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Forcing herself to smile, Carla raised her head and met Philip’s gaze.
“Is it really you, or is this some befuddling dream?”
“If I kiss you, you’ll know for sure.” Gently, she moved to the head of his bed and leaned forward to press her lips to his. Philip’s hand found her hair, and he wove his fingers through its rusty curls.
“Oh Philip, are you going to be all right?” she moaned, burying her face in the side of his neck.
“Stay awhile longer, and I’ll prove it,” he whispered against her temple.
He lifted his gaze to hers, and the intense look in those steel-gray eyes caught her breath. A muscle worked in his lean jaw as his gaze roamed possessively over her face. “I didn’t want Jeff to contact you.”
“I know, but I’m here now and nothing’s going to make me leave.” Her hand clasped his as she took the seat beside the bed.
“What did Jeff say when he phoned? He has a high sense of theatrics, you realize.”
“You warned me about that once before. He said that you’d just come out of surgery and had asked for me.”
“What I asked was that he not contact you. I didn’t want you worrying.”
“Philip Garrison, if you think you can keep something like getting shot from me”—she tried to disguise the hurt in her voice—“you’ve got a second think coming, because I can assure you, wild canoe racers wouldn’t keep me away from you at a time like this.”
“Shot?” His breath quickened as he raised his head slightly to study her. “Jeff told you I was shot? I’ll kill him.”
“Well, good heavens, something like a gunshot wound is a little difficult to keep from me. Just how were you planning to tell me about it? ‘Carla, darling,’ ” she mimicked in a deep rumbling voice, “ ‘I guess I should explain that I got scratched while on duty today. I’ll be in the hospital a week or so, but it’s nothing to worry about.’ ”
“Carla…” His voice was a husky growl. “If I told you I’d been shot, paranoia would overtake you so quickly that I’d never catch you, you’d be running so fast.”
“It’s a high opinion you’ve got of me, isn’t it?” she asked in a shaky voice. “You’re missing the point. I did learn what happened, and I’m here, because it’s exactly where I want to be.”
“Only because Jeff made it sound as if I were on my deathbed.”
“He said you asked for me—that’s all.”
“And I hadn’t.”
Sitting became intolerable, and she stood, pacing the floor with her arms gently wrapped around her to ward off the chill in his voice.
“As it is, you’ve wasted a trip. There won’t be any deathbed scene. I was never in any danger from a gunshot wound. I had my appendix out.”
Carla pivoted sharply and her mouth dropped open. “Your appendix out?”
“If you need proof, lift the sheet and see for yourself.”
She ignored the heavy sarcasm lacing his voice. “Then why did Jeff—” What kind of fool game was Philip’s friend playing, anyway? Did he feel he needed to fabricate stories to convince her to come?
“That’s exactly what I intend to find out.”
Silence hovered over them like a heavy thundercloud.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not exactly in the mood for company, Carla.”
She’d thought he’d been shot and all the while it was his appendix. To her humiliation, she sniffled and her soft breath became a hiccupping sob. Frantically, she searched for her purse, needing to get out of the room before she humiliated herself further.
“Carla. Don’t go,” he said and groaned in frustration. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right,” she mumbled shakily, wiping the tears from her pale cheeks. A kaleidoscope of emotions whirled through her—shock, relief, hurt, anger, joy. “I understand.”
“This is exactly what I didn’t want. If it had been up to me, you wouldn’t even have known I was in the hospital. I don’t want you worrying about me.”
