Slide Job (Cameron Motorsports) (16 page)

“Relax. You’re tightening up.” His warm, oil slick fingers kneaded her back. “I want you to do something for me. Okay?”

“’Kay.” Unshed tears made her voice coarse. Strong hands grasped her foot, massaging oil into the sole and heel.

“Breathe deep for me. Like this. Inhale...slowly. Now, exhale.” Busy fingers worked their way around her ankle to her calf. “Again. Inhale...deeply. That’s good. Now...exhale.”

The deep breathing helped Morgan to relax. Tense as she’d felt at the start, against her will her muscles melted under his firm touch. Never in her adult life had a man been this gentle with her. Tyler touched her as if she were a most delicate treasure. He made her feel...cherished.

Morgan thought herself a warrior. She knew she could face death with the best of them. Yet simple caring and compassion became her undoing. Emotion rose up to inundate her.

“There’s my girl,” he crooned softly, his voice a whisper along her skin. “Let it go.” Firm hands worked their sensuous magic up the back of her thighs. Over and around, he kneaded. Fingertips lightly brushed the edge of her panties. It made her tingle. She wanted more.

“I...can’t do this.” She nearly sobbed. Tears threatened to spill over.

He didn’t stop rubbing, his fingers worked around the film of lace, pressing and squeezing.

She struggled to rise.

“Yes, you can. You need this.” Tyler held her gently down on the bed. Carefully he worked her buttocks, more rubbing than pressing. She could feel his cautious touch, apparently not forgetting her tender front. A warm chuckle reached her ears about the same time she felt his lips caress the rounded cheek.

“I believe when we first met, you told me to do this. How could I forget such a sultry invitation?” he murmured. Breath hot, he kissed her butt cheeks.
Both of them!

It should have made her laugh. Instead, the tenderness of the gesture made her cry. Finally, silent tears seeped out of tightly closed eyes. He rolled her over, tenderly grasping her thighs and arms.

“Come on, love. Let’s do the front.”

Embarrassed he would see her tears, she kept her eyes shut. Missing his touch, she opened them to slits and watched him stare at her. Still fully dressed, he leaned back on his heels.

“You are beautiful. Do you know how beautiful you are?” Covering his hands once more with oil, he grasped her hand, his thumbs massaging her joints, working his way up her arm. “Your skin is soft as the finest ivory silk. Graceful limbs, supple muscles.”

Morgan couldn’t remember a man calling her beautiful. She wasn’t beautiful. She was built like an elf. Okay, a well-endowed elf, not a beautiful one. “I’m not beautiful, I’m average. You don’t have to lie to me.”

“It’s no lie, Morgan,” he argued in a tender voice. “You are beautiful, to me. You may not see it in the mirror when you look, but I do. It radiates outward, from your soul. It shines from your eyes. You try to hide it with your tough as nails exterior. But it slips out, just the same.”

The heated touch of his lips on hers burst through the last of the ice she’d spent years layering over her heart. It cracked wide and melted away. “I... I...” She hiccupped and failed to stifle a sob. Wearing only bra and panties, she rolled onto her side, away from him.

Mindless grief rushed out from where ice had held it buried for years. No longer able to hold it in, Morgan wept.

She mourned the loss of her innocence, all those years ago. Tears fell for the failure of her marriage, her father’s illness and, most of all, the aching loss of her daughter.

Tyler picked her up and, leaning against the headboard, cradled her in his lap. Wrapped safely in his arms, she held on to him and cried soul-cleansing tears.

*

A ringing phone roused Tyler from where he dozed. Startled, he nearly dropped the precious bundle, asleep against him. Only his family had this number. He shuffled Morgan easily to the bed and crossed the room.

“Hello.” He watched Morgan sit slowly on the edge of the bed and rub sleep from her eyes. Dredging through the dregs of sleep, he still thought her lovely.

“What?” he questioned, barely listening.

“Tyler, I’m sorry to interrupt, but you need to get yourself and that lovely woman of yours on the move, pronto.”

The serious tone of his mother’s voice finally caught his attention. “Is Annie okay?”

“She’s fine. She’s sound asleep on the sofa. It’s Morgan—”

He breathed a sigh of short-lived relief. “Wait. Excuse me, can you repeat that?” He must be mistaken. The words he heard next shocked him more than he ever imagined.

“The hospital just contacted me. I left word that Morgan would be with us. Apparently a nurse friend tried to reach her. Morgan’s father has taken a turn for the worse. They’ve admitted him, and are calling in the family.”

“Why?” Wasn’t he just full of bright questions. At some point maybe he’d come up with a full sentence.

“I made a few calls and managed to snag his attending physician at dinner. It’s not up to me to tell you, that’s her story, but it’s not good, Tyler. Her father doesn’t have much time. You need to get that girl to the airport. Cameron’s already dispatched a plane.”

Wide awake now, his heart ached for Morgan. How much could one person take?
“Okay, we’ll be right there.” He disconnected the call with a sigh.

“What’s up? Is Annie okay?”

Wishing the floor would open up and swallow him would be asking too much. It amazed him Morgan would think of his child first. She really had no idea how special she was. He watched her recognize his somber look and she reached for her clothes.

“Morgan, why didn’t you tell me about your father’s illness?”

Her face lost its color and she sat hard on the edge of the bed, holding her jeans and shirt clasped against her chest. “I didn’t think telling you would change anything. Why?”

There was no time to put if off. Even if he wanted to spare her, he couldn’t. The thought made acid churn in his stomach. “That was Mom. Someone named Lynn called the network trying to reach you. Butch Cameron is sending a jet to the local airport. You’ve got to go. Now.”

Chapter 17

Visiting hours were long over. Morgan strode quickly down the hospital corridor, rubber-soled sneakers carrying her silently along the battered linoleum floor. It shone brightly back at her, a stark testament to infirmity.

The sweet smell of sickness, blanketed with antiseptic cleanser, assaulted her senses, made her tired eyes burn. If she never had to smell that odor again it would be fine with her.

She’d traveled all night. Even now, the waking sun would be lifting its sleepy head over the horizon, wrapping the black of night with the soft, gray colors of dawn.

Empty doorways stood as white, wall-like sentinels, waiting for her to pass. The nurse’s station was empty. She noticed a couple of gossip rags open as she passed. Must be a slow night. A yellow line down the hallway led her to the oncology unit, reminding her of Dorothy and the yellow brick road. If she followed it to the end and found the wizard, could he give her father his health back? Doctors sure the hell couldn’t. So much for modern medicine.

The door opened with a soft whoosh as she pushed inward. A few quiet steps led her past the first bed and by the curtained partition. The pale, gray light of dawn from the nearby window revealed her mother asleep in the chair next to the bed.

“Mom?” She leaned close and touched her mother’s shoulder gently, careful not to wake her sleeping father. The machines whirred softly, alternately beeping and clicking.

Startled, her mom bolted up in her chair, cracking Morgan on the chin with her head. “What? Carter?”

“Ouch! Mom! It’s me, Morgan.” She tried to whisper and rub her chin at the same time. Damn, that hurt.

“Morgan. Oh, honey.” Her mom stood, and wrapped her in a fierce hug, smelling of the powdery fragrance she always wore. “I’m so glad you’re here. Let’s go down to the lounge so we can talk. I don’t want to wake your dad.”

Mom’s arms felt so good. Like home
. She held on tight.

A plaintive voice issued a protest. “No, don’t go. I’m awake.”

“Daddy?” Morgan let go of her mom and moved to her father’s bedside. “How are you feeling?” Dumb question. If he felt good, he wouldn’t be here.

Unable to stop herself she reached for his hand, brushing the tape that held his intravenous fluid tube in place, another reminder of just how sick he was. She clenched her hand instead and willed the tears not to fall.

“How’s my best girl?” he whispered, his voice soft and tired. “Come here.” He ignored her question and motioned with his free hand. Morgan moved to the other side of the bed.

Gently, she leaned her head close to his, needing the contact. She kissed his cheek and stroked his arm. “Oh, Daddy, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, little girl.”

“It’s not the same without you there. I won in South Carolina. Did you see it?” She whispered, trying to keep her voice low enough not to disturb the patient in the next bed. Mom stood on the other side of the bed. Her solemn eyes watched both of them, her shoulders slumped in resignation.

“I did. Your momma and I watched you and the boys dancing around in victory lane.”

“You’ll both be there to celebrate with us next time, won’t you?”

Firm footfalls announced the arrival of a nurse. “Excuse me. I need to have a moment with Mr. Blade.” Eyes questioning, she looked at Morgan and then looked again. “Visiting hours won’t start for another few hours, Miss…?”

Her mother answered, voice full of pride. “This is our daughter, Morgan. She’s just arrived from Tennessee.”

Accepting the answer, the nurse went about the business of taking Dad’s temperature. “It’s nice to meet you, Morgan. I thought I’d seen you before. You’re on
Race for the Ride
aren’t you? My husband hasn’t missed an episode.” She glanced at the thermometer as it beeped, her movements slick and practiced. “If you ladies wouldn’t mind waiting in the lounge, I’ll let you know when you can come back in.”

“Sure, no problem. We’ll be right back, Daddy.”

They made their way down the hall to the lounge. It was an end room, with a wall of windows facing the mountains. Always timeless, they stood proudly greeting the daylight. Life or death, they remained the same.

Morgan sat down next to her mother on a green, vinyl-covered sofa, and nervously clasped her hands together. She smoothed her tongue over her lips in a wasted effort to moisten them. Dehydration already claimed her. There was nothing left to give. “It’s a wonder the nurse didn’t kick me out, since it’s so early.”

In a somber voice her mother confirmed her worst fears.

“She wouldn’t kick you out, not today. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Morgan watched her mother’s hands take flight. They touched her hair, straightened her collar, fussed with a tissue.

Oh no, not this. Please. Not this. Anything but this. Her empty stomach rolled over on itself in denial. Her nerves beat a silent tattoo against her skin as she looked wildly around the room. Feeling like a caged animal, she started to sweat. If she could put it off, it wouldn’t be real.

“Where’s Damon? Why isn’t he here?”

“He’ll be here shortly. Kristi took him home so he could change his clothes. Morgan, I need to tell you—”

“Dad’s going to be okay. Isn’t he?” She interrupted, getting up to pace the length of the room and back. Morgan tried to read the truth in her mother’s eyes, but failed.

Her mom just kept staring blindly out the window. Anxious fingers threaded themselves through her hair.

“The treatments are working right?” Deep inside herself, she knew they wouldn’t have sent for her if the treatments were working. Admitting it was another thing altogether.

“There are no more treatments. Lynn got everything set up with a home hospice nurse the day before yesterday. They’re sending him home tomorrow.” Tears fell unchecked down her mother’s face. Crumpled tissue forgotten in her hand, Morgan watched as her mother covered her eyes and sobbed.

“Mom. Oh, Mom. Don’t cry.” Across the room in a flash, Morgan gathered her mother into her arms and held her close. Smoothing her mother’s hair in a gesture of comfort, tears flowed silently from her own eyes.

In the distance a phone rang. It reminded Morgan that life went on, no matter how bad it hurt. Her mother sat back, dug for another tissue in her pocket.

The salt of tears stung Morgan’s eyes as she wiped them. They wouldn’t help her now. If they could have, they would’ve brought Lily back to her years ago. She took a deep breath, and cleared her mind.

“I’ll be here. I just have to call the series. I can drop out. They’ll understand. I need to be here with you and Dad.”

The nurse stepped into the lounge wearing a sympathetic smile. She made no comment about the tears. Narrowed green eyes under a short fringe of bleached hair gave Morgan a speculative glance. “I’m finished with Mr. Blade if you’d like to go back in now.”

Holding hands, they walked back to the room. Reaching the doorway, Morgan let go of her mother’s hand. “Mom, give me a minute. I need to call and tell them I won’t be back.” She rifled around in her backpack and tried to find her cell phone.

“Wait, Morgan. Don’t call. We need to talk first.” Her mother’s weary voice held both sadness and resignation.

Puzzled, Morgan followed her mom, coming to a halt at the foot of her father’s bed. “What is there to talk about? I’m staying here with you. End of story.”

Unable to relinquish the contrary expression she knew she was wearing, Morgan stared at her mom. Momentarily meeting her eyes, Mom glanced at Dad, clearly expecting him to say something. Morgan read the look which passed between them and knew they’d already united against her.

In the opposite corner of the room a television hung near the ceiling blared to life. Morgan stepped back to glare at the older man in the other bed. Nurse Ratchet must have woken him up, too.

“No, Morgan. It’s not the end of the story. We want you to go back.” Her father’s weary voice came out in such a whisper she couldn’t have heard him right.

“What did you say?” She moved up to stand beside him on the opposite side of her mother. “Did you say ‘go back,’ and if you did, go back where?” They couldn’t mean for her to finish the show. That was crazy. She needed to be here. They needed her here.

Slowly, Dad reached for her hand and covered it with his own large one as he looked into her eyes. “Forgive your old man for being selfish. I just wanted to see my best girl one more time.”

Something in his eyes, some message. She didn’t get it. Resignation, relief, what? “What do you mean one more time? I’m not going anywhere.” Frowning, she folded her arms and looked at them. She could be mule-headed stubborn and they both knew it.

“Morgan, don’t give us that look.” Mom rose up to her full height of five feet. “Your father and I have talked this through. Believe me. We’ve had plenty of time. It’s best for everyone if you go back and finish the show.”

“Best for everyone? Who’s everyone?” Morgan tried and failed to keep the frustration out of her voice. “Tell me then, Mom. Who’s everyone? You? Dad? Damon? It’s sure as hell not best for me.” She let go of her father’s hand to motion at the ceiling. “Why did you get me all the way here, just to send me back? I don’t get it!” Rising an octave higher, her voice broke. Emotional and physical exhaustion struck her at the same time. Out of patience, she dropped into the chair next to the bed. “Explain.”

“Honey, I know it’s difficult for you. We want you to be here, but you can’t miss out on this. It’s only another two weeks, right?”

Morgan watched her mom straighten her shoulders the way she always did when bracing for an argument. The cajoling tone of voice told Morgan she’d already made up her mind.
Damn.
If anyone was more stubborn than her, it was her mom. The familiarity of a good argument eased her a bit.

Dad started to cough. And cough. His face turned red as he leaned forward with the effort. Her mom grabbed the call box and frantically pressed the button.

“I’ll get someone.” Unable to wait, Morgan ran for the door.

Running steps carried her halfway down the hall to the nurse’s station. Another nurse, not her father’s, sat at the station reading. “My dad. Help. My dad needs help. Room four-oh-five.”

Morgan skidded to a halt as the nurse got up and made a dash for the room. Inhaling deep to calm herself, she glanced down to see what the woman had been reading, when a headline caught her eye. Shock made her gasp. She felt as though someone had punched her in the chest.

REALITY STAR HAS NERVOUS BREAKDOWN

There she was, big as life, on the front page of a popular rag sheet. The picture showed her sitting against her hauler and crying. It was the day she’d saved Annie from getting run-over.

Who could have done this? And why? Another nurse dashed around the corner, headed down the hall toward her father’s room. She’d deal with it later. Pushing off the counter she’d been leaning on, Morgan hurried back to the room.

Her mother was just coming out, pulling the door shut behind her. “They asked me to leave.”

Exhaustion laid waste to her mother’s face. The lines around her mouth and on her forehead were much deeper than Morgan remembered. Had it really only been two months? The burden had to be heavy. With Lily it had been over before anyone could think. This was worse in its way. Watching someone you’d spent your life with go...bit by bit. And still not be ready for it.

Compassion engulfed her as she stood in the hallway and held on to her mom. Arms wrapped around her, Morgan understood now where her strength came from. These two people, who loved her so much, would do anything they could for her. How could she do less? Resting her head against her mother’s she sighed deeply. “Mom, I don’t want to leave.” Surely her mom would understand. Family came first. It’s what they’d taught her. “I want to be here. I belong here.”

“You can come back in now. He’s settled down.” The woman Morgan thought of as Nurse Ratchet set the door open with a slight smile and motioned them inside. Both nurses left the room, going in opposite directions.

Her father sat in bed propped upright by pillows. Face no longer red, his breathing slowed. Intense brown eyes, so like her own, watched as she approached the bed. Before she could say anything, Damon, with Kristi in tow, strolled hand in hand into the room.

“Morgan, hey.” Damon came forward, the awkward shyness of an eighteen-year-old mixing with the unabashed glee of a child at seeing someone he loves. Morgan watched a whirlwind of emotion cross his face just before they hugged. He leaned back and picked her up off the ground in stellar male fashion.

“Ugh, put me down, dorf.” He felt so strong, his muscles rippling, barely strained by lifting her. In the way of siblings, she planted a big wet one on his cheek. “I missed you, kid.” The faint scent of cigarettes tickled her nose. “You smell funny.”

Dropping her back on her feet, he stepped near Kristi, away from the bed. Just as she thought, the little twit smoked. Morgan moved forward to hug Kristi, and wondered what other things the girl would lead him into before they were through with each other.

Morgan raised her glance to the ceiling. How about one thing at a time, here? She worked at smoothing the anger and frustration out of her mind and voice. It would be of no use to anyone right now. She’d save up the good mad for the butthead who wrote the article, whoever it was. They deserved to feel her wrath. Her family didn’t.