Excerpt of Tender Loving Care by Susan Mallery

"If you don't cooperate and put this thermometer under your tongue, I'll be forced to take your temperature the old-fashioned way."

Logan Phillips obligingly opened his mouth, then clamped his lips around the offending plastic-covered device. Frustration mingled with irritation when he realized the bandages around his eyes prevented the graduate from the Attila the Hun School of Nursing from seeing his glare. He didn't belong in the hospital — he had a business to run and a daughter to take care of. They couldn't keep him here....

The electronic thermometer beeped, indicating it had taken his temperature. "There. Was that so bad?" The instrument was pulled from his mouth. "In a little while, I'll send someone in to give you a nice sponge bath, Mr. Phillips."

Sponge bath? He rose up on one elbow and addressed the general direction from which he'd last heard her voice. "Just wait a minute, Nurse whatever-your-name-is. You can't expect me to...hell, I'm a grown man, and there isn't any way that...are you listening to me?"

Murmured conversations from the hall and the overloud ticking of a wall clock were the only responses. Perfect, Logan thought as he settled back on the pillow. First the accident, then an eye infection. He'd thought he'd reached bottom when his doctor had forced him into the hospital, but he'd been wrong. They'd poked and probed his sore eyes and ignored his very reasonable demands. Now they were sending in a strange nurse to wash his body. With his luck, they'd probably assign some green first-year student and the poor girl would get a lesson that hadn't been covered in Anatomy 101. Where the hell was his doctor? He had to get out of here.

Under his eyelids, the insistent throbbing began again, like miniature jackhammers at work. He didn't know what time the night nurse had given him his last dose of painkiller, but it was starting to wear off.

Logan reached a hand over to the small table beside his bed. His fingers brushed against something that felt like the call switch, then the plastic square slipped out of his grasp and fell. He couldn't find the cord to pull it back up, and his attempts sent the water jug flying off the stand, as well. It crashed to the floor and bounced twice. There was the sound of ice settling, then silence. He swore under his breath.

Just as he found the thick ribbon of tape that connected to the call button, he heard the click of feminine footsteps on the linoleum.

"Where were you when I needed you?" he asked as he retrieved the small box. "And if you're here about the sponge bath, you can just forget it."

There was only silence. Logan located the switch to raise the bed so that he was in a sitting position. There were two more footsteps and then more silence.

"How very disappointing," the woman said finally. "I hadn't hoped for more than a handshake on our first meeting, Mr. Phillips, but then I've been out of town for quite some time. Are sponge baths now a popular form of introduction?"

Logan felt heat creep up his face. "You're not here to bathe me?" He wasn't really asking a question, it was more a form of self-torture to verify how big a fool he'd just made of himself.

"I can be, if it's that important to you."

Despite his lack of vision, he could almost see her smiling.

"I think I'll pass."

"Only if you're sure." The woman's voice was low. Not at all masculine, it was more of a combination of smoky sounds, with long slow vowels. Not Southern, exactly, but definitely intriguing. The way his day was going, she was about eighty...and bald.

He shifted on the bed. "If you're not here to bathe me or draw blood, then what can I do for you, Ms...?"

"Melissa VanFleet, Mr. Phillips. But please call me Melissa."

She moved again. Her voice was right beside him and he instinctively looked up. There was only darkness. The subtle scent of her perfume drifted by his face. The fragrance was unfamiliar, floral but with a hint of spice, almost like magnolias. His eyes had only been bandaged two days, but already his other senses seemed heightened.

"You keep saying my name, so I guess you know I'm Logan Phillips?"

"I did assume that, yes."

"What can I do for you, Melissa?"

"I'm here about the job." Melissa stared at the man in the hospital bed. She'd been working with the ill and injured since she was eighteen, and Logan had to be one of the healthiest specimens she'd seen since a pro football player had come into emergency with a broken leg.

Even with the bandages covering his eyes, he was handsome. His tanned skin and dark hair contrasted with the white gauze wrappings. Angry red streaks across the lower half of his face highlighted the strong lines of his jaw. The hospital gown stretched tight across his shoulders; the thin cotton clung to the broad expanse of his chest.

His large, powerful hands toyed with the light blanket; the restless movements were the only indication of unease. No doubt Logan Phillips was as comfortable in the bedroom as the boardroom.

She looked back at his face. His mouth was curving into a half smile.

"I don't know what my office told you, but I'm not really prepared to conduct interviews, Melissa, let alone look at a building design. Perhaps you could contact my secretary and set up an appointment."

Was he kidding? "I'm a practical nurse, Mr. Phillips, not an architect. Your boss wants to hire me to look after you for the next three weeks."

"I don't need a nurse," he said flatly.

Melissa pulled the plastic chair in the corner closer to the bed and sat down. "Really? How are you going to get home?"

"Call a cab."

"Who's going to change your bandages?"

"I'll do it myself."

"I believe that's what landed you in the hospital in the first place. Untreated corneal abrasions can easily get infected."

"Maybe I learned my lesson."

She shook her head. The man was completely pigheaded.

"What about cooking dinner, going to the grocery store, driving to the doctor's office...."

"Enough," he growled.

"Your boss and my boss are in-laws, Mr. Phillips. I need a break from my usual assignments and you need a nurse/ housekeeper/personal slave." His mouth quirked up at the corner, but she decided not to let her hopes go too high. "This seemed a way to solve both our problems."

Logan's jaw tightened in what she could only assume was his tycoon-in-action expression. "Very well, Ms. VanFleet, you've made your point. What are your qualifications? You said you were a practical nurse. I assume that means you have some knowledge of..."

He was impressive, she thought as he went on with questions about her schooling and years of experience. A far cry from her last patient. Bobby had been only six years old. His idea of an interview had been to ask what her favorite flavor of ice cream was and if she'd mind if he watched cartoons in the afternoon.

"Mr. Phillips," she interrupted.

"Logan."

"Logan, I don't think you understand the process going on here."

He sighed. "But you're about to fill me in on the details?"

"Yes." Melissa cleared her throat and glanced away, before she remembered he couldn't see her amusement. "I didn't explain myself before. Your boss is hiring me, but I'm the one who makes the decision about whether or not I want to take the job. I guess, in a way, I'm interviewing you."

"I see."

If the grim set of his lips was anything to go by, he did indeed see and was very much less than pleased. Even sitting in a hospital bed, Logan Phillips looked like the kind of man who got things done in a hurry and his way. Melissa knew that without the bandages, his eyes would be holding her captive. No doubt they were dark and formidable and could have intimidated her into retreat, but today they were safely hidden.

She'd always heard wild animals were most dangerous when injured. The barely controlled specimen in front of her did nothing to disprove the theory. He made her want to bolt for cover. "I don't think..." He rubbed his temple.

She recognized the involuntary sign of discomfort and sprang up to move to the edge of the bed. "When was your last painkiller?"

"I'm not sure. I haven't been issued my braille watch yet."

"I'll be right back." She walked into the hall and saw the nurse carrying the medicine tray. After identifying herself, she collected Logan's medication and returned to his side.

"I've got your pills right here. Let me get you water and..." Her foot hit something and she glanced down. A plastic jug rested next to the table. "What were you doing? There's water all over the floor."

"I was looking for the call button, but I couldn't find it." Melissa went into the bathroom and came back with several towels. After tossing them onto the spill, she filled up his glass and pressed it into his hand. "Here." The pills were next.

"Open."

"I'm perfectly capable of..."

"I'm strong and burly, Logan. I could take you out with one punch. Now open." She grabbed his jaw and placed the pills on his tongue. "Drink," she ordered.

He sipped the water. "Do they send you all to boot camp before giving you the starched hats?"

"No. I've just had a lot of practice dealing with difficult patients."

"A mental hospital?"

"I usually work with children."

"Are you trying to tell me I'm being childish, Ms. Van- Fleet?" One side of his mouth quirked up, then the other.

That grin should be declared a lethal weapon, she thought as she looked at him. He finished the water and handed her the glass. For a moment, their fingers brushed. Now that she wasn't trying to get him to do something he didn't want to do, she had a chance to notice small things. Like the way his touch sent her heart flying up into her throat and then down into her stomach. Must have been the breakfast she'd eaten downstairs in the cafeteria. Hospitals were notorious for questionable cuisine.

"I'm just trying to decide if I can work for you, Mr. Phillips."

One eyebrow raised above the bandage. "I'm sure my boss told you I was very charming."

"Something like that." Melissa remembered Mr. Anderson's promise that Logan Phillips could be stubborn and difficult. The sum he was paying was large enough to let her take the rest of the summer off, so she'd told the senior partner at Logan's architectural firm that she was sure she'd be able to deal with him. It was herself she was worried about. Why were her palms suddenly damp? Maybe she needed to get out more.

"Have I passed inspection?" he asked.

"Almost. I understand you have a daughter."

"Yes." He smiled at her. Obvious pride and warmth at the mention of his child made her like him even more. The flash of white teeth and the single dimple that appeared on his right cheek caused her to catch her breath. "Wendi's twelve. In fact, the mother of one of her friends should be dropping her off here soon."

"Good. I need to meet her before I make my final decision. It's important that all the family members accept my presence in the house."

She didn't mention that she knew he was divorced, and he didn't volunteer any information about there being a girlfriend to contend with. That bridge could be crossed, if and when she came to it. After all, the job was only for three weeks. Changing bandages once a day and helping Logan stay quiet until he healed was a cushy assignment.

"The ward nurse will point Wendi out to me when she arrives," Melissa said. She saw one of the licensed vocational nurses pushing in a cart. "I see Mrs. Roberts is here for your sponge bath, so I'll just leave you two alone."

She patted Logan's arm, but he grabbed at her hand. His grip was like steel. Instinctively she stepped closer and leaned down. "What is it?"

"What does she look like?" he whispered.

Melissa glanced at the pretty young woman unashamedly listening to their conversation and winked. "She's fifty- five years old and about two hundred pounds. Oh, and there's a wart on her chin."