Father Christmas by Judith Arnold

Author:Judith Arnold [Arnold, Judith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780373527366
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 1978-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

“Someone from my squad was supposed to bring me my clothes.” He glanced down at his bare chest. Those bruises were nasty. No wonder she kept gaping at them.

“There are a lot of officers out there,” she said. “At least six of them.”

He eyed the clock hanging on the wall behind the table “They probably ended their shifts and came over. When one of us gets hurt, we do that.”

“That’s nice.” Her voice sounded rusty. “Do you want me to see if one of them has your clothes?”

What he wanted was for her to stay fight where she was, in his line of vision. Actually, no---he wanted her to come closer so he could hug her the way he couldn’t hug Mike. He wanted to absorb her strength. ‘ He wanted her soft, warm curves to remind him that he was alive.

Mike found the blood pressure cuff dangling from a wall rack and tore the Velcro with a loud rasp, jolting John and clearing his mind. He glanced at his son, then back at Molly. As he continued his descent from euphoria, he realized he was cold. Cold and tired. “The doctor is getting my clothing,” he said.

“Even with clothes, John, you can’t drive home like that.” She gestured toward his right hand.

“Shh.” He peered toward the curtain, wondering if the doctor had overheard her. “If they think I can’t drive home, they’ll make me spend the night here.” “Maybe you should stay the night. Just in case.” “No.” Arlington Memorial was a fine facility, but John had heard enough stories about people who went into hospitals to have a nose job and wound up paralyzed for life, people who had the wrong leg amputated or the wrong kidney removed, people who had gone in for routine tests, picked up bacterial infections and died. Besides, if he had to spend the night at Arlington Memorial, who would take care of Mike?

Molly’s earnest gaze gave him his answer. Of course she would take care of Mike if necessary.

But John was too selfish to want her to take care of his son. What he wanted was for her to take care of him.

Cripes, where had that thought come from? Maybe he was in shock, after all---or else he was still tripping on adrenaline. He shouldn’t want Molly doing anything for him. She’d already done too much; taking care of Mike for the past hour and then bringing him here.

“What I was thinking,” she said quietly, “was that maybe I could take you and Michael home. A police officer could drive your car to your house, right? You shouldn’t be driving tonight. The roads are still a little slippery, and you...” Her gaze wandered to his chest again; to his lap where his right hand rested, to the thick bandage taped around his forearm. “You shouldn’t drive.”

“Okay.” He told himself he was agreeing to let her transport him and Mike because she was right, he should nit get behind the wheel. But there was that selfish yearning again, that giddy defiance.

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