“Glad you like them. George likes them too.”
“I can see that,” he nodded, keeping his expression neutral, though the weakness in her voice had him concerned. She absently took a cookie from the plate and offered it to George, who had conveniently placed himself on the floor between them and was looking at her with pure adoration.
“Thanks for bringing me home, Michael. I wish I could be a better hostess, but I’m afraid I’m feeling very sleepy.” Her lids were heavy, the last of her words just slightly slurred.
“It’s okay, Maggie,” he said in his soothing voice, the same one he used to lull his niece and nephew to sleep sometimes. “I understand.”
“You’re a very kind man, Michael. And you smell wonderful. I bet your patients love ...” The last words were spoken even as her head fell forward. Luckily, he was waiting for it and managed to get his arm out between her already-bruised face and the scarred wooden table top before she hit.
Gathering her into his arms, Michael cradled her against his chest. George whimpered, regarding him curiously.
“Don’t worry,” Michael told him. “I’ve got this.” If he didn’t know better, he could have sworn the hound actually smiled.
Michael moved back to the living area and laid Maggie out on the couch. He slid his finger along the front of her wrist and checked her pulse; at least, that’s what he told himself he was doing. It certainly wasn’t a hidden attempt to see if her skin was really as warm and silky as it had felt before.
Pleased to find her pulse steady and strong, he pushed her hair away from the side of her face. It was starting to swell again, and he didn’t like the dark purple bruising that had already begun to show. They should be at the hospital, having this X-rayed; it was always better to err on the side of caution with head injuries. But Maggie had made her thoughts on the subject abundantly clear: no hospital.
Michael studied her face; relaxed in slumber as she was, he was once again stricken by her beauty. He ran his knuckles lightly over her cheeks, relishing the softness of her skin.
Given the fall she’d taken, he wasn’t quite ready to turn her loose yet. He understood strength, understood pride. But something inside of him wouldn’t allow him to tuck a blanket around her and leave. He told himself it was that same part of him that had steered him toward the medical profession in the first place – the desire to care for others – that kept him there.
Another part – a part that had been relatively silent through most of his life – suggested something much different, something to do with the way his chest tightened when he looked at her.
George, who was quite possibly the biggest Basset hound he’d ever seen, nudged his leg. Big, sad eyes looked up at him. Michael reached down, scratching the dog behind his ears. “Is she always so stubborn?”
The dog thumped his tail, which Michael took as a yes.
“Well, then, I guess it’s up to us to take care of her tonight.”
Chapter Five
The shrill ring of the phone dragged Maggie reluctantly out of her wonderfully warm, dark place. Pain and stiffness accompanied each increasing degree of awareness, and she longed to sink back into the blessed depths of peace again.
Maggie strained to hear the voice of the caller as the answering machine picked up.
“Maggie! Pick up the damn phone!” Sherri’s voice, shrill with worry, cut like shards of ice through her brain. Maggie shut her eyes tight against the pain, which only made her bruised face hurt that much more. She stifled a groan and tried to turn, feeling the ache from shoulder to hip as Sherri continued her tirade, threatening to call the police if Maggie didn’t answer soon. Maggie pulled the covers up over her head and tried to block out the noise, at least until she could get her bearings.
*
Michael crossed the kitchen floor on silent feet and picked up the phone, hopefully before it woke Maggie. “Sherri, right?”
Sherri was shocked into a brief silence, but regained herself rather quickly. “Yeah. Who is this?”
“Michael Callaghan,” he said.
“Where is Maggie? Oh my God, you’re the doctor, right? Is she okay?”
“Maggie is fine. She’s sleeping.”
Another pause. “Alone?”
“Yes,” Michael assured her, the amusement in his voice apparent. “Her virtue remains intact.”
“Only Maggie...” she mumbled, sounding almost disappointed. “So then why are you there?” Equal parts curiosity and suspicion colored her voice.
Michael hesitated, unsure of just how much he should say. “It’s a long story.”
“Try me.”
Michael grinned. Everyone should have such protective friends.