Sizzling

SIZZLING

Susan Mallory

CHAPTER ONE

UNTIL 6:45 ON THAT Thursday morning, women had always loved
Reid Buchanan.
They'd started leaving notes in his locker long
before he'd figured out the opposite sex could be anything but
annoying. During his sophomore year of high school, his hormones had
kicked in and he'd become aware of all the possibilities. Over spring
break of that year, Misty O'Connell, a senior, seduced him in her
parents' basement on a rainy Seattle afternoon, during an MTV
Real
World
marathon.
He'd adored women from that moment on and
they had returned his affection. Until today, when he casually opened
the morning paper to see his picture next to an article with the
headline: Fame, absolutely. Fortune, you bet. But good in bed? Not so
much.
Reid nearly spit out his coffee as he jerked to his feet
and stared at the page. He blinked, then rubbed his eyes and read the
headline again.
Not good in bed? NOT GOOD IN BED?
"She's
crazy," he muttered, knowing the author had to be a woman he'd
dated and dumped. This was about revenge. About getting back at him
by humiliating him in public. Because he
was
good in bed,
dammit. Better than good.
He made women scream on a regular
basis. They clawed his back— he had the scars to prove it. They
stole into his hotel room at night when he was on the road, they
begged, they followed him home and offered him anything if he would
just sleep with them again.
He was better than good, he was a
god!
He was also completely and totally screwed, he thought as
he sank back into his chair and scanned the article. Sure enough, the
author had gone out with him. It had been one night of what she
described as nearly charming conversation, almost funny stories from
his past and a so-so couple of hours naked. It was all couched in
"don't sue me" language. Things like "Just one
reporter's opinion" and "Maybe it's just me, but…"
She'd
also claimed he regularly blew off charity events and kids in need—
neither of which was true. He couldn't blow off what he never agreed
to do. And that was his standard rule— not to get personally
involved in anything, including benefits.
He studied the name
of the reporter, but it meant nothing. Not even a whisper of a
memory. There wasn't a picture, so he grabbed his laptop and went
online to the paper's Web site. Under the bio section he found a
photo.
He studied the average-looking brunette and had a vague
recollection of something. Okay, yeah, so maybe he'd slept with her,
but just because he couldn't remember what had happened didn't mean
it hadn't been incredible.
But along with the fuzzy memories
was the idea that he'd gone out with her during the playoffs, when
his former team had been fighting for a chance to make the World
Series and he'd been back in Seattle, in his first year of
retirement. He'd been bitter and angry about being out of the game.
He might also have been drunk.
"I was thinking about
baseball instead of her. So sue me," he muttered as he read the
article again.
Deep, soul-shriveling embarrassment chilled
him. Instead of calling him a bastard to all of her friends, this
woman had chosen to humiliate him in public. How the hell was he
supposed to fight back? In the courts? He'd been around long enough
to know he didn't have a case, and even if he did, how was he
supposed to win? Parade a bunch of women around who would swear he
made the earth move just by kissing them?
While he kind of
liked that idea, he knew it wouldn't make a difference. He'd been a
famous baseball player once, and there was nothing the public liked
more than to see the mighty fall.
His friends would read this.
His family would read this. Everyone he knew in Seattle would read
it. He could only imagine what would happen when he walked into his
restaurant, the Downtown Sports Bar today.
At least it was
local, he thought grimly. Contained. He wouldn't have to deal with
hearing from his old baseball buddies.
The phone rang. He
grabbed it.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Buchanan?
Reid? Hi. I'm a producer here at
Access Hollywood.
I was
wondering if you'd like to make a comment on the article in the
Seattle paper this morning. The one about— "
"I
know what it's about," he growled.
"Oh, good."
The young woman on the other end of the phone giggled. "How
about an interview? I could have a crew there this morning. I'm sure
you want to tell your side of things."
He hung up with a
curse.
Access Hollywood?
Already?
The phone rang again.
He pulled the plug and thought about throwing it against the wall,
but the damn phone wasn't responsible for this disaster.
His
cell rang. He hesitated before picking it up. The caller ID showed a
familiar number. A friend from Atlanta. He exhaled with relief. Okay,
this call he could take.
"Hey, Tommy. How's it
going?"
"Reid, buddy. Have you seen it? The article?
It's everywhere. Total bummer. And for the record, dude— too
much information."

* * *

IF LORI JOHNSTON HAD believed in reincarnation, she would have
wondered if she'd been a general, or some other kind of tactical
expert in one of her past lives. There was nothing she liked more
than taking a few unrelated elements, mixing them together and
creating the perfect solution to a problem.
This morning she
had to deal with hospital equipment arriving the day
after
it
was supposed to and a catering service delivery with every single
entrée wrong. In her free time, she had her new patient to
meet and safely deliver home, assuming the ambulance driver wasn't
late. Where other people would be screaming and making threats, Lori
felt energized. She would meet this challenge as she met all others
and she would be victorious.
The delivery men finished
assembling the state-of-the-art hospital bed and stepped back for her
inspection. She stretched out on the mattress to check for bumps and
low spots. What might just be annoying to someone healthy could be
impossible to endure when one had a broken hip.
When the
mattress passed inspection, she worked the controls.
"There's
a squeak when I raise the bed," she said. "Can you fix
that?"
The men shared an exasperated glance, but she
didn't care. Trying to get comfortable while in pain was bad enough,
but an annoying noise could make things worse.
Next she
checked out the bedside table on wheels, which was fine, as were the
wheelchair and the walker.
While the workmen dealt with the
squeak, Lori hurried into the massive kitchen where the catering
staff sorted through the meals they'd brought.
"The
chili?" a woman in a white uniform asked.
"Has to
go." Lori pointed to the list she'd posted on the refrigerator.
"This is a woman in her seventies. She's had a heart attack and
surgery on a broken hip. She's on medication. I said tasty, but not
spicy. We want to encourage her to eat, but she may still have
stomach issues from all the medication. She doesn't need to lose
weight, so that's not a problem. Healthy, tempting dishes. Not chili,
not sushi, nothing fancy."
She'd been so specific on the
phone, too, she thought with minor exasperation.
Still, she
would prevail and when the details were handled, she would stop at
Dilettante Chocolates for a little something. Chocolate always
brightened her day.
"You could beat them. That would get
their attention."
That voice. Lori didn't have to turn
around to know who was standing in the doorway of the kitchen. They'd
only met once, at her interview. During the twenty-minute session,
she discovered it was possible to be desperately attracted to someone
she despised. Everything about him was burned into her brain,
including the sound of his voice. For a moment, it made her consider
a lobotomy.
She braced herself for the impact of the dark,
knowing eyes, the handsome-but-just-shy-of-too-handsome face and the
casual slouch that should have annoyed the heck out of her, but
instead made her want to melt like a twelve-year-old at a Jesse
McCartney concert.
Reid Buchanan was everything she disliked
in a man. He'd always had it easy, so nothing had value. Women threw
themselves at him. He'd had a brilliant career playing baseball,
although she'd never followed sports and didn't know any details. And
he'd never once in his entire life bothered with a woman as ordinary
as her.
"Don't you have something better to do than just
show up and annoy me?" she asked as she turned toward him.
Her
reaction to his physical presence was immediate. She found it
difficult to breathe, let alone think.
"Annoying you is
an unexpected bonus," he said, "but not the reason I'm
here. My grandmother's coming home today."
"I know
that. I arranged it."
"I thought I'd stop by to
visit her."
"I'm sure knowing you stopped by four
hours before she was due home will brighten her day so much that the
healing process will be cut in half."
She pushed past
him, ignoring the quick brush of her arm against his and the
humiliating burst of heat that ignited inside her. She was pathetic.
No, she was worse than pathetic— one day she would grow enough
to achieve pathetic and that would be a victory.
"She
won't be here until this afternoon?" he asked as he followed her
back into the library.
"Unfortunately, no. But it was
thrilling to see you. So sorry you can't stay."
He leaned
against the door frame. He did that a lot. He must know how good he
looked doing it, Lori thought grimly. No doubt he practiced at
home.
She knew Reid was shallow and selfish and only
interested in women as perfect as himself, so why was she attracted
to him? She was intelligent. She should know better. And she did…in
her head. It was the rest of her that was the problem.
She was
a total and complete cliché— a smart, average-looking
woman pining after the unobtainable. The bookstores probably
contained an entire shelf of self-help books dedicated to her
condition. If she believed in self-help books, she could go get
herself healed.
As it was, she was stuck with
enduring.
"Don't you have to go away?" she
asked.
"For now, but I'll be back."
"I'll
count the hours."
"You do that." He stayed
where he was, apparently unmovable.
"What?" she
asked. "Are we waiting for something?"
He smiled, a
slow, sexy smile that caused her heart to actually skip a beat. It
was a new low.
"You don't read the paper, do you?"
he asked.
"No. I go running in the morning and I listen
to music."
The smile brightened. "Good. I'll see you
later."
"You could wait until the evening nurse
shows up and visit then. Wouldn't that be a great plan?"
"But
then you'd miss me. Snarling at me is the best part of your day.
'Bye, Lori."
And then he was gone.

* * *

"YOU'RE GLORIA BUCHANAN'S home-care nurse?" the woman
at the main nurses' station asked. "Oh, honey, you have my
sympathy."
Lori was far more interested in getting her
patient home and settled than chatting with the rehab facility staff,
but she knew the importance of getting as much information as she
could up front. The more she knew, the better plan she could
develop.
"Cranky from the pain?" Lori asked as she
glanced at the name tag on the other woman's scrubs top. "That's
fairly typical. As she heals, her mood will improve."
"I
don't think so. She's more than cranky," Vicki said. "Miserable.
She complains constantly. She hates her room, the food, her
treatments, the staff, the sheets, the temperature, the weather. Let
me tell you, we're all so grateful to get her out of here."
Vicki leaned close. "If you have another job offer, take it.
Even if it pays less. Trust me, whatever you're making, it's not
enough."
Lori was used to patients who were frustrated by
their condition. "I'll be fine."
"You've
already met her?"
"Ah, no."
It was
Lori's practice to visit her patients before bringing them home.
Establishing a good working relationship ahead of time often smoothed
the transition process. However both times she'd stopped by the rehab
facility to meet Gloria, she'd been told that Mrs. Buchanan was
refusing all visitors. Calling ahead to make an appointment hadn't
changed the fact.
Vicki shook her head. "It's your
funeral, hon. You haven't met anyone like this woman before. But
that's for you to decide. I've made copies of her chart. She's
already signed out by the doctor. He was as happy to get rid of her
as the rest of us. She had her lawyer call and threaten to pull his
license— twice. I hope they're paying you a lot."
They
were, which was why Lori had taken the job. She was saving up so that
she could take a few months off next year. But even without the high
pay, she would have kept the job— just to prove everyone wrong
about Gloria Buchanan.
Lori took the thick folder. "She's
making progress with her physical therapy?"
"If the
screaming is anything to go by." Vicki sighed. "Yes, she's
healing. We took x-rays of the broken hip yesterday and she looks
good. The heart attack was minor, the blockage is gone and with her
new medication, she should live another twenty years…God help
us."
Lori knew very little about Gloria personally.
Researching her, she'd discovered that the woman had been widowed at
a young age. She'd taken a single restaurant and, during a time when
women were more likely to either stay home or be schoolteachers,
created an empire. Gloria's only son had died in his early thirties
and his wife had been killed in a car accident a few years
later.
Despite what must have been overwhelming grief, Gloria
had taken in her four grandchildren and raised them herself, all the
while managing four restaurants. Anyone who had suffered that much
had earned the right to be a little difficult.
"I'll go
introduce myself, then," Lori said. "The ambulance is
already here to transport her home. I'll pick up the paperwork on the
way out."
Vicki nodded. "Sure thing. I'll be right
here. Good luck."
Lori waved and walked toward Gloria's
room.
The poor woman. Everyone was determined to see her as
difficult. But from what Lori had been able to find out, no one in
her family wanted anything to do with her. Gloria was injured, lonely
and probably feeling frail. Isolation was never good under any
circumstances.
She found the right room and knocked once
before entering.
"Mrs. Buchanan," she said as she
smiled at the small, white-haired woman lying in the hospital bed.
"I'm Lori Johnston. I'll be your day nurse while you're
convalescing."
Gloria put down the book she'd been
reading and glanced at Lori over her glasses. "I doubt that.
Reid was going to be choosing the nurses who would care for me. I'm
sure he found the idea hilarious. He only likes beautiful women with
large breasts. Unfortunately they have IQs smaller than their waist.
You're neither attractive nor well-endowed. You have the wrong
room."
Lori opened her mouth, then closed it. She was too
surprised to be insulted, which was probably a good thing. "I
don't doubt your grandson's taste in women. In fact it fits
everything I already know about him. I may not be his ideal, but I'm
still your nurse. At least during the day. You'll have an evening and
a night nurse."
"You're not anyone I want to work
with."
"How do you know?"
"I have a
sense about people. I don't like the look of you. Go away."
Now
this was a level of crabby Lori could relate to. She smiled as she
crossed the room to the bed. "Here's the thing. I have an
ambulance waiting right outside. There are a couple of burly guys who
are going to drive you home. At your house, there's a bed waiting
downstairs, food and privacy you never get in a place like this. Why
don't you wait until we're there before firing me?"
"You're
humoring me. I loathe that."
"I'm not thrilled about
being insulted, but I'm going to go with it. What about you?"
Gloria
narrowed her gaze. "You're not one of those perpetually cheerful
people, are you?"
"No. I'm sarcastic and
demanding."
"Have you had sex with my
grandson?"
Lori laughed. In her dreams, perhaps, but
never in real life. After all, she was neither attractive nor
well-endowed. Talk about being dismissed. "There hasn't been
time. Is it a requirement?"
Gloria sighed. "The man
has no Off switch. If it has a vagina, he's probably been in
it."
"Not mine. I'll agree he's shallow but pretty.
Isn't that always the way? So are you packed?"
Gloria's
expression tightened. "I do not pack my own belongings. Even if
I did, my condition would prevent any such activity."
So
the momentary rapport was gone. Well, it had been good while it
lasted.
"No problem. I'll collect everything. Do you have
a suitcase? If not, I'm sure there are some shopping bags in the
staff's lunch room."
The older woman practically crackled
with outrage. "You will not put anything of mine in a shopping
bag. Do you know who I am?"
Lori was careful to keep her
back to her patient as she pulled a suitcase out of the closet by the
bathroom. Gloria knowing she found this conversation kind of funny
wouldn't help things. "Sure. You're Gloria Buchanan. Speaking of
which, I think I'm going to call you Gloria. Mrs. Buchanan is so
formal and we're going to be getting really close."
"Not
after I have you fired."
Lori set the suitcase on the
only chair in the room and opened it. "You don't want to fire
me, Gloria. I'm really good at my job. I have experience with both
heart and orthopedic patients. I'm tough enough to bully you into
doing everything you should be doing. That's going to get you on your
feet faster. Because here's the thing. Old ladies who break their
hips have one of two outcomes. They get better or they die.
My
patients don't die."
Gloria glared at her. "You're
not a very nice person."
"Neither are you."
Gloria
stiffened. "How dare you? I am incredibly polite and
thoughtful."
"Really? Want to hear what the staff
here has to say about you?"
"They're a group of
incompetent fools. Everything about this place is
substandard."
"Then you're going to love my
standards." She leaned close and lowered her voice. "I'm a
real bitch about getting it right. You should respect that."
"You
will not swear in my presence, young woman. I won't tolerate
it."
"Fair enough. I won't swear and you won't act
annoying."
"I'm never annoying."
"Should
we take a vote of your peers?"
"I have no
peers."
Which, Lori remembered a little too late, was
sadly correct. From what Reid had told her when he'd hired her,
Gloria didn't have any friends at all and her grandchildren rarely
had anything to do with her. No wonder she was so difficult. It was
heartbreaking.
Lori finished packing Gloria's belongings.
There had been a few nightgowns, some undergarments, the clothes
she'd been wearing when they'd brought her in, two books and a few
cosmetics. Nothing else. No flowers, no get-well teddy bear, nothing
personal. Nothing from family.
It was one thing if the elderly
were alone, Lori thought, getting really annoyed with the Buchanan
grandchildren. But when there was plenty of family hanging around and
they were all just too busy with their own precious lives, it really
pissed her off.
Lori pushed aside her feelings and moved next
to the bed.
"So here's the plan," she said, lightly
touching Gloria's arm. Physical contact helped with healing. "I'm
going to get the nurse to give you something for the pain. The trip
home is going to jar you and that will hurt. The stuff she's using is
pretty strong, so expect to be a little out of it for a
while."
Gloria's eyes narrowed as she jerked her hand
free of Lori's touch. "There is no need to speak to me as if I'm
eight. I'm completely capable of understanding without a lengthy and
moronic explanation. Fine. Get the nurse in here. She'll be delighted
to indulge her sadomasochistic tendencies on my person one last
time."
"Okay, then. Be right back."
Lori
walked to the nurses' station where Vicki was ready. "We're good
to go. If you want to give her the shot, we'll head out."
Vicki
stepped from around the counter. "So? What did you think?"
"I
like her."
Vicki stopped in midstride and stared. "You're
kidding. You like her? Gloria Buchanan? She's mean."
"She's
alone and in pain and scared."
"You're giving her
way too much credit, but, hey, if it gets her gone, I'm all for it."