House Calls: Callaghan Brothers, Book 3 (3 page)

Sherri fingered the glass Michael had placed before her.  “She has no self-confidence.”

Michael looked again at the beautiful woman dancing with total abandon, casting a spell over all of them, then tore his eyes away to cast Sherri a doubtful look.

“No, I’m serious.  She’s become a total recluse ever since...” she stopped mid-sentence, clamping her lips together. 

“Since...?” he coaxed.

Sherri shook her head.  “Forget I said anything.  Mags would be mortified if she knew I said anything.”

“I won’t tell.”  Michael pinned her with those hypnotic blue eyes, leaned in a little closer, practically whispering the words as if they would be sharing an intimate secret.  It was beneath him, he knew, to manipulate her like this.  He usually left that kind of thing to his brothers.  But something about the redhead intrigued him.  He wanted to know more.

Sherri stared into his eyes, transfixed, then shook herself free with a little extra effort.  “Oh no, you don’t,” she chided.  “If you want to know, you find out for yourself.”

“Come on, Sher.  Help a poor guy out here, will you?”

She laughed and slid off the stool.  “No way.  Maggie’s the best friend I’ve ever had and I’m not vapid enough to jeopardize that, not even for the likes of you, Michael Callaghan.”

Sherri left to prepare for her next number.  Michael continued to watch Maggie even as she left the tiny stage.  She was out of the sight of everyone else, but from the back of the bar he could see her perfectly.  The look of pure joy on her face was something to behold, and he found himself smiling right along with her.   

She didn’t seem to notice that the back edge of the stage ended abruptly.  He knew what was going to happen an instant before it actually did.  He vaulted over the far end of the bar even as her foot stepped off the stage and into nothing.  She clawed at the air, twisting her body instinctively in an attempt to protect herself as gravity did its thing.  She couldn’t have known about the extra tables they had moved back there.

Michael reached out, but he was a step too late.  The side of her head slammed against one of the tables, the rest of her body following milliseconds later, literally bouncing with the force of contact.  Her big eyes, wide with fear, looked right into his face as he bent over her, but she didn’t acknowledge him at all before they closed and her body went limp.

A quick check assured him she had no broken bones, but she was going to have one hell of a bump on the side of her face.  Lifting her carefully, he took her back to the kitchen and placed her gently on the padded bench seat there, then turned on the lights to take a better look.

Her mask had dislodged in the fall.  Blood, matching the shade of her dark ruby hair, trickled along the side of her face where she had hit, creating a goth-like image against her pale, creamy skin and dark kohl liner.  Satisfied that none of her injuries were immediately life-threatening, Michael covered her with a warm blanket and kneeled beside her to begin the task of gently cleaning away the makeup she had so artfully applied to expose and properly treat the wound. 

When he was finished, Michael sat back on his heels and took a deep breath.  In costume, she had been striking and exotic.  But without all of the makeup, with her eyes closed and her face relaxed, she was the picture of innocence.  From her sinfully long lashes to the smattering of freckles across her nose, she barely looked old enough to legally enter a bar, let alone dance in one. 

She let out a soft moan as she began to come around.  Michael quickly finished applying an antibiotic ointment and bandage to her wound, then placed a soothing ice pack on top.

* * *

“M
aggie?”  The low voice was very pleasant, though it held a trace of worry.  No voice that rich and deep should sound worried, she decided.  The music was much fainter now, and she was laying on something soft. 

“Maggie, can you hear me?”

She tried to pry her eyes open, but only one would cooperate.  The other seemed to be stuck, covered with something cold and heavy.  She lifted her hand, but another bigger, stronger hand covered hers and gently pushed it away. 

“Leave it,” the nice voice said.  “The ice will help with the swelling.  Do you know where you are?”

Maggie tried to focus, the image before her large and blurry.  But the voice was familiar, as was the scent.  The bartender?  The gorgeous guy with the heart-stopping smile and bedroom eyes?  She was dancing, she was free, and then...  she winced as she remembered her fall.

“Hang on, I’m going to turn off a few of these lights.”  Seconds later, the level of brightness – and thus the sensation of knives shooting through her optic nerves - was substantially reduced.  “Better?”

She nodded gingerly.  The right side of her face felt like she’d been slammed with a two by four.  Or a table.  Her cheeks flamed red.

“Maggie, I’m going to take you down to the ER, get some X-rays, maybe an MRI, alright?” 

“No,” she protested, her voice sounding distant and far away while still echoing painfully throughout her skull.  ER’s were expensive, and X-rays even more so.  No steady employment meant no health insurance, and she did not have an overabundance of funds.  And after this little tiptoe through the tulips she was quite certain she wouldn’t be getting paid for this job.  If she was lucky, the cost of any damages she caused wouldn’t be more than what she had in the petty cash fund she kept for emergencies. 

Not to mention that the only way she would go to the hospital was if someone was carrying her unconscious body there without her knowledge or consent.  She would never go willingly, and definitely not for a little bump.

“I just need to get home.”  She hissed audibly as she tried to sit up, but strong hands kept her down.

“I don’t think so.  You might have a concussion.”

“No concussion,” she insisted, trying for a wan smile.  “I’m naturally obtuse.”

The corner of Michael’s mouth tilted up in that lovely crooked grin.  “And inherently clumsy?” 

There was a twinge of amusement to his voice.  At least she hoped it was that, as opposed to him making fun of her outright.  He had seemed so nice earlier.  It would be a shame if he turned out to be a jerk.  Not surprising, based on her track record with men, but disappointing all the same.

“Now you know.”  Her cheeks flamed again. 

“Seriously,” he said, “what happened out there?”

Maggie looked down at her hands.  “I think I just got a little dizzy.  I probably should have eaten before I came.  And I shouldn’t have had those shots to calm my nerves.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”  He was persistent, she had to give him that, holding up two – no four – no two,
definitely
two – long, tapered fingers.   Geez, this guy even had sexy
fingers
.  Given the sharp, stabbing pain through her temple, she should not be having visions of exactly what he might do with those fingers. 

She pushed his hand away irritably, annoyed with herself and uncertain of the answer.  “What are you, a doctor or something?”

“Yes, actually,” he said, shining that damn light in her eye again.  “Michael Callaghan, at your service.”

The combination of the pain and the humiliation made her snappish.  She snorted, wishing immediately that she hadn’t because it
hurt
. 

“Yeah, right.  Why would a doctor play bartender?”  It was almost as insane as a mild-mannered farm girl doing the dance of the seven veils at a bachelor party.

As if he had read her mind, he answered, “Probably for the same reason a nice girl would play exotic dancer.” 

His fingers, warm, gentle and feeling way too good, wrapped around her wrist to take her pulse.  Maggie groaned.  “Touché.”

“That aside,” he continued, “my family owns the Pub.  And I enjoy tending sometimes.”

Oh
.  Come to think of it, he did bear a striking resemblance to several of the men there.  Just her luck.  As if he hadn’t been unattainable enough just being a perfect male bartender.  He was a Callaghan
and
a doctor.  Totally out of her league.  Now she felt even more foolish.

“Look, uh, Dr. Callaghan, I – “

“Michael.”  Why did his voice have to be so damn low and smooth, wrapping around her like a favorite down comforter?  It would be so easy to close her eyes and listen to that wonderful voice as she drifted away again, away from the pain and embarrassment.  But she couldn’t do that. 

“I really think I should go before I embarrass myself any further,” she said.  If that was even possible.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Maggie.  Accidents happen.  But you do need medical attention.”

“And you gave it to me.  Thank you, by the way.  I’m feeling a lot better.”  She forced a smile and sat up – this time he let her - holding the smile in place while she fought the urge to heave. Wouldn’t that just be the perfect end to a perfect day?  Fall on her face, insult the sexy doctor, then vomit in his lap.  Yep, that would be priceless.  Best to cut her losses and get the hell out while she could. 

“Um, do I owe you anything?” 

He didn’t answer.  When she glanced back up to his face with her one good eye he looked a bit annoyed.  Well, too bad.  He wasn’t the one nearly dying of mortification. 

He lifted the ice pack to examine her right eye.  “You shouldn’t be alone until we know you’re okay.  Concussions aren’t something to mess around with.  Is there someone who can stay with you tonight?”

Was he offering?  The crazy thought zinged through her head, proving just how hard she must have hit it.  The chance of someone like him spending the night with someone like her was about as likely as her winning the lottery, which was pretty much impossible since she didn’t have the money to waste on foolish things like Pick-6 tickets.

Still, he seemed genuinely concerned.  She wondered if he treated all of his patients like this.  That thought was immediately followed up with one that said there would be a long line of broken hearts if he did. 

She didn’t want to be joining them.  He was a nice guy, trying to do a nice thing.  Nothing more, no matter how often her heart skipped a beat when he looked at her like that.  She wondered if he had been able to feel the irregular pattern when he had taken her pulse, flushing a dark pink at the thought.

Let him off the hook
, her woozy mind urged,
so he can get back to the party without feeling guilty.
  Yes, that would be the responsible thing to do. 

“I don’t live alone,” she said, choosing her words carefully.  Well, it was kind of true, at least as long as they weren’t limiting the conversation to actual
people
. 

Michael looked at her with those amazing blue eyes, so clear and probing she cast her own downward in guilt. “Really,” she said quietly, “I just want to go home now.  Please.”   She hated the feel of the hot tears that burned in her eyes.  She wasn’t an overly emotional person normally.  But this day had been far too much, and she just wanted it to end before she had a breakdown and humiliated herself any further.

“Hey,” he said softly, laying his hand on her upper arm.  “It’s alright, Maggie.”  The shock of warmth sent shivers through her, but not as much as the concern in his eyes.  Eyes that looked deeper than they should have.  Eyes that were too genuine, too caring.  Once again, she found herself turning away rather than face him.

“In any event, I don’t think you’re in any shape to drive,” he told her, and no matter how much she wished otherwise, she knew he was right. 

“No, I’m not,” she agreed, “but I came with Sherri anyway.”  She sighed, looking toward the room where the music still played.  Sherri had been looking forward to this night for weeks.  She would be devastated if she had to leave early.  Maggie couldn’t do this to her, even if it meant spending next week’s food budget on a cab ride home.  “Maybe you could call me a cab?” 

“If you won’t let me take you to the hospital, at least let me drive you home,” Michael suggested.

“Oh, I really couldn’t ask you to do that,” Maggie said, her face reddening, her pulse quickening.  “I’ve already ruined enough of your evening.”

He smiled again, that sexy lopsided smile that had her heart skipping a beat.  “Technically you’re not asking; I’m offering.  And I don’t mind.  Really,” he added, when he saw her look of disbelief.  “I’m not all that into bachelor parties,” he said.  “They won’t even know I’m gone.”

She raised an eyebrow, wincing as she did.  Such a small gesture should not hurt so much.  Maggie made a mental note not to do that again for the next few days.

“Consider it my fee, if you like,” he added, a twinkle in his eye. 

“You would consider driving me home payment for scraping me off the floor and saving me from even worse humiliation?”

“My fees are steep, I admit, but I’m just good enough to be worth it.”

Despite herself, she laughed softly.  It was very difficult to resist him when he laid the charm on so thickly.  And what would it hurt?  He’d see her safely home and know that he did his good deed for the day, Sherri would get to stay and enjoy herself, and she would get home all that much sooner.  Everybody won.

“Here,” he said, handing her a flannel shirt and sweats.  “You’ll swim in them, but they should be easy to get into.  I’ll just grab your things and pull the car around.  Wait right here.”  By the time she blinked again, Michael was already gone.

Maggie looked at the clothing he’d thrust into her lap.  Definitely men’s, definitely huge, and – she lifted them up to her face and inhaled – definitely his.  Slipping them on over the little bit that remained of her costume was much easier than trying to wiggle her way into the clothes she had worn earlier, she realized gratefully.  Most of her right side was uncooperative – or just too damn painful to move much, and every time she looked down her head pounded like the devil was performing a particularly hearty rendition of Riverdance on it. 

None of that, however, diminished the decided thrill she experienced at the feel of Michael’s clothes against her skin.  She would have to be very careful with him, she realized.  It would be quite easy to lose her heart to someone like him.