Page 20 of Dangerous Passion

“You could say that.” Amusement colored Ben’s voice. “Yeah, you could say that. I like the idea. Drake Hospital. That’s what I’m going to call it from now on. Drive him crazy.”

Grace watched Drake’s face. It was completely impassive. Even his eyes behind the closed eyelids were still.

“Can he hear you?” She whispered.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows? I admire him tremendously but he’s an enigma. Who knows what goes on in his head? I sure don’t.”

Grace eyed what looked like a CAT scanner. “So. Where are we? Are we—are we in a private home?”

“Yep.” He was bent over Drake’s shoulder. She heard snipping sounds and swallowed heavily. “Drake’s.”

“So, um, there’s this clinic in a home? How does that work? And are you the boss?”

She saw his mouth curve up even while he was intently focussed on what he was doing. “The boss? Me? With Drake anywhere within a hundred mile radius? No ma’am. Absolutely not. I’m the hired help. Highly educated and highly skilled, it’s true, but just the help.”

“I—uh,” she floundered, feeling suddenly weary. She hurt all over and was keeping herself from keeling over only by gripping the edges of the cot, intensely aware of the fact that she was alone in a building with God only knew how many men. Armed men. And alone in this room with two men she didn’t know.

Something of what she was feeling must have shown on her face. He flicked a quick glance her way. When he spoke again, his voice held no teasing note at all. If anything, he sounded … kind.

“You must be frightened. Drake hasn’t told me what happened, but it looks like the two of you were attacked. But you had Drake with you and he’s the smartest, toughest, bravest man I know, so you were okay. As for this room, yes, it’s sort of like a private clinic. Drake employs a lot of men and sometimes they’re … injured. In the line of work they do. He’s very private, so he decided to set up a sort of field hospital of his own.”

“What line of work?”

Silence. When it became obvious he wasn’t going to answer, Grace changed tack. “Have you—have you known him long?”

His mouth curved in a slight smile. Clearly, he felt this was something he could answer. “About four years. I was a surgical resident in my last year, with over $200,000 in student loan debts, when I came across a man who’d been shot. I patched him up as best I could and got him tothe nearest hospital. He was one of Drake’s men and the surgeon told Drake I’d saved his man’s life. The next day, my debts were wiped out and Drake asked me to set up this clinic, with no limits to what I could spend. A young doctor’s dream.”

“And you work here all the time?”

“No, good God, no. I’d never keep my hand in. No, I work full time in a hospital, but I’m on call for Drake. When he needs me, I come.” He picked up the curved needle and thread. “You know what? I’ll bet you anything that wherever he’s gone to, he’d feel better if you held his hand.”

“His hand?” Grace asked, startled. “I don’t know him, he doesn’t know me. How could my holding his hand bring him any comfort?”

Ben stopped and looked at her directly. “I’m just guessing here, but … he saved your life, didn’t he?”

She nodded, numbly.

“Well, maybe it wouldn’t be too much to hold his hand, then.”

Put like that…

Grace jumped down from the cot and nearly fell to the floor as her knees buckled.

“You okay?”

It was unthinkable that Ben be distracted from patching up Drake’s wound. She stiffened her knees and straightened her spine. “Yes. I’m just a little—yes. I’m okay.”

She walked slowly over to the two men. Drake was utterly still. Though Ben was bent over Drake, she was aware that he was tracking her progress.

Grace took a hard metal chair, brought it close to the bedside and sat down. Acutely aware of Ben’s attention on her, she reached out for Drake’s hand. She stopped just before touching him, her hand hovering an inch above his.

His hand was huge, maybe the largest human hand she’d ever seen. Sinewy and rough, with odd-looking, tough yellow calluses along the sides of his hands. They were definitely not the hands of an office worker.

Most professions left signs on the body. Even clerical workers had bodies that became soft and round and stooped. She had no idea what business Drake could be in to have hands like this.

Ben’s hands were those of a doctor, a surgeon. Though the skin looked soft, his long, elegant fingers were strong and supple.

Drake’s hands looked like tools, immensely strong, sturdy, indestructible.

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