.” She didn’t want him to leave and yet she could hardly believe he’d been here at all.

  “Harvey said he’d check on you later this morning.”

  Macy sat in a kitchen chair, cradling the mug between her hands. The cats were at her feet. Sammy, too. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m so…sorry to have been such a bother.”

  Michael cupped one side of her face. He looked down at her and for the briefest moment she thought he might kiss her again. That was what she wanted him to do. He didn’t. “You were no bother, Macy. None whatsoever. I’m just grateful you weren’t badly injured.”

  Then he walked through the living room to the front door, skirting paintings and piles of books and the laundry basket that now sat on the floor.

  Fastidious Dr. Everett maneuvering through the chaos of her home. That one image epitomized the differences between them.

  Macy’s heart sank.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  W hen I left Macy, I was convinced she’d be perfectly fine without me. She revealed no signs of having suffered a concussion, and she should recover fully in the next week, with a few scars to show for the experience. I insisted she take a couple of days off and not worry about completing the mural until she felt up to it. I needed to get away—because I’d been tempted to kiss her…again. I couldn’t understand it, and yet I was drawn to her. Several times during the night I’d stood and watched her sleep. Once I pressed my lips to her forehead in a chaste goodnight kiss, then quickly, guiltily, hurried away from her room. From Macy’s I went to a drive-through latte stand and ordered a double espresso. I sat in the car in a nearby parking lot, sipping my coffee. I needed the additional caffeine to kick me into gear. Sleeping on a sofa with two cats on my chest and one just above my head, not to mention a dog on the carpet beside me, wasn’t the ideal condition for peaceful slumber. Besides, the dog snored. A second sip of the espresso started to revive me. I closed my eyes and remembered how I’d reacted when I got the call that Macy had been injured. The hospital hadn’t given me any details. I was well aware that the administration’s policy was not to relay a patient’s medical condition over the phone, yet I’d demanded to know the extent of her injuries. It didn’t matter; they wouldn’t tell me. Except for a few occasions in Hannah’s last months, I can’t remember getting to the hospital faster in my ten years as a physician. My heart felt like it might explode by the time I made it to the E.R. In the beginning I was afraid Macy had been seriously hurt and then, when I learned the true extent of her injuries, I was so angry with her I could barely speak. Thankfully she’d been unable to ascertain my mood. I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her for riding her bike in the crazy Seattle traffic, especially during rush hour. She should know better!