"Mmm-hmm. Saturday night."

"Have you been here all day?"

"Uh-huh."

"Thanks. I--"

"Shh. I told you I wouldn't leave."

"Told them to call you." Pearce reached for Wynter's hand and clasped her fingers tightly. "Kept trying to tell them I wanted you. They gave me something--couldn't make them listen."

Wynter swallowed the anger, understanding for the first time how invisible their love could be to others. She wouldn't let that happen again. Lightly, she said, "I'll have to sew a label in your clothes with my name and number on it."

Pearce laughed hoarsely. "Like Ronnie?"

"Mmm. My two loves." She kissed Pearce's fingers. "I love you so much."

"Love you. Sorry about this."

"No. It's not your fault."

Pearce shifted restlessly. She was waking up more each minute as the drugs wore off. Her chest screamed with every breath. Her head pounded as if there were some very angry being inside her skull trying to get out through her eye sockets. The bed was cold and stiff, the overhead lights too bright. She wanted out of there. "When can I go home?"

"Probably tomorrow."

"Why not tonight? Nothing to do for me here."

"Do you hurt, sweetheart?" Wynter asked gently.

"Some."

"Tomorrow will be soon enough."

"Someone needs to get my car."

Wynter looked at her watch. "I'll check with the police in a bit.

They probably towed it."

"Son of a bitch was trying to jimmy the door." Pearce tensed, remembering first the flash of anger, then the swift blinding pain.

Wynter stroked Pearce's neck until she felt her relax. "Not very wise of him."

"Didn't see the other one. Must have had a bat or something."

The guy had come at her in the dark, just as she'd grabbed the first jerk and tossed him on the ground. Pearce winced. "Jacket took most of the sting out when he hit my ribs. Knocked me down with the face shot, though."

If he'd hit her again he would have killed her. Wynter swayed, sick with the image of terrible loss. I've just found her. Found myself.

"Hey, babe," Pearce murmured. "You're shaking."

"Just hungry. I forgot about lunch." Wynter shrugged and smiled.

"I was a little busy."

"You sure?" Pearce squinted, trying to focus with one eye, and that one blurry from the ointment the nurses had put in it. "You look beat."

"I was worried." Wynter said softly, resting her fingertips in the center of Pearce's chest. Her heart beat strong and steady. "Now I'm not."

"I'm sorry." Pearce covered Wynter's hand with hers, ignoring the IV tubing trailing behind. "I didn't think. I just acted. I would never do anything to hurt you."

"I know. I'm okay. I just can't stand you being hurt."

"Hard head." Pearce grinned. "I'm good here. Go get something to eat."

"I will. Soon."

"Aren't you on call?"

"I traded with Dzubrow. Well, actually, your father arranged it."

"He did?" Pearce's left eyebrow twitched in surprise. "Why?"

"I was pretty surprised myself, but when the surgery was over, he said I should stay with you. I told him I intended to, although I was on call and I had some work to do." Wynter remembered the odd look that had crossed Ambrose Rifkin's face for a moment. He'd glanced at Pearce, still heavily sedated, and then back at Wynter. His eyes had been dark, impenetrable, but when he spoke, his voice was soft, almost gentle. She'd never heard him sound that way before.

"You should be here when she wakes up. I'll see that Dr. Dzubrow takes care of the vascular service until further notice." Then he'd walked away.

"I'll try to switch the next couple of days so I can stay home with you," Wynter added.

"You don't have to do that."

Wynter studied Pearce gravely. "Yes, I do."

"If you could just pick up some groceries. I don't have anything in the apartment--"

"Oh, so that's how you think this will work." Wynter laughed and shook her head. "Do you really think I'm going to let you go home to your apartment alone? You're coming to my place."

"Your place?"

"You're going to be sitting around doing nothing for the next week until the swelling goes down. If you're at my house, Mina will be nearby in case there's anything you need."

"She's got enough to handle," Pearce protested.

"She's not going to be dressing you, darling. And I suspect that you can feed yourself." Wynter gave Pearce's hand another shake.

"There's no point in arguing, because you're not going to win."

"Look, I--"

"Please," Wynter said softly. "I can't go to work and worry about you. I need to know that you're all right."

"If that's what you want," Pearce said immediately. "But I want to help with Ronnie or something. I'm not going to sit around and be a patient."

"If that's what you want, but not until some of the swelling has gone down." She laughed and brushed her fingers over Pearce's cheek.

"And you have no idea what you just let yourself in for."

"I know," Pearce muttered.

Wynter laughed and was about to lean down and kiss Pearce again when she saw Ambrose on his way toward them. She straightened, but continued to hold Pearce's hand. He walked to the opposite side of the stretcher, his eyes going first to the monitors above the bed before flickering down to Pearce.

"Did Dr. Thompson fill you in on the results of the surgery?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I've asked Larry Elliott to examine your eyes just as soon as the edema has subsided and you can open your lids. I don't expect you'll have any problems with diplopia, but we want to be sure."

"I couldn't see well enough to tell if I had double vision earlier,"

Pearce said quietly.

"Patricia did an excellent job of repairing the orbit. I don't think you'll have any long-term difficulties."

"Thanks for assisting." Pearce swallowed. Her chest hurt even more, but it wasn't her ribs. "I felt...better, knowing you were there."

Ambrose's expression remained remote, but his stiff posture relaxed slightly as he fleetingly brushed his fingers over Pearce's shoulder. "You always have underestimated your importance to me."

He glanced at Wynter, then back at Pearce. "I suspect that was my fault."

"I'm not going back to Harrisburg, Dad," Pearce said. She glanced at Wynter. "I've got too much to stay for here."

"There's time for that kind of thing in the future, when you've got your career firmly on track," Ambrose said.

"No." Pearce smiled, her gaze locked with Wynter's. "We've already lost enough time."


CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Wynter let herself in the front door and stood in her living room, listening. At two in the afternoon, the house was very still, but she knew from having stopped at Mina's just a few moments before that Pearce and Ronnie were home. Home. Where the two most important people in her life waited. After just a week with Pearce there twenty-four hours a day while she recuperated, Wynter had begun to think of her as belonging. She draped her parka over the back of the sofa, kicked off her boots, and quietly climbed the stairs. Her bedroom door was open. She tiptoed over and peeked inside.

Pearce, in gray gym shorts and a shapeless T-shirt with a faded blue Penn logo, was propped upright at the head of the bed on three pillows, her eyes closed. Ronnie was curled up in her lap, also asleep; her coloring book, crayons, and an assortment of cars and trucks lay scattered across the beige chenille bedspread. Pearce had insisted that Ronnie not see her until the worst of the discoloration and edema had subsided, for fear of frightening her. Wynter had not been as concerned, but Pearce was unswayable. As she'd improved, Pearce had gradually taken over as much of Ronnie's care as possible to give Mina a break.

Moving carefully, Wynter stripped and slipped into an extra-large white cotton T-shirt that she sometimes slept in when alone. She'd been wearing it to bed that week, because the feel of Pearce naked against her was almost too exciting for her to bear. And Pearce was still recovering. Wynter took advantage of the opportunity to study Pearce as she approached the bed. Pearce looked better, but she was still not quite completely healed. The swelling in the right side of her face had diminished to the point that she could open her eye a few millimeters.

Patricia had removed the sutures from Pearce's eyelids the day before, and Larry Elliott had examined her immediately after and pronounced her vision 100 percent normal. Although Pearce had said little after her follow-up exams, Wynter sensed her relief. Hopefully she would be able to sleep through the night soon, something she had not done since her injury. Her energy level was not what it had been, and Wynter suspected it would be another week before she was functioning normally. Sleep was just what she needed.

When Wynter lifted Ronnie from Pearce's lap, Pearce's eyes opened. "Shh," Wynter mouthed. Pearce nodded and closed her eyes again.

A few minutes later, Wynter crawled under the covers beside Pearce, wrapped an arm around her middle, and snuggled against her.

"Mmm, I love nap time."

Pearce kissed Wynter's forehead. "You're home late. Tired?"

"I was ready to leave right after sign-outs at ten, and then we got a STAT consult to see one of the cardiac patients who needed an emergency CABG and a carotid endarterectomy. By the time that was squared away, it was almost two."

"Were you up all night?"

"Most of it."

Pearce tightened her hold and eased Wynter partially on top of her.

She rubbed her neck and back. "You've got the rest of the weekend off.

You'll feel better after you get some sleep."

"How are you doing?" Wynter lazily slipped her hand beneath Pearce's T-shirt to rub her stomach.

"Okay. Good," Pearce murmured, enjoying the soft caress. "I brought Ronnie back over here after breakfast and we played. Well, she colored and I watched cartoons."

"Has she been asleep long?"

"Not too long."

"Good," Wynter said contentedly. "She'll go another couple of hours."

"You won't, though." Pearce nuzzled Wynter's neck and circled her hand lower to the soft warm flesh left bare where the T-shirt pulled up in the back. She felt Wynter fit herself more closely to the curve of her body and shifted until her thigh nudged between Wynter's legs.

Wynter was hot. Wet. Pearce smiled. "Miss me?"

Wynter scratched a nail up the center of Pearce's stomach and made her twitch. "All the time."

"It's been a long week."

"I love having you here."

Pearce's heart stuttered, then raced. "I love being here."

Wynter raised her head, her eyes dreamy. "Will you stay, then?"

"For how long?" Pearce breathed.

"Always." Wynter kissed her gently. "Always."

"I don't have very much practice at...this." Pearce waved at the room uncertainly.

"No one ever really does, until you do it." Wynter kissed Pearce's throat. "You're doing just fine. You're great with Ronnie. And I adore you."

"I'm crazy about both of you."

"That's a good start, then."

"Wynter," Pearce said so seriously that Wynter raised her head in question. "We both have to finish our residencies. You want to do a fellowship. It's going to be tricky."

"I know. Scared?"

Pearce grinned. "Hell no. I've been thinking about a lot of things this week." As she spoke, she trailed her fingers up and down Wynter's spine. "I'm not going to do a fellowship. I'm going to look for a job as soon as I get back on my feet. It's never too early to start, and I know a bunch of guys at the other medical schools in the city. I'm pretty sure I can scare up a staff position."

"If you come in at the bottom like that, you'll put yourself out of the running for a chairmanship," Wynter said quietly. "A fellowship somewhere first would be better."

"I don't want it. Besides"--Pearce rested her uninjured cheek against the top of Wynter's head--"we might have to move depending on where you get a fellowship. I'll need to be flexible."

"Sweetheart, that's not what you've planned all these years."

"No, it's not. I never planned anything. My father did all the planning." Pearce toyed with a lock of Wynter's hair, softly twining it around her finger. "This is what I want to do."