His Golden Heart (2 page)

It was his slate-gray eyes that got to her, filled with hostility and brimming with hurt. Beau Hill had taken a beating mentally and physically. She sensed he needed repair. Shayna recognized that look of defeat. Smelled his fear. She’d been there, boy, had she been there. It had been an uphill battle to recovery but she’d been determined to survive.

“Cute is as cute does, my mother used to say,” Beau Hill answered, bringing her firmly back to the present.

His deep, throaty voice, inspired chills. It reminded her of a cool winter’s wind blowing against her cheeks. Biting, yet at the same time invigorating. It was the kind of voice a woman wanted whispering in her ear when the temperature soared, and even air-conditioning wasn’t enough. When it was just you and him.

What on earth had gotten into her? Beau Hill looked nothing like the sex symbol he was purported to be. He was unshaved, unkempt, and wasn’t even gracious.

“Hi, I’m Shayna,” she said, squatting her under five foot body to his level, making sure to keep her hands off his wheelchair.

“Immaculata already told me who you are,” Beau snarled. “Can we get down to business?”

“Who’s Immaculata?”

“That would be me.” Mary Jane smiled at her from her spot off to the side. “I’m off. See you two later.”

“As for getting down to business,” Shayna continued when Mary Jane had left, “that depends on you.”

He was an unpleasant man. Who could blame him? At twenty-eight he’d been one of the oldest skiers on the US team. Money had been bet on him. He was a certainty to bring home the gold. One unfortunate accident had cost him that medal. Except for the grace of God he might have died.

“You look about sixteen,” Beau continued rudely, letting his gaze linger on her, making her flush. “Hardly old enough to do this type of work.”

“I assure you I am a lot older than I look,” Shayna answered, her words measured. No need to tell him she would be twenty-seven in a few months. “Even more important is that I’m experienced. I have a long list of successes behind me.”

She would not let him bully her. He was used to lots of attention. Getting his way. People fawning over him. Not her. She knew his type. Didn’t particularly like it.

“Go ahead, work your magic on me, princess. I need a whole lot of whatever you’re smoking.”

Beau’s gray eyes searched hers, his jaw tightened. Not a hint of a smile to be found.

Wound like a spring,
Shayna thought, understanding his bitterness. Back then, when she’d had her accident, she’d been young, optimistic, and full of dreams. Naive, some would call it. Things had turned out all right, but at the time, she’d thought her whole world had ended. And in some ways it had. Now she’d learned to adjust to her new life, even enjoyed it.

Beau Hill was still staring at her.

“Is something wrong?”

“You look familiar.”

“Do I now?”

Shayna never volunteered personal information. When she’d been a gymnast she’d worn her hair in a sleek top knot. Today it was natural and cut close to her scalp. She’d gained a good twenty pounds these last few years. Now she tipped the scales at barely one hundred. Two Olympics ago, she’d been one of America’s most promising athletes, a talented gymnast, slated to take the world by storm. Her face had smiled from popular cereal boxes. She’d competed against the best. Been the best.

“Shall we begin?” Shayna asked, glancing at his chart and frowning. He should have been further along in the recovery process, a sure indicator that his mental state was not good. Shayna had planned on putting him through a series of exercises. Now she abandoned that plan. Beau Hill would have to let go of that anger or they weren’t going to get anywhere.

“Do you read?” she asked.

Beau snorted. “Read? Hate it. “

“What do you do all day?”

He slanted his eyes at her, his inner dialogue evident. He must be thinking she was one crazy chick.

His laughter was ugly. Bitter. “What does a man with a broken back, wrist, and fractured tibia do all day? Lie on my back, watch television, and eat. Recount memories. Hopes. Dreams.”

She heard the bitterness in his voice. The smile he flashed her way didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“How about you start reading? I have a list of books I can recommend. They might help pass the time.”

“What does reading have to do with my therapy?” He eyed her warily. “I thought we were here to work, get these legs functioning again.”

“Before we can do that, I need to get to know you, and you need to get in touch with the person you used to be. The real Beaumont Hill.”

“Pure mumbo jumbo. I already have one head doctor, I don’t need another.” Beau spat a crude epithet at her. With some difficulty he managed to wheel himself over, closer to her.

He smelled of hospital, but even so, the scent of man was evident. His heady musk titillated her senses and fed her imagination.

Easy, Shayna, he’s your patient. Don’t get taken in.

“I won’t let anyone into my head, princess, so don’t even try.” Beau’s gray eyes flashed dangerously. Shayna’s pulse pounded.

“Then you won’t ever recover,” she said. “You’ll be dependent on that contraption for the rest of your life. At best you’ll be tied to a cane. Just think, the great Beaumont Hill, lame. Do it my way and you’ll ski again.”

Shayna turned her back on him and began sorting through the books on a nearby bookcase. At last she found the one she was looking for,
Turning Hurts Into Halos
. She turned back to him. “If you want to leave here walking you might try reading this.”

Reluctantly, Beau took the book from her. “You drive a hard bargain, princess.”

“And another thing,” Shayna said, refusing to soften, “I’m not your princess. My name is Shayna. I call the shots. You listen, and there’s a pretty good chance you’ll be on your feet in a couple of weeks. Understand?”

Beau muttered another expletive. Visibly disgusted he thumbed through the pages. “No. But I don’t have anything else to lose.”

“Exactly.” Shayna reached for the phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Session’s over. I’m calling Mary Jane. Next time we meet, we’ll discuss that book.”

Beau glared at her. “We’ll see, prin… We’ll see.”

“That we will,” Shayna said, punching in the numbers.

Chapter Two

Bored with the game shows on television, and having no interest in soap operas, Beau returned to the book open on his nightstand.

Turning Hurts Into Halos.
What kind of name was that?

Grumbling all the way, he’d flipped through the book last evening, and after ten minutes, tossed it aside. He’d never had tolerance for psycho-babble.

Beau snapped the television remote and groaned. He was faced with talk show guests espousing the mind’s power to heal, how important mind over matter was, and good energy versus bad. It would be his luck that Shayna DaCosta was one of those New Age types who believed in holistic healing. That touchy-feely stuff.

What he needed was results. To be made whole again. Beau hated to admit it but Immaculata was right Shayna was cute in an offbeat kind of way. If he could stand up, she would come up to his shoulder, maybe. But tiny as she was, she had a big woman’s personality, and was bossy as all hell. Her elfin haircut made those huge almond-shaped eyes look even larger. The knowledge in their depths ran way beyond her years. He hadn’t lied when he’d told her she looked sixteen.

Beau imagined she would appeal to a certain kind of man. The protective type. Little would they guess that under the fragile exterior was a woman of steel. It would be an interesting several weeks working with her.

Immaculata stuck her head in the open doorway and smiled at him. It grated on his nerves that nothing seemed to ruffle her. No one could be that upbeat all of the time. No one. “How’s my patient doing?” She asked.

“Lousy as always.”

“Get over it. What are you reading?” She pointed to the book in his hand. “I’ve never seen you read.”

Beau mumbled something he preferred she not hear under his breath. “Got to be a nut to believe in this stuff.” He flung the book halfway across the room, breaking the spine.

“Now look at what you’ve done,” Immaculata chastised, bending over to retrieve the book. She read the title out loud. “
Turning Hurts Into Halos.
Shayna must have lent you this. You’ll have hell to pay when she gets it back in this condition.”

“I’ll deal with it. I’m supposed to read this garbage and discuss it with her next session.”

“Isn’t that tomorrow? Will you be finished by then?”

Beau shrugged. “I’m not worried. What’s she going to do? Refuse to work with me?”

Immaculata checked his chart. “She just might. Yep, your second session’s tomorrow. How did the first go?”

Beau propped himself on his elbows and scowled at her. “How did you expect it to go?”

Mary Jane beamed at him. “Did you like Shayna?”

Beau longed to wipe that ever-present grin off Immaculata’s face. It was sometimes difficult to remember that he actually liked her. Bringing his chart with her, she took a seat in the adjacent chair, crossing her legs at dimpled knees.

“What’s there to like?” he grunted.

“Everything. She’s beautiful inside and out.”

Beau made a rude sound. “Is she legit? Does she get results? Since she works for Denver Rehab, I’m going to assume she comes with credentials and a degree.

Never mind that she looks like a child.”

“A beautiful child who has brains and lots of successes under her belt.”

“Her personality needs work. She’s hell on wheels.”

Immaculata chortled. “And you aren’t?”

Beau blushed. He had reason to be ugly. Shayna DaCosta didn’t. She had two fully functioning legs and had a fairly lucrative career from what he could see. Whereas he was about to lose all his endorsements. None of the major companies would want a cripple representing them.

“What’s Shayna’s story?” Beau reluctantly asked. Something about her had captured his interest. Call it insatiable curiosity. Call it whatever you wanted. He suddenly needed to know.

Mary Jane’s smile widened. “You’re interested in Shayna. This is the first time you’ve asked me about anyone on our team. Anything in particular you’d like to know?”

What was it he wanted to know? Why the sudden curiosity, or interest, as Immaculata called it? He’d met the physical therapist once, briefly. They’d exchanged pitifully few words. The few they’d exchanged had been heated. Still, if he was about to turn his body over to her, he needed to make sure that she was experienced, well thought of, and could deliver.

“How long has she been doing this?”

“Rehabilitation therapy?”

“Yes, physical therapy.”

Immaculata leaned forward as if she was about to reveal a confidence. “Shayna came to us less than a year ago. She moved here from Seattle. Rumor has it—”

There was a commotion at the door. A light-as-a breeze fragrance mingled with hospital smells.

“I’m here to see my Beau-Beau,” Chandra announced, bouncing into the room and nodding at Immaculata dismissively.

Mary Jane took the hint. She rose, brushing herself off. “I’ve got patients to see. Have fun, you two.”

Chandra plopped herself down on his bed. Beau winced. No matter how many times he’d begged her not to just plant herself down, she always claimed to forget. Beau had decided it was easier to grit his teeth and bear the pain. A much better alternative than getting into a fight with Chandra. “I’m off to Milan tomorrow,” she announced. “Baby, I’ll miss you so much.”

“Milan?” Beau inhaled a huge sigh of relief but was careful to keep his expression neutral. “How long will you be gone?”

“Don’t know. Two weeks. Maybe three.” Chandra twisted his top sheet between perfectly manicured nails. The five-karat emerald-cut diamond he’d given her sparkled from her left hand. “Well, that’s the thing. The client wants me there at least three weeks. As spokesperson for the Bellissima line, I’ll be shooting commercials and making appearances.”

Three weeks without Chandra’s whining and hounding him for sex sounded like heaven to him. Three months was a long time to expect her to go without sex. But she professed to love him, even though time and time again, he’d offered to let her out of the engagement. That she’d declined surprised him. A woman like Chandra would have no trouble finding someone to take care of her needs. Someone who could walk, and was fully functional. Glad for this unexpected reprieve, though he would never tell her that, Beau hastened to reassure her. “I’m going to miss you like crazy, babe.”

Yeah, he’d miss the unexpected visits. The nagging for sex. Lately she’d taken to dropping by the hospital at the most inopportune times, always outside of visitors’ hours. Usually when he’d taken a painkiller and was groggy and nonfunctional, or after he’d been up all night haunted by those unpleasant dreams. She would park herself on his bed, taunting him, when he could do nothing about it.

“So what about you giving me a good-bye gift?” Chandra asked, slowly hiking her skirt up and demonstrating that she’d come sans underwear. There was a time when just the sight of her honey-colored skin, her carefully trimmed mound, would have had him foaming at the mouth. Not now. Not when he lay in bed helpless.