Happy Is the Bride Page 27

  Heated air blasted through the vents; not enough to dry their rain-soaked clothes, but at least it kept them from shivering. Tracy’s black silk blouse clung to her skin. Her hair hung over her shoulders in wet strings. She looked miserable.

  “How are you doing?” He reached past the console and patted her knee.

  She managed a humorless laugh. “I’ve been better.”

  “According to the GPS, we should be there in a few blocks. Hang on.”

  “I don’t have much choice, do I?” She sucked in her breath as the car jarred through a water-filled pothole.

  “Sorry; I know that hurt,” he said.

  “It’s all right.”

  “And I’m sorry I called you a child. You expected the love and attention a wife deserves and I wasn’t there to give it to you.”

  “Do we have to talk about that now?” Tracy spoke with her teeth clenched against the pain.

  “We can talk later—look, there’s the hospital.” Linc swung the car around to the emergency entrance, parked, and helped Tracy inside. Her face was pale and she was shivering again. Linc had dealt with plenty of horse injuries. A bad break, he knew, would be a shock to her whole body.

  Luckily, the ER wasn’t crowded. A middle-aged nurse got to Tracy in the first few minutes. Brisk and efficient, she wrapped her in a heated flannel blanket, put her arm in a supportive brace, and helped her into a wheelchair. “We’ll get a quick X-ray and take it from there.” She glanced at Linc. “You’re her husband?”

  Linc’s eyes met Tracy’s. She looked so helpless and scared that he was tempted to say yes, just to make sure he could stay with her.

  “He’s my ex,” Tracy said, saving him from the lie. “But I don’t have anybody else.”

  “Fine,” the nurse said. “He can wait out here while we take the X-rays, then come back with you later. We’ll need your insurance information.”

  “I left my purse in the car. Can you get it, Linc? The ID card is in my wallet.”

  “Sure.” Linc hurried outside to where he’d left the car. He moved the vehicle out of emergency parking, found Tracy’s purse on the floor, and carried it back to the ER.

  I don’t have anybody else. He remembered her words to the nurse. It was hard to believe a beautiful woman like Tracy hadn’t found someone else by now. But then, neither had he.

  Right now Tracy needed someone to be there for her. It felt surprisingly good to be that someone.

  He found the insurance card in her wallet and took it to the registration window. It hadn’t occurred to him that he could register for her, but her address was on the card and he knew enough about Tracy—date of birth, marital status, allergies, and general medical history—to give the needed information to the clerk. He even remembered her cell phone number. Strange how those bits of trivia had stayed in his mind, long after he’d dismissed them as useless.

  Too anxious to sit, he paced the waiting room. He was about to push through the swinging doors and demand to know what was going on when the nurse reappeared.

  “We’re waiting for the doctor,” she said. “You can go back and wait with her, if you’d like.”

  He followed the nurse down the hallway to a closet-sized room with a curtained glass window in front. Tracy, dressed in oversized green scrubs, was sitting up on the bed. Her cold-packed arm lay in the support brace. Her wet clothes hung on the back of a chair. The ruined silk blouse was missing one sleeve.

  She gave him a wan smile. “Sorry to be such a lousy dinner date.”

  “You’re forgiven.” He set her purse on the chair and walked to the side of the bed. He’d meant to brush a kiss onto her forehead, but when he bent down, it was her lips he found—ripe, satiny, and cool to the touch. For an instant she resisted. Then her mouth softened beneath his. Kissing her, even with gentle restraint, was still better than he remembered. It took an act of will to straighten and step back. When he did, he saw there were tears in her eyes.

  “I don’t think we’d better do that again,” she said.

  “Why not?” Linc’s head was still pleasantly buzzing.

  “Because things are already complicated enough. It took me a long time to get over you and get a life, Linc. I don’t need to go back—not to any of it.”

  “Damn it, Tracy, I’m sorry,” he said.

  “For the kiss? Or for this whole crazy, stupid mess?”

  Linc shook his head. “Not for the kiss. But the rest? Yeah, it pretty much sucks.”

  Lord, girl, how did we get from loving each other to here? Where did we go wrong?

  He couldn’t bring it up now and risk another battle—not when she needed him so much.

  “What do you know about your wrist so far?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “Just that it hurts—really hurts. The doctor has the X-rays. He’ll bring them when he comes in.” Tracy pushed back her damp hair with her left hand. “What am I going to do if it’s broken? I’m right-handed. I live alone. My car has a stick shift. I don’t know if I’ll even be able to use my computer or text on my cell phone.”

  Linc gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Let’s worry about that when we know more, all right? Maybe it’s just a sprain.”

  Tears welled in Tracy’s eyes. “No, I can tell it’s broken. Nothing less would hurt this much.”

  * * *

  As if her words were a cue, the ER doctor, who hardly looked old enough to be out of high school, walked in carrying a manila folder.

  Tracy faked a smile. “As Bugs Bunny would say, ‘What’s up, Doc?’” she asked, making a lame joke.

  “Well . . .” The doctor spoke with a Texas drawl. “I’ve got bad news and good news. Take a look at this X-ray.” He opened the folder and placed it where Tracy could see. Linc hovered, looking over her shoulder.

  “This is your wrist. See the crack across this big bone?” The doctor pointed with his ballpoint pen. “That’s the bad news. It’s called a distal fracture of the radius. In plain English, it’s broken.”

  Tracy wasn’t surprised. But she still felt sick inside. “And the good news?” she asked.

  “The good news is you won’t need surgery. It’s a clean break, no displacement of the bone. With a cast to keep it stable, you should heal fine in about six weeks.”

  Six weeks! Tracy felt as if she’d been crushed by a cattle stampede. She had at least two trial dates scheduled, along with several depositions. Then there was her pro bono work. And there was Brady’s wedding, less than a week away.

  “Here’s what to expect,” the doctor said. “For the first few days, until the swelling goes down, you’ll be wearing a splint. You’ll want to rest and ice the break as much as possible. You can take aspirin or ibuprofen for the pain. On the fourth day you’ll come back to the hospital and get your cast. Understood?”

  “Yes, but I need to be at work. And my friend is getting married next weekend. Will I be able to drive my car?”

  The doctor shook his head. “No driving, period. You won’t be able to manage a vehicle safely with the cast on your hand.”

  “Don’t worry, Tracy,” Linc said. “I’ll be around until after the wedding. I can drive you where you need to go. After that, you can work something out.”

  But how can I ask you to drop everything and babysit me? We aren’t married anymore. We’re barely even friends!

  Tracy knew better than to voice the thought. The cold, hard truth was, she needed Linc. Her ex-husband was the only help she had.

  * * *

  Linc watched while the nurse slipped a cotton sleeve over Tracy’s hand and forearm, wrapped it in gauze and an elastic bandage, and fastened the splint—which looked something like a plastic sandal—around it. Tracy’s lips were pressed tightly together. It had to hurt, but she didn’t make a sound.

  The nurse finished the job by strapping on a blue cotton sling to support the splinted arm. “Keep this on when you’re up and around,” she said. “Keep your arm elevated as much as possible and keep the wrapping
dry. I’ll make an appointment for the cast in four days—that would be Wednesday—and give you directions to where you’ll have it done. It’s in the orthopedic wing of the hospital.”

  “Can you make it any sooner?” Tracy asked. “I need to Skype into some important meetings that day—all day.”

  The nurse brought up the schedule on the computer installed in the room. “The schedule’s full Tuesday morning. But if you want to chance it, you can come by that afternoon. There’s an opening at two-fifteen.”

  Tracy glanced at Linc. “Does that sound all right? If you can’t take me then, I can always call a cab.”

  “No, it’s fine. I can take you,” Linc said.

  “Be aware that you’re taking a chance. If the swelling hasn’t gone down or the X-ray doesn’t look good, you’ll have to make another appointment,” the nurse said. “But with no surgery and no bone displacement, you should be all right.”

  “I understand,” Tracy said. “I’ll take the appointment—and I’ll bring back these scrubs I’m wearing then.”

  * * *

  Linc drove Tracy back to her condo using the GPS. By then the storm had faded to a drizzle. The moon glimmered through thinning clouds. Tracy, in the scrubs and damp boots, huddled in silence beside him. Her left arm cradled her splinted wrist. “Still hurting?” he asked.

  “Some. I’ve got ibuprofen at home. I’ll take a couple of tablets when I get there.” She glanced at him. “No need for you to come in. I can manage fine.”

  “Let me be the judge of that. Is there anything else I can do? What about your car? You left it at the party.”

  She sighed. “Yes, I was thinking about that. I hate to ask, but—”

  “No problem. If you’ll give me the keys, I’ll get a cab and bring the car back for you.”

  “Thanks. It’s a Mini Cooper. If I leave it there, somebody might be tempted to take it.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll have it back tonight.”

  “Thanks again,” she said. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  “Without me, you wouldn’t have a broken wrist. So forget the thanks.”

  They arrived at her condo: a two-story town-house-style unit in a complex of similar buildings. When Linc came around the car to help Tracy out, she had her purse and the bag of wet clothes slung over her left arm. The keys were in her left hand. “I’ll give you these after I let myself in,” she said. “You can leave your car in visitor parking, over there.” She pointed to a sign. “My parking space is number twenty-six, around to the side. If I’m asleep when you get back, just leave the keys on the kitchen counter.”

  After fumbling with the key, she unlocked the door and opened it. Linc hesitated, wondering whether he should follow her inside. “Will you be all right?”

  “I’ll be fine.” She thrust the keys at him. “I’m just going to take something for the pain, brush my teeth, put on my pajamas, and go to bed. You’re welcome to wait for your cab in the living room. There’s cold beer and Diet Coke in the fridge.”

  “Fine. I’ll move my car and be back.”

  After she’d closed the door, Linc called for a cab and parked his car in the visitor zone. By the time he returned to the condo and let himself in, Tracy had vanished upstairs.

  From overhead, he could hear water running. He imagined her struggling to open a lid, brush her teeth, and get into her pajamas with a rigid splint halfway up her right hand. He was tempted to go upstairs to offer his help. But something told him he wouldn’t be welcome. She’d had enough of him for one night.

  She’d left a table lamp on downstairs. Its glow revealed a room that was quietly tasteful, with overstuffed leather furniture, green plants, and framed art prints. A comfortable room, honest and orderly, like Tracy, who deserved better than to be injured on his account—and better than to be the object of a reckless bet.

  Damn!

  Linc glanced at his watch, opened a Diet Coke from the fridge, and settled into a chair to wait for the cab.

  * * *

  Ninety minutes later he pulled Tracy’s Mini Cooper into the numbered parking place and unfolded his cramped body from the driver’s seat. Never again, he vowed as he straightened to his full height and massaged the kinks out of his back. Another mile in that tiny car would have crippled him.

  Leaving the car safely locked, he opened the door to Tracy’s condo and stepped inside. The place was quiet, the table lamp still on. There was no light or sound from upstairs.

  Was Tracy all right? She was probably asleep. But she’d taken a rough shock. If she’d passed out on the floor and he left her that way, he would never forgive himself.

  He climbed the stairs on silent feet. In the semidarkness, the town house half-lit by the moon outside, he could make out an open bathroom with a high window and, across the hall, another door standing ajar. Stepping close, he eased the door open far enough to look into the room.

  Tracy lay in a pool of moonlight that spilled through the window. Her eyes were closed, her hair a tangled fan on the pillow. The scrubs she’d worn home lay heaped on the floor next to the bed. Her right arm, wrapped and splinted from elbow to knuckles, lay flung to one side. Her bare shoulders, showing above the edge of the sheet, told him she’d been too tired to get into the pajamas she’d mentioned earlier.

  The thought of her lying naked and vulnerable in her bed triggered a jab of desire, so powerful Linc had to bite back a groan. He recalled every detail of her beautiful body, the curves and hollows, the way she smelled, the way she tasted, the way her bare skin felt against his. Never in his life had he wanted a woman more than he wanted his ex-wife right then.

  But decency and common sense won out. Releasing his breath, Linc moved the door back the way he’d found it and stole downstairs.

  In the kitchen he found a cold Corona in the fridge, opened it, and tipped back the bottle for a long drink. He didn’t feel up to driving back across town to his hotel—not yet, at least. And he didn’t feel right about leaving Tracy alone after so much trauma, especially when she might need help getting herself together in the morning. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to spend the night there.

  The beige leather sofa looked well padded. With his height, he’d have to bend his knees or prop his feet over the end, but he was tired enough to sleep anywhere. His clothes were dry by now, so why not?

  Linc finished the Corona and dropped the bottle in Tracy’s recycle bin. Then he kicked off his boots, stretched out on the sofa, and covered himself with the knitted throw that hung over the back. Closing his eyes, he drifted into a restless sleep.

  * * *

  Tracy woke to the smell of coffee. She groaned and tried to push herself upright. Daggers of pain shot up her arm. Only then did she realize she’d put weight on her splinted wrist. She was going to have to be more careful.

  But coffee . . . It smelled heavenly. Either somebody was brewing it next door with a window open or . . .

  Linc! She’d given him her keys. Had he come back and spent the night?

  Her robe hung on the back of the door. She pulled it down and slipped it on, right arm first. Fumbling with the fingers of her right hand, she managed to tie the sash. Until her wrist was healed, just getting dressed was going to be a full-time job.

  Barefoot, she made her way down the stairs. Linc was in the kitchen, pouring a cup from the coffeemaker. Unshaven, uncombed, and dressed in his rumpled jeans and shirt, he looked sexy enough to trigger a warm tightening in the depths of her body. Beneath the blue silk robe, her nipples shrank to tingling nubs that showed through the fabric.

  Easy, girl, she cautioned herself. Linc might be the hottest man she’d ever known, but she’d be crazy to go where her hormones were coaxing her. She’d been down that road before and she knew where it led.

  He looked up and saw her on the stairs. “How’s the wrist this morning?” His voice was muzzy with sleep. She remembered mornings, waking up to the sound of that voice in her ear, then rolling over and . . . N
o, you can’t go there!

  “My arm feels swollen,” she said. “But I slept all right. You stayed here?”

  “Right there on the couch. I’ve had better nights. But I wanted to stick around in case you needed me.”

  “I’d have been fine. I’m not a baby, Linc. I can take care of myself. You should have gone back to your hotel and had a comfortable night’s sleep. If I’d been awake, I’d have told you to do just that.”

  “If I had, I’d have stayed awake wondering whether you were all right. Give me a break, Tracy. If you hadn’t gone with me last night, you wouldn’t have fallen. I feel responsible.”

  “Responsible or just plain guilty?”

  “Take your pick.” He gave her a disarming grin. “No sniping allowed until you’ve had some coffee. Come on down and join me.”

  Tracy sighed. Being contrary was the only way she knew to put distance between them—a distance she needed this morning. But Linc wasn’t taking the bait. Taking care not to trip over the hem of her robe, she started down the stairs.

  * * *

  Linc knew he should avert his eyes. But the sight of Tracy moving down the stairs in a silky robe that floated around her bare legs, giving him glimpses of thigh, was enough to ignite his blood like a blowtorch touched to gasoline.

  He tore his gaze away and focused on pouring the coffee into her mug, adding a little milk because that was how he remembered she liked it.

  She perched on a stool next to the countertop. “Thanks for getting my car, by the way. Was it all right?”

  “Fine. Just a tight fit for me.”

  “Oh—sorry. I didn’t think of that when I asked you to go.” She was being nice again. And the way the thin silk clung to her breasts was gloriously indecent. The strain against his jeans was getting painful.

  “It wasn’t that bad. Here you are.” He handed her the mug. She took it awkwardly with her left hand and took a sip.

  “Mind if I take a look at your splint?”

  “Go ahead. You can pretend I’m one of your horses.”