The Forbidden Marriage. Rebecca Winters
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hands.”
Zak’s voice seemed to have taken on a velvety quality just then. She’d felt it resonate to the very core of her being.
Her hands tightened on the wheel. “I promise to call you when we get there so you’ll stop worrying. See you on Sunday,” she called to them before backing out of the driveway.
Once they drove off he drawled, “What’s happening on Sunday?”
“They’re coming for dinner.”
“That sounds nice.”
“I think so, too.” She was pleased the thought of it made him happy.
“It’ll be good for Lynette to see everyone together,” he murmured.
His comment convinced her he didn’t know the latest development. She waited until they reached the freeway to tell him what had happened earlier that morning.
“Your remarks to Graham were right on,” Zak said when she’d finished relating the gist of the conversation with her brother. “Lynette’s perspective will change once she’s part of the working world. She’s a smart girl. Given time she’ll figure out her life.”
“That’s easy enough for both of us to say, but then she’s not our daughter.”
She bit her lip when she realized what she’d just said.
“If Lynette were ours, at least we know we’d be in agreement over our course of action. Speaking of children, I know you always wanted a family one day. Did Rob’s illness affect your ability to conceive?”
Considering the fact that she and Zak used to be able to talk about anything, she shouldn’t have been surprised by his personal question. But that was before this…awareness of him had sprung into existence with a life all its own.
She had no choice but to tough out moments like this if she was going to last as long as it took to take care of him.
“He became ill before I could make an appointment with my obstetrician to undergo tests for infertility. When Rob was diagnosed, he felt it best we didn’t pursue trying to bring a child into the world.”
She could still hear her husband saying those words in his quiet yet implacable tone that brooked no argument.
“I realize his opinion was colored by all the single mothers whose children he took care of in the emergency room. No father around, no husband providing for them. No hope for a happier future. He wanted me to be free to get on with my career, my life.”
She heard Zak take a deep breath. “His reasoning makes perfect sense. In his place I would have said the same thing. To know you were going to die would bring out every protective instinct to leave your spouse in the best circumstances possible.
“But I’m not in his place yet, thank God, and I can see how much comfort you would have derived from having his child to love and nurture.”
Don’t say anymore, Zak. You understand too much. You have a wisdom beyond your years. You always did.
It was time to change the subject.
“Sherilyn told me there was a woman who called you at the hospital every day. I don’t remember hearing her name.”
“It was probably Breda Neilson.”
That sounded Scandinavian. Most likely she was statuesque and beautiful.
“Why don’t you ask her for dinner on Sunday?”
“Does this mean you’ve already invited Mike Francis?” He’d fired the question at her so fast she was stunned. Graham had warned her.
“Of course not. When I’m on duty I don’t mix business with pleasure.”
“Just after hours,” came the baiting rejoinder.
“I’d rather not talk about Mike if you don’t mind.”
“He’s not the right man for you, Michelle.”
She’d already found that out on her own, but not for the same reasons Zak judged him. Maybe it was better he didn’t know she was about to end it with Mike. For her own self-preservation the pretense of a love interest could help act as a buffer against Zak’s devastating charisma.
She fought for a steadying breath. “What I was trying to say is, you must know Graham and Sherilyn would love to meet anyone important to you.”
“When that day comes, they’ll know all about it. How long was Mike Francis laid up with his broken leg?”
They were back to Mike again.
“After he was released from the hospital, two months.”
“I understand his townhouse borders the golf course.”
“Yes.”
“To look out the window every day and know he couldn’t work on his putting, which needs a lot of help by the way, must have been tough on him.”
“It was.”
“But not too tough with you there to see to his every need.”
His innuendo sent warmth to her cheeks.
“Between therapy sessions he watched videos of his game to see where he could improve.”
“Is that what he told you,” came the mocking reply. “No doubt it fed his ego for you to sit for hours admiring him.”
Michelle blinked. Zak really didn’t like him. How could he possibly swallow all the lies fed by the media? Why did he care?
“Nursing Mike taught me about the game of golf. I never understood it or had an interest in it before.”
“And now you do.”
“Yes. Not to play, but to watch. It takes incredible skill and tenacity.”
After a pause, “Did you know his wife left him because he’d had a string of affairs?”
Michelle might not be in love with Mike, but she cared enough about him to disabuse Zak of that myth.
“It’s the other way around. He divorced his wife when he found out she’d had an affair. She wants him back. I know because she came to the townhouse several times to try to talk to him. When he refused to see her, she broke down and talked to me, hoping I would intervene.”
A strange sound escaped Zak’s throat. “The truth probably lies somewhere in-between both their explanations.”
She’d thought the same thing. “I’m sure you’re right.”
“Are you prepared to be the new focus of the press?” he demanded. “If you can’t see the way they’ll exploit the nurse turns lover scenario, I can.”
Michelle had thought about it. Zak’s blunt way of putting things only underlined her own misgivings in that department. However if she’d been in love with Mike, she wouldn’t have let fear of the intrusion of the press stop her from being with him.
“How’s the nausea?” she interjected on purpose. “Would you like me to stop somewhere and get you a drink?”
“I can see I’ve touched a nerve,” he murmured. “The answer to both questions is, my stomach seems to have settled down and I don’t require anything more than to be back in my own home with my favorite nurse.”
She smiled. “Sounds like the name of an old radio show. And now folks, stay tuned to My Favorite Nurse. I’m old enough to qualify.”
He let out a chuckle that was quickly followed by a groan. “Somebody lied,” he said. “It takes more muscles to laugh.”
“Except that laughter has other medicinal qualities to cure what ails you.”
“I happen to agree. Now tell me where in the hell you ever got the