Love on Call (12 page)

 

“Aren't you the lucky one?” Dana Baldwin's bright smile greeted a sleepy Mallory as she entered the hospital the next morning.

“What are you talking about?”

“The neurology conference in Dallas. The handsome Dr. Clayton is going to go with you.”

Dana made it sound like an enviable proposition. Mallory didn't feel that way, especially after her afternoon with Margaret and her sleepless night thinking about what she'd discovered about herself.

“He's not scheduled to go.” Mallory was presenting a paper at the conference in Dallas. She and several doctors from the trauma unit were attending, but Brad was not one of them.

“Plans have changed,” Dana said. Her flippancy
grated on Mallory's nerves. “I heard the good doctor requested to go.” Dana rolled her eyes. “I'll bet his decision has something to do with you.”

“You'd lose that one.”

Mallory didn't know what to think. She wavered between excitement at spending days with Brad and fear that she wouldn't be able to conceal her true feelings if she was with him for any length of time.

“By the way, you should steer clear of Dr. Allen today. She knows about you and Brad and she has designs on the man.” Dana recaptured Mallory's attention. What did the nurse mean about her and Brad? Mallory wouldn't ask. She was in no condition to argue. Instead she thought of Dr. Stacy Allen, who made no secret of her attraction to Brad. But from what Mallory had seen, the affection wasn't returned.

“There is no me and Brad. If she wants him, he's hers.” She didn't sound convincing even to herself.

“I think
he
might have something to say about that. Obviously he's chosen you.”

They reached the doctor's dressing room. Dana left Mallory with a smirk. Mallory opened her locker, putting her purse inside, where she kept a change of clothes and several pairs of shoes. She found the greatest drawback to being a doctor was the strain it put on her legs and feet. Changing shoes several times during her shift helped.

She closed the gray locker and spun the dial on her combination lock. Thoughts of Brad returned to her. He was going to Texas with her. Did he want her there when he met his mother? Mallory had acted as
his therapist, first as a joke, though later he'd appeared to take it seriously. Was that the reason for him attending the conference?

Mallory saw her first patient moments after she left the staff room. From then on she had no time to think of anything except medical care. There were plenty of sick children in the pediatric department. She visited the ones she needed to see and kept to the busy schedule. She had no time to think about Brad until her lunch hour. When she walked into the cafeteria he was ahead of her in line. Unlike the day Rosa chose to visit, the place was nearly empty.

“I've been looking for you.” He said it casually, as if they frequently met for lunch and she was slightly late for today's appointment.

“It's a lot busier here than it was in the emergency department.” Mallory kept herself busy, trying to avoid running into him, but she had to see him every day for rounds. After that she would disappear into one of the children's rooms or the playroom to help someone. She also spent her share of time in the operating room.

Brad had a sandwich and a container of yogurt on his tray. He added a cup of coffee and paid for both their lunches. Mallory didn't protest. She didn't want to cause another scene. When Rosa was here with them, they'd caused a stir by sitting together. Mallory followed him to a table and sat down. “I hear you're attending the conference next week.”

He nodded, choosing his coffee over the other items on his tray.

“Why did you request to go?” she asked immediately.

He stopped and looked directly at her. “I'm going to tell my family about my mother and I'm going to see her. I want you to be there with me.”

Mallory forced the food in her mouth to go down her throat. Inside her something melted. She thought it was her heart. Brad had captured it. No matter that he didn't want it, he held it nevertheless.

“Am I your therapist or moral support?”

“A little of both.”

“You don't need me there. From what you've told me, you have a large support system with your family. One of your sisters is a psychologist.”

“It's not the same.” Brad reached across the table and took Mallory's hand. His fingers were warm and firm, and the effect the simple act had on her senses was devastating. “They're too close. So many emotions are involved there. I need someone impartial.”

“And you think that's me?” She hadn't meant to say it aloud. The words were out before she could stop them. She was far from impartial.

“Yes,” he replied. They stared at each other across the table.

Mallory wanted to pull her hand away. She wanted to put her palms to her ears to try to calm the blood rushing through them. His voice had a unique combination of desperation and need in it. She was a doctor, sworn to take care of the sick. Brad was ill. He'd been sick a long time and finally there was a treatment for his particular disease.

Mallory knew it wasn't a cure. At least not yet. This disease had metastasized. It would take a while to clear it from his system. But it was curable.

And she had to be part of the cure.

 

The air in Texas had been thick and hot ever since Mallory got off the worst plane ride of her life. The flight had been smooth and the service excellent; the problem was Brad. She'd sat next to him throughout the three-hour trip. He'd been silent and uncommunicative. Despite her effort to draw him into a conversation, he'd appeared irritable and distracted. She tried to understand his mood, but frankly she was a little tired of it. The passing days hadn't changed him, they'd only made him worse.

Mallory stood in her fifteenth-story hotel room, looking at the windows of buildings across the street. Brad was in the room next door. The clerk at the desk assumed they were together and had given them rooms with connecting doors. Mallory had kept her side locked.

She was sure Brad hadn't been to see his mother yet. Mallory had seen him at most of the seminars she'd attended. She had the feeling he wanted to talk, maybe apologize, but time passed and he said nothing.

Had he called his family? Did they even know he was this close to them? His plans to come had been sudden, but from what he'd said about them, she'd assumed there would be a delegation of relatives at the airport complete with welcoming signs and bal
loons. But the group from Philadelphia General had gone to the taxi stand and on to the hotel without incident.

Mallory turned and stared at the connecting door. She wondered if Brad was in his room. The only time she was sure he was there was when he showered. Their bathrooms had adjoining walls and when the shower was on she could hear it. Not that the image in her mind was unpleasant, but the thought of that strong, healthy body lathered with soap, covered in cascading water, sent her senses into overdrive. There was no doubt in her mind that she was attracted to him. She had been since their first encounter. But if she was to list the qualities of her ideal mate, she would never choose someone who focused so inwardly. She needed someone to talk to her, share with her.

Crossing her arms, she acknowledged there was no chance of that. Brad had apologized for their one night of pleasure. Had said it was a mistake. She knew that, too.

She looked at the connecting door again, as solid as a brick fortress. Mallory had no intention of going over there, but she found herself standing in front of it, unlocking her side and knocking lightly on the tan-colored wood panel. She could hear the low rumble of voices and assumed he had the television playing.

She heard the lock being turned and the snap that told her it was open. Her breath caught and fear gripped her. Her heart hammered furiously and sud
denly her hands had no place to go. Heat burned in her ears again as if dragons had breathed fire at her.

Brad opened the door. While Mallory still wore the suit she'd had on at the seminar, he had on shorts and was pulling a golf shirt over his head. His feet were bare. Mallory swallowed. Every coherent thought left her.

“Are you coming to my lecture?” She said the first thing that came into her mind.

Brad checked his watch for the date. “It isn't today?”

Mallory shook her head. “Tomorrow.” She crossed the threshold and stepped into his room. It was a mirror image of her own, with a soft rose carpet and flowered bedspread. Brad had the curtains thrown back and October sunshine flooded the room. Mallory wondered if the cheery light had changed his attitude.

“Are you going out?” she asked.

“I thought I'd go for a run.”

“I can come back later.” She took a step in retreat. Many people used exercise to work out their problems. She liked to swim, and often in the quiet fluidity of the water she could let her problems dissolve. Maybe Brad needed to run off his anxiety at meeting his mother and telling his family of her existence.

“You're here now. The jog can wait.” He led her farther into the room. Mallory sat down on one of the wing chairs in front of the windows. Brad busied himself scooping ice into two glasses and filling them with bottled water. He handed her one and straddled the desk chair facing her.

She noticed his muscular legs. The sight aroused her. She remembered the feel of them against her own legs. For the first time she thought knocking on that connecting door had been a mistake.

“I'm not planning to stay past tomorrow,” she started.

“Why?”

“This was always the plan. The conference is over tomorrow night. I head home on a midnight flight.”

“I didn't know.” He lifted his glass and drained it, then got up to refill it.

Mallory drank some of her water. “When are you planning to see your mother?”

She watched his back stiffen. “I don't know if I'm going to.”

She remained quiet, not knowing what to say. Could he go on now without seeing his mother? Even absent, she'd obviously had a huge influence on his life, dominating his choices and behavior, and now that Brad was within a stone's throw of closure he was shutting the door.

Mallory got up and went to him. She stood close behind him for a moment. “Brad, have you given it enough thought? You came here to see her. You've let her rule your life for twenty years. Don't you deserve closure?”

Brad said nothing. Mallory waited so long she didn't think he was going to answer her. Then he suddenly whirled around and grabbed her, dragging her close to him, crushing her body against his and
burying his face in her neck. Mallory had no time to react. Brad practically lifted her off her feet.

“Mallie, I'm afraid.” She felt him shudder against her. Her arms came up and she caressed him.

He'd never called her that before. It was as sweet an endearment as she'd ever heard. She nestled in his arms for a moment, feeling her rioting emotions straining for free rein. She held them back. “You have support, Brad. There is a solid network of people out there on your side. They love you. All you have to do is call them.”

“I want you.” He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. His were bright and wet. She could see desire in their depths. Her eyelids fluttered down. She had no willpower where Brad was concerned. She laid her head on his shoulder and burrowed into him. “Please stay,” he whispered, his warm breath feathering her ear.

His lips touched the skin under her ear and a volcanic fissure opened in her heart. In an instant Brad's hungry mouth engulfed hers. They battled for dominance in an attempt to get closer to each other. It had been too long since they had made love and the need to feel him inside her overwhelmed any rational thought Mallory might have. She'd come to discuss his mother, she'd believed, but now she knew this was the real reason she was here. She wanted to be in his arms. She wanted his mouth on her, all over her. She wanted to feel his hands as he undressed her, the solid weight of him as his body covered hers, and
the shattering experience of their mutual climax as their worlds collided and merged.

Brad pulled the jacket from her arms and let it fall to the floor. Cool air made her skin prick for only a moment before the heat generated within her warmed her through and through. Mallory's breasts were crushed against Brad's chest. There was no tenderness in his hold on her, rather desperation, frightening and exhilarating at the same time.

She found the hem of his shirt and ran her hands up his back, her nails gripping the skin of his shoulders and holding on as if she could somehow climb into the throbbing body that pulsed against hers. Brad found the clasp on her skirt and freed it. Pulling her arms down, he made short work of the buttons on her blouse and then let the white material flutter to the floor to join the rest of her clothes. She wore only her sexy underwear and her shoes. She knew she looked like a wanton woman, and that's how she felt. It was who she wanted to be right now. She wanted no restrictions, only the wild sexual ride that Brad promised.

Lifting his shirt, she kissed his skin from navel to nipple, feeling the tremor that flashed through him at her ministrations. Her hands went to the pull-cord of his shorts while her mouth was still prisoner to his. She loosened the cord, running her hand inside the fabric to touch him in the most intimate way. Tremors changed to quavers as her hand moved with deliberate slowness over him. He moaned against her mouth, taking her hand and pulling it away.

“That feels too good,” he said, his voice as raspy as the winter wind. He kissed her again, moving his lips down her neck to the tops of her breasts. He released the hook of her bra, taking the tip of one nipple in his mouth. It was wet and wonderful. Mallory raised her leg and encircled Brad's. He pushed the bra aside, his hands holding her as if taking full possession of a treasure.