Married Or Not?. Brenda Jackson

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Married Or Not? - Brenda Jackson Mills & Boon Desire

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and emotions with anyone.

      When they’d first married, she had asked him all kinds of questions…about his childhood, his family, why he’d chosen to be a cop. He never liked talking about his childhood or his family and admittedly he was less than forthcoming. As far as he was concerned, all of that was in the past and had no bearing on who he was today. He’d just had trouble explaining that to Sherri’s satisfaction. He’d finally stopped trying.

      He shouldn’t have been all that surprised the day he got home to find every last trace of her presence in his apartment gone. She’d left the key to his place on the counter with a note telling him that she was getting a divorce and to contact her attorney—she also left the attorney’s business card—if he had any questions.

      Hell yes, he’d had questions! How could she just move out like that? She’d kept asking him to talk to her about stupid things, but that was no reason just to walk out on him. He’d loved her and she’d thrown his love back in his face. Why else would she have hired an attorney before she’d even bothered to tell him she wanted a divorce?

      He’d been furious with her. He’d waited three days to calm down enough to call her attorney, who had told him that since they’d acquired no property of significance during the three years of their marriage, Sherri wanted to keep what was hers and let him keep what was his.

      He hadn’t argued because he knew there would be no point. She’d obviously made up her mind and his opinion didn’t matter.

      He’d tried to be what she’d wanted in a husband, but he hadn’t really known what she expected a husband to be. He’d been alone for most of his twenty-seven years before they’d met. Of course there had been adjustments to sharing a place with her. However, he’d loved her and showed his love in every way he knew how, but his love hadn’t been enough. He knew, was absolutely convinced, that she’d loved him in the beginning. There was no way she could have faked her response to him. His off-duty hours had been spent in bed with her, making love to her, holding her, listening to her while she talked about her childhood and her family.

      She’d had it tough and he’d told her that he would always be there for her, that he would never abandon her, or leave her to deal with life on her own.

      And yet…

      After a while she’d stopped talking to him as much and he figured that was because she’d told him everything about her past. She would ask him about his work, but once he was home he didn’t want to talk about his job. He just wanted to be with her.

      He’d always worked long hours during an investigation, but she’d known that. He might have rushed her into marriage a little fast, but he had been afraid he would lose her if he settled for a long engagement. He’d lost her anyway.

      Well, he’d come to terms with the divorce. There wasn’t much else he could do. He’d tried to console himself that cops had a higher rate of failed relationships than almost any other profession. Somehow, that hadn’t helped him get over the pain of losing her.

      And now she was seriously injured. Regardless of the circumstances, he could not leave the hospital without knowing how she was.

      Greg waited three more hours before a weary doctor wearing scrubs appeared in the doorway. “Mr. Masterson?”

      “Um, no. Greg Hogan. Sherri uses her maiden name.” He had trouble talking around the knot in his throat. He finally managed to ask, “How is she?”

      The doctor rubbed the back of his neck. “There was some internal bleeding and we had to remove her spleen. She’s in stable condition. I think she’s going to get through this with no problem. The airbag saved her life but there was some bruising. Her right arm is broken as well as her right leg, so she’ll be slowed down for a while, but otherwise, I think she’s in good shape, considering what she went through.”

      Greg’s relief at the news caused him to choke up. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, trying to gain control over his emotions.

      “May I see her?” he finally managed to ask.

      “She’s in recovery at the moment. Once they move her to ICU one of the nurses will come get you.”

      “Thank you.” Greg held out his hand and the surgeon shook it before leaving the room.

      Broken bones. Those would heal. The trauma caused by the surgery would also need time to heal. She was going to be okay. He fought the constriction in his throat. He was tired, that’s all.

      He glanced at his watch. It was after six and he still hadn’t followed up on the investigation he was conducting. The team needed answers quickly. Law-enforcement personnel knew that the first forty-eight hours after a crime was committed were the most critical for gathering evidence. He needed to get back on this one before any more time was lost.

      He approached the nurse who had taken down the information on Sherri. “May I help you?” she asked.

      “Do you have any idea when Sherri Masterson will be out of recovery?”

      “Not really.” She shook her head. “They’ll keep her in recovery until her vitals stabilize.”

      When would that be? Soon, he hoped. He really needed to see her.

      “I have to get back to work right now, but I’ll definitely be back later tonight.”

      The nurse nodded and Greg headed for the elevators. He’d started to shake once the doctor had left. Reaction and relief that her injuries were no longer life-threatening and that she’d made it through surgery all right had gotten to him.

      There was nothing he could do for her at this point, a feeling he’d often had when they were together. That didn’t mean that he could just walk away from her now.

      Three

      Greg returned to the hospital a little after midnight. Another shift was at the nurses’ station.

      He’d managed to get some work done on his latest investigation before he’d gone to find Sherri’s car. What he’d seen had sickened him and caused him to wonder how she had survived.

      “I’m Sherri Masterson’s husband, Greg Hogan,” he said quietly. “I haven’t been able to see her since her surgery. Would it be possible to see her now?”

      An older nurse came around the counter. “Follow me. Please don’t stay long.”

      “Has she been awake at all since coming to the ICU?”

      “For a few minutes when they brought her to her room. She’s being given something for pain and is pretty groggy.”

      Greg hadn’t known what to expect when he walked into her room. He hadn’t seen her in almost two years, but nothing could have prepared him for the shock of seeing her lying there so still.

      He wouldn’t have recognized her. Her face was swollen, with cuts and bruises that no doubt occurred when her airbag inflated.

      The hospital staff had her hooked up to machines and a bag of liquid. One machine monitored her heart, another kept track of her blood pressure and pulse and he knew the drip contained saline solution to keep her hydrated.

      She was so

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