Bridal Trap Page 5

  Robyn shook her head. "I don't know. He's been out of town." She spotted a pay phone on the far wall. "I'll try to call him."

  Robyn deposited coins and gave the operator Mrs. Barrone's home phone number. She had no real expectation Trev would be there, but she didn't know where else to try to reach him. With astonishment she heard his terse "Hello?" after the first ring.

  Robyn briefly explained what had happened and where they were. She held her anger back, realizing anything she said could be heard by the nurse at the desk, but storing the words up for later. Trev asked directions, said he'd be there as soon as possible and hung up without even saying good-bye.

  Robyn sat on a vinyl couch, but she couldn't stay there for long. She stood up and paced the room restlessly. What was that odor that made all hospitals smell alike? she wondered vaguely. She jumped when the phone rang. The nurse answered it, checked some forms on her desk and hung up.

  Robyn sat again, paced again. Angry dialogues with Trev raced through her mind. She felt slightly nauseated. There was something about those pale green walls, the glaring light and the pervasive hospital odor. She tried not to think of Mrs. Barrone as she had found her, so bloodless, so lifeless, but it was all she could think of. She riffled unseeingly through a year-old magazine. The nurse offered coffee. Robyn declined. She was standing with her back to the door, reading a sign about welfare patients, when the door burst open and Trev strode in.

  Robyn's angry remarks, honed to a fine cutting edge while she waited for Trev, died on her lips. Instead she felt a sense of relief wash over her. His broad shoulders looked strong and capable, his jaw determined. She leaned weakly against the pale green wall, feeling drained, as if Trev's mere presence had taken an awful burden from her shoulders.

  "Where is she?" he demanded without preliminaries. He was wearing dark slacks and jacket over a lighter colored turtleneck shirt, his dark hair beaded with droplets of rain.

  "The doctor is with her—"

  He strode past Robyn to the nurse. "What is Mrs. Barrone's condition?"

  The cool, poised nurse looked at Trev as if she were about to put him in his place, but she evidently thought better of it and disappeared down the hallway. Robyn knew the nurse would never have responded to an inquiry from her in such a manner. She suddenly felt a surge of hope where she had felt only despair before. Trev would see that something was done. He would make something happen. He stood by the desk, a scowl on his face, but with an air of strength, authority and self-assurance. Robyn felt the strangest urge to melt against that secure strength, to find shelter in those powerful arms, to lean against him and let the held-back tears of fear and worry flow.

  Then she caught herself abruptly and met his glance with a lift of her head. He might look strong and invincible, she thought scornfully, but where had he been when Mrs. Barrone needed him?

  Trev hesitated a moment, then walked over to Robyn. "When did this happen?" he asked.

  "I don't know. I called an ambulance as soon as I found her. I guess that was—" Robyn hesitated, forehead wrinkling. She seemed to have lost all sense of time. "Perhaps a couple of hours ago. She was evidently trying to move some of her hanging plants closer to the window and fell."

  He raised a dark eyebrow. "I take it this was the first time you had visited her since our discussion in your shop."

  "Yes. I was going over to talk to her about your plan to move her to Palm Springs. I've been—busy," Robyn added lamely by way of explanation for not going sooner.

  "I see." The words were flat, expressionless, and vet somehow managed to convey utter contempt. He walked back to the desk, impatiently looking for the nurse.

  "I'd have gone over sooner if I'd realized you weren't going to be there," Robyn said defensively.

  "You were avoiding me?" The question was dry, accompanied by the quick lift of an eyebrow. He seemed to find the thought that she might have been avoiding him more curious than disturbing.

  "I was under the impression that since you were with Mrs. Barrone I wouldn't be needed. I didn't realize you were going to walk out and abandon her." Robyn met his eyes defiantly, refusing to soften her accusation.

  "I had to go out of town on business," he said curtly, making plain he felt under no obligation to offer her any further explanation. "I tried to call you before I left but didn't get any answer. My grandmother assured me she would be fine and would get in touch with you herself."

  "Then the accident could have happened shortly after you left because I never heard from her. How— how long have you been gone?" Robyn faltered.

  "Almost three days."

  Three days. Robyn felt the blood drain from her face. For three days poor Mrs. Barrone might have been lying there helpless. What chance could she possibly have after such an ordeal?

  The nurse returned and spoke directly to Trev. "They've moved Mrs. Barrone into the intensive care unit. The doctor will be out to talk to you in a few minutes."

  Trev leaned strong knuckles on the nurse's desk. "Look, I want the best of everything for her. If she needs a specialist, I'll have one flown in. And unless this hospital is better equipped than I think it is, you'd better get her ready for transfer to San Francisco."

  The nurse looked affronted. "Really, Mr. Barrone, I can assure you—"

  "I don't want assurances," he said grimly. "I want action."

  He turned his back on the nurse, dismissing her. She looked nonplussed. Robyn knew the feeling. She quaked as he eyed her with the same harsh expression, but suddenly she was coldly furious. Here he was acting so superior, demanding the best for his grandmother after having given far less than the best of himself.

  "How nice," she said sarcastically, not even bothering to lower her voice so the nurse wouldn't hear. "You want the 'best of everything' for her. Where were you all the years she needed you? Why didn't you do something for her when she was alive and well and could appreciate it?"

  "I've tried, during the last year—"

  "Oh sure, I know—the stove, the television, the microwave oven. Don't you know she doesn't care about those things? Have you seen her scrapbook? It doesn't have pictures of things in it. It's all about you."

  "Please, miss, this is a hospital!" the nurse interjected, and Robyn suddenly realized her voice had risen shrilly. Trev just stood there impassively, his face expressionless.

  Robyn lowered her voice, but she wasn't through yet. "Do you really think you can make up for all the years you neglected her by playing the big man and going around ordering the best of everything for her now? Do you really think a fine, fancy funeral is going to mean anything to her?"

  "She's that bad?" he asked narrowly.

  "I—I don't know," Robyn faltered. The burst of anger had drained her, and, guiltily, she knew the anger was directed as much at herself as at Trev Barrone. If only she had gone to see the elderly woman sooner…

  They both looked up as a young, sandy-haired doctor walked in from the hallway. He was the same one Robyn had babbled to earlier. The nurse handed him some papers to sign. "You're Mrs. Barrone's relatives?" he inquired.

  "I'm Trev Barrone, her grandson." Trev motioned toward Robyn. "This is Miss Christopher, a friend."

  "Dr. Helgeson."

  They all shook hands. Robyn felt on the verge of hysteria. Here they were, all being so civilized and polite, and Mrs. Barrone was in there dying.

  "As the nurse has probably informed you, we've moved Mrs. Barrone into the intensive care unit. She's suffering from shock and her vital signs are very weak. Her right hip is broken, but in her present condition surgery is out of the question. She has cuts and numerous bruises. I think it is likely her fall resulted from a stroke."

  "Is she going to live?" Trev asked bluntly.

  "The prognosis is doubtful," the doctor said carefully.

  Robyn pressed her lips together. It was what she had expected, and yet hearing the doctor say it hit her hard. She darted a glance at Trev. His face seemed impassive at first, and then she note
d the little muscle jerking along his jawline. In spite of her anger, the almost imperceptible movement touched her. Perhaps he wasn't pure ice and stone.

  "There's nothing that can be done?" Trev asked, his harsh voice immediately belying that touch of emotion Robyn thought she had detected in him.

  "I wouldn't say that—"

  "Specialists? Moving her to another hospital?"

  The doctor did not seem as affronted by the suggestion as the nurse had been. "I'm waiting for a call from a colleague, Dr. Martin, now. I'm afraid moving her is, at the moment, out of the question."

  "I see. Very well. As I told the nurse, if there's anything she needs, anything at all—"

  "She'll have the best of care, Mr. Barrone."

  Robyn knew there was an unspoken but on the end of that statement. But it may not be enough. The doctor turned and disappeared down the hallway. Trev turned to Robyn.

  "Did you drive your car?" he asked.

  "No, I rode in the ambulance."

  "I'll take you home then." It was a statement, not an inquiry as to whether or not she wanted to go home. He took her elbow, firmly turning her toward the door.

  Robyn jerked away. "I'm not leaving. How can you possibly think I could just go home when your grandmother—"

  "There's nothing you can do for her."

  "And what can you do for her?" Robyn retorted. "What good is a fancy home in Palm Springs now that she's dying? You think money can make anything right, but it can't. It's too late now to do anything."

  "Robyn, what is past is over and done with," Trev said harshly. "And your continued harping on my mistakes can't help any of us. Now I'm taking you home."

  "No," Robyn said flatly. She swallowed. "I—I'm sorry I'm yelling at you. I'm upset. I should have gone to see her earlier. Then she wouldn't have tried to move the plants herself and none of this would have happened."

  Trev's harsh expression softened slightly. "Maybe what we both need is a cup of coffee."

  Robyn and Trev walked down the quiet corridor. The hospital did not seem to be crowded or busy. They found the cafeteria. Coffee at this hour consisted of a glass pot of hot water simmering on a burner and packets of instant coffee. They went through the mechanical routines of emptying the packets into cups, adding hot water, stirring and asking each other polite questions about sugar and cream. The room was empty except for the two of them. There didn't seem to be anything important to say and small talk was somehow pointless.

  "Do you think there's any chance she'll make it?" Robyn asked finally.

  "You were with her so you're in a better position to answer that question than I am," Trev pointed out. "What do you think?"

  Robyn's throat suddenly choked up and all she managed was a negative shake of her head.

  They finished their coffee and found a comfortable little waiting room down the hall. Trev went back to talk to the nurse. Robyn knew it was probably foolish of her to stay here. Trev was right. She couldn't do anything. And yet she knew she couldn't just go home and wait for the final telephone call either.

  Trev came back without any news. The night dragged on. A nurse looked in on them, assuring them they were welcome to wait there as long as they wished. The hospital seemed to have a rather lenient attitude toward visitors, for which Robyn was grateful. She read, drank more coffee, dozed, woke once to find the lights dimmed and her jacket carefully tucked around her to keep her warm.

  Trev was standing at the big window that looked out on the hall, hands jammed in his pockets. Robyn felt her anger at him soften slightly. If he didn't really care about his grandmother, he wouldn't be staying here keeping this vigil.

  She dozed again, neck kinking uncomfortably, jerking awake each time her head fell too far to one side. Vaguely she was aware of something placed under her head and she slept again, more soundly this time.

  She came awake slowly as fluorescent tubes in the corridor blinked on and spilled light into the little waiting room. She felt cramped and stiff and yet there was something else too, a sort of safe warmth that made her feel loath to move from her secure position. She moved slightly, snuggling into the comfortable curve of warmth. Her head drooped again, her eyes closing…

  Then her eyes flew open as she realized it was no pillow her cheek had touched. It was Trev's shoulder and his arm was around her, his hand resting on her hip. His legs were stretched out, and together they were half-sitting, half-lying on the vinyl couch, bodies pressed together in a tangle of clothing.

  Robyn felt a sudden rush of shock. How long had they been like this, her body curved intimately against his? Then she was indignant and angry. How dare he!

  She struggled to free herself and sit up properly, but in some reflex action of sleep his arm only tightened around her, irresistibly pulling her back against the lean, hard length of his body. It was an unconscious movement, meaningless, and yet suddenly Robyn's breath caught and her heart hammered. She looked up at him, caught by conflicting emotions.

  His head was thrown back against the couch, his strong throat exposed. A dark strand of hair lay across his tanned forehead. A day-old beard left a hint of bluish shadow across his angular jaw, a shadow that only emphasized his harsh virility. The hint of beard also emphasized the white line of the scar, and without thinking what she was doing she reached up to run a finger lightly across it.

  The touch sent an unexpected shiver through her. Carefully she reached out and tucked the jackets he had evidently placed over them for warmth more closely around the two of them. His body felt warm, hard, reassuring to her touch.

  Then, moving cautiously so as not to disturb him, she settled her body back into the hollow of his arm, her head against his chest.

  Now why had she done that? she asked herself in annoyance as she listened to the steady, powerful beat of his heart. Why hadn't she jumped up and told him he had a lot of nerve taking advantage of her when she was asleep?

  Well, because he was obviously tired too. He needed some rest, she rationalized. And yet she knew that wasn't the real reason, knew there was something else, something new and disturbing she didn't want to face, some desire in her body that had nothing to do with the rational thoughts in her head.

  The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest had a hypnotic effect on her. The motion blended with the powerful heartbeat, with the touch of warm breath on her cheek, the drugging warmth of his body next to hers…

  She didn't intend to sleep again but she did, coming awake as she felt a stir of movement beside her and then a touch on her hair. She looked up into his blue eyes, her own widening in shock as she realized what she had done.

  "I must have dozed off," she said helplessly.

  "Have a good night's sleep?" he asked almost lazily.

  "Yes—no—," Robyn stammered, flustered by the intimacy of their positions and his evident amusement at her embarrassment. He did not seem in the least disturbed that her arm was draped across his lean waist and her body molded against his as if they were one. Perhaps he was accustomed to waking up in the arms of some near-stranger, she thought angrily, but she certainly was not. "Have you been to check on your grandmother recently?" she asked, trying to keep her voice cool and aloof while she untangled bodies and clothing.

  It was a ridiculous question, she realized immediately, since she had the impression they had been sleeping together for hours. Then she felt her face flush. That wasn't what she meant, even in the privacy of her own thoughts. What she meant was… oh, forget it, she told herself furiously.

  "You might have asked before you—you—" Her voice strangled over the words.

  He gave her an amused look as he stretched his lean frame, making no particular effort to help her in the untangling process. "And you'd have given me an outraged look and a frigid, 'No, thank you,' and we'd have wound up sleeping uncomfortably at opposite ends of the room. Wasn't this a lot more enjoyable?"

  Enjoyable! Robyn gasped and felt her face flame' She finally got the sleeve of her jacket untangled from hi
s belt and rose unsteadily to her feet. He gave her an appraising glance and she hurriedly tried to straighten her blouse. Her hair tumbled in her eyes and she tried without success to tidy it with her hands.

  Finally Trev stood up, ran a hand through his hair and shook the wrinkles out of his jacket. He didn't look as if he had just spent the night on a sofa in a hospital waiting room. He looked fit and ready.

  "Why don't you freshen up in the ladies' room? I'll check on my grandmother and meet you in the cafeteria."

  She nodded and fled, glad to be out of his disturbing presence and the even more disturbing memory of their bodies pressed so intimately together. The tempo of hospital routine had increased, and Robyn saw a big metal cart loaded with breakfast trays in the hallway. A nurse carrying a tray of medications moved from room to room with professional efficiency.

  Robyn washed her face in the ladies' room, scrubbing with the abrasive pink powder in the metal dispenser until her skin glowed as if she could scrub away the touch of Trev's chest against her cheek. A few strokes of a comb tamed her disheveled hair, but she couldn't find so much as a lipstick in the way of makeup in her purse. Well, she thought grimly, perhaps Trev would be shocked if he saw what his glamorous starlets looked like without all their makeup too.

  His eyes flicked over her but he made no comment when he returned. He just said briefly, "There's a doctor with her now. The nurse said we could talk to him in a few minutes. We may as well get something to eat."

  Robyn nodded. At least Mrs. Barrone was still alive. She didn't think she would be able to eat at all, but after seeing the scrambled eggs and ham, smelling the aroma of perked coffee, the healthy appetite of youth took over. They ate with little more conversation than they'd had the night before. Which was hardly surprising, Robyn reminded herself. They had little more in common than their rather tenuous relationship through Mrs. Barrone. And, she remembered with a flush of embarrassment, a night spent in each other's arms. Probably not many of Trevor Barrone's all-night partners could boast—or complain?—of such an uneventful night, however, she thought wryly.