The Indy Man (The Americana Series Book 14) Page 7

  'I think Kate Johnson has the duty today,' he mused absently and flipped through his telephone list for the hospital number. 'She's an excellent surgeon,' he told them as he dialed the number.

  It seemed an interminable time before anyone answered.

  'This is Doctor Simon Mabry', her father identified himself. 'I'd like to speak to Doctor Johnson.' There was another pause, filled by the drumming of her father's fingers on the desk top. 'Kate? Simon Mabry here. What? … No, no, I'm not bringing anyone in. I was calling about Mitch Braden, the race car driver they brought in from the speedway … I guessed that, but can you give me what you've got?'

  Studying her father's expression intently, Susan didn't move, but waited motionless like the rest of her family. He listened quietly to the woman doctor on the other end of the phone, his silence occasionally punctuated by his grunts of understanding.

  'Thank you, Kate,' he said finally. 'I appreciate this.' Then he said goodbye and hung up.

  'Well?' Susan probed anxiously.

  'So far,' he breathed in deeply, lifting his head to meet the gazes centered on him, 'they know he has a broken arm, some cracked ribs, and a concussion. They're still checking for internal injuries and the like.'

  A sigh of relief seemed to come from all of them. Susan only knew she wanted to cry, her knees buckling slightly before stiffening to support her.

  'I knew all the time he would be all right,' Amy declared brightly.

  'He's tough,' Greg agreed with a tight smile, man-fully trying to conceal his emotions.

  'I'm so relieved.' Beth Mabry shook her head as if astounded to discover how tense she had been. 'Every year you hear about a crash of some sort in the Indianapolis 500, but this is the first time we've ever known anyone involved, as more than just a name, I mean.'

  'I think we all understand, Beth.' Simon Mabry glanced warmly about him at the smiling, relieved faces of his children.

  Susan swallowed the tight lump in her throat and turned away from the group. Her fingers were still pressed against her stomach, but the nauseous churning had stopped. Mitch was going to be all right, said a joyous voice from her heart.

  'Susan, in all the excitement,' her mother exclaimed, 'I forgot you were supposed to be resting.'

  'Resting?' her father questioned. 'Aren't you feeling well, Susan?'

  'I—I had a headache,' she answered self-consciously, not quite meeting her parents' eyes. 'It seems to have gone away, though.'

  Which was the truth.

  'With all the distraction, you probably forgot to feel ill,' her mother smiled. 'Warren was certainly worried. He'll be glad to hear you're all right.'

  'Yes,' Susan agreed, with a faint answering smile.

  Now that she was feeling better there was no reason not to go out with him that evening. But the dinner was an anticlimax. Susan couldn't seem to recapture the peace and contentment she had experienced earlier in his company.

  Warren naturally blamed her restlessness on the lingering effect of her headache, and Susan let him, since she couldn't explain to herself why she couldn't find that previous sensation of closeness to him.

  Chapter Five

  NERVOUSLY adjusting the collar of her peach-colored jacket, Susan paused in the hospital corridor. Her palm was faintly damp and she pressed it against her skirt before clutching the leather case a little tighter. Her gaze darted swiftly into the open doorways of the hospital rooms in the hall as she started forward again.

  'May I help you, miss?' a female voice inquired behind her.

  Susan turned with a start, smiling self-consciously. 'No,' she answered quickly, glancing at the leather case in her hands. 'I was just bringing some papers to Mr. Robert Sullivan.'

  The uniformed nurse, an older woman with beautiful waving white hair and twinkling eyes, smiled and nodded. 'His room is three doors down to your right.'

  'Thank you,' Susan turned away, her moving gaze flicking to the open doorway on the opposite side of the hall. There was a rustle of movement from the room.

  'Hey, Beautiful! Is that you?' Mitch Braden's voice rang clearly into the hall.

  A red blush of embarrassment filled Susan's face as she turned instinctively toward the door in answer and caught the amused, raised eyebrow of the nurse.

  Her step hesitated for only a second before she continued to the room. She told herself she wouldn't stay more than a couple of minutes, just pop in to wish him a polite get-well.

  'Susan?' his inquiring voice called again as she walked through the open door of his hospital room.

  He didn't see her immediately. He was trying to push himself into a more upright position in the bed with one arm. There was a wince of pain and his face went pale before he slumped back.

  'Lie still,' Susan ordered quickly, walking swiftly to his bedside.

  The blue eyes opened and Mitch simply looked at her for a long moment. 'Hello,' he said softly, lean dimples appearing in the tanned cheeks.

  Her chest constricted at the dark glow in his eyes. 'Hello,' she returned with equal softness, a faint smile on her mouth.

  'I heard your voice in the hall.' His compelling gaze refused to let her look away. 'I didn't think you would come in to see me.'

  'What were you going to do?' she teased gently. 'Come racing after me?'

  There was an urge to reach out and smooth the tousled gold-brown hair falling across his forehead. Susan moved away from the bed before she succumbed to it.

  'I might have. My legs weren't injured, only this,' Mitch tapped the cast on his left arm, 'and a few ribs and a bump on the head.'

  'The last certainly didn't knock any sense into you!' She let her hand trail over the foot of the bed and close over the rail, balancing the leather case containing the papers for Robert Sullivan beside it.

  'Did you think it might?'

  She could feel his eyes watching her. The intentness of his gaze began to affect her breathing and she shifted uncomfortably. Somehow the conversation had become too intimate. She had intended only to make an aloof, polite inquiry about his health, and here she was trading a kind of soft banter with him.

  'I don't know,' she shrugged, and stared at the diamond ring on her wedding finger.

  'Well!' Mitch breathed in. 'Have I lost track of time? Isn't this Tuesday? Shouldn't you be working?'

  Her glance was almost grateful at his change of subject, 'It's Tuesday and I'm working. Warren's father is here in the hospital recovering from an operation. I was bringing him some papers to study.'

  'I see.' He paused. 'Were you at the race? I looked for you, but I only saw your father and Greg. I sent enough tickets.'

  'Yes, I know you did,' Susan answered nervously. 'I know they would want me to thank you for them too. Warren and I had already made plans to go on a picnic.'

  A wry smile tugged the corners of his mouth. 'It's probably just as well the two of you weren't there. Warren would probably have cheered when he saw the crash.'

  'That's not fair,' she protested. 'All of us were upset when we heard about the accident.'

  'Were you?' He shot her a piercing blue look.

  Susan glanced away, afraid he might have some way of getting inside her mind and finding out how upset she had been. 'Of course,' she answered curtly. Tossing her head back, she let go of the railing and hugged the leather case in front of her. 'I really have to be going, Mitch. Mr. Sullivan is expecting me. I … I hope you're feeling better soon.'

  'Wait.' His voice checked her movement toward the door. She glanced warily over her shoulder. 'You haven't autographed my cast yet.' He flashed her a smile that made her heart turn over.

  Susan hesitated as she watched Mitch reach for a black pen lying on the table beside his bed. With a resigned sigh she walked back to the bed, taking the pen he extended toward her. The briefcase was awkwardly in the way and she set it on the bed. She bent slightly over him, the pen poised above the cast as she tried to decide what to write.

  'You could put down "All my love" or "Love and
kisses"' Mitch suggested with a twinkle.

  As quickly as the pen and cast would allow, Susan scrawled 'Get well soon' and signed her name. Straightening, she held the pen out to him, reaching for the case with her other hand. But instead of taking the pen, his right hand took hold of hers.

  'Susan?' Her startled eyes met his faintly earnest gaze that searched her face. 'I would like you to come see me again,' he said, almost humbly.

  'I'm afraid that's not possible.' She tried to withdraw her hand, but he wouldn't release it.

  'Please, I—-' He stopped, glancing down at her hand. 'It gets awfully monotonous being confined in this room hour after hour. Most of my friends are guys at the track, and they're pulling out for other races.'

  'I'm sorry. I—-' Susan frowned, wondering if it was loneliness she saw flicker across his face, so handsome and proud.

  'I don't expect you to make a special trip to see me.' Mitch smiled ruefully, his thumb caressing the inside of her wrist in what appeared an unconscious motion. 'But if you have to come to the hospital to bring Warren's father any more papers, would you come in and say hello?'

  The blue eyes held her mesmerized. 'I … I suppose I could,' she surrendered to their spell.

  'Thank you.' He carried her fingertips to the soft firmness of his lips, making them tingle from the intimacy of the caress.

  There was a rustle of a starched uniform behind Susan, followed by a brisk female voice. 'It's that time again, Mr. Braden.'

  Susan pulled her hand free from Mitch's hold, hiding it guiltily behind her back as she spun toward the nurse she had met in the hallway.

  'Madge, you have a rotten sense of timing,' Mitch sighed with a mock grimace at her interruption.

  The nurse winked broadly at Susan before answering. 'We nurses pride ourselves on being a nuisance.'

  'I'd better be going.' Susan quickly gathered up her briefcase as the nurse determinedly held out a thermometer.

  'You won't forget to come again?' Mitch held her wavering gaze.

  'No,' she admitted in a low voice, wishing she hadn't agreed as she hurried from his room.

  There was too much of a risk that word might somehow filter to Robert Sullivan and from there to his son that Susan had seen Mitch Braden, for her to attempt to conceal the visit from Warren. His lips thinned with displeasure at the news, when she told him at dinner that evening.

  'Did you really think it was necessary to see him?' he asked churlishly.

  'It wasn't necessary,' Susan admitted, studying the rounded chunks of ice in her water goblet rather than meet his censorious dark gaze. 'But since I was right there, it seemed a bit unfeeling not to look in and wish him a speedy recovery.'

  'Perhaps,' Warren submitted grudgingly, 'but considering that man's absence of manners, I would hardly worry about doing the polite thing.'

  'His behavior is not my concern, nor any reason to behave the same way,' she explained patiently. 'After all, the man has no family here and his friends are mainly people from the race track. If they haven't gone already, they'll be leaving town in the next day or two. It's lonely, confined to a hospital room without any visitors.'

  'Braden, lonely?' The disbelieving words were followed by a short, contemptuous laugh. 'I'm certain he has any number of female visitors flocking to his bedside without my fiancée among them!'

  'I did not rush to his bedside!' Her nerve ends frayed at the edges. 'I think it's insulting of you to insinuate that I did!'

  'I didn't mean to imply that you deliberately did, but I have little doubt that Braden and others would look at it in that light,' Warren retorted. 'Considering the way he's flirted with you so boldly in the past, I'm certain he sees your visit as a sign of encouragement to continue.'

  'I did not encourage him,' Susan responded tautly.

  Yet, remembering the light kiss on her fingertips, she wondered if unconsciously she had. And she had foolishly said she would see him again.

  'Not intentionally, but as conceited as he is, he will believe that you did. That's what I've been trying to explain,' he said with impatience.

  'All right, you've explained, so let's stop arguing about this.'

  'I'm not arguing.' His imposing, masculine features darkened in controlled anger. 'I'm simply forbidding you to see him again.'

  Her eyes widened in astonishment, their soft brown color flaming into a snapping fire of temper. Her strong sense of independence asserted itself with a rush as Warren pushed her too far. Being willing to please the man she loved and was going to marry was entirely different from being ruled by him.

  'Forbid me! Of all the arrogant—-' Susan closed her mouth abruptly, choking on the anger erupting from inside. Uncaring of the possibly interested looks from the other people in the restaurant, she pushed herself out of her chair. 'You may ask me not to see him again, Warren, but nobody forbids me to do anything!'

  Without a backward glance, she stalked from the table, disregarding his low-voiced command to return. The girl in the cloakroom had just handed her her coat when a glowering Warren appeared at her side. Susan turned to him, lifting her chin defiantly.

  'Are you going to take me home, or shall I ask for a taxi?' she challenged.

  'What do you think you're doing, making a scene like this?' Warren muttered angrily.

  Susan pivoted away. 'I'll get a taxi.'

  Her elbow was seized in a rough grip and she was propelled toward the outer door. His hold didn't lessen as he nearly forced her to his car in tight-lipped silence. The crackling tension remained through the entire journey to her home with neither of them uttering a sound.

  When the car stopped in front of the house, Susan reached for the door handle. 'I—I believe I owe you an apology, Susan.' Warren seemed to have difficulty in getting the words out.

  'I believe you do,' she answered coolly, turning slightly to give him a measuring look.

  His hands tightened on the steering wheel as a muscle twitched in his jaw. 'All right, dammit, I'm sorry,' he snapped.

  In spite of a faint irritation at his reluctantly offered apology, Susan smiled. The dimness of the car concealed it from Warren.

  'And I'm sorry for walking out like that,' she said gently, meeting him halfway.

  'The whole argument was silly,' he murmured, taking her into his arms and crushing her tightly against his chest.

  'It hurt that you didn't trust me,' she whispered.

  In answer, Warren kissed her long and hard as if to drive away the memory of their angry words. Susan responded with equal intensity to show him that all was forgiven, if not totally forgotten. Afterwards she lay curled contentedly in the hollow of his shoulder while his hand absently massaged the soft flesh of her arm.

  'Please, darling,' Warren said in a low, husky voice, 'I'm asking you not to see that man any more.'

  Tensing slightly, Susan had the uncomfortable feeling that his apology and the subsequent kiss had been designed to lull her into the sense of security she was now enjoying. The end result would be that he would achieve the very thing he had set out to.

  A tiny frown of uncertainty touched her forehead. 'I—I'm sorry, Warren, but I can't give you an answer. I simply won't promise that I might not see him again,' she murmured, darting a cautious glance into his passive, rugged features.

  For an instant his expression seemed to harden and Susan thought the argument was going to begin all over again. Then he relaxed his mouth into a dry smile.

  'The fact that you love me is the only answer I need, I guess,' he said softly.

  A sigh of gratitude slid from her lips as she mentally chided herself for thinking such mean thoughts against his motives. She had hated accusing him of trying to use underhanded methods to extract a promise from her.

  'Thank you, darling,' she whispered.

  He placed a quick kiss on her lips. 'Come on,' he said, dislodging her from her comfortable nest in his arm. 'It's time you were going in the house. You have to be at work in the morning and you know what a tyrant your b
oss can be.'

  'He's a regular monster,' Susan laughed as she moved to her own side of the car. Opening the car door, she glanced over her shoulder at his smiling face. 'Goodnight, darling."

  'Goodnight,' Warren responded, his voice a gentle caress.

  The next day the necessity arose again for Susan to transport some important documents to Robert Sullivan at the hospital. The words were there in Warren's eyes, asking her again not to see Mitch Braden while she was there. Susan looked away, unable to give him the answer he wanted.

  All night and for the better part of the day she had been trying to come to a decision. As she walked down the hospital corridor to Robert Sullivan's room, she knew she had reached it.

  After she had given the papers to Warren's father, she would see Mitch. She would see Mitch and tactfully tell him that it would be better for all concerned if she didn't see him any more. After telling Mitch she would look in, she would look in; she simply could not do it without explaining why.

  Keeping her gaze averted from the door to Mitch's room, Susan intended to walk straight by. First she wanted to see Robert Sullivan, then she would go to Mitch.

  'Susan!' Mitch's delighted voice interrupted her plan.

  She paused, glancing over her shoulder to see him standing in the doorway. He looked disturbingly attractive in a knee-length robe of camel brown, one sleeve empty and the bulge of the cast beneath the tied front.

  'Hello, Mitch.' She swallowed and curved her mouth into a taut smile. 'I was on my way to Mr. Sullivan's room with some more papers. I—I was going to stop in to see you on my way out.'

  'I somehow didn't think there would be any errand that would bring you back today,' he smiled slowly.

  'It came up suddenly.'

  'I'm glad.'

  'Yes … well.' Susan breathed in deeply, bowing her head to break away from the blue glitter of his eyes.

  'Would it upset everything if you came here before going to his room?' Mitch asked, gesturing down the hallway with his right hand.

  Susan hesitated indecisively. 'No, no, I don't suppose it would.'