and pro careers, awards and accolades, photos of his Super Bowl victory and parades. Another site showed photographs of him with women—a lot of beautiful women from all over the world. It was apparent the camera loved him and Brandt loved being photographed. He was smiling in every shot but one. He was gorgeous with his long blond hair.
What do I have to lose? she thought to herself. She doubted whether Brandt was one to kiss and tell, because there had been little or no gossip about him and other women. “You’re right,” Ciara whispered close to his mouth. “I did break the first rule.”
Brandt stared at the lushly curved lips inches from his own. “What’s the second rule?”
“Sleeping with a patient. But that’s not going to happen.”
His eyebrows lifted a fraction. “How can you be so certain?”
“Just am,” she drawled.
“Because you’re my nurse?” Ciara nodded.
“What if you weren’t my nurse?”
“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”
Brandt smiled. Ciara had answered his question with a question. She hadn’t said yes, and she hadn’t said no either. It wasn’t so much the idea of making love to her that had piqued his curiosity—she also had a certain enigmatic quality about her.
“Yes, we will just have to wait and see.”
Lifting his head off the pillow and cradling her face at the same time, Brandt slanted his mouth over Ciara’s. Her lips parted, as he swallowed her moist breath and deepened the kiss. He felt her stiffen then relax, her mouth becoming pliant against his. As much as he didn’t want to, he ended the kiss.
“Thank you very much.”
Heat suffused Ciara’s face, quickly wending its way down to settle between her thighs. She knew she had to get away from Brandt before she crawled into the bed with him. Securing the rail, she smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“Do you like Thai food?” Brandt asked.
Ciara smiled, nodding. “I love it. Why?”
“I have a friend who owns a Thai restaurant. If we’re going to celebrate tomorrow, then we’re going to need food. I owe my mother an apology, so I’m going to ask her and my dad to join us.”
“I’m certain she would like that.”
“Please bring me the phone so I can call him.”
Ciara walked over to the sitting area, picked up the cordless receiver and cradle and plugged it into an outlet beside the hospital bed. Brandt’s willingness to be with others was part of the healing process. It wasn’t about physical healing; it was about emotional healing. And she’d tired of lying to Leona whenever she called, making excuses why Brandt wouldn’t take her calls. Most times she told the woman that her son was sleeping, anything except the truth—that he didn’t want to speak to her.
She placed the receiver on the bed where he could reach it. “I’m going to ask the agency to send another nurse in two weeks. I’d agreed to host a birthday party for a friend before being assigned to your case.”
“I don’t want another nurse.”
“You can’t be left alone,” Ciara argued softly.
“I’ll get someone to hang out here until you get back.”
Not wanting to argue with Brandt, she adjusted the setting on the thermostat, dimmed the floor lamp in the sitting area and walked out of the bedroom and into her own. Ciara slept with the connecting door open, since there was no other way to know if her patient needed assistance. She’d come to enjoy sleeping in the large mahogany canopy bed.
Before going to sleep, she usually spent time in the kitchen, planning the next day’s menu, followed by a leisurely soak in the tub, listening to classic love songs. She reluctantly climbed out of the tub, went through her nightly ritual of moisturizing her face and body, pulled a nightgown over her head and slipped into bed. She woke without an alarm clock, alert and ready.
Chapter 8
Half an hour into Brandt’s session with the therapist, Ciara left them alone. Mindful of the previous encounter, Thomas Lambert took a more conservative approach, putting Brandt through a series of exercises focusing on muscle strengthening using weighted pulleys to keep his upper body toned. She’d found herself mesmerized as she watched his pectorals, triceps and biceps flex as he did the exercises. There was still a fading bruise on his upper left chest where the seat belt had dug in. The bruises on his face from the air bag had faded completely.
He used a chair to exercise, lifting his lower legs parallel to the floor. The therapist started out with