Husband for a Weekend

“Right. Good memory. Anyway, the summer before my junior year in high school, Stan broke several bones in his left hand in a ranch accident. He had to have surgery, followed by a few weeks of therapy. I was only working part-time in a fast-food job that summer, so I drove him to therapy a few times and hung around to watch his sessions. After that, I just knew it was what I wanted to do.”

“You still like it, don’t you?”

“I love it,” she answered simply. “I enjoyed rotating through pediatric OT, but I’m at my best with adults.”

“Lynette enjoys her work, too. She talks about it all the time when we get together—though she’s careful to remember privacy guidelines for her patients,” he added quickly. “We enjoy hearing some of her stories during family dinners. She doesn’t give personal details, but she tells us about some of her most rewarding cases.”

Kim nodded. “We all cherish our personal victories, when we feel like we’ve really made a difference in someone’s life. Whether it’s something relatively minor, like recovering from hand surgery, or learning to eat and dress and perform other activities of daily living after a stroke or brain injury, there’s always a sense of satisfaction in helping someone regain at least part of what they’d lost.”

“There must be plenty of frustration, as well.”

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “When there’s little more we can do, or when we know more progress could be made if the client would exert a little more effort or when financial limitations interfere with potential progress. But any job has its frustrations.”

“True. I have to confess, it always surprises me that Lynette has the patience for the job. She’s always so rushed and so impulsive outside of work.”

Kim laughed softly. “Yes, but she’s a wonderful therapist. Her clients love her. She’s especially good in the inpatient setting, with patients who are still reeling from their injuries and loss. She has quite a knack for encouraging them and lifting their spirits.”

“She has high praise for you, too. She said you’re the most patient, most unrufflable of any therapist she’s worked with.”

“That’s nice of her.” Kim sounded a little self-conscious about the praise when she teased, “But unrufflable? Is that even a word?”

He grinned. “You know how Lynette likes to coin her own vocabulary.”

“Yes, she does. I’ve grown very fond of your sister in the past six months of working with her. I consider her one of my best friends. Emma, too. We all meshed very well from the start.”

“Lynette feels the same way. She has told me she’s very glad you came to work in her department.” Without thinking, he reached out to brush a wayward curl from Kim’s sleep-softened face. “I’m glad, too. I’ve very much enjoyed getting to know you during our Wednesday lunches.”

“I’ve enjoyed it, too,” she murmured, her gaze locking with his.

Because she hadn’t immediately drawn away from his impulsive touch, and because it felt so very good to do so, he drew his fingertips down the line of her jaw to the very faint indention in her chin. “We did kind of hit it off from the start, didn’t we?”

He regretted speaking so unguardedly when he sensed the invisible wall immediately go up between them again. Kim s

eemed to draw into herself before murmuring in a much more stilted tone, “Yes, I’ve come to consider you and Evan good friends, too.”

Tate noted that she had been careful to link his name and Evan’s on an equal basis. Which reminded him of the way she had parted from Evan, a memory that still rather annoyed him. Looking at Kim’s soft, unpainted mouth, he didn’t like knowing that Evan’s lips had touched hers since his had. The unexpected surge of possessiveness caught him by surprise, but also provoked him into a very unwise move. Without giving himself time to think about it, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Kim’s.

He was absolutely sure he felt her start to respond. Her lips moved just slightly beneath his, softening, warming. Being kissed by her in front of their friends had been surprisingly stimulating. Kissing her in the intimacy of a rumpled bed in the predawn shadows rocked him all the way to his bare toes.

Kim pulled back suddenly with a little gasp, nearly falling off the edge of the bed behind her. She caught herself before he could, then shoved herself upright. “What was that for?”

“Just giving my wife a good morning kiss,” he said, hearing the slightly husky edge to his low voice.

“Save the acting for an audience,” she advised sternly, swinging her feet to the floor. “We’ve already agreed kissing isn’t a part of this charade.”

“Did we? Pity.”

Studiously ignoring him, she dug into her suitcase.

“I’m not going to be able to go back to sleep,” she said with a glance at the still-snoozing baby. “I’ll go take a quick shower before Daryn wakes up for breakfast. I don’t think she’ll stir before I get back, but if she does, you can just pat her back to let her know someone is here with her.”

“Um—” He looked warily at the crib, frankly nervous about being left alone with the baby for even that short time. What if she took one look at him and screamed? He wouldn’t have a clue how to shush her before she roused the entire household.

“She’ll be fine. Try to go back to sleep yourself, if you want.”

“Yeah, okay. Um, take your time, I can handle this.”

He didn’t miss that Kim rolled her eyes a little when she gathered her clothes and moved toward the door. So maybe he hadn’t sounded as confident as he’d hoped. Maybe she thought of him as a coward when it came to one harmless, sleeping tot. It wasn’t as if he was an old hand at this, like she was.