When Hearts Collide - By James, Kendra Page 0,49

Molly asked.

“He’ll have to.” Pearce’s shoulders sagged even lower. “After I call him, could you help me back to bed?” His grin was lopsided. “I guess I better take my nurse’s advice and rest.” He reached down and rubbed his leg above the cast. “And maybe one of those magic pain pills.”

Pearce watched Molly pull back the covers on the bed, not fully paying attention to his telephone conversation arranging for his partner to come the next morning. He’d barely replaced the receiver, before Molly grasped the handles of the wheelchair and maneuvered it close to the bed. The scent of her cologne wafted around him, making him dizzy. He felt his heart rate accelerate and a now familiar tingle run up and down his spine.

“Do you want anything before I settle you?”

“Just one of those pain pills.” He grinned at her. “And you to hold my hand until I fall asleep.”

As soon as the words crossed his lips, he saw Molly’s cheeks flush. What if he’d told her the rest of what he wanted? What if he told her his imagination was working overtime as he had an unbidden urge to pull her onto the bed, and have her lie down beside him.

Ignoring his spoken request, and his imagined one, Molly barely took the time to drop a pill on the bedside table before fleeing the room.

Molly didn’t think anything of it when Gracie picked at her breakfast, but when she did the same at lunch, red flags went up. She examined the child. Did she look pale, or was Molly imagining it?

“Gracie, do you feel all right?”

“Not hungry.”

“Do you want to lie down for a bit?”

“No.”

The sound came out as a whine. Gracie, usually a bundle of energy, refused any thought of a nap and tried her best to prolong bedtime as long as possible. Molly expected a vehement denial, not a docile refusal. She recalled the morning and the previous night, trying to remember if there’d been any other signs. Gracie hadn’t wakened in the night, hadn’t been coughing, and she hadn’t complained of any pain. But she didn’t seem her usual self.

Molly reviewed what she knew about childhood illnesses. What signs should she be looking for—fever, rash, fatigue? Had the child had chickenpox or measles? Molly prayed it wasn’t either of those. Watching Gracie pick at her lunch, she wondered if Pearce even had a thermometer.

“Gracie, do you feel hot?” Molly put her hand on the child’s forehead. It was cool, but she would check it with a thermometer anyway. “Does your tummy hurt?”

Gracie nodded.

“Where does it hurt, honey?”

When Gracie patted her belly button, Molly wondered about appendicitis, but the pain didn’t seem bad enough, and it was in the middle of her abdomen. If it became worse or radiated to her lower right side, she would have Doctor Graham check her.

She crossed to Pearce’s office. “Do you have a thermometer? I think Gracie may be coming down with something. She’s been picking at her food all day and doesn’t want to play.”

“Maybe she just ate too much yesterday.” Pearce tipped his head. He was trying to reassure her, yet Molly still felt uneasy. Gracie was usually so active that cartoons only held her attention for ten minutes before she was up to something else. Now she lay on the couch in the family room, quietly watching Dora and Diego search for treasure.

Pearce grabbed his crutches and followed Molly into the family room where he sat on the couch beside his daughter. “Do you have a tummy ache, Gracie?”

She sniffed. “Just want to watch Dora.”

He pulled the child into the curve of his arms, and let her blond head rest on his chest. Her eyelids looked heavy as she tried to focus on the television. Molly checked her temperature. Still normal. Without disturbing his daughter, Pearce stretched out a hand and waved her over. “Come and sit with us, Molly.”

“I need to put the wash in, and clean up the kitchen.”

“No, you should come and sit with us. Right Gracie?”

Then both of them were smiling at her, twin smiles that shot arrows straight through her heart. One arrow struck the soft maternal side of her heart. The other struck like a flaming dart, setting off desires she was trying hard to suppress. Neither arrow could she resist. Her legs seemed to move on their own volition, and before she realized it, she stood beside the couch. She went to sit on the chair across from