an angel,” he rasped, holding her eyes, watching her pupils enlarge. “You’ve always been my angel.” Dan forced himself to stop. He was blithering because the morphine had loosened his closely held emotions for her. He saw surprise on Cait’s expression and then the joy that suddenly shone in her pale green eyes.
“I like being your angel,” she managed shyly, her voice strained. “In fact—” she squeezed his large, rough hand “—I’ve been assigned by your ortho surgeon to help you through recovery, Dan. I’ll be with you all the way...”
Oh, yeah, his leg. He’d forgotten about it until just now. His emotions, his mind and heart had been on Ben dying and how it was affecting Cait. She took his hand and laid it against his belly and he squeezed her fingers in return, a little of his strength returning. This was the first time there had been any real intimacy between them, man to woman. Dan tried to ferret out the unexpected joy he saw banked in her eyes. Did Cait want his touch?
Maybe it was his opiate-drenched mind, Dan told himself. Cait had had other relationships over the years, all with civilian men, who’d come and gone. What on earth had he just seen in her eyes? She kept grazing the flesh of his hand and lower arm, as if wanting to touch him. It felt like more than a medical touch. But was it just her normal bedside manner? Dan didn’t know, and he was too drugged right now to think two coherent thoughts in a row.
“Are you thirsty?”
He nodded. “Thirstier than a camel.” When Cait released his hand, he wanted to reach out and capture it once again. But he didn’t. Dan ached for continued contact. Wanted so much more of it—and her. Even now, he could feel himself stirring beneath the blue blankets across his lower body. Even on morphine. He had it bad for Cait. Dan savagely suppressed his sexual desire.
Cait rolled the tray over to his bedside, filled a glass of water and placed a straw in it for him. She lifted the straw, placing it between his lips. The gesture was so damned sensual Dan felt his body respond again. He drank the entire contents of the glass. He ended up drinking one more glass before he was sated.
After pushing the tray aside, Cait sat on the side of his bed, her hip inches from his. Dan could see a tent of covers over his lower legs from his knees to his feet. “How are your parents doing, Cait?” His voice was stronger now. His brain was actually functioning up to a point.
Cait’s expression saddened. “They’re suffering, Dan. If you’ll allow me, I’ll tell them what you just told me. That you were there with Ben when he died.” She reached out, fingers skimming the hand resting on his belly. “It would help them so much.”
“Yeah, go ahead.” Dan saw moisture in her eyes again, her grief on the surface. “His last words,” he rasped, “were about you. Ben asked me to take care of you.”
Her fingers closed around his, and he saw how badly Cait needed to be held and comforted. She would have to be the strong one for her devastated parents. Who was there to comfort her? He wanted to be the person to do that. But Dan could barely do anything right now. He was so damned helpless trussed up in the bed, not to mention physically weak. It took every bit of his strength to speak, to squeeze her fingers. Wanting to do more, unable to, he saw her strength, saw her swallow back the tears and give him a tremulous smile of gratefulness.
“Ben was always overprotective about me.” She shook her head.
“Because he loved you.”
“I know.” Cait closed her eyes. “I miss him so much. I was so looking forward to you two coming home.”
It felt as though a knife had sliced open his heart. All Dan could do was cling to her fingers, somehow convey his guilt. “I’m sorry, Cait. You can’t know how much...”
She sniffed and sat up, pushing red tendrils behind her ear. “We need to concentrate on you now, Dan.”
Dan watched her struggle with her emotions, place them gently aside for Ben, her whole attention now focused on him. It felt good. Fortifying. Necessary. “My mother? Joyce?”
“Oh, I talked to Joyce earlier. She couldn’t get off work at the software company to come and wait for you to come out of surgery. I told her no worries, that I’d be here for you. She was relieved. She’ll be here tonight after work to see you.”
Dan grimaced. “Just as well.” Worried, he asked, “Did she yell at you?”
After years of abuse by her alcoholic husband, Joyce had become a testy and defensive woman. Soon after they’d moved from Rush City, Texas, to Honolulu, his father had died. It had been his dream to move. His father had sold their small cattle ranch and dragged them to Hawaii in order to fulfill his wish. His mother hadn’t wanted to leave her extensive family in Texas. And Dan had been in the Army six months later when his father died of a massive heart attack here in Honolulu while out on a golf course. Dan had come home on emergency medical leave to bury his father and listen to his angry, bitter mother curse her husband at his graveside.
Now, Dan worried that Joyce had taken out her bile on Cait.
“She was upset, which is understandable, Dan. She wanted to be here.” Patting his hand gently, Cait said, “Joyce is worried about you.”
Biting back a curse, he growled, “Just as well she’s not here, Cait. I’m not up to dealing with her. All she can do is say the sky is falling, that life sucks. She’s like a toxic black cloud that overshadows everyone within five minutes.”
Dan knew Cait was more than aware of Joyce’s depression and mood swings. She had tried to get her some help, but his mother was stubborn and angry. She was in control of her life, finally, and that was that.
Cait give him a doleful look and a tremulous half smile.
“She’s been abused, Dan. But let’s not talk about that right now. I know Dr. Allison Barker, your ortho surgeon, is going on rounds right now.” She looked at her watch. “It’s 0800. She should be here any moment now. She’ll tell you about the state of your leg.”
Dan had lost track of time and days. His whole world centered on Cait. She wore an ID badge clipped to her left pocket, indicating she was hospital staff. “Okay,” he said. “Are you on duty?”
“Yes, beginning at 0900. I asked Dr. Barker if I could come and stay with you until you became conscious. She said yes.”
“Nice waking up to an angel,” he said thickly. Her eyes sparkled.
“I’m glad you think of me as your angel,” Cait teased, smiling.
Her smile went straight to his grieving heart, lifting him, making him feel hope. The love he held for Cait wanted to be known. Dan quickly squelched the urge to tell her how he felt. “Yeah, I’ve always thought of you that way, Cait. I know some of the soldiers you’ve helped, talked with them, and they say the same thing about you—that you’re an angel. You’ve helped so many people.”
“And now, I get to help you.” Cait caressed his shaven cheek, holding his cloudy gray gaze.
A doctor in her early forties quietly entered the ward. She was a brunette with blue eyes and she wore a white lab coat. The talk among some of the other men in other beds farther down the line stopped.
“Oh, here’s Dr. Barker,” Cait said, standing. She smiled down at Dan. “She’s the best.”
The tall, spare woman approached his bed. She offered her lean hand and Dan weakly raised his.
“You’re looking awfully good, Sergeant Taylor. I’m Dr. Barker. I was your ortho surgeon for your injured leg. Are you up to a little talk about the surgery I performed?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. Dan liked her warmth. She wasn’t like so many doctors—cold and robotic. Her alto voice conveyed her concern for him.
Opening his chart, Barker said, “You were hit with a bullet in the right femur, Sergeant. You’d lost nearly four pints of blood. They took you to the hospital in Bagram, where they