Dear Reader,

During the fall months of the year the focus in my house turns to American football. We spend hours watching and discussing it. We even attend games. While the males in my family are concerned with only what is happening on the field, I often think about what goes on behind the scenes. Who takes care of the players? What happens when a player gets hurt? During one of those games I wondered what it would be like if the team doctor was a woman, and how it would be for her to work in that man’s world …

This is just what my character Melanie does in this story. For her, the game of football is a family affair. And when she has to call in an orthopaedic surgeon who cares nothing about the game for a second opinion, the fireworks explode.

I hope you enjoy reading my book as much as I enjoyed writing it. I love to hear from my readers. You can contact me at SusanCarlisle.com.

Susan

One Night

Before

Christmas

Susan Carlisle

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Lacey.

Thanks for loving my son.

Contents

Cover

Dear Reader

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

DR. MELANIE HYDE stood with the other chauffeurs waiting and watching passengers outside the security zone at the top of the escalators. Overhead the notes of “Jingle Bells” were being piped via speakers throughout Niagara Falls International Airport in upstate New York. She wiggled the small white sign she held back and forth. Written on it was Reynolds.

She was there to pick up the “go-to” orthopedic sports doctor. He’d been flown in on a private jet paid for by the Niagara Falls Currents, the professional football team and her employer. Her father, the general manager, had sent her on this mission in the hope that she might, in his words, “soften the doctor up.”

Melanie had no idea how she was supposed to do that. She would have to find some way because she didn’t want to disappoint her father. Long ago she’d accepted what was expected of her. Not that she always liked it.

Maybe the one physician to another respect would make Dr. Reynolds see the team’s need to get Martin “The Rocket” Overtree on the field for the Sunday playoff game and hopefully the weeks after that.

As club physician, Melanie had given her professional opinion but her dad wanted a second one. That hurt, but she was a team player. Had been all her life. Just once she’d like her father to see her for who she really was: a smart woman who did her job well. An individual.

In the sports world, that orthopedic second opinion came in the form of Dr. Dalton Reynolds of the Reynolds Sports and Orthopedic Center, Miami, Florida.

She’d never seen him in person but she had read plenty of his papers on the care of knee and leg injuries. “The Rocket” had a knee issue but he wanted to play and Melanie was feeling the pressure from the head office to let him. More like her father’s not so gentle nudge.

Having grown up in a football-loving world, she knew the win and, in major-league ball, the money, was everything. The burden to have “The Rocket” on the field was heavy. On the cusp of a chance to go to the Super Bowl, the team’s star player was needed.

She shifted her heavy coat to the other arm and scanned the crowd of passengers streaming off the escalators for a male in his midfifties and wiggled the sign again.

A tall man with close-trimmed brown hair sporting a reddish tint, carrying a tan trench coat and a black bag, blocked her view. He was do-a-double-take handsome but Melanie shifted her weight to one foot and looked around him, continuing to search the crowd.

“I’m Reynolds,” the man said in a deep, husky voice that vibrated through her. The man could whisper sweet nothings in her ear all day long.

Jerking back to a full standing position, she locked gazes with his unwavering one.

“Dr. Dalton Reynolds?”

“Yes.”

His eyes were the color of rich melted chocolate but they held none of the warmth. He wasn’t at all who she’d anticipated. Old and stuffy, instead of tall and handsome, was what she’d had in mind. This man couldn’t be more than a few years older than her. He must be truly brilliant if he was the most eminent orthopedic surgeon in the country at his age.

“Uh, I wasn’t expecting you to be so...young,” she blurted.

He gave her a sober look. “I’m sorry to disappoint.”

She blinked and cleared her throat. “I’m not disappointed, just surprised.”

“Good, then. Shouldn’t we be getting my luggage? I’d like to see the patient this evening.”

With it being only a week before Christmas, he must be in a hurry to return home to his family. After a moment’s hesitation she said, “I don’t know if that’ll be possible. The players may have gone home by the time we get back.”

“I didn’t come all this way to spend time in my hotel room. I have a practice in Miami to be concerned with.” That statement was punctuated with a curl of one corner of his mouth.

He had a nice one. Why was she thinking about his mouth when she should be talking to him about Rocket? The off-center feeling she had around this stranger unnerved her. She worked in primarily a man’s world all the time and never had this type of reaction to one of them.

They started walking toward the baggage area. As they did, Melanie put the sign she was still carrying in a garbage can, then pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I’ll try and get Coach. Have him ask Rocket to hang around. But football players sometimes have minds of their own.”

“I can appreciate that, Ms...?”

Melanie stopped and looked at him. He faced her, his broad shoulders blocking her view of the other people passing them.

She raised her chin. “I’m Dr. Melanie Hyde.”

A flash of wonder flickered in his eyes.

Good. She’d managed to surprise him.

“Dr. Hyde, if Mr. Overtree expects my help he’ll need to be examined as soon as possible. I have patients at home who are trying to stay out of wheelchairs.”

With that he turned and walked toward the revolving luggage rack.

Melanie gaped at him. So much for “smoothing him over.”

* * *

Dalton had little patience for silly games. Even when they were played with attractive women. He’d been astonished to find out that the team doctor was female and the person who had been sent to pick him up. Usually that job fell to a hired driver or one of the team underlings. He had to admit she was the prettiest chauffeur he’d ever had.

As far as he was concerned, he was here to do a job and nothing more. He wasn’t impressed by the game of football. The only aspect that drew him in was that he cared about helping people who were hurting. He’d been called in to examine an injured player at great expense. The money he earned, good money, from making these types of “house calls” was what he used to support his foundation. It oversaw struggling foster children with physical and mental issues, giving them extra care so they had a chance to succeed in life. He would continue to do this job as long as the teams paid him top dollar. However, he didn’t buy into all the football hype.

He knew from experience that not everyone was cut out for games. He’d left that far behind, being constantly teased for being the “brain with no game.” It had taken time and work on his part but he’d overcome his childhood. Now he was successful in his field, had friends and a good life. He had proven anyone could overcome their past. That was why he’d started the foundation. To give other kids a step in the right direction so they didn’t struggle as he had.

The tall, athletic-looking doctor came to stand beside him. She almost met him eye to eye. He liked women with long legs. Glancing down while watching the baggage conveyer as it circled in front of him, he confirmed the length of her legs. She wore a brown suit with a cream-colored blouse. There was nothing bold about her dress to make her stand out. Still, something about her pricked his interest. Her features were fine and her skin like porcelain, a complete contrast to her all-business appearance. Not of his usual fare—bleached blonde and heavy breasted—she looked more of the wholesome-girl-next-door variety. Under all that sweetness was there any fire?

He looked at the bags orbiting before him. Football was still such a man’s world, so why would a woman choose to become a football team doctor?

His black leather duffel circled to him. He leaned over and picked it up. Slinging it over his shoulder, he turned to her. “I’m ready.”

“This way, then.” She pulled on the large down-stuffed coat she’d held. As she walked, she wrapped a knit scarf effortlessly around her neck and pulled a cap over her hair. He followed her. There was a nice sway to her hips. Even in the shapeless outfit she had a natural sex appeal. He shouldn’t be having these sorts of thoughts because he wouldn’t be here long enough to act on them.

The automatic glass doors opened, allowing in a blast of freezing-cold air that took his breath and made his teeth rattle. “Hold up.” He stepped back inside.

She followed. He didn’t miss the slight twitch at the corner of her full lips. She was laughing at him. He didn’t like being laughed at.

He plopped his bag on the floor and set his shoulder bag beside it before putting on his trench coat.

“Is that the heaviest overcoat you have?” she asked.

Tying the belt at the waist, he looked directly at her. “Yes. There isn’t much call for substantial clothes in Miami.”

“I guess there isn’t. Would you like to stop and get a warmer one on our way to the practice field?”

He shook his head as he picked up his bags again. “I don’t plan to be here that long.”

Again they headed out the door, Dalton tried to act as if the wind wasn’t cutting right through his less-than-adequate clothes. Even with a shirt, sweater and coat he was miserable.

“Why don’t you wait here and I’ll circle around to get you?”

“No, I’m fine. Let’s get moving.” He bowed his head against the spit of icy rain.

Dalton had spent a lifetime of not appearing weak and he wouldn’t change now. As the smart foster kid, he hadn’t fit in at school or in the houses he’d been placed in. With a father in jail and a drug addict for a mother, he’d been in and out of homes for years. It wasn’t until his mother died of an overdose that he’d stayed in one place for any length of time. At the Richies’, life had been only marginally better before he was sent to another home.

He’d had plenty of food and clothes, but little about his life had been easy. When all the other kids were out playing, he was busy reading, escaping. The most miserable times were when he did join in a game. He was the last one chosen for the team. If finally picked, he then had to deal with the ridicule of being the worst player. He learned quickly not to show any weakness. As a medical student and now a surgeon, the honed trait served him well.

Football, freezing weather and a laughing woman, no matter how attractive she was, were not to his taste. He needed to do this consultation and get back to Florida.

* * *

Melanie couldn’t help but find humor in the situation. Dr. Reynolds’ long legs carried him at such a brisk pace, she had trouble staying in the lead enough to show him where the car was parked. He must be freezing. Niagara Falls was not only known for the falls but for the horrible winter weather. What planet did he live on that he hadn’t come prepared?

She pushed the button on her key fob, unlocking the car door as they approached so that he wouldn’t have to wait any longer than necessary outside. Minutes later she had the car started and the heat blasting on high. She glanced at her passenger. He took a great deal of space in her small car. Almost to the point of overwhelming her. Why was he affecting her so? Melanie glanced at him. Judging by the tenseness of his square jaw, he must be gritting his teeth to keep them from chattering.

“I’m sure it’ll be warm in a few minutes.”

An mmm sound of acknowledgement came from his direction as Melanie pulled out into the evening traffic on the freeway.

Her phone rang. “Please excuse me. This may be the office about Rocket.” She pushed the hands-free button. “This is Mel.”

“Rocket is on his way back.” Her father’s booming voice filled the car.

“Great. I’m sure Dr. Reynolds will be glad to hear that. We should be there in about thirty minutes.” Her father hung up and she asked her passenger, “Have you ever been to Niagara Falls?”

“No.”

“Well, the falls are a beautiful sight any time of the year, but especially now with the snow surrounding them.”

“I don’t think I’ll be here long enough to do much sightseeing.”

“It doesn’t take much to say you’ve seen the falls. They’re pretty large.”

“What I came for is to see Mr. Overtree, so I imagine I should focus on that.” Obviously he wasn’t much for small talk or the local sights. Melanie stopped making an effort at conversation and concentrated on driving in the thickening snow and slow traffic. With her heavier clothes on, she began to get too warm but didn’t want to turn down the heat for fear Dr. Reynolds needed it.

They were not far from the team camp when he said, “I don’t think I’ve ever met a female team doctor before.”

She’d long ago become used to hearing that statement. With a proud note in her voice she said, “As far as I know, I’m the only one in the NFL.”

“What made you want to be a sports doctor?”

His voice, she bet, had mesmerized more than one woman. Where had that idea come from? What was his question? “I wanted to be a part of the world of football.”

What it did was make her feel included. She’d grown up without a mother, a coach for a father and three brothers who now played professional football. In her family if you didn’t eat, drink and live football you were left out. As a girl she couldn’t play, so by becoming the team doctor she took her place as part of the team. Even when it wasn’t her heart’s desire. “Team means everything, Mel,” her father would say. “That’s what we are—a team.” He would then hug her. To get his attention she learned early on what she needed to do as part of the team. As she grew older the pressure to be a team member grew and became harder to live with.

She often wondered what her father would say if she confessed she didn’t want to belong to a team any longer. Sometimes she’d like to just be his daughter. She was afraid of what the repercussions might be. Still she would have to say she was happy, wouldn’t she?

Melanie pulled the car into her designated parking space in front of the two-story, glass-windowed building. “Leave your bag in the car. I’ll take you to the hotel after we’re through here.”

Dr. Reynolds nodded and climbed out. He wasn’t large like some of the players but he did look like a man who could hold his own in a fight. With those wide shoulders and trim hips, he appeared physically fit.

“This way,” she said as they entered the lobby. The space was built to impress. With hardwood floors, bright lights and the Currents’ mascot and bolt of lightning painted on the wall, the place did not disappoint. No matter how many times Melanie entered this direction, she had a moment of awe. She enjoyed her job, liked the men she worked with and loved the passion of the crowd when the Currents took the field to play.

Dr. Reynolds followed her through security and down the hall to the elevator. There they waited in silence until the doors opened and they entered. She pushed the button that would take them to the bottom floor where the Athlete Performance Area and her office were located. When the elevator opened she led him along a hall painted with different football players making moves. “Rocket should be back here.”

The team had a state-of-the-art workout facility, from whirlpool and sauna to a walking pool and all the other equipment on the market to help improve the human body. She was proud of the care she was able to provide for the men. Two years ago she had instituted a wellness program for retired players who continued to live nearby.

She pushed open the double swinging doors and entered her domain. Here she normally had the final say.

Rocket was already there, sitting on the exam table. Wearing practice shorts and a T-shirt with the sleeves cut out of it, he looked like the football player he was. What didn’t show was the injury to his knee and his importance to the Currents winning a trip to the Super Bowl.

She pulled off her coat. “Rocket, sorry to pull you back in but Dr. Reynolds wanted to see you right away.” Turning to Dr. Reynolds, she said, “This is Rocket—or Martin Overtree. Rocket, Dr. Reynolds.”

The two men shook hands.

“Thanks for coming, Doc,” Rocket said. “Mel says you’re the man to help keep me on the field.”

“I don’t know about that. I’ll need to examine you first.” Dr. Reynolds pulled off his coat.

“I’ll take that,” Melanie offered and draped it over a chair in the corner.

The doctor rolled up his shirtsleeves, revealing tanned arms with a dusting of dark hair. Using his foot, he pulled a rolling stool from where it rested near the exam table. He straddled it and rolled to the end of the table. “I’m going to do some movements and I want you to tell me when or if they hurt and where.”

Melanie watched as the doctor placed his large hands on either side of the huge running back’s dark-skinned knee. With more patience than he’d shown at the airport, he examined it. Rocket grunted occasionally when Dr. Reynolds moved his knee a certain way.

The doctor pushed with his heels, putting space between him and the patient. “Now, Mr. Overtree—”

“Make it Rocket. Everyone else does.”

Dr. Reynolds seemed to hesitate a second before he said in a stilted tone, “Rocket, I’d like you to lift your foot as far as you can without your knee hurting.”

Rocket followed his instructions. The grimace on the player’s face when his leg was almost completely extended said the knee might be in worse shape than Melanie had feared.

Dr. Reynolds placed his hand on the top of the knee.

She’d always had a thing for men’s hands. To her they were a sign of their character. Dr. Reynolds had hands with long tapered fingers and closely cut nails that said he knew what he was doing and he could be trusted. Melanie liked what they said about him.

He moved his fingers over Rocket’s knee. “That’s good. Have you had a hard hit to this knee recently?”

Rocket made a dry chuckle. “Doc, I play football. I’m getting hit all the time.”

“Yeah, I know who you are. But has there been one in particular you can remember?”

“A couple weeks ago in the game I was coming down, and the safety and I got tangled up pretty good.”

Melanie had learned early in her career as a team doctor that many of the players, no matter how large, were deep down gentle giants. Often they had a hard time showing weakness and fear. Rocket was one of those guys. Melanie was grateful to the doctor for his compassionate care.

“Any popping sensation, swelling or pain?”

“Not really. If Doc here—” Rocket indicated Melanie “—hadn’t pulled me off the machine the other day I wouldn’t have really noticed. Players are in some kind of pain all the time if they play ball. We get to where we don’t really notice.”

Dr. Reynolds gave him a thoughtful nod and stood. “I’d like to get some X-rays and possibly a MRI before I confirm my diagnosis.”

“I’ll set them up.” Melanie made a note on the pad at her desk.

The double doors burst wide open. Her father entered. In his booming voice he demanded, “Well, Doc, is Rocket going to be able to play on Sunday?”

Melanie flinched. Based on what she knew about Dr. Reynolds in their short acquaintance, he wouldn’t take kindly to being pressured.

Reynolds looked her father straight in the eyes. “It’s Dr. Dalton Reynolds.” Not the least bit intimidated, he continued, “And you are?”

Her father pulled up short. Silence ping-ponged around the room. Few people, if any, dared to speak to her father in that manner. When he was a coach he had insisted on respect and as general manager he commanded it.

“Leon Hyde, general manager of the Currents.” He offered his hand.

Dr. Reynolds gave her a questioning look, then accepted her father’s hand. The moment of awkwardness between the two men disappeared as the doctor met her usually intimidating father toe to toe.

She couldn’t remember another man who hadn’t at least been initially unsettled by her father. Dr. Reynolds’s gaze didn’t waver. Her appraisal of him rose.

“So, Dr. Reynolds, is Rocket going to be able to run for us Sunday?” her father asked with a note of expectancy in his voice.

“I need to look at the X-rays and MRI before I can let you know.”

“That’ll be in the morning,” Melanie said.

“Good.” Her father turned to her. “Mel, we need Rocket on the field.”

“I understand.” She did, but she wasn’t sure her father wasn’t more concerned about winning than he was Rocket’s health. She just hoped it didn’t come down to her having to choose between the team and her professional conscience. “But I must consider Rocket’s well-being. I won’t sign off until Dr. Reynolds has made his determination.”

Her father gave her a pointed look. The one she recognized that came before the team player speech.

Instead he continued, “You’ll see that Dr. Reynolds gets to the Lodge and is comfortable, won’t you?”

As always, it wasn’t a question but a directive. She nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.” He looked at Dr. Reynolds. “I anticipate a positive report in the morning.”

The doctor made no commitment.

Her father then gave Rocket a slight slap on the shoulder. “Go home and take care of that knee. We need you on the field Sunday.”

Melanie watched the doors swing closed as her father exited. She was impressed by Dr. Reynolds’s ability not to appear pushed into making a decision. Her father was known for being a persuasive man and getting what he wanted. He wanted Rocket to play Sunday. Dr. Reynolds didn’t act as if he would be a yes-man if he didn’t feel it was safe for Rocket to do so. On this she could agree with him.

Still, it hurt that her father didn’t trust her opinion.

* * *

Dalton pulled the collar of his coat farther up around his neck and hunched his shoulders. They were in her car, moving through what was now a steady snowfall. It was unbearably cold. Even the car heater didn’t seem to block the chill seeping into his bones.

Dr. Hyde leaned forward and adjusted the thermostat on the dashboard. “It should be warm in here soon.”

He wasn’t sure he’d ever be comfortable again. Thankfully, a few minutes later he began to thaw. She maneuvered along the road with the confidence of a person who had done this many times.

“We should be at the Lodge in about half an hour. Would you like to stop for something to eat? The Lodge does have an excellent restaurant if you’d rather wait.”

He looked out the windshield. “I don’t think I’m interested in being out in this weather any longer than necessary.”

“It does require getting used to.”

He couldn’t imagine that happening either. “Why is Mr. Overtree called The Rocket?”

She glanced at him and chuckled lightly. “You apparently have never seen him play. He’s fast. Very fast.”

“I’ve never seen a professional football game.”

Melanie looked at him. The car swerved for a second before she corrected it.

“You might want to watch the road.”

She focused on the road again. “You’ve never seen one in person? Or on TV?”

“Neither. No interest. I have a busy practice.”

“You have to be kidding! Football is America’s game.” She sounded as if she was going to get overly excited about the subject.

“I think it’s baseball that’s supposed to be the ‘all-American game.’”

“It might have been at one time but no longer.” The words were said as if she dared anyone to contradict her.

He couldn’t help but raise a brow. “I think there are a lot of people who love baseball that might disagree with you.”

“Maybe but I bet most of them watch the Super Bowl.”

Dr. Reynolds gave a loud humph. “I understand that most watch for the halftime show and the commercials.” He didn’t miss the death grip she had on the stirring wheel. She really took football seriously. It was time to move on to a new subject or ask to drive. “The general manager’s name is Hyde. Any relation?”

“My father.”

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”

She glanced at him again. “Normally, no. We’re so close to going to the playoffs that everyone on the team, including my father, is wound up tight. Anyway, most of my work is directly with the coach.”

Based on the way her father spoke to her, she’d agree with him if Dalton declared Rocket shouldn’t play. His being asked to consult seemed necessary just to make the team look as if they were truly interested in the player’s health. So far, all he could tell they were concerned about was winning the next game.

“What made you decide to be a team doctor?”

“With brothers playing in the NFL and a father who coached, it’s the family business. I always wanted to be a doctor and being a team doctor gave me a chance to be a part of football,” she said in a flat tone.

Was there more going on behind that statement?

The concept of family, much less a family business, was foreign to him. His family’s occupation had been selling drugs and he’d wanted to get as far away from it as he could. He’d been a loner and alone for as long as he could remember.

Thankfully she turned into a curving road lined with large trees and had to concentrate on her driving. A few minutes later, they approached a three-story split-cedar building. She pulled under a portico with small lights hanging from it. Two large trees dressed in the same lights with red bows flanked the double wood-framed doors.

“This is Poospatuck Lodge. I think you’ll be comfortable here. The team keeps a suite.”

“Poospatuck?” When had he become such an inquisitive person? Usually on these trips he did what was required without any interest in the area he was visiting.

“It’s an Indian tribe native to New York.”

As she opened the door Dalton said, “It’s not necessary for you to get out.”

“I don’t mind. I need to speak to the management and I can show you up to your suite.”

Dalton grabbed his two bags from the backseat and followed her through the door into the welcome heat of the lobby. Large beams supported the two-story ceiling. Glass filled the wall above the door. The twinkle of lights from outside filtered in through the high windows. Flames burned bright in a gray rock fireplace taking up half of one wall. Above it was a large wreath. Along the mantel lay greenery interspersed with red candles. A grand stairway with an iron handrail led to the second floor.

Christmas had never been a big holiday for him. As a small child, it had just been another day for his parents to shoot up and pass out. In fact, the last time he was taken from his mother had been the day before Christmas. It hadn’t been much fun spending Christmas Day at a stranger’s house. Being a foster child on that day just sent the signal more strongly that he wasn’t a real member of the family. Some of his foster parents had really tried to make him feel a part of the unit but it had never really worked. Now it was just another day and he spent it on the beach or with friends.

Dr. Hyde walked toward the registration desk located to the right of the front door.

The clerk wore a friendly smile. “Hello, Dr. Hyde. Nice to see you again.”

“Hi, Mark. It’s good to see you also. How’s your family doing?”

“Very well, thank you.”

“Good.” She glanced back. “This is Dr. Reynolds. He’ll be staying in our suite. I’ll show him up.”

“Very good. It’s all ready for you.”

She turned to Dalton. “The elevator is over this way but we’re only going to the second floor if you don’t mind carrying your bags.”

“I believe I can manage to go up the stairs.”

She gave him an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean to imply...”

“Please just show me my room.” Dalton picked up his bags off the floor where he’d placed them earlier. He didn’t miss her small sound of disgust as she turned and walked toward the stairs. He followed three or four steps behind as they climbed the stairs. He enjoyed the nice sway of her hips.

At the top of the stairs she turned left and continued down a wide, well lit hallway to the end.

A brass plaque on the door read Niagara Currents. She pulled a plastic door key out of her handbag. With a quick swipe through the slot, she opened the door. Entering, she held the door for him.

He stepped into the seating area. The space had a rustic feel to it that matched the rest of the building. The two sofas and couple of chairs looked comfortable and inviting.

“Your bedroom is through here.” She pushed two French windows wide to reveal a large bed. “This is my favorite part of the suite.”

He didn’t say anything. She turned and looked at him. Dalton raised a brow. A blush crept up her neck.

“Um, I like the view from here is what I meant to say. The falls are incredible.”

Dalton moved to stand in the doorway. A large window filled the entire wall. He could just make out the snow falling from the light coming from below.

“There’s an amazing view of the falls from here. Now you can say you saw the falls.”

“So do you stay here often?”

She glared at him. “What’re you implying, Dr. Reynolds?”

“I was implying nothing, Dr. Hyde. I just thought you must have stayed overnight if you were that well acquainted with the view.”

“This suite is sometimes used for meetings. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to be getting home. I’ll be here at eight-thirty in the morning to pick you up.”

“Why not earlier?”

“Because the X-rays won’t be ready until nine. So just enjoy your evening. If you need anything, ask for Mark.”

“I shouldn’t call you?” he said in a suggestive tone, just to see how she would react. Dr. Hyde pursed her lips. Was she on the verge of saying something?

After a moment, she looked through her handbag and pulled out a card. She handed it to him. “If you need me, you may. Good night.”

The door closed with a soft click behind her.

Why had he needled her? It was so unlike him. Maybe it was because she’d questioned his clothing decisions. She’d been polite about it but there was still an undercurrent of humor. Could he possibly want her to feel a little out of sorts too? He had to admit it had been interesting to make her uncomfortable.

CHAPTER TWO

MELANIE PULLED IN front of the Lodge at eight-thirty the next morning. The snow had stopped during the night but the sky was overcast as if it would start again soon. She’d left last night uncomfortable about Dr. Reynolds’ suggestive manner. She wasn’t feeling any better about being his hostess this morning.

When his dark shapely brow had risen as if she were proposing she might be staying the night with him, she’d been insulted for a second. Then a tinge of self-satisfaction had shot through her that a male had noticed her. She’d had her share of boyfriends when she’d been young but recently the men attracted to her had become fewer. They seemed frightened by her position or were only interested so they could meet either one of her famous brothers or one of the Currents players. The one that she had loved hadn’t truly cared for her. She’d known rejection and wanted no part of it.

There had been one special man. He was a lawyer for a player. She couldn’t have asked for someone who fit into her family better. He lived and breathed football. They had even talked of marriage. It wasn’t until he started hinting, then asking her to put a good word in with her father when an assistant manager’s job came open that she realized he was using her. When she refused to do so, he dumped her. It had taken her months after that to even accept a friendly date. After that experience she judged every man that showed any attention to her with a sharp eye. She wouldn’t go through something like that again. Dr. Reynolds might flirt with her but she would see to it that was all that would happen. A fly in, fly out guy was someone she had no interest in.

She entered the lobby to find Dr. Reynolds waiting in one of the many large armchairs near the fireplace. Was he fortifying himself for the weather outside? She smiled. He had looked rather pitiful the night before in his effort to stay warm.

This morning his outfit wasn’t much better. Wearing a dress shirt, jeans and loafers, he didn’t look any more prepared for the weather than he had yesterday. In reality, it was unrealistic to expect him to buy clothes just to fly to Niagara Falls to see Rocket but he would be cold. However, he was undoubtedly the most handsome man she’d ever met. His striking good looks drew the attention of a couple of women who walked by. He had an air of self-confidence about him.

His head turned and his midnight gaze found her. His eyes were his most striking attribute. The dark color was appealing but it was the intensity of his focus that held her. As if he saw beyond what was on the surface and in some way understood what was beneath.

His bags sat on the floor beside him. She didn’t have to ask if he had plans to return to the sun and fun as soon as possible. If Rocket needed surgery he would have to go to Miami to have it done. She hoped that wouldn’t be the case but feared otherwise.

“Dr. Reynolds, good morning,” she said as she approached.

He stood, picked up his shoulder bag and slipped it over his neck. Grabbing his other bag, he walked toward her.

Apparently he was eager to leave. She stepped closer. “Have you had breakfast?”

“I ate a couple of hours ago.”

So he was an early riser. “Then we can go.” Melanie turned and headed back the way she had come. By the time she settled behind the steering wheel, he’d placed his bag in the backseat and was buckling up.

As she pulled out onto the main road, he said, “Well, at least it isn’t snowing.”

“No, but the weatherman is calling for more. A lot more.”

“Then I need to see Mr. Overtree’s X-rays and get to the airport.”

“Only eight more days. You must be in a hurry to get home to your family for Christmas.”

“No family. I’ll be working.”

“Oh.” Despite her family’s year-round focus on football, they all managed to come together during the holidays. Sometimes it was around Christmas Day games, but they always found a time that worked for all of them. Her brothers had wives and children, and the crowd was rowdy and loud. She loved it. Melanie couldn’t imagine not having any family or someone to share the day with. Even though much of the work fell to her. The men in her life expected her to organize and take care of them. She’d never let them know that sometimes she resented them taking her for granted.

They rode in silence for a while. He broke it by asking, “How much longer?”

“It should be only another ten minutes or so.”

The sky had turned gray and a large snowflake hit the windshield. By the time she pulled into the team compound it had become a steady snow shower. Instead of parking in the front, this time she pulled through the gate to the back of the building and parked in the slot with her name painted on it. Thankfully, her spot was close to the door so they wouldn’t have far to walk.

Dr. Reynolds huddled in his coat on their way to the door. With his head down, he walked slowly as if in an effort not to slip on the ice and snow. Melanie stayed close behind him. She had no idea what her plan was if he started to go down. Inside, they both took off their jackets and shook them out.

“I’ll take that,” Melanie said. Dr. Reynolds handed her his overcoat. Their hands brushed as she reached for it. A tingle of awareness went up her spine. Shaking it off, she hung their coats up on pegs along the wall and headed down the hall. “This way.”

“I assume Mr. Overtree’s X-rays will have been sent to your computer in the exam room. The MRI as well.”

“Yes.”

She made a turn and went down another hallway until she reached the Athlete Performance Area and pushed open one of the swinging doors and held it. She let him have the door, then continued into the room. Rocket, Coach Rizzo and her father were already there.

Her father gave her a questioning look. She shrugged her shoulder. Surely her father wouldn’t push Dr. Reynolds to agree to let Rocket play if the test indicated that he shouldn’t. As team doctor, she had the final say anyway. She would refuse to be a team player if it came down to Rocket’s long-term health. Moving on to her desk, she flipped on the computer. She pulled up Rocket’s chart. “Dr. Reynolds, the X-rays from last week and his most recent ones are ready for your review.”

Giving her what she could only describe as an impressed look, Dr. Reynolds seemed to appreciate her being efficient and prepared. For some reason that made her feel good. The kind of respect she didn’t feel she received from her father. She stepped away from the desk to allow him room. When the other men moved to join them, she shook her head, indicating they should give Dr. Reynolds some space. Despite that, her father still took steps toward her desk.

“Thank you, Doctor. You’ve been very thorough,” Dr. Reynolds said to her.

It was nice to be valued as a fellow medical professional who was more interested in the health of the player than whether or not the team won. She and Dr. Reynolds were at least in the same playbook where that was concerned.

In her mind no game was worth a man losing mobility for the rest of his life. A player’s heath came first in that regard. She was sure her father and the coach didn’t feel the same. More than once she’d been afraid that there might be repercussions from them if she placed a player on the disabled list. Even the players gave her a hard time about her being overly cautious. As their doctor, the players’ health took precedence over winning a game. Rocket had his sights set on being the most valuable player. He might agree to anything to get it. Even playing when he was injured. Sometimes she felt as if she had the most rational mind in the group.

Dr. Reynolds took her chair. He gave that same concentrated consideration to the screen as he seemed to give everything. With a movement of one long finger, he clicked through the black-and-white screens of different X-ray angles of Rocket’s knee. He studied them all but made no comment.

He turned to her. “Did you have a MRI done?”

She nodded.

“Good. I’d like to see it.”

She moved to the desk and he pushed back enough to allow her to get to the keyboard. As she punched keys she was far too aware of him close behind her. Her fingers fumbled on the keys but seconds later she had the red-and-blue images on the screen.

Minutes went by as Dr. Reynolds moved through the different shots.

“Well?” her father snapped.

“Let him have time to look,” Melanie said in an effort to placate him. Her father shot her a sharp look.

Dr. Reynolds continued to spend time on the side views of the knee. The entire room seemed to hold their collective breath as he spun in the chair. His gaze went to Rocket. “It looks like you have a one-degree patellar-tendon tear.”

That was what she had been afraid of. “That was my diagnosis.”

Dr. Reynolds nodded in her direction.

“We still needed a second opinion,” her father said as he stepped back.

For once it would be nice for her father to appreciate her knowledge and ability.

“Can he play?” Coach Rizzo asked.

“The question is—should he play?” Then, to Rocket, Dr. Reynolds said, “Do you want to take the chance on ruining your knee altogether? I wouldn’t recommend it. Let it rest, heal. You’ll be ready to go next year.”

The other men let go simultaneous groans.

Rocket moaned. “This is our year. Who’s to know what’ll happen next year?”

Her father looked at Rocket. “What do you want to do? Think about the bonus and the ring.”

How like her father to apply pressure.

Dr. Reynolds looked at him. “Mr. Hyde, this is a decision that Rocket needs to make without any force.”

Her father didn’t look happy but he also didn’t say anything more.

Rocket seemed not to know what the right answer was or, if he did, he didn’t want to say it.

“Hey, Doc, what’re the chances of it getting worse?” Rocket asked.

“If you take a hard hit, that’ll be it. Your tendon is like a rope with a few of the strands frayed and ragged. You take a solid shot and the rope may break. What I know is that it won’t get any better if you play. One good twist during a run could possibly mean the end of your career.”

Her father huffed. “Roger Morton with the Wildcats had surgery and returned better than ever.”

“I’m not saying it isn’t possible. However, not everyone does that well.”

Coach Rizzo walked over to Rocket and put his hand on his shoulder, “I think ‘The Rocket’ has what it takes to play for us on Sunday.”

Dr. Reynolds stood. “That’ll be for Mr. Overtree to decide.”

“You can’t do anything more?” Rocket asked Dr. Reynolds.

He looked as if he wanted to say no but instead said, “I’d like to see you use the knee. See what kind of mobility you have.”

Before Rocket had time to respond, Coach Rizzo spoke up. “Practice starts in about ten minutes.”

“Mel, why don’t you show Dr. Reynolds to the practice field?” her father suggested.

“Okay.” Once again, she wasn’t sure how being tour guide to the visiting doctor fell under her job description but she was a team player. She would do what she was asked. As she headed out the door she said over her shoulder, “Rocket, be sure and wear your knee brace.”

She looked at Dr. Reynolds. “The practice field is out this way.”

* * *

Dalton followed Melanie out a different set of double doors and into a hallway. At the elevator they went down to the ground floor. Once again she was wearing a very efficient-looking business suit. With her shapely, slender body it would seem she’d want to show it off; instead, she acted as if she sought to play down being a woman.

Her father sure was a domineering man. She seemed to do his bidding without question. He was afraid that if he hadn’t been brought in for that second opinion, her father would have overridden any decision she made about Rocket. For a grown woman she seemed to still be trying to make daddy happy.

“We aren’t going outside, are we?” he asked.

She grinned. “No. We have an indoor practice field. A full stadium without the stands. You should be warm enough in there.”

“Good.”

Melanie led them down a hallway and through two extralarge doors into a covered walkway. Seconds later they entered a large building.

They walked down one of the sidelines until they were near the forty-yard line. A few of the players wandered out on the field and started stretching. They wore shoulder pads under practice jerseys and shorts.

“Hey, Doc,” a couple of the players yelled as they moved to the center of the field.

She called back to them by name. Dalton wasn’t used to this type of familiarity with his patients. As a surgeon he usually saw them only a couple of times and never again.

It was still cooler than he liked inside the building. Dalton crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his hands under his arms.

Dr. Hyde must have noticed because she said, “It’s not near as cold in here as outside but we can’t keep it too warm because the players would overheat.” Not surprisingly Melanie didn’t seem affected by the temperature.

Rocket loped on the field from the direction of the dressing room. Dalton studied the movement of his leg and so far couldn’t see anything significantly out of the norm.

Melanie leaned toward him. “They’ll go through their warm-up and then move into some skill work. I think that’ll be when you can tell more about his knee. In the past he seemed to show no indication there might be a problem until he was running post plays.”

“Post plays?”

“When they run up the field and then cut sharply one way or another.”

He nodded and went back to learning Rocket’s movements. Rocket. He shook his head. It seemed as if he was picking up the slang of the game.

Would Dr. Hyde agree with him if he said that Rocket didn’t need to play? As a medical doctor, how could she not?

They had been standing there twenty minutes or so, him watching Rocket while Melanie spoke with every one of the big men who passed by. The staff along the sidelines with them did the same. She was obviously well liked.

The next time a guy came by her, Dalton asked, “You have a good relationship with the team. Does anyone not like you?”

A broad smile came to her face. “We’re pretty much like family around here. We all have a job to do but most of us are really good friends. I work at having a positive relationship with the players. I try to have them see me as part of the team. I want them to feel comfortable coming to me with problems. Men tend to drag their feet about asking for help.” He must have made a face because she said, “Not all, but I want them to come to me or one of the trainers before a problem gets so bad they can’t play.”

Dalton had nothing to base that type of camaraderie on. Long ago he’d given up on that idea. Unable to think of anything to say, he muttered, “That makes sense.”

She touched his arm. Her small hand left a warm place behind when she removed it to point at Rocket. “Watch him when he makes this move.”

The hesitation was so minor that Dalton might have missed it if he hadn’t been looking as she instructed.

“Did you see it?”

“I did. It was almost as if he didn’t realize he did it.” He was impressed that she had caught it to begin with.

“Exactly. I noticed it during one practice. Called him in and did X-rays. Dad insisted I contact you. We can’t afford for Rocket to be out.”

He looked at her. “Afford?”

She continued to watch the action on the field. “Yeah. This is big business for the team as well as for all these guys’ careers.”

He looked at Rocket and made no effort to keep the skepticism out of his voice when he asked, “No life after football?”

She stepped back and gave him a sharp look. “Yes. That’s the point. A successful season means endorsements, which means money in their pockets. That doesn’t even include the franchise.”

“And all this hinges on Rocket?”

“No, but he’s an important part.” She looked around and leaned so close he could smell her shampoo. “The star—for now.”

He wasn’t convinced but he nodded and said, “I think I get it.”

Melanie’s expression implied she wasn’t sure he did.

They continued to watch practice from the edge of the sideline. The team was playing on the far end of the field.

“How long has Rocket...?” he began.

She turned to look at him.

Over her shoulder he saw a huge player barreling in their direction. His helmeted head was turned away as he looked at the ball in the air. Not thinking twice, Dalton wrapped his arms around Melanie and swiveled to the side so he would take the brunt of the hit. Slammed with a force he would later swear was the equivalent of a speeding train, his breath swooshed from his lungs. His arms remained around Melanie as they went through the air and landed on the Astroturf floor with a thud. The landing felt almost as hard as the original hit. He and Melanie ended up a tangle of legs and arms as the player stumbled over their bodies.

There was no movement from the soft form in his arms. Fear seized him. Had she been hurt? A moan brushed his cheek. At least she was alive. He loosened his hold and rolled to his side but his hands remained in place. Searching Melanie’s face, he watched as her eyes fluttered open. She stared at him with a look of uncertainty.

“What...what happened?”

Dalton drew in a breath, causing his chest to complain. He would be in considerable pain in the morning. “We got hit.”

“By what?”

“Doc Mel, you okay?” a player asked from above them.

Dalton looked up to find players and staff circling them.

A large man with bulging biceps sounded as if he might cry.

“I’m sorry, Doc Mel. Are you okay? I tried to stop.” If that had been his idea of slowing down, Dalton would have hated being on the receiving end of the player’s full power. Dalton returned his attention to Melanie. One of his hands rested beneath her shoulder and the other on her stomach. Her cheek was against his lips. “Do you think you can stand?”

“Why did you grab me?”

“Because you could have been hurt if I hadn’t.” Didn’t she understand he might have just saved her life?

“Hurt?” She turned her head toward him. Her eyes were still dazed. “You have pretty eyes.”

Dalton swallowed hard, which did nothing to ease the pain in his chest. She must have a head injury because he couldn’t imagine her saying something so forward.

“Lie right where you are,” one of the people above them commanded. “An ambulance is on its way.”

Dalton shifted. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

The trainer said, “Yes, it is. You both need to be checked out.”

“Look, I’m a doctor. I would know if I need...”

“Now you’re a patient.” A man with a staff shirt said, “Mel, where do you hurt?”

Dalton’s hand moved to her waist and gave it a gentle shake. “Dr. Hyde, can you move?”

“Melanie...my name is Melanie,” she murmured.

Three of the trainers shifted to one side of her and placed their arms under her, preparing to lift her enough to separate them.

“Melanie, they’re going to move you.” Dalton took his hands away.

She nodded then made a noise of acceptance and the trainers went to work. Dalton started to rise and a couple of the trainers placed their hands on his shoulders, stopping him.

A few minutes later the sound of the ambulances arriving caught his attention.

* * *

Melanie wasn’t clear on all that had occurred before she woke up in the brightly lit emergency room.

“What’s going on?” She looked at David, one of the trainers, who was sitting in a chair across the room.

“You were in an accident on the practice field.”

Before David could elaborate, a white-haired doctor entered. “So, how are you feeling?” He stepped close to the bed and pulled out a penlight.

Slowly the events came back to her. She started to sit up. “How is Dr. Reynolds?”

The doctor pushed her shoulder, making her lie back. “First let me do my examination, then you can go check on him.”

She settled back.

“I’ll be in the waiting room,” David said and went out the door.

“Now tell me what happened,” the doctor said as he lifted one of her eyelids.

Melanie relayed the events she recalled and finished with “and Dr. Reynolds took the impact of the hit.”

The doctor nodded thoughtfully. “That he did.”

“How bad is he?”

“If you’ll give me a few minutes to finish my exam you can go see for yourself.”

Melanie’s chest tightened. She hoped he wasn’t badly hurt. Thankfully, the doctor pronounced her well enough to go. The time that she waited for the nurse with the discharge papers only made her anxiety grow. Because of her, Dalton was hurt.

“What exam room is Dr. Reynolds in?” Melanie asked as she pulled on her shoes.

“Next door.” The nurse indicated to the right.

“Thanks.” Melanie rose slowly, still feeling dazed. She sat on the edge of the bed for a few seconds. Her body would be sore tomorrow.

Minutes later, she knocked on the glass sliding door to the exam room. At a weak, “Come in,” she entered. Dalton still wore his slacks but no shirt. He had a nicely muscled chest. She groaned when she saw the ice pack resting on his left rib cage. His eyes were glazed as if he were in pain and his lips were drawn into a tight line. Guilt filled her.

Another one of the trainers stood in the corner of the room, typing on his cell phone. When she entered he slipped out, giving her the impression he was relieved to do so.

“Hey,” she said softly.

Dalton’s response came out more as a grumble than a word.

Melanie stepped farther into the room. She had to let him know how much she appreciated what he’d done. “Thank you.”

He nodded but his jaw remained tight.

“How are you?”

“I’ve been better.” The words were uttered between clenched teeth.

A stab of remorse plunged through her. He was here because of her. She approached the bed and moved to put her hand on his shoulder, then stopped herself. That would be far too personal. “Don’t talk if it hurts too much.”

A nurse entered.

Melanie didn’t give her time to pick up the chart before she asked, “How is he?” She had to find out something about his injuries without him having to do the speaking.

The nurse looked at him. “Do I have permission to discuss your case?”

He nodded.

“The doctor has some bruised ribs. He’ll be sore for a week or so but nothing more serious.”

At least that was positive news. Melanie was already guilt ridden enough. “Then he will be released?”

“He’ll be released as soon as he has someone who can take him home and stay with him. He isn’t going to feel like doing much for a few days.”

“I’ll see that he gets the care he needs,” Melanie assured her.

Dalton’s eyebrows went up. “Plane...”

The nurse placed the blood pressure cuff around his arm. “You don’t need to be flying. I don’t think you could stand the pain.”

There was a knock at the door and Melanie looked away from Dalton to find John Horvitz, her father’s right-hand man, standing there.

“How’re you both doing?” Obviously he would be concerned about the visiting doctor being hurt on team time.

Melanie gave John a brief report. “He’s in so much pain, it’s difficult to speak.” Dalton gave her a grateful look.

John focused his attention on her. “Your father wanted me to check on you both. He had a meeting. I’ll be giving him a full report.”

And he would. That was always the way it had been. Her father sent someone else. When he’d coached, team issues took precedence. As the general manager, it wasn’t any better. His concern had always come through a subordinate. What would it be like to have him show he really cared?

“He’ll call when the meeting is over,” John finished.

“Who hit us?” she asked.

John grimaced. “I was told it was Juice.”

“He must have been flying!”

“Not ‘Freight Train’?” Dalton mumbled.

Melanie laughed. The poor guy. Maybe he did have a sense of humor. She wrapped her arms around her waist when the laughter led to throbbing.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” John asked her.

“Sore, but nothing that I can’t stand. Dr. Reynolds is the one we should be worried about. I think we would both like to get out of here.”

As if on cue, the ER doctor came in. “If you’ll give me a few minutes, I’ll see you have your discharge papers. There will be no driving or flying for two days.”

Dalton partially sat up, “Two days!” As if the effort was too much for him, he fell back, closing his eyes.

She owed him for making sure she hadn’t really got hurt but this was a busy time of the year and adding the Currents’ play-off game didn’t make it better. Now she was being saddled with taking care of him for two more days.

“The team will see that you are as comfortable as possible,” John assured him.

Dalton’s eyes opened but he said nothing.

John continued, “There’s a driver and a car waiting to take you both home. I have notified the Lodge to do everything they can to make your stay comfortable.”

“I’ll see that he’s well taken care of. Thanks, John,” Melanie said.

Half an hour later, Melanie sucked in her breath when she looked out the hospital sliding glass door. Snow fell so thickly that she could just make out the cars in the parking lot. “The snow has really picked up.”

Their driver waited under the pickup area with the engine running. Dr. Reynolds, always the gentleman, allowed her to get in the backseat first. Wincing as he bent to climb in, he joined her. He reached out to pull the door closed and groaned.

“Let me help.” She leaned across him. Her chest brushed his as she stretched. His body heat mixed with the air blasting out of the car vents, making her too warm. He smelled like a fir after a misty rain. She stopped herself from inhaling. Using her fingertips, she managed to pull the door closed. His breath brushed her cheek as she sat up again, causing her midsection to flutter.

The windshield wipers swished back and forth in a rapid movement but the snow continued to pile up on the glass. She glanced at Dr. Reynolds. His shoulders were hunched and he was peering out with a concerned look on his face.

“Normal?” The word came out with a wince.

“We get a lot of snow here. We’re used to it. Looks like we’ll have a white Christmas, with it only being seven days off.” She tried to make the last sentence sound upbeat. In pain, he took on an almost boyish look that had her heart going out to him.

He leaned back and closed his eyes. “Only thing white at Christmastime where I come from is the beach.”

That didn’t sound all that festive to her. Snow, a green tree, a warm fire and people you loved surrounding you was what she thought Christmas should be. She loved this time of the year.

The driver had the radio playing low and after the song finished the announcer came on. “Fellow Niagarans, it’s a white one out there. The good news is the roads are still passable and the airport open. But not sure it will be tomorrow. The storm isn’t over yet.”

Dalton moaned.

“I’m sorry for this inconvenience, Dr. Reynolds. Maybe in a few days you’ll be up to going home,” Melanie said in a sympathetic tone.

And she wouldn’t be nursemaiding him anymore. She needed to talk to her father about what her duties as team doctor entailed. It would probably be a waste of time; he’d never listened to her in the past and wasn’t likely to do so now.

* * *

Dalton questioned if the stars were aligned against him. He was stuck in Niagara Falls longer than he’d planned. Too long for his comfort. The driver pulled under the awning of the Lodge. Dalton opened the door despite the pain it brought and climbed out. It wasn’t until he turned to close the door that he saw Dr. Hyde getting out.

“What’re you doing?” he muttered through tightly clamped teeth.

“I’m going to stay and see about you tonight.”

“What?”

“Didn’t you hear the doctor? You need someone to check on you regularly over the next twenty-four hours.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“For heaven’s sakes, can we go inside to argue about this?”

Without another word, he turned and pulled open the door to the Lodge. He had to admit it required a great deal of effort to do so.

She came to stand beside him. “You obviously need help. I feel guilty enough about you getting hurt. The least I can do is make sure you’re okay.”

His look met hers for the first time since they’d left the hospital. He wasn’t used to seeing concern for him in anyone’s eyes. He tried to take a deep breath. Pain shot through his side. He reluctantly said, “I would appreciate help.”

“Then let’s go try to make you as comfortable as you can be with those ribs. The elevator is over this way.” They walked across the lobby.

“Not going to make me climb the stairs?” Each word pained him but he couldn’t stop himself from making the comment.

She glared at him. “I thought your ribs hurt too much to speak.”

He started to laugh and immediately wrapped his arms across his chest.

They rode the elevator up and walked to the room. At the door Melanie took out a room key.

“You have a key to my room?” Dalton asked with a hint of suspicion.

“I was given one when we knew you were coming so I could check on the room before you arrived.” She slid the plastic card in the slot and opened the door. “I’m sure you’re ready to lie down. I’ll call for some food.”

“Are you always so bossy?”

Melanie dropped her pocketbook into the closest chair. “I guess I am when it comes to taking care of my patients.”

Dalton started toward the bedroom. “I’m not one of your patients.”

“You are for the next twenty-four hours.”

He wasn’t pleased with the arrangements. Still, something about having her concerned for him gave him an unfamiliar warm feeling. He’d never had anyone’s total focus before. Mrs. Richie had been the only foster mother who came close to doing that, but he hadn’t been there long before he heard her telling the social worker that it would be better for him to move to another house. After that he’d never let another woman know he hurt or see him in need. He made sure his relationships with women were short and remained at arm’s length. All physical and no emotional involvement was the way he liked to keep things.

Dalton crossed the living space and circled one of the sofas that faced each other on his way to the bedroom on the left. There was another room on the opposite side of the large living area. He would leave that one for Melanie. Giving a brief glance to the minibar/kitchen area on the same side of the suite as the extra bedroom, he kept walking.

He ached all over. His jaw hurt from clamping his teeth in an effort not to show the amount of pain he was in. He’d learned as a child that if you let them see your weakness, they would use it against you. Now all he wanted to do was get a hot shower and go to bed.

Kicking off his shoes, he started to remove his knit pullover shirt and pain exploded through his side, taking his breath. For once in his life he had no choice but to ask for help. When his breath returned he opened the door and said, “Dr. Hyde?”

Melanie jumped up from the chair. She must have been watching for him. Hurrying toward him, her eyes were filled with concern, “Are you all right?”

“I need help with my shirt.”

She stepped close. “Why do you need to take it off? You could lie down with it on.”

“Shower.”

“Oh.”

“Help?”

“Sure. Sure.” She didn’t sound too confident as she followed him back into the room. When he stopped at the bed she reached for the hem of his shirt. Her blue eyes met his. There was a twinkle in her eyes when she said, “You know I’m usually on a first-name basis with people I help undress. You can feel free to call me Mel.”

Was she flirting with him? “You said Melanie.”

She gave him a questioning look.

“That’s what you told me to call you after we were hit. You can call me Dalton.”

“Dalton—” she said it as if she were testing the sound of it on her lips “—hold real still.” She gathered the shirt until she had it under his arms.

Pain must have really addled his brain because he liked the sound of his name when she said it. He was just disappointed he didn’t feel well enough to take advantage of her removing his clothes.

“Raise your hands as high as you can. I’ll be as careful as I can but I’m afraid it’s going to hurt.”

He followed her directions. She wasn’t wrong. It hurt like the devil as she worked the sleeves off. Sweat popped out on his forehead.

“I’m sorry. I’ll get you something for the pain as soon as I’m done.”

Dalton was exhausted by the time she finished.

“Let’s go to the bathroom to remove your pants.”

“I can do that.”

“What’s wrong? You afraid you have something I haven’t seen? I’m a doctor for an all-male football team. I think I can handle removing your pants.”

“You’re not my doctor.”

“Just as I expected. The double whammy. Who makes the worst patient? A male doctor.”

He sneered, then walked gingerly into the bathroom and closed the door.

“Just the same, I’ll be right out here if you need me,” she called.

If nothing else she was tenacious. With more effort than he would have thought necessary, he managed to get his pants down. In the shower he stood under the hot water until he was afraid he might need Melanie’s assistance to get out. That would be the ultimate humiliation—having to ask for help again. He already looked feeble as it was.

His clothes were not right for the weather, he was hurt and now he needed her help to undress. He had to get a handle on the situation.

He turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. Melanie opened the door and entered just as he pulled a towel off the rack.

He stood motionless. “What’re you doing here?”

She met his gaze with determination. “I’m going to help you dry off. There’s no way you can handle that by yourself. If you’re afraid I’ll look, keep that bath sheet and I’ll use one of the others.”

Their standoff lasted seconds before he handed her his towel. He wouldn’t be intimidated. Standing proudly in front of her, he didn’t blink as she took the rectangular terry cloth. She circled behind him and ran the fabric across his shoulders then down his back.

His manhood twitched.

Melanie continued down his legs and up the front before she stepped around to face him. “Lean your head down.”

Her voice sounded brisk and businesslike, as if she dried men off all the time. He rather liked having a woman dry him. Despite the pain he experienced with each breath, his body was reacting to the attention. Melanie briskly rubbed his hair, then went over his shoulders and down his chest. When she passed over his ribs, he hissed.

She gave him a sad look. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to be careful.”

Going further south, her hands jerked to a stop and it was her turn to release a rush of air.

“I guess you weren’t careful enough,” he smirked.

Her wide-eyed gaze met his.

“I think I can finish from here.” He didn’t miss her gulp.

With a shaking hand she handed him the towel and left with the parting words, “There’s a robe hanging on the back of the door.”

Well, he’d won that standoff. Melanie wasn’t as unaffected as she would like to make out. He let the towel drop to the floor. No way was he going to make the effort to put a robe on when he was just going to crawl into bed.

Melanie wasn’t in the bedroom when he came out and he didn’t pause on his way to the bed. The effort alone had his side aching. He managed to cover his lower half before there was a light knock on the door. He was in so much pain he didn’t even make an effort to answer.

She pushed the door open enough to stick her head in. “You need help?”

He hated to admit again that he did. “Would you put some pillows behind me?”

Melanie hurried to him. She went around the bed, gathered the extra pillows and returned, placing the pillows within arm’s reach.

Dalton groaned as he tried to sit up.

“Let me help you.” Melanie didn’t meet his look as she ran her left arm around his shoulders to support him. With her other hand, she stuffed a couple of pillows behind his back. The awkward process put them close. Too close for his comfort. His face was almost in her breasts. She smelled sweet. Nothing like the aroma of disinfectant their profession was known for. Too soon she guided him back against the pillows so that he was now in a half-sitting position. “Is that better?”

He nodded and made an effort to adjust the covers so that his reaction to her assistance wasn’t obvious. Why was his body reacting to her so?

“Good. I’ll get you that pain reliever.” She stepped out of the room and soon returned with a bottle of tablets and a glass of water. Shaking out a couple of pills, she handed them to him, then offered him the glass of water.

Gladly he took the medicine and swallowed all the water. Closing his eyes, he was almost asleep when the covers were pulled up over his chest. He was being tucked in for the first time in his life...and he liked it!

CHAPTER THREE

MELANIE SETTLED IN to the overstuffed chair closest to the door to Dalton’s bedroom. Dalton. She liked the name. He wasn’t as much of a stuffed shirt when he was hurt. She would never have dreamed she would ever be babysitting the world’s foremost orthopedic surgeon. Here she was spending the night and him really just a stranger. That might not be technically accurate after she’d toweled him dry. She’d been aware he was a man before, but she was well aware of how much man he was now.

Heavens, after those eventful moments in the bathroom she was almost glad he was hurt. She wasn’t sure what she would have done had he leaned over and kissed her. Shaking her head, she tried to get the image out of her mind but it didn’t seem to want to go. Being a professional, she shouldn’t have been shocked or affected by his nakedness but somehow his body’s reaction to her ministrations made her blood run hot. What was she thinking? She wasn’t even sure she liked him. He’d made it clear he cared nothing about football and her life revolved around the game.

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