The Wish List (3 page)

She looked at his hands, at his long, stiffened fingers that had saved so many lives, healed so many helpless people. “No way on earth have I changed my mind, doctor.”

He turned to her then, his voice deadly. “I’m not going to the hospital for treatment, no matter what you threaten me with. Nobody, not you, not Dan, is going to drag me in there so that everyone can gawk at me. I value my privacy.”

“So you told me.” Faith tilted her head. “And I told you that I had patients scheduled all day long. I’ll come here after hours.”

Nathan took a step nearer, leaned closer, his eyes level with her own. Oh yes, he was still trying to intimidate her into backing down.

“You have a son, Ms. Reynolds,” he reminded her. “One you seem to care about. A kid needs his mother home at night.”

She nodded, smiling sweetly into his face. “Yes, I know that, and I’ll be there every night after we’re done here. While I’m gone, I’ll miss Cory very much. He’ll be a real incentive for me to get you back in shape quickly. As soon as is humanly and medically possible, we’ll be done and I’ll be gone.”

“Good. I’ll send roses on the day you clear out of here, just for the pleasure of seeing you gone.”

Something slightly resembling a grim smile passed over Nathan’s lips. His eyes which had been narrowed, opened wide, emphasizing his words. For one brief second, Faith stared into those hypnotic, jewel green eyes again. The air rushed from her lungs in one swift stream, and she knew without question that once long ago, Nathan
had
been a reckless and wild man, that women had thrown their hearts at him whether he asked them to or not, that he’d once used those hands for giving pleasure as well as saving lives.

The thought dropped in like a live grenade.

“Yes, well, Dr. Murphy, I’m sure we’ll both look forward to your return to perfect health. I’ll just be leaving now. Cory’s sitter probably wants to go home. I’ll be back as soon as I’ve made arrangements for a permanent after-hours sitter for him.”

She backed away, watching Nathan’s eyes, the hard, thin line of his mouth. Swiftly she turned and made for the door. She could hear Nathan’s steps behind her.

“Make sure you do get a responsible sitter,” he ordered, just as she placed her hand on the still open door.

“What?” Faith whirled at his unexpected words. He was only one step behind her, so close she had to bend her head back to look into his face.

“A responsible sitter,” he repeated. “Don’t bring the kid—don’t bring him here,” he said slowly. His voice was raspy as if he were having difficulty getting the words out. “I can’t have a child here, and that’s one thing I won’t take any arguments on. All right?”

It was more than a request, more than an order. Nathan’s eyes were cold, blanketed, masking the pain she knew she’d find if she looked deep enough. His words were a plea. He’d had a child. He’d lost a child.

Faith understood.

“I’ll find someone reliable,” she agreed.

For two seconds Faith felt Nathan’s gaze burning into her back as she walked away. Then just as quickly, the door closed, severing the contact.

She’d agreed to something she hadn’t wanted to do. She’d set the ball rolling with Nathan. But at least she now knew that she needn’t worry. Nathan Murphy was well on the way to hating her. What’s more, he couldn’t ever be around children—or families. It was sad.

It was a godsend.

She would have no trouble maintaining a purely professional relationship with a man like that. And she would never have to worry about this man getting too close.

~ ~ ~

Just a few hours later, Faith got Cory ready for bed. She put the book aside that they’d been reading and pressed a soft kiss on his brow as she arranged his covers.

But Cory sat up straight in bed. Fighting sleep. “Did you think any more about show-and-tell—about my daddy?” he asked.

Folding down a corner of the sheet, smoothing it, Faith nodded. “I’ve thought about it a bit, Cory. And I’ve decided that I would very much like for you to have a daddy. But these things take time, and it’s not as simple as you’d think.”

“I don’t understand.” He tugged at her hand. “You meet somebody and kiss him real good. Then you get married. Don’t you watch TV, Mom?”

Faith couldn’t help smiling. She wondered what kind of television he was watching during the daytime when she couldn’t screen his viewing. But now wasn’t the time to belabor that point. Instead, she turned to him with a mock fierce expression. “Cory, you know that television isn’t real, don’t you?”

Frowning, Cory nodded. “I know. You to’d me once. But how do you find a daddy?”

She didn’t have the slightest idea, but there was no way she was going to burst his balloon or his confidence in her.

“Well,” Faith leaned close and smoothed the hair back from her son’s forehead. She picked up his teddy bear from the foot of the bed and handed it to him. “Maybe we should start by deciding what kind of man we’re looking for. He’d have to be right for us, someone we both liked and could live with, you know.”

“I know. He’d have to be someone who liked broccoli,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “Cause you like to cook broccoli.”

Faith chuckled and nodded. “We wouldn’t want him running away in fear of my cooking, would we? But what I meant was, what kind of a person do you think
you’d
want for a daddy? If we’re going to look, then we should take our time and be very careful about what we’re looking for. And you have to be aware, right up front, that we might not find anyone. It could happen, you know.”

She waited, watching him until he raised his chin and looked at her. “I know,” he said grudgingly.

“All right, then.” Hoping that her warning really
had
been enough, Faith took a breath. “So…let’s see. You try to describe to me what you think a father should be like and we’ll make a list, a wish list.”

“Okay.” Cory scrambled out of bed. He came back with a storybook—one of his favorites—as well as a torn piece of paper and a stubby pencil with teeth marks on the eraser.

“You write,” he said. “Put down, ‘The Daddy Wish List’ so we don’t forget what it is.”

Dutifully Faith took the piece of paper and scribbled the words at the top.

“First off,” Cory said, “I want him to look like Mr. Benson in this story. I like Mr. Benson. Besides, he looks a lot like me. He’s got black hair and brown eyes. I want my daddy to look like me the way Billy Wilkins’s daddy does.”

“Black hair and brown eyes,” Faith repeated, writing the words down.

Cory nodded.

“What else?” Faith asked.

Cory looked at her. He scratched his head and pulled his teddy bear close, fiddling with the nearly defuzzed left ear.

“I don’t know. What do you think?” He covered his mouth to hide a yawn and crawled back onto the bed.

Faith smiled, watching her son trying to stay awake. “I think that we should talk about this when we’re both a little more wide awake. After all, we have time. The daddies of the world are not simply going to disappear overnight.”

Cory looked uncertain, but as another yawn crept up on him, he nodded his agreement. “Maybe I’ll think of some more later. After Scotty’s dad comes to school.”

Faith smiled and dropped another kiss on Cory’s forehead, then tucked him into his bed. As she wandered from the room and quietly shut the door, she looked down at the words on the list she still held in her hand.
Black hair and brown eyes
.

Her first instincts about the day had been right. Several wonderful things had happened. She’d gotten through her interview with Nathan Murphy and came out—well, mostly unscathed. What’s more, she and Cory had begun their search for the perfect man.

Black hair and brown eyes. It made sense to her.

Tomorrow she’d begin arranging her schedule so that she’d have time for an angry, blond-haired, green-eyed giant. But that wasn’t going to be a problem, after all.

Raising the scrap of paper so that the words stood out clearly, Faith read the words once again.

Black hair and brown eyes.

Turning to Cory’s closed door, she smiled. Her son wanted a father with hair and eyes the color of his own.

It was a wise choice. She guessed she’d just have to do her best to find him what he wanted.

Chapter Two

If Faith had thought things would be easy just because she and Dr. Murphy had cleared one hurdle, she was apprised of her error the minute she walked through his door the next day.

With an armload of supplies, Faith fumbled for the knob, stumbled into the house and found herself face-to-face with the second button on Nathan’s shirt.

She bounced backward two steps and looked up, straight into those fierce green eyes.

“You’re late, Ms. Reynolds,” he said softly. “Again.”

His long, jean-clad legs were spread wide, his arms crossed, emphasizing the chest beneath his white knit shirt. He was a good foot taller than Faith. Most women would have been intimidated. Or intrigued.

But Faith’s eyes clung to the vision of his impressive body mere seconds before lighting instead on the awkward spread of his hands that should have been gripping his biceps. He didn’t know what to do with those hands, the hands that had once been flexible, talented, capable of performing delicate surgery in spaces that would have made other surgeons blanch. His hands were the only things out of sync with the image of outrage signified by his stance.

“It’s nice to know you were worried,” she said with a smile, not letting him see the concern that she felt when she looked at those hands.

Nathan’s jaw tightened at her flippant words, his eyes narrowed slightly. “Worried isn’t the word I’d use. I’m just disappointed that you showed up at all, Ms. Reynolds. I was hoping you’d decided to be reasonable and back off.”

“Reasonable?” Faith blinked her eyes wide. “Whatever gave you the idea that I would be reasonable? Good therapists aren’t. They’re pushy, bossy people who don’t know the meaning of the word
quit
. And it’s a good thing, too. There are a lot of people dancing tangos today who’d still be confined to wheelchairs if their therapists had been reasonable. Now, hold out your hands.”

Nathan stood there looking at her as if she’d just ordered him to drop his pants in public.

“Hold out your hands, Dr. Murphy,” she repeated slowly.

“What for?”

“For this,” she said, lifting the box she held in her arms. “You need to find a place to put it. I need to get the rest of the equipment out of my car.”

Still Nathan didn’t move.

“Look, Dr. Murphy, this isn’t heavy, and I absolutely promise you there’s no dynamite inside. You’ve got arms, and palms that are flat surfaces. Use them.”

With that, Faith practically dropped the box into thin air. To her relief, he reached out automatically and caught it clumsily. Thank goodness. His reflexes were still good.

Besides, she would have had a lot of explaining to do if she’d broken some of the fragile items inside.

But she offered no words of praise for what was, after all, an accomplishment for a man who’d been sitting around vegetating for eighteen months. Faith wasn’t sure why. Normally she tried to offer whatever words of encouragement she could, to build on every little step. But there was something in Nathan’s eyes, his stance—something that told her that he’d back away if she made even one small compliment. She’d just have to hope that he had offered himself a mental pat on the back, that he even cared.

He was making his way to a dusty table, trying to figure out some way to slide the box off of his arms with hands that really had no gripping ability when Faith opened her mouth again.

“By the way, Doctor,” she said, turning toward the door. “The reason I was late was because there was an incredible mix-up with my supplies when I went to check them out today. You wouldn’t, by any chance, have called the hospital and tried to sabotage my equipment list, would you?”

She glanced back over her shoulder and saw that Nathan had somehow managed to dump the box. He was staring at her, his brow raised, the closest thing she’d seen to a smile lifting one corner of his mouth.

“What do you think, Ms. Reynolds?”

Faith studied him for a full five seconds more, watched the too intense eyes mocking her, daring her to turn and run.

Slowly, she shrugged one shoulder and smiled smugly. “I think that would have been too petty even for someone who dislikes me as much as you do. More likely, it was just typical hospital red tape.”

The half smile left his lips. “Believe me, if I’d thought a move like that would have gotten rid of you, I would have tried it.”

“That’s good to know.” She opened the door. “Even anger can be good if it gets you off your backside and doing things. I’ll keep that in mind in case you need a nudge during treatment.”

Nathan moved with a swiftness that nearly froze Faith’s breath in her chest. She took a step back, but even so, when he came to a halt, he was nearly standing on top of her. His warmth and the clean, male scent of him surrounded her, wrapped her in a drugging awareness of him. She could reach out and rake her fingertip across the line of his jaw if she wanted to. His height forced her to tip her head back just to look into his face. And the expression that she saw there wasn’t reassuring or kind.