When Anna slid her hands around his neck, his mouth crushed hers, forcing her lips to part. Fiercely he wrapped his arms around her, half lifting her from the sand.

Abruptly he released her and rolled to the side so that they lay next to one another on their backs. Anna felt the cold air and kept her eyes closed.

"You asked for that," he said bitterly. "You've been asking for it all day. Are you satisfied now? How does it feel to be kissed by a cripple? Or is this one of the extra services you provide for all your patients?"

"Mr. Littrell's breakfast is ready," Charity announced as she sat the tray on the kitched table. The woman studied Anna. "You want me to take it in to him?"

She thought about it for a moment, but changed her mind. Brian would know why, and he must never know the affect his kiss had on her. She should have stopped him. Now she must pay for her foolishness.

"Air's been thick between you two," Charity mumbled as she set a pan in the sink and filled it with water.

"What do you mean?" Anna glanced up guiltily.

"I don't suppose you'd think I would notice. But things got real quiet after you and Mr. Littrell were on the beach yesterday. Mr. Littrell didn't eat dinner. You didn't eat dinner. And then you didn't play that clarinet the way done at night lately"

"Flute," Anna corrected. "You're right. I didn't play. My....my hand was hurting."

Unconcerend, Charity hummed a soft tune. "You want me to take his breakfast?"

"No," she said with a forced smile. "I'll do it."

Balancing the tray on one knee, Anna knocked loudly on Brian's door twice.

"Come in," Brian growled.

Forcing a smile on her face, Anna opened the door. "I can see you're in your usual good mood this morning."

"What so wonderful about it?" Brian demanded irratably, and pivoted his chair around to face her. "It's just like any other day for a cripple."

"You're not a cripple." Her eyes focused away from him as she placed the tray on the desk.

His laugh was short. "But isn't that what you are so fond of calling me?"

"I call you that to get a rise out of you. You're a smart man; I'd thought you had that figured out by now."

"Not many men I know roll around in one of these things," he challenged, and his hand patted the large wheel of the chair.

"It's true that you and that chair are constant companions." Anna wasn't going to argue with him. "But in your mind you're running free."

"How do you know what's in my mind?" He protested.

"In some ways it's not so difficult," she returned.

"Oh?" Again his voice was filled with challenge.

"What is this? An interrogation?" Anna whirled around and leaned against the desk, her hands behind her. "Remember, it's Monday morning. You'll have to make allowances for me on Monday. It takes my heart ten minutes to start beating once I crawl out of bed."

"You ran this morning."

Anna turned around and lifted the silver warming dome off the breakfast plate and set it aside. "How'd you know that?"

"I watched you."

"Oh." It was crazy the effect the information had on Anna. Her hands felt clammy and her face warm. She didn't want him invading her life this way. When the time came for her to leave, it would only make things more difficult. And when she left, Anna vowed, she would walk away from Brian Littrell intact. Whole. She wouldn't leave this man her heart.

"What's that?" Brian's words cut into her thoughts.

"What's what?"

"That." He pointed to the breakfast tray.

"Oatmean, toast, and juice." She looked at him with a blank stare.

"I hate oatmeal."

"Rolled oats are good for you," she countered with a smile.

"Yes, but have you ever asked yourself what they are rolled with?"

"No," she admitted with a small laugh. "I can't say that I have. Do you want me to have Charity to fix you something else?"

He looked up at her, his eyes wide and disbelieving. "Watson, you are mellowing."

Anna's nerves suddenly felt thin. The need to escape was overpowering. "Maybe I am," she agreed. "But don't count on it," she murmured, and made her exit from the room.

"Problems?" Charity asked, her large blue eyes watching Anna with concern.

"None, why?"

"You need to talk?"

"No, I'm fine," Anna dismissed the offer. "But thanks anyway."

"Any time, child. Any time."

She walked down the long hallway hearing Charity's humming until she entered her bedroom, closing the door behind her. She walked across the room and stood in front of the mirror. She forced an assessment on herself. Twenty-two, never been married. No unattractive, but not beautiful. She wasn't another Leigh, the blonde who looked gorgeous with damp lashes. Anna's hair was cut short and curly. With so many hours in the pool every day, it was the most practical.

Turning sideways, she placed her hands under her breasts, lifting them They were probably her best feature. If it weren't for them, most people would have thought she were a boy. That was the problem with being so short. Petite, her mother claimed. Anna called it just plain stubby.

The session with Brian in the pool didn't go well. Both of them were on edge. The ability to work with one another, although grudgingly, was gone.

"Are you going to do the exercises today or not?" Brian questioned in a vicious tone, angry and impatient.

"Just what do you think I'm doing?" She shot back. Unconsciously Anna realized that she hadn't been working him as hard, because his pain was affecting her.

When the next series of exercises had been completed, Brian was left in little doubt she was doing her job.

Later that afternoon, Anna entered the fenced yard to see L.J. The bird hobbled to her, and Anna bent down to talk to her feathered friend. "Hello."

L.J. squawked loudly, and Anna laughed.

"So, you can talk. I was beginning to wonder." She held out her bandaged hand. "Do you see what you did?"

The gull tilted its head at an inquiring angle.

"Well, don't worry. I know it was an accident. But it was a good lesson for us both." She crumbled up pieces of fish and some other leftovers in the dish, then stepped back. Almost immediately, L.J. began to eat. Anna stayed with him until he finished.

That evening she watched television with Dennis, but a half-hour afterwards she couldn't have told anyone what she'd seen.

When she returned to her room, Anna coudlnt' decide if she should play her flute or not. But music was a basic part of her life, and she didn't know if she could go without it two nights running.

Her options were few. If she stayed in her room, she would be depriving Brian of the pleasure he received when she played. It seemed almost petty to put her desire for solitude above what little enjoyment he received from life.

Dusk had cast a purple shadow across the horizon when Anna stepped out onto the veranadah. She paused to inhale the fresh scent of the sea and closed her eyes. The winds were whispering and gentle when she raised the musical instrument to her lips.

As always, the music flowed naturally from her. But tonight it was dark and deep, unlike the light tunes she normally played.

"You practicing for someone's funeral?" Brian asked with a bitter tone.

Anna paused and lowered the flute. She'd been so caught up in the music she hadn't noticed he'd some outside. He stayed several feet away, his profile illuminated by the setting sun.

She shook her head. "No."

"Could have fooled me. Will you play mine?" Brian asked, his voice a mere whisper.

"Play at your what?" She didn't look at him, her gaze focused on teh tumbling waves that broke against the beach.

"My funeral."

"That's a morbid thought. You're not going to die," she said seriously, her own voice a soft murmur. "I won't let you."

His light laugh couldn't hide the pain.

"Do you want something?" She didn't need to explain what. When it came to painkilling drugs, Brian was sensible. He never took anything unless the pain became unbearable.

He expelled a harsh breath before answering. "What I need is for you to kiss me better." His voice was low and seductive.

Anna didn't breathe, the oxygen was trapped in her lungs. Her hand tightly clutched the railing as she closed her eyes. The knowledge that one kiss would never be enough was the only thing that stopped her.

"Want me to call Leigh?" A fingernail broke against the freshly painted surface of the verandah. Still she didn't move.

"No." The word was released on an angry rush. With her back to Brian, she heard him return to his room.

Anna breathed again.

Stiffly Anna walked into the modern-style living room. "Good morning, Mr. Littrell."

Harold Littrell placed the coffee cup in the saucer and stood. "Morning."

"You asked to see me?"

"Yes, I did. Please, sit down." He motioned with his hand to the chair opposite him.

"How's Brian?" He began.

"There's been some improvement. I imagine in a few weeks he'll be able to start work on the mats and the parallel bars. From there it will be only a matter of time before he can advance to the walker and then the cane."

The older man lowered his gaze, "Yes, the cane."

Anna didn't need to be told what Brian's father was thinking. "From what I can tell, your son will always have a limp. The cane will be necessary."

Harold glanced up, and Anna had the funny sensation that although he was looking at her, he wasn't seeing her. "That's not it," he admitted absently, and shook his head. "I was remembering....thinking..." He let the rest of the sentence edge away. "We used to play tennis, Brian and I. Twice a week."

Anna could see no use in dwelling on things past. "It's unlikely that your son will play a decent game of tennis again."

He lifted the coffee cup to his mouth and Anna noticed it shook slightly.

"I've done as you suggested and brought some work from the office. God knows I'm not able to keep up with it all."

"I think bringing Brian back into the mainstream of his business can only help" Anna murmured, again feeling stiff and awkward.

"I was hoping to go over a few things with you."

"With me?" Her gaze shot to him. "Surely you don't expect me to discuss the business with your son?"

"To be honest, I was hoping you would bring up the subject with him. Brian and I had a parting of ways on my last visit. At this point I feel it would be better if we didn't see one another for a while."

"You can't mean that."

Harold stood and paced across the thick white carpet. He propped his foot against the fireplace hearth, his back to her.

"Brian and I have always been close. Don't misunderstand me, Miss Watson, I love my son."

"I'm sure you do."

"It hurts me to see him in that chair. There are so many things I wanted in life for Brian, and now everything seems impossible." He dropped his foot and turned around. "The last time I saw Brian we said some bitter hard things to one another. I don't know if it would be a good idea for me to see him now. We both need time."

"But that's something you don't have," Anna countered, and released a slow breath. "Brian regrets what happened just as much as you. Clear the air between you, make amends. Then bring up the business aspect of your visit. If you'd like, I could tell him you are here."

The agreeing nod wasn't eager. "If you think I should."

"I do."