Hollywood House Call

Four



And how the hell could he ever come through with a promise like that?

He wasn’t God. He was a surgeon.

Unless scars were covered by skin grafts, they were permanent. The odds were in his favor that he could minimize the appearance, but what were the odds she’d be happy with even a minor scar? True, he’d been able to nearly rid her of the one on her chin with microdermabrasion, but it had been so minimal to begin with.

But he’d be a fool to believe that she’d be able to go after just any part. She was right in admitting her opportunities had just diminished, but he would still do everything he could to make her feel beautiful again, to make her confident enough to pursue that dream.

Right now, though, he had another obligation he needed to tend to.

Noah hated the mixed emotions flooding through him. He hated that he was now torn between his present and his past. He wanted to stay with her, but he had to get to the assisted-living facility.

He left Callie resting, as well as she could, considering, and headed out the door. If he hadn’t needed to see the afternoon nurse Thelma had been complaining about, he wouldn’t have left Callie’s side…no matter what she said.

For all he knew, the afternoon nurse was perfectly fine. After all, Thelma did have Alzheimer’s and still believed her granddaughter and he were engaged to be married. Noah had never told her any different. Why upset the poor woman when she wouldn’t remember it the next time he went to see her?

As he walked up to the front doors of the facility, he pulled his cell from his pocket and dialed Max. Of course the call went to voice mail because the man was rarely available. One of these days he was going to get really burned-out on work.

“Hey, Max,” Noah said after the beep. “I can’t make it tonight. Callie was in a pretty bad accident so I’ll be with her. Text or call when you get a chance.”

He slid the phone back into his pocket and entered the glass double doors. An elderly lady greeted him. It was the same white-haired lady who sat by the door every time he came to visit Thelma. Supposedly, the woman was waiting on her husband to come pick her up, but Noah had been told the lady’s husband had passed away over ten years ago.

Alzheimer’s was a fickle bitch and it sickened Noah that so many people were affected by it. As always, he smiled to the lady and made his way down the narrow carpeted hallway.

Thelma’s room was the last one on the left, and as usual, her door was closed. According to Malinda, she’d never been much of a social butterfly even before the disease. Since Noah never knew Thelma before she got sick, he had only Malinda’s opinion to go on.

Noah tried the knob, not surprised to find it locked. Tapping his knuckles against the wood door, he called out. “It’s Noah, Thelma.”

After a moment, he heard shuffling from inside the room before there was a soft click and the door eased open.

Her short silver hair was matted on one side and in the back—a sure sign she’d been asleep in her recliner again.

“How are you feeling today?” he asked, stepping into the room that inevitably was hotter than Satan’s personal sauna. Why did the elderly need their heat on full throttle in the middle of summer?

“A little tired today,” she told him, moving across the room to her old green chair positioned in front of the TV. “You caught me in the middle of my soaps.”

Noah laughed as he eased behind her to turn the heat down. His shirt was already sticking to his back.

“I won’t stay long,” he promised as he took a seat on the edge of the bed that faced her. “Did you have lunch?”

She stared at him, those blue eyes full of doubt and confusion. “I believe so. Can’t recall what I had. Let’s see…ham sandwich? No, that wasn’t it. Chicken soup. I think.”

Noah nodded like he always did. He knew she wouldn’t recall, but he was buying some time until the nurse was due in.

“Where’s Malinda today?” Thelma asked, her eyes widening and a smile spreading across her face. “I want to hear all about the wedding details.”

This was never an easy topic to broach. Not only because he still felt that emptiness Malinda had left in his life, but because he hated lying to this sweet woman, even if she wouldn’t remember the truth. Even with the disease robbing her memory, Thelma knew there was a void in her life.

“She couldn’t come today,” he said honestly.

“That girl works too hard,” Thelma replied as she pulled the handle on her recliner. “You tell her that her grandmother wants to see her. I have some wedding ideas I want to discuss with her.”

Noah nodded and smiled as always. Though the smiling was costing him. He hated standing there discussing a wedding that would never be, to a woman who was dead, with someone who wouldn’t remember this conversation five minutes later. But Thelma still had hope shining in her eyes and he wasn’t about to take away the one thing she held on to.

“I’ll be right back, Thelma.” He moved to the door and propped it open. “I’m just going to step outside your room to look for someone.”

She didn’t answer, but her soap opera had come back on and she had that tunnel-vision look as she smiled at the characters on TV.

Noah moved into the hall to look for the nurse. Thelma’s pills were supposed to be distributed with her breakfast and lunch and just before bedtime. But a few of her prescriptions hadn’t been refilled on time and Thelma had claimed she didn’t recall seeing the nurse at lunchtime very often. Thelma’s fading mind might be to blame, but he couldn’t take the chance that she wasn’t getting the best care.

When Noah saw the nurse in question come out of a room down the hall, he hurried to catch up with her.

“Excuse me, Lori.”

She turned and smiled. “Yes, Mr. Foster?”

“I was wondering if I could speak to you about Thelma.”

The nurse nodded as her eyes darted down the hall toward Thelma’s room. “Of course. Is something wrong?”

“Has she had her pills today?” he asked.

“She’s had all of the medication she gets on my shift. Why?”

He hated to think this nurse wasn’t doing her job, but he would keep a closer eye on the meds and make sure Thelma was getting her daily doses.

“No reason. Just making sure,” he said with a smile. “She forgets and tells me she hasn’t had any.”

Lori nodded and patted his arm. “It’s the disease. Robs their minds. I assure you she’s being taken care of.”

“Thanks. That’s good to hear.”

She dropped her hand. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to see to another resident.”

As she scurried off, Noah had that gut feeling that always settled deep within him whenever Malinda would lie to him about where she’d been. He wanted to believe Lori, but he wasn’t naive. He would keep his eye on her and make more appearances in the afternoon during lunch breaks. No matter the cost, he couldn’t let his late fiancée’s grandmother down. He was all she had left.

More than likely Lori was clean, but that cynicism ran deep and he had major issues taking someone’s word at face value.

As he went back to spend a few more minutes with Thelma, he checked his watch. He didn’t want to be gone from Callie very long. No matter how stubborn she was going to be during this process, he could be more so.

No matter what it took, he’d see Callie through her recovery, and if he had to lock her inside his house to do it, then so be it.

One woman was not only hurt on his watch, she’d died. He’d damn well never let that happen again. No matter how he had to rearrange his life.

And beyond the guilt lay an attraction that he couldn’t fight. But what scared him the most was that he didn’t know if he even wanted to.

* * *

Waves of emotions flooded through Callie as she settled into Noah’s luxury SUV. Her body ached all over from the accident yesterday, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional pain of having her dream of becoming an actress destroyed. She’d never act or model for Noah and she’d never get that money to send home.

She’d never be able to play her role in the Anthony Price movie, which would start filming next month. Her face was all bandaged up, but she’d seen the damage beneath. She knew the ugliness that waited for her on the other side of the white gauze. The role of a royal beauty couldn’t be played by a woman who looked like an Egyptian mummy.

All those thoughts whirled around in her mind, bumping into each other and exacerbating her nausea, brought on by meds.

“Whatever is going through your head, get it out.” Noah brought the engine to life and pulled from the curb of her apartment complex, where they’d stopped to pick up her things on the way to his place. “As a doctor I know the impact positive thinking can have on recuperation. You have to stay focused on the good here, Callie.”

She turned her head to look out the window. “Just drive.”

“You can talk to me, you know.”

Callie fought back tears. The man was relentless. He’d come back to her room yesterday and stayed overnight with her as if she was some invalid or small child who couldn’t look after herself. He kept trying to get her to open up, to talk to him as if he was some shrink. All she wanted was to be left alone. She didn’t want to talk about her problems. Would that put her face back to the way it was? Would opening up make it so she would be able to film the movie she’d worked so hard to get? Granted, she hadn’t been in L.A. for long, but she’d used connections and fought for what she wanted.

Added to that, would talking get her fifty thousand to help support her family?

No. So she wasn’t going to waste her time pouring her heart out. Yes, she was bitter, and yes, she was going to lash out at whoever tried to pry inside her heart right now. She just didn’t have that chipper energy she was known for. She feared she might never be that happy girl again. Even the spark of attraction they’d had before was out of her reach. And there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

“Have you called your family?” he asked as he maneuvered through the traffic.

“No.”

Their phone was probably still shut off, but she would send her brother a text in a few days. Even though he was away at college, he usually went home on weekends if he was able to get off work from his part-time job.

On the other hand, she might not text him at all. Why would she want them to know she’d failed? She’d been so, so close and had lost it all. She refused to text her sister, whom she rarely talked to, anyway. The woman was too busy with her perfect family in Texas to be bothered with helping.

She tried to swipe at the moisture in her eyes, reaching up with her right arm.

“Ouch. God,” she groaned.

“Take it easy.” Noah reached over and patted her leg. “I know it’s habit to use your right arm, but try to hold it still. The more you rest it, the sooner it will heal.”

“I don’t care about my arm,” she told him. “That’s the least of my concerns.”

He drove for a moment before breaking the silence again. “This will get better, Callie. I know you don’t see that proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, but it’s there. We need to give this some time.”

“We?” she mocked. “I’m positive your career will go on, Noah. You have everything you could ever want.”

His hands tightened around the steering wheel. “We all have our own hell, Callie. I’ve just learned to live with mine.”

Callie doubted very much his hell was life-changing. He probably had to pay more property taxes or didn’t get invited to some of his clients’ glamorous parties. No matter what the so-called darkness in his life was, Callie knew it couldn’t compare to having her dreams slide through her fingers like sand. She’d held that reality for such a short time and now she would have nothing to show for it.

“I don’t mean to argue with you,” he told her softly. “I’m here to help you and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“I still don’t think staying with you is the answer,” she told him.

“If you have a better suggestion, I’m all ears.”

She sighed and ignored the twinge of pain in her shoulder at the deep breath. “I hate being someone’s responsibility and an inconvenience.”

“Callie, you’re neither of those things. If I didn’t want to help, I wouldn’t have volunteered. Besides, you need assistance and I’m a doctor. You’re getting the best free of charge.”

She never dreamed if she ever got an invitation to Noah’s Beverly Hills home it would be for him to play doctor in the literal sense. There would be no way he’d ever want to date her now. What man would find a woman with a slash down her face attractive? She hadn’t even talked to Noah about surgery, but she highly doubted she’d ever look the same again.

She’d worked in his office long enough to know that scars could never be fully removed—minimized, yes, but it would still be there. Even with microdermabrasion or, God forbid, a skin graft, there would still be a slight imperfection on her face. And Noah Foster was used to perfection—that was his job, for crying out loud.

She rested her head against the back of the seat and let the silence of the car surround her. She didn’t feel like chitchatting, didn’t feel like thinking positively as he’d suggested. Surely she was entitled to a pity party, right? Entitled or not, she was throwing one for herself. Hopefully, when they arrived at his house, he’d leave her alone to wallow in her misery.

A short while later he pulled into a gated drive, rolled down his window and punched in a sequence of numbers until the wrought-iron gate slid to the side, allowing them through. A large, two-story, beige stucco home, with white trim and white columns surrounding the arched entryway, took center stage in the circular drive. Noah hit the garage-door opener and eased the car inside.

“I’ll come around and help you out.”

Since Callie didn’t have the energy or the will to fight, she allowed Noah to escort her into the house. Normally she would’ve taken the time to marvel at the spacious, pristine kitchen, but she just wanted to go to her room…wherever it was located.

“You’ll be upstairs with me.” He led the way as he rolled her small suitcase behind him. “I meant, beside me.”

Fantastic. Now she was not only in his house out of pity and obligation, she was going to have to sleep with one wall separating them. As if any lingerie would override her mummified state. Sheer material was sexy…sheer gauze, not so much.

“I can show you where your room will be, then you can do what you want.” He moved up the wide, curved staircase that circled around a low-hanging chandelier. “I can fix lunch while you unpack, if you’d like.”

Once at the top of the steps, she stopped. “Noah,” she said, waiting until he turned. “You don’t have to do this. Other than changing my bandages and helping me with basics because of my collarbone, pretend I’m not here. You don’t have to feed me or entertain me.”

He left the suitcase and stepped toward her. Placing his hand on her good shoulder, he looked into her eyes. There was that mesmerizing gaze that had made her toes curl, her belly tingle, so many times. And now was no different. But in so many ways, the important ways, this instance was nothing like the others.

The last time he’d touched her and looked into her eyes. he’d kissed her with so much passion, so much desire….

“Pretending you’re not here would be impossible,” he told her, holding her gaze. “I know you aren’t comfortable, but it’s me, Callie. We’ve worked together long enough, and went quite a big step beyond friendship in my car the other day, that I’d hoped you would be comfortable here. This doesn’t have to be difficult. Let me care for you. Please.”

She couldn’t keep looking at him. She almost felt like a kid, like if she looked away, maybe he couldn’t see her. Her eyes darted to the V in the neck of his black T-shirt.

“What are you thinking right now?” he asked.

With her one working shoulder, she shrugged beneath his touch.

He took his free hand and tipped her chin up so she was looking at him once more. “Talk to me, Callie. I won’t let you go through this alone, even though you want to.”

Blinking back tears, she sighed. “I just don’t know how you can look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like…like you care for me.”

His head tipped to the side as he smiled. “Callie, I do care for you or you wouldn’t be here. You’re hurt and it’s my fault.”

Confused, Callie stepped to the side, away from his touch. “What do you mean, your fault?”

“If I hadn’t asked you to model, you wouldn’t have been on that freeway and you wouldn’t have been in the accident.”

She hadn’t thought it possible to hurt more, but pain sliced through every fiber of her being. His declaration just proved she was at his house, under his care, because he felt pity. And not just pity, but obligation and guilt, and not because they’d begun something in the car the other day.

She closed her eyes, forcing the tears back until she was alone. “Just show me to my room. I’m tired.”

He looked as if he wanted to say more, but after hesitating a brief moment, he nodded and moved farther down the wide hallway. Callie prayed her collarbone would recover fast so she could go home.

For so long she’d been such a fighter. But right now, she wasn’t so sure she had any fight left in her.

She wanted to have something to push toward, to look forward to after her healing was over. But she knew the odds of living out her dream had more than likely died the second her car slammed into that semi. And Callie would replay that hellacious moment in her head over and over until she died. Of that she was dead sure.

She headed to bed, praying somehow things would look better in the morning.