Her Mr. Right? Read online

  As they stared at each other in the shadowy room, Neil couldn’t look away. So many emotions bombarded him, his chest tightened.

  Before he could stop himself, he reached out and cupped Isobel’s uninjured cheek in his palm, his thumb tracing her nose and the curve of her upper lip. “I wish I could take all the hurt away.” He wasn’t just talking about her bike accident.

  She lay perfectly still, then she moved away from his hand and whispered, “You’d better go.”

  Moving away from her was so difficult…but necessary.

  Standing, he jammed his hands into his pockets. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. I’ll leave after I make you and your dad breakfast.”

  She closed her eyes and he knew why—so she didn’t have to look at him and remember how he’d reported her to her supervisor…so she could block him out of her life.

  Feeling numb inside, he turned and left her room. Numb was better than feeling too much.

  In the morning, Isobel knew she looked worse than she had the night before. The bruising had set in and the adrenaline that had rushed through her after the accident had ceased. She absolutely didn’t want to get out of bed. More because she didn’t want to face Neil than anything else.

  Even her suspension.

  What was going to happen to her professional reputation? Would she always have a questionable cloud hanging over her head from the review?

  Frustrated, she hiked herself up, took a deep breath, and swiveled until her feet were on the floor. If she couldn’t keep her job in the social work field, she’d find something else. Even if she had to wait tables until she figured out what to do.

  Fifteen minutes later, she’d dressed and was stepping into a pair of deck shoes when there was a knock on the door. “Isobel, are you up?”

  If she didn’t answer, would Neil go away? Didn’t she want him to go away?

  “I’m up,” she called.

  He came in and saw immediately she was dressed in a pale-green T-shirt and matching knit shorts. “I thought you might need help going downstairs.”

  She wished he’d waited to come up, or not felt as if he had to help her at all. “I have to change my dressings and retape my ankle.”

  “I’ll help you. It’s hard doing that for yourself.”

  She could protest from here to next year and he wouldn’t listen. She already knew that about Neil. When he found a direction, he took it.

  After Neil took the gauze pads from the linen closet, she sat on the bed. He used antiseptic on her face, fumbling once. Did he just feel awkward or…?

  Was his heart racing, too? Did he feel as unsteady as she did?

  She wasn’t even sure if she meant anything to him…anything more than a responsibility.

  She hardly took a breath. He must have showered this morning because he smelled like the bathroom soap. He hadn’t shaved, though. The beard stubble gave him a rough, sexy look.

  As if he could look any sexier…

  They avoided each other’s gazes until the gauze pad slipped again and she caught it. His hand covered hers and for an interminable second, neither of them moved or breathed.

  When he took the gauze from her hand, he assured her, “I’ll be finished in a minute.”

  And he was.

  Why couldn’t she stop wanting him? Why couldn’t she stop feeling as if she needed him? He certainly didn’t need her. She was expendable, a blip in his investigation that he could use to find out what he wanted.

  In spite of all that, she couldn’t forget the dream that she’d found her Mr. Right. Yet he wasn’t right. He was all wrong for her. Wasn’t he? Hadn’t he betrayed her? In spite of that deep sense of betrayal, his body seemed to pull hers toward him. She could hardly keep from leaning in…couldn’t stop wishing he was touching her in a much different way.

  When he finished gently taping her ankle—his long fingers on her leg and foot much too tempting, much too personal, much too intimate—she felt wrung out.

  After her murmured thanks, Neil set her foot on the floor. “If you’re worried about being reported to the state licensing board, you shouldn’t be. I know the complaint against you has no legs. There weren’t any witnesses to back up the charges.”

  “Unless someone is setting me up. What if somebody really wants to harm me?”

  Neil adamantly shook his head. “This is about NHC, not about you.”

  “I hope so,” she said in a low voice, turning away. She couldn’t look at him and not remember what she thought they’d been to each other. Apparently he couldn’t look at her, either.

  Closing the box with the gauze pads, he suggested, “It would be a lot easier if I carried you downstairs.”

  “No!” There was no way she was going to let him hold her in his arms again. No way at all. “I have to do it on my own so I know I can. I’ll use the banister. I’ll be fine.”

  “Just because you keep saying that doesn’t make it so. Come on. I’ll go down the steps ahead of you so you don’t fall.”

  She’d already fallen. That was the problem. She’d tumbled head over heels in love with Neil. But she’d get over it. She’d get over him.

  She had no choice.

  A few minutes later, after Neil watched her hobble to the stairs, he went down sideways, watching her as she held on to the banister and maneuvered down each step.

  “You are going to stay downstairs for the day, aren’t you?” he asked with a frown.

  “What I do isn’t any of your concern anymore.”

  At her words, his frown deepened to a scowl, but he didn’t argue with her, just studied her like the proverbial hawk until she was on the first floor.

  Her father, in the kitchen reading the morning newspaper, smiled at her. “How are you doing this morning?”

  “Much better.”

  “Liar,” Neil whispered into her ear so close she could feel his breath on her neck. Her chin went up.

  “I’m not dizzy anymore and the headache’s better. I’ll be able to go back to work—” She stopped. She couldn’t go back to work even if she did feel better.

  The expression on her face must have given something away because her dad asked, “Isobel?”

  “We’ll talk about work later, Dad.” She glanced over at the man who had unsettled her life. “After Neil leaves.”

  As Neil ignored the dig and took a frying pan from the cupboard, her father’s gaze swung from one of them to the other. “All right, tell me what’s going on.”

  “Not now,” Isobel insisted as she made her way to the table and sat in one of the chairs.

  “Yes, now,” her father demanded. “I want to know why Neil feels he has to take care of the two of us, and why you’re treating him like a stranger.”

  The silence stretched, becoming a heavy weight in the kitchen until Neil broke it. “My office received a complaint about Isobel. I reported it to her supervisor.”

  Isobel’s dad studied her expression. “It sounds as if Neil was caught between his job and you. Is that why you’re so upset?”

  “I’m upset because he didn’t tell me about it. Because he didn’t give me a chance to explain or figure out what was wrong before he blew my career to bits.”

  “There are channels and regulations,” Neil protested, cracking an egg savagely.

  “And there was us,” Isobel maintained, her voice shaking.

  “I think you two have a lot of talking to do.” Her dad pushed himself up from his chair.

  “There’s nothing to talk about. I’ll be lucky if I still have a job when this is done,” she blurted out, close to tears. “I’m suspended, Dad, until everything is cleared up. When I feel better, I’ll look for something to hold us over.”

  “You’re acting like a martyr,” Neil grumbled. “The hospital review is less than two weeks away.”

  “If this were your job on the line, you wouldn’t be so glib,” she tossed back as her father slipped out of the kitchen to give them privacy. But she didn’t want privacy, didn
’t even want to be in the same room as Neil. Everything would be different if he had just told her. If he’d told her, they could be getting to the bottom of it together. If he’d told her, she wouldn’t feel so alone. If he’d told her, she would have known they really were lovers, not only in bed, but in life.

  Close to tears again, she managed to say, “I’d like you to leave now. Dad and I can handle breakfast on our own.”

  “Isobel—”

  “Please go.”

  He must have heard the finality in her voice, because he didn’t glance back at her as he left the kitchen.

  A few minutes later she heard the front door close. She dropped her head into her hands and cried.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ever since her meeting with her supervisor—and her confrontation with Neil—Isobel had vacillated between anger and hurt.

  She hadn’t spoken to him since he’d left her dad’s house last Monday. Did he know if the hospital had turned up any concrete evidence against her? Even if he did, he wouldn’t tell her. He went by the book, she thought bitterly.

  Unable to do her job, she was going to visit Florence MacGregor—unofficially. After all, they’d become friends and she wanted to know how the older lady was doing. There was no chance of running into West on a Monday afternoon. He’d be working. Maybe her visit would make Florence’s day a little brighter, and would, in turn, brighten hers. It was worth a try.

  Pine Ridge Rehab was located on the west side of town, surrounded by lawns and, of course, pine trees. The one-floor facility was sprawling and accommodated about fifty residents at any one time.

  Since Isobel didn’t know if the staff had heard about the accusations against her, she decided to avoid the main lobby and reception area. She entered through a side door and stepped into a hall south of the dining room. Since it was almost three, Florence should be back in her room resting.

  Isobel heard applause from the game show channel as she stopped at the door to Florence’s room and peered inside. The older woman was seated in an armchair, her walker beside her. She pointed to one of the contestants on The Match Game. “I told you the answer was pink. It’s pink elephant.”

  Isobel smiled, rapped softly on the door and stepped inside.

  “Isobel!” Florence exclaimed. “I haven’t seen you for—” She stopped as if she couldn’t remember. “For a very long time.”

  Isobel’s ankle was healed now and she just had a few remnants of the scrape on her cheek that she’d managed to cover with makeup. “I’ve been a little under the weather. I had an accident on my bike.”

  Florence examined Isobel’s face. “West told me that you weren’t at work. That you had a concussion. Do you still have headaches?”

  Isobel could see this was one of Florence’s more alert days. “Not anymore.” She pointed to Florence’s walker. “How are you doing? You should be able to go home soon.”

  “Tomorrow or the next day,” Florence assured her. “That’s what West said. But I don’t know how long I’m going to be at home. West tells me I’m going to take a trip.”

  “To Las Vegas?” Isobel wouldn’t be surprised if West took his mother there to have some fun after she’d recovered.

  “No, not Las Vegas. Let me see. Where did he say we were going?”

  Maybe Florence just imagined she was going on a trip. “It doesn’t matter. Wherever you go, I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself.”

  “He told me the leaves would be magnificent in October. That’s when we’re going. October.”

  All of New England was beautiful in October. Then again, maybe Florence was confusing this October with last October. Isobel recalled West had taken some vacation time last fall, too. “Has West mentioned where you’ll be staying when you go away? What hotel?”

  Florence looked absolutely blank for a moment. “He told me but I can’t remember. Why can’t I remember, Isobel?”

  She leaned closer to pat Florence’s hand. “It’s not important. I’m sure he picked out a very nice hotel.” Since his mother liked to gamble, maybe he was taking her to Foxwoods Resort in Connecticut. But Isobel didn’t want Florence to get more upset or frustrated when she couldn’t find what she was looking for in her memory.

  “Lily came to see me again,” Florence told Isobel.

  “She did? That’s terrific. It’s good to have visitors. It makes the time go faster.”

  “She came when I didn’t have therapy. She stayed a long time.”

  Isobel guessed Florence’s friend had come on Sunday afternoon. “She brought me candy,” Florence announced like a little kid who had received a Christmas present she liked. “Chocolate-covered creams. They’re in that box over there if you want one.”

  Isobel spotted the box on the bedside table. “Would you like one?” she asked Florence, guessing that might be why she brought it up.

  “Sure.”

  Isobel rose and went to the nightstand. Bringing the box back to Florence, she lifted the lid and the wonderful smells of chocolate and mint floated up.

  Florence pointed to the square ones. “Those are mint. They’re my favorite.”

  “What are the round ones?”

  “They’re coconut or vanilla.”

  Isobel reached for one of those, though she wasn’t hungry. She hadn’t had any appetite since last week. But maybe the sugar would give her some of the energy she was lacking. And sharing the treat with Florence formed a bond.

  Florence took a mint one and poked it into her mouth. She smiled as she enjoyed the candy. “Do you like to cook, Isobel?”

  “I do when I have the time.”

  “A young lady here was talking to West about when I go home. She told him I should have someone stay with me and cook for me.”

  Isobel had wondered what Florence’s caseworker here at the rehab facility would recommend to West.

  “He said he found someone—a college girl who’s living at home for the summer. She’s going to spend her days with me.”

  “She’ll be nice company for you.”

  “I guess. Do you think she’ll like to watch the game show channel?”

  “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her when you meet her.”

  “She’ll have to go back to college, though. That’s why West is taking me to Fair Meadows when we go on our trip.” Florence snapped her fingers. “That’s the name of the place I’ll be staying. Fair Meadows.”

  Isobel went still. Everyone in health care in Massachusetts knew about Fair Meadows, outside of Boston. It was one of the elite nursing-care facilities for patients with Alzheimer’s. Politicians sent relatives there, and so did movie stars. How could West afford the place?

  Not exactly sure where to go with this, but knowing she had to go somewhere, Isobel commented, “I think you’ll like Fair Meadows very much. I’ve heard the grounds are beautiful with lots of gardens. There’s a sunroom. They even have someone on staff who’ll give massages.”

  “They have a hair salon, too,” Florence interjected.

  How would West’s mother know that? Unless she’d seen a brochure, or maybe a promotional DVD. “I guess West told you all about it.”

  “I saw it. I went to that hospital in Boston and then he took me to Fair Meadows. He wanted to see if I would like it.”

  Isobel’s suspicions grew. “Do you remember when you went?”

  “Not so long ago. It was…let me think…it was before Christmas.” She thought some more. “Before Thanksgiving.”

  Apparently West had taken his mom to Boston last fall for a medical evaluation. Why wouldn’t he have told the staff here? Why wouldn’t he have mentioned it to Dr. Wilder?

  Isobel was getting a very bad feeling about this. “Tell me something, Florence. I know West works very hard to take care of you. He puts in a lot of hours at the hospital. But I was just wondering, does he have another job, too?”

  “How did you know?”

  Maybe this wasn’t what Isobel thought. Maybe West actually was working two jobs
in order to pay for Fair Meadows. But even with two jobs…

  “Does he do work at home at night for someone else?” She felt terrible pumping Florence, but if her suspicions were true, she had to know what else West was doing.

  “He gets papers at home sometimes. You know, that machine he has beeps. And he’s on his computer a lot.”

  “It could be work from the hospital that he’s taking home.”

  “No, I don’t think so. Because I found an envelope with money in his desk from somebody else. Not Walnut River General.”

  “Were there any papers with the money? A pay stub?”

  “Let me think. The money was new. I could tell. There wasn’t a paper with it. But on the envelope up at the top in the corner there was a little picture of one of those things a doctor wears.”

  Isobel’s heart thumped harder. “A stethoscope?”

  “Yes, that’s it. A stethoscope.”

  “And beside the stethoscope were there letters? NHC maybe?”

  “Oh, I don’t remember the letters, but I do remember the stethoscope.”

  That was good enough for Isobel. NHC’s gray-and-maroon logo with initials and a stethoscope was well-known by now. West MacGregor was the mole who was siphoning information to Neil’s office.

  Chad’s basketball ran around the rim and then dropped into the basket. “I’m three up on you,” he crowed. “You said you wanted to play but I think your mind is somewhere else.”

  Neil caught the ball as it bounced on the asphalt. Yeah, his mind was somewhere else all right. When Chad had called him after school, asking if he wanted to play after he got off work, Neil had agreed. He needed the exercise. He needed to expend some energy. He needed to stop thinking about Isobel.

  When Neil dribbled the ball, Chad dashed in front of him to guard him. “Aunt Iz was over here yesterday. She wasn’t limping. She said her head didn’t hurt anymore. But…”

  Neil stopped dribbling. “But?”