Miracle for the Neurosurgeon Read online

  “Let me put my shoes on.”

  Twenty minutes later, they’d spoken minimal words, choosing to enjoy the gorgeous ocean, the light pale tone of evening after the sun had set, taking the burst of bright colors with it. Cruising along with the tide in the twilight, she sensed a softening in him. He hadn’t come to apologize or to prove anything, he’d come to…come to what?

  To court her?

  “So, I guess I shouldn’t have expected you to have dinner with me after my outrageous request earlier.”

  “You certainly surprised me.” Yet she understood how much he needed to prove. How much that meant to his personal identity.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No need.”

  “I was out of line.”

  “Okay, apology accepted.” She shrugged. Hell, she knew firsthand the need to prove something just out of her reach. Since that moment of holding newborn Rose when she’d been hit with the deep unwavering need, with all of her heart and every other part of her, she wanted to be a mother. A most basic function for a woman, and something she couldn’t do by herself. Of course she knew how he must feel about a man’s most basic function—sex—so she’d cut him some slack for pushing a topic neither was really ready for.

  “So I was thinking how much I enjoyed having dinner at your house, and thought we should take meals together. All I do is watch the news and get indigestion. It would be nice to have someone to talk to.”

  “Or, in our case, to argue with?”

  That got a good-natured laugh out of him, and it touched her more than she’d expected. He was really reaching out to her, and she needed to be careful not to hurt him.

  “That, too.”

  “I’d really like that, Wes. I get bored eating alone every night.”

  “Great. Tomorrow I’ll fix you my go-to meal.”

  “Let me guess, it’s the one great thing you know how to cook to please the ladies?”

  “Nah, I always have Rita fix those meals.”

  It was her turn to laugh, and it felt good to let go of all the tension between them.

  They’d started back toward the house since it was quickly growing dark. Though Heath had thought of everything, lining the long wooden path from Wesley’s yard to the beach with solar lights. It looked like a mini version of an airport runway.

  “Now I’m really intrigued what that dinner will be.”

  “You’ll have to show up to find out.” He took her hand and tugged her close, then put his hands on her waist. “Come here.”

  She sat on his lap, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. Eye to eye under the moon, his were dangerously dark. He lifted his chin and they kissed, natural as breathing. He kissed her well, but didn’t linger for more. Just a simple kiss good-night. But nothing was simple with Wesley Van Allen, and she felt that kiss all the way down to her toes.

  He rolled the chair with her on his lap for the last few feet on the wooden planks. She took a deep breath, enjoying the ride, glancing up in time to see a shooting star. “Look!”

  He saw it too. “Too bad you won’t be here in August during the Perseid meteor showers. They put on a great show.”

  It hit her then that their time together was limited, and as light and airy as she’d felt a single moment ago, the sudden weight of leaving Wes was like a punch in the gut.

  They’d made it all the way back to her tiny house in silence, and rather than take the ramp up, Wesley stayed put, so she got off his lap and strolled to her porch.

  “I’ll see you at eight tomorrow morning,” she said, leaning against the rails. “I’ve got some new things to show you.”

  “Now I’m intrigued.” As darkness settled, all she could see was the silhouette of his body and head and the white of his teeth. “It had better not be more rehab exercises.”

  She smiled in his direction. “You’ll just have to show up to find out.”

  “You’re a tease, Harris,” he said, turning his wheelchair and heading back toward his house. Leaving her wondering if that had been an intentional double entendre. “By the way,” he said over his shoulder, “I’ve been doing some research myself and have something to share.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, you’ll just have to show up to find out.” He kept rolling.

  “Who’s calling who a tease?” she called after him.

  *

  That night Mary made a huge mistake and let her mind wander. She imagined what it would be like to become Wesley’s lover. After the kisses they’d been sharing, the way her body had come alive around him, those sensations were fresh in her mind.

  The bittersweet thought was supposed to be positive and uplifting, but knowing she’d be leaving in a little over a month, it left her with mixed emotions. She tossed and turned in bed.

  Besides sex, there was another gap in his life. A huge one. He was a specially trained doctor, who needed to work again.

  Rushing to sit up, this time she stopped short to avoid hitting her head. Her laptop was on the mini dresser—a former regular dresser that had had the legs shortened to fit the loft A-frame space—so she reached over and grabbed it then sat in the center of her bed, the one spot where she could sit straight. Booting up the computer, she surfed to an occupational therapy website that promised to enhance digital dexterity, something a guy only pumping iron for the last nine months may have lost.

  In order to feel whole, Wesley needed two things—neither of which was his legs—one: to be gainfully employed again, and, two: a gratifying sex life.

  Yeah, she certainly had her work cut out for her before she left.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE NEXT MORNING, Wesley detected an extra sparkle in Mary’s eye when she showed up in the gym. He hoped it had something to do with all the kisses they’d been sharing, but he was on task and didn’t wait to find out.

  “Let’s skip the gym exercises for now, okay?” he said. “I’ve got some things I want to show you.”

  That totally captured her interest and, instead of disappearing, the sparkle brightened. “Such as?”

  “Get out your laptop.”

  She pushed a small table toward his wheelchair, then brought a chair to sit on. Digging into that overgrown shoulder bag, she dug out her laptop.

  “I want you to have a look at this.” He took charge, booting it up, and soon clicked on the video he’d discovered about a doctor who’d become a paraplegic and designed a special wheelchair so he could continue to perform surgeries. The accompanying article showed how the electric wheelchair could elevate to a standing position with support around the chest and on the legs above and below the knees.

  Mary studied the contraption carefully.

  “I wondered how healthy it might be, staying in that position for long hours performing brain surgery. How it might affect my breathing and circulation. But the idea of being able to do procedures is a game changer.” For emphasis, he played a short video with the guy doing an orthopedic procedure.

  “Amazing what someone can do with motivation,” she said.

  He took it as though she’d just questioned his, and immediately got defensive. “I went back to work too soon, there wasn’t a contraption on the earth that could’ve helped me.” He’d had the misfortune of running into Giselle his first day back and what he’d seen in her eyes hadn’t been sympathy but pity. She’d wanted to help push him down the hospital corridor, and he’d hated her for it. He’d miscalculated so many things about returning to work, like leg spasms and patients caring more about his condition than their own. Even the logistics of performing a simple examination had tripped him up.

  The week-long experience had been humiliating and he’d never felt that way in his life before. He’d hated every second of it, had gone home and never wanted to open his door to the outside world again. Good thing he was a guy who got bored with wallowing quickly, and buried his feelings behind barbells and weight machines.

  “Wow. With something like this, nothing can stop you from
picking up your career and carrying on with your life.”

  He understood why she held him accountable for his future, it really was all up to him. Her belief in him felt hopeful, and he was grateful for that, so he smiled. “I know.”

  “And we’re on the same page!” Instead of gloating, which he’d expected her to do, she reached back into her bag of goodies and produced a deck of cards. For some crazy reason her doing something so off the wall tickled him, but he donned a poker face until he could figure out where she was going with the prop.

  “We’ve been working your large muscles but overlooking your fine motor skills. So here’s the deal; if you want to go back to doing surgery, which after seeing that video I know you can do, you need to start working on your fingers and hands.”

  Would she stop at nothing to get him back to work? At a loss for how to respond, he let his mouth drop open.

  She moved her laptop and edged the deck toward him. “So shut up and deal.”

  After he’d gone back to work too soon, and couldn’t even handle seeing patients, he hadn’t let himself think about ever performing surgery again, especially neurosurgery, which often required hours in the OR, and total focus on fine details, often so minute it required special headgear with magnifying glasses. One false move and someone’s life could be changed forever. He’d never been too confident to forget that, but these days, sitting in a wheelchair, he found it much harder to wrap his brain around. Yet his finding the video of the standing wheelchair opened up his world and proved there was something out there to accommodate his logistical problem. He could stand upright in the OR again. And potentially perform neurosurgery! All he had to do was order one.

  For an instant, he was overcome with fear, but he fought it off and instead focused on the pretty lady holding out some cards.

  He dutifully took the deck, shuffled and dealt, soon realizing, if push came to shove, he’d never qualify for a job as a dealer in Las Vegas.

  “Try it again, but faster,” she said.

  Like a character actor, he needed motivation. “What game am I dealing for? And don’t say, ‘Go fish’.”

  She made a cute thinking face, glancing toward the ceiling, distracting him and ruining any chance of his impressing her with his dexterity skills.

  “How about gin rummy? Ten cards.”

  Fair enough. He could handle ten measly cards, so he dealt.

  “Again,” she said, ripping away the deck—along with his instant of pride for counting out the right number of cards in what he considered a reasonable span of time—tidying the stack and handing it back to him.

  Again and again he shuffled, not making much progress on the speed. But he tried, in a sorry sophomoric attempt to impress her. “Are we ever actually going to play this game?”

  “Keep dealing.” Total dominatrix. And he liked it.

  After a few more deals she gathered the cards and put them away.

  “Not good enough?”

  “Not bad, but there’s more to do.”

  The day was sure to go downhill from here. He fought the urge to make the sign for loser and posting it on his forehead. Failed at card dealing. Still, it amused him.

  She didn’t give him a chance to think for long before she produced something else from that huge bag of hers—a quarter. “Can you roll a quarter through your fingers?”

  “Wait. We’re through playing cards? I was just getting the hang of it.”

  She ignored his taunt. “The quarter roll. Ever tried it?”

  “Never.” He had to admit he’d started liking her bossiness, but only because she looked so cute doing it.

  She handed him the coin, then opened the laptop again. “Watch this little video first.”

  She brought up a well-known video site and a tutorial on coin rolling. Tricks. She’d sunk to teaching him common sleight of hand tricks. But he liked her undivided attention, so he cooperated.

  “If I do this, you have to kiss me.”

  “The joy of victory isn’t enough?”

  “Not for me. I need some lips.” He pointed to his mouth. “Yours. Right here.”

  Her devilish angel expression nearly knocked him out of his chair. Now he really needed to kiss her.

  “You’re on.” She tipped her head. “Make that quarter roll.”

  He positioned the coin just below his knuckles on the back of his hand and tried rolling it, using each preceding finger to prod it along like the video had shown. Slow but steady, with Mary’s encouragement, he attempted the task without complete success. But he wouldn’t give up. She’d laid down the gauntlet, in this case a quarter, he’d bargained for a kiss, and he was damned if he’d fail. A half-hour later, he finally perfectly advanced the coin from finger to finger on his right hand. Yes!

  She applauded, but the big bonus was her smile. It made him stop and take it all in, bright, beautiful and sweet, and he called in the kiss. She willingly obliged, taking her place on his lap first. He glanced into her eyes, enjoying the little thrill, knowing she was about to kiss him, and let her deliver the kiss her way.

  She was definitely out to impress, planting her hands on either side of his face and her mouth soft and warm over his. He tried to hold back but couldn’t. Every kiss they’d shared had only made him want more and more of her. Their tongues soon found each other’s and just on the verge of deepening their kiss she was done.

  “Now do it on the left side.” Back to that seductive impish expression, and him definitely wanting to kiss her again. He did what he was told, but not before bargaining for more.

  “And if I do, you have to kiss me again, but this time I get to use my hands.”

  “This is starting to sound like a new kind of strip poker.”

  “I’m hoping for a lap dance.”

  She sputtered a laugh. “You’d be so disappointed.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “I don’t have a vampy bone in my body.”

  “Now I know you’re lying.”

  With Mary still sitting on his lap, he stared into her darkening green eyes, liking the desire buzzing beneath his skin. She’d been bringing him back to life step by step since showing up on his doorstep. He thought about kissing her again, but had waited too long since she scooted off his lap and stood, handing him back the quarter.

  Since the left was his non-dominant side, it took thirty minutes to accomplish what his right hand had done in twenty. But he’d done it! Yeah!

  More applause, with the addition of a high-five, accompanied by another broad grin from the lady with the buff arms, and Wes felt odd, admitting Mary’s approval was almost as good as her kisses.

  He gestured for her to sit again, and she eased onto his lap, looking a little wary. “How much ‘hands’ are you planning to use?”

  “You’ll have to kiss me to find out.”

  Raising a brow but taking his dare, she tilted her head the opposite way from the last kiss and started a slow, seductive kiss that had his hands wandering around her back and down her arms in record time. She nibbled his lower lip and a low growl escaped his throat. His hands shot down to her hips and grabbed hold, kneading her firm skin and pulling her closer. He wanted her. All of her.

  Shocked by the revelation, he was the one to break the kiss. Wouldn’t taking this any further just be frustrating for both of them?

  “That was nice,” she said, dreamy-eyed.

  He bit back his first thought—That’s about as far as we can go. Ever. Logically, he knew it wasn’t so, but he didn’t have a shred of proof from his own body. Still, making out with Mary was a hell of a great way to pass the day. “I thought we were just getting started.”

  “Sorry to break it to you, but we’ve got more work to do.” She got off his lap again, but not before he could see the tightened tips of her breasts through her clingy workout top. So he hadn’t lost his touch.

  He’d woken up grumpy and frustrated, as he did many mornings, and had planned to work it off with dumbbells, but now he’d
accomplished some death-defying acts of sleight of hand, and been paid in kisses and a quick feel up of his rehab coach. What else would this day bring? So he grinned, and as far as he was concerned, if Mary kept kissing him, they could sit there all afternoon rolling coins through fingers.

  But now what was that mischievous twinkle in her eye about? The day just kept getting better and better, and he didn’t have to wait long to find out.

  In the next second she produced another small box from her shoulder bag, and he was sure the thing had a trapdoor inside.

  “And what’s this?” Admittedly, he began to feel excited, like a kid on Christmas morning with a special trapdoor stocking. Especially if he kept bargaining for kisses.

  “Chinese exercise balls. They’re meant to improve finger dexterity.”

  He spurted a laugh at the explanation, the first he’d laughed in days. What would she think of next? As the old saying went, If my friends could see me now.

  She opened the box and showed him how to hold the two balls in the palm of his hand and rotate them over and over. “The goal is for the balls not to touch. Eventually. It takes a lot of practice, but we’ve got time.”

  He dutifully took the balls, getting a feel for them. “And you just happened to have these lying around?”

  “I go to PT conferences for continuing education. You’d be surprised what the vendors give out.”

  From firsthand experience, he knew about medical conferences and product vendors, and bought her story without question about how she’d acquired the Chinese balls. He worked them in his palm first with one hand then the other, liking the slick metallic feel of them. They seemed cold and slippery and he had to be careful not to let one drop. He also realized his hands were getting tired from all of the dexterity tests that morning, which meant she’d been right—he was out of shape in the hand department.

  “Work on those this afternoon and tonight. Both hands.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Tomorrow we’re going to thread tiny beads.”

  “Why do I suddenly feel like I’m ten again and back in summer camp?”