Enigma. Carla Cassidy

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       Enigma

      Carla Cassidy

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Table of Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Epilogue

       Copyright

      CARLA CASSIDY is an award-winning author who has written more than fifty novels. In 1998, she also won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series from RT Book Reviews.

      Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.

      The hospital room was dimly lit and silent except for the faint voices coming from the television mounted on the wall opposite the bed.

      Willa Tyler had insisted that the television be on day and night in the room despite the fact that the man in the bed had been in a coma for the past six months. She liked to believe that somewhere in the sleeping recesses of his mind he might hear the sound of laughter from a sitcom and want to join the fun.

      Even though it was late and she was officially off duty, she always made his room her last stop before heading home.

      She moved silently into the room and for a moment just stood and looked at him. He was something of a miracle patient. He’d been found on the side of the road, more dead than alive after having been hit by a drunk driver.

      Nobody had expected him to live through that first night, but he’d hung on and over the past six months all his physical injuries had healed. But his mind remained asleep and Willa was beginning to wonder if he’d ever wake up again.

      “I figured you’d be in here.”

      Willa turned around and smiled at Nancy Baker, her supervisor. “I wanted to check his vitals one last time before I headed home.”

      “Girl, you should be spending your time off getting to know some of the handsome bachelors that Grand Forks, North Dakota, has to offer instead of in here with a man who can’t even talk to you.”

      Willa smiled. “Eventually maybe I’ll meet some of those bachelors, but in the meantime I’ve got a date tonight with a good mattress and it’s quite possible I’ll be there until noon tomorrow.”

      Nancy smiled. “That sounds good, but you need a little fun in your life, Willa. You’re much too pretty and young to spend all your time here at the hospital or in your bed alone. Enjoy your time off and I’ll see you Monday morning.”

      As she disappeared from the doorway Willa approached the man in the bed. He was a bit thin with black hair cut short. She knew that beneath his long-lashed lids, his eyes were a startling blue …but only because she’d been standing next to the doctor when he’d checked John Doe’s pupils on a number of occasions.

      His features were sharply defined. He had a strong, straight nose, lips that looked as if they might be soft and a firm and slightly square chin. Definitely a handsome man. The doctor had guessed him to be in his late twenties or early thirties.

      With a small sigh, Willa checked his vitals, pleased to find them all normal. Nancy had said she shouldn’t be spending her free time with a man who couldn’t talk to her, but whenever Willa was near John Doe she felt a strange connection to him.

      There were moments she imagined she could hear his deep voice in her head, softly whispering her name. It was crazy and she assumed it was because she’d been his nurse for so long.

      As a trauma nurse she rarely had long-term care of any patient, but from the moment John Doe had been brought in she’d fought to be part of the team working to keep him alive.

      With his vital signs checked there was really nothing more for her to do, but still she lingered next to him. “I wish you’d wake up,” she said softly. “You’ve been sleeping for a very long time.”

      She fought the impulse to run her hand across his jaw, to gently touch the lips that looked so soft. Instead she straightened the sheet that covered him. “I hope at least you’re having pleasant dreams,” she whispered close to his ear.

       Thank you.

      The two simple words burst into her head. Wistful thinking, she thought. She often imagined his voice in her head, thanking her for taking care of him, for talking and spending time with him.

      Exhausted

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