Stormy Passion (42 page)

“
Good. Sit back down and
I'll wheel you out.”

Just then a nurse stepped in and announced,
“That's my job young man. Why don't you make yourself useful and
get the car.”

“
Yes, sir, General.” Taylor
saluted the head nurse, then proceeded out the door, chuckling to
himself. “Yep, she has to be a relative of General Patton,” Brenna
heard him add over his shoulder.

The nurse chatted with Brenna on the way to
the front door.

A phone rang just as they reached the
reception area, and the nurse excused herself so she could answer
the call.

Brenna had mixed emotions. She was glad
Taylor cared enough to stay and pick her up. But now she'd have to
say goodbye when they got back home, and she had hoped to avoid
that situation. If she cried, she would never forgive herself.

Cool air swept across her face when Taylor
pulled open the door. “Your carriage awaits.” He reached for the
crutches and placed them in the Jeep.

“
Wait. I can't walk without
them,” she shouted. Then it dawned on her he'd driven the Jeep
instead of his car, and she wondered why. Probably for the
crutches, she decided.

“
You're not going to walk,”
Taylor informed her as he bent over and swept her up in his
arms.

“
T--this really isn't
necessary,” she protested while grabbing his neck. “I can
walk.”

“
Really? I thought you just
said you couldn't walk.”

“
I meant without
crutches.”

“
Well, I'm not going to let
you take a step on this icy ground,” he whispered close to her ear.
“Do you want to fall and break the other foot?”

“
No--but.”

“
Precisely.” He opened the
Jeep door and placed her on the seat.

She waited for him to walk around the car and
get in. “I really do appreciate you picking me up.”

“
No problem.”

“
You probably wanted to get
an early start back home and I've prevented that. I'm
sorry.”

Checking traffic both ways, Taylor pulled out
of the parking lot. “Look. Quit apologizing. I'm not going
home.”

She stared wordlessly at him, her heart
pounding, then she turned back to stare out the windshield. Had she
heard him correctly? “You're not? Watch that light, its short!”

“
I see it.” He put his foot
on the brake. “You sound disappointed.”

“
I--I,” she stumbled. “No.
I'm not disappointed, just surprised. You can go now.” Brenna
pointed out the obvious. “What does Carol say about all
this?”

“
What a back seat driver
you are.” He chuckled then answered her question. “She doesn't
mind.”

“
She doesn't?”

“
No. Carol understood you
needed some help, so she drove my car home, and I'll go back
later.”

“
She's gone?”

He glanced at her. “Why are you getting so
flustered?”

“
Well . . . I . . .” Brenna
could feel her face heating up, and she turned her head away. Her
emotions ran ahead full charge. “I can't explain. I—I don’t want to
screw up your life.”

Reaching over, he placed a hand on hers.
“You're safe from me. I won't attack you.”

That wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear.
Or maybe it was. She wanted him--but she didn't. He was hers--but
he wasn't. She was so confused. Staring down at her cast, she said
without thinking. “I guess I'm not very attractive with this lump
of plaster on my foot.”

Taylor chuckled. “I hadn't even noticed.” He
said as he swung the Jeep into the driveway. “Did you really break
your foot?”

“
You're not a very good
liar.”

He didn't bother to comment. Instead, he
unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car, then moved around
to open the door. Again, he lifted her in his arms and carried her
into the house. Brenna really loved this special attention he was
lavishing on her. She'd never been pampered in her life.

“
You do know I'm going to
have to learn to walk on my own?”

“
Well, Miss Independence.”
He looked down at her and Brenna thought she'd melt. His mouth was
much too close to hers. “You can start practicing as soon as I get
you inside.”

He released her legs letting her body slide
down his. An action he immediately regretted as his pulse jumped
then pounded in his throat.

He handed her the crutches, placing one under
each arm. When she reached out and grabbed his arm, he had to hide
his smile. So she did need him after all. She might not admit it,
but for once Brenna Fox was going to have to rely on someone else.
He smiled as he said, “You're on your own.”

“
I don't think I'm going to
like this,” Brenna complained as she placed her weight on the bulky
rubber pads.

“
Welcome home,” Geraldine
announced when Brenna came into the room. “How do ya
feel?”

“
My foot hurts and my head
is pounding,” Brenna said realizing she sounded like a disgruntled
child. “But, I'll live.”

“
However, today you will
stay in bed,” Taylor ordered from behind her. “That was a nasty
lump you had on your head.”

“
Yes, doctor.” Brenna
awkwardly moved the crutches, finding the process harder than she'd
ever imagined. And she wondered how she was going to handle Taylor
being her caretaker. She would be dependent on a man who only felt
sorry for her.

Geraldine held the door open for Brenna to
pass slowly through. “I don't want ya to worry none. We got
everything' under control, so ya just rest. Lisa will be up when
she gets home from school.”

Brenna finally made it to the bottom of the
stairs. She looked up at the obstacle in front of her, wishing she
hadn't declared her independence so soon. “I am a little
tired.”

Taylor had watched the emotions playing
across Brenna's face. How she hated to ask for help. He admired how
proud she pretended to be, and then he realized with a stab of
pain, she'd never had anybody to lean on . . . until now.

He moved around Geraldine and took the
crutches from Brenna before picking her up and carrying her
upstairs. She didn't protest this time, but merely rested her head
on his chest. He knew the morning's ordeal had finally zapped her
strength. Besides, he kind of liked her snuggling close to him.

When they entered her room, he noticed the
bed had already been turned back, so he placed her on the edge of
the mattress.

“
Thank you,” she murmured
sleepily. “Will you look in the bottom of the dresser and bring me
a nightgown.”

Pulling open the drawer, he gazed at the sexy
lingerie and the flannel gowns, but there was no decision. He chose
an aquamarine lace gown. It wasn't as warm as the flannel, but he'd
turned up the gas logs to keep her warm. This would be pretty with
her black satin hair, he thought as he handed it to her. “Need some
help?” he asked with a roguish grin.

Because I'd just love to help you
.

She cut her eyes up at him. “If you'll give
me a minute, I think I'll need your assistance with my cast. But
I'm quite sure I can manage a simple gown.”

“
You change. I'll get some
extra pillows.”

When Taylor returned he found he'd been right
about his choice of garments. Brenna looked fetching.
No--beautiful. On the other hand, cuddly. He should have chosen the
flannel.

But she isn't yours
. That little voice
was a damn nagging intrusion as it continued;
you should have
chosen the flannel gown
. “Oh, shut up,” Taylor said before he
caught himself.

“
What did you
say?”

“
Nothing. Just mumbling.
That's all. He helped her swing her foot up on the high bed, then
placed it upon a soft pillow. “How does that feel?”

“
Like somebody hit my foot
with a sledge hammer.”

“
I know it hurts,” Taylor
awkwardly cleared his throat. He went and got a glass of water, and
when he returned he handed her the glass. “Here, take one of your
pain pills. Maybe this will help. All you need is some
rest.”

When she had obeyed, he pulled a comforter
over her and tucked it under her chin. “In a few days you'll be
laughing at all of this.”

I can't believe I'm pulling a blanket over
you when I'd rather be removing your clothes
.

She looked up at him with half-closed eyes.
“You really think so?”

“
Trust me.” He murmured as
he pushed her hair away from her face.

But can you be trusted
? His conscious
was getting to be a pain in the ass.

Brenna reached and placed her hand over his,
then looked at him with sleepy eyes. Her voice was just above a
whisper when she said, “I do.”

Chapter Eight

The week had passed quickly, Taylor thought
as he sat behind Brenna's desk staring at the contract he'd pulled
out of his briefcase.

He reached for his cup of coffee. Brenna had
proven difficult yesterday, insisting it was time to get out of
bed, but he wanted to give her another day of rest

At least the bump on her head had finally
gone down, though the skin was still a purplish hue, and the color
had returned to her cheeks. Taylor had a hunch it had been awhile
since Brenna had taken time out to relax.

What a fuss she'd made when he took her
crutches. “Doctor’s orders,” he’d told her. Today he would get her
up and back to a limited routine.

Glancing at the contract again, he made his
final decision; feeling deep down it was the right choice. Taylor
quickly scanned the mumbo jumbo legal jargon he'd seen so often
before. After signing his name, he folded the paper and placed it
in an envelope, then transferred the document to his coat
pocket.

He picked up the phone and called his office.
Big mistake. He spent the next hour answering questions, giving his
approval and taking care of general business. Finally, he put the
receiver down and turned his attention to Brenna's mail. That's
when an envelope sticking out from under the desk pad caught his
eye.

He slid it out and noticed it was from Blue
Ridge Bank. That was the second time he had heard the name. He
stared at the legal envelope, wondering.

His conscience said,
You shouldn't open
it. It's none of your business.

He knew he shouldn't, but his instincts told
him otherwise.

Pulling out the letter, he frowned. A late
notice from the bank greeted his eyes. Brenna had missed last
month's payment, and worse, she was paying an ungodly interest rate
of twenty percent. It was just plain highway robbery, he raged. She
should know better.

Then he sat back and gave her situation some
thought. He remembered there had been no insurance when her parents
died. He recalled how upset Brenna had been not knowing how she
would take care of her sister. Brenna's parents had always been a
little backward. She had even struggled to pay her way through
school, and he had to admit that it was one of the things he'd
admired most about her ... that inner-strength of hers. But how had
she managed to survive these past few years?

Lisa's surgery had to have cost a small
fortune, not to mention this bed and breakfast. He rubbed his chin.
Brenna had probably gotten a little money from the sale of her
parents' house. But, not nearly enough. So she had borrowed to buy
this place. But something didn't add up. A piece of the puzzle had
escaped him, and he couldn't figure it out, but he would before he
left.

One thing he could do for Brenna, though
she'd protest if she knew, was to make a couple of payments, so
she'd be paid ahead. He opened his checkbook and started to write.
Brenna really needed to change banks. His job would be to convince
her.

He pushed the armchair back and stood. Yes,
he had made the right decision. He was certain. Now it was time to
rescue Brenna from her confinement. Picking up the crutches, he
went to the kitchen to get her a drink as a peace offering.

“
I’m damned sick of this
room!” Brenna fumed and leaned back against the fluffy white
pillows with a novel in her hand,
Diamond In The Rough,
by
her favorite author.

She tried once again to read, but in a few
minutes she pushed the book aside, unable to concentrate. “Who does
he
think he is, telling me what I can and can't do?”

Of course, she was grateful. And she enjoyed
being pampered. But enough. Brenna looked at her four-poster bed
with its lace canopy, and instead of seeing a beautiful antique,
she saw a prison.

Well she'd had enough. Throwing back the
comforter, she sat up and looked for her crutches. They were
missing from their usual spot.

That snake
.

“
Damned man,” Brenna
mumbled. She knew who had taken the crutches. Well, that wouldn't
stop her this time. Carefully, she lifted her injured limb and
draped it over the side of the bed and followed it by her other
foot.

She was grateful her foot didn't throb
anymore, and she'd be very careful not to bump it. Slowly, she
eased herself off the bed and landed on her good foot. She hobbled
to the end bedpost and from there she hopped to the rose-colored,
winged-backed chair that flanked the fireplace.

The heat from the gas logs bathed her skin in
warmth. When she glanced down at the coffee table, she smiled at a
fresh bouquet of flowers. Their delightful fragrance filled the
room. At least, someone had been thoughtful.