Chapter Five

Dazed and Confused

The pain in his back woke him up…not the warm, willing, sleeping woman beside him.

Not a good sign.

After a night of even-better-sex-than-we-had-at-the-Lucy-Carver-Inn sex, pain should have been the furthest thing from his mind and body.

But it wasn't. Pain shot down both legs and Woody grimaced against the sensations. Until he felt her slight weight move against him and heard her sigh contentedly in her sleep. The grimace melted into a very smug, masculine grin.

Unlike the night at the Lucy Carver Inn, Woody knew that he didn't have to be at work in the morning until after lunch. And if Jordan blew intoher office late, Garret wouldn't raise an eyebrow after all the hours she had logged while the chief ME was getting sober. So Woody had taken his time with her…and used it well. After their first round of love making, he had spooned her against him, much like that night at the Inn, and let her rest.

But not for long.

After he had recovered, his hands began a gentle exploration of her back, massaging the kinks out of her muscles. His reward was feeing her relax completely against him. "Roll over on your tummy and I'll rub your back," he murmured against her ear.

He didn't have to ask twice.

Jordan immediately turned on her stomach and Woody continued to rub her back in easy but firm strokes, and if possible, felt her relax even more.

She offered no protest when his lips followed his hands…not even when they reached the areas he knew were ticklish. But her quickened breathing assured him that she was awake…fully awake. He ran his hands lightly over her bottom and slid one hand down her left thigh, pulling her leg up, bending it at the knee. Then he slid the same hand up her right leg, finding the sensitive nub at her center. "Woody…" her breathless voice mirrored slight confusion and longing at the same time.

"Shh…." He ran a trail of kisses from the base of her spine to her jaw. "Just lie still…" He slowly slid a finger into her.

Her breath hitched and his name escaped her lips again, this time as a low moan. Jordan tried to roll over to face him, but found his body was blocking her. She shut her eyes in frustration, but soon found herself getting lost in the feelings and emotions again of last night…and this time the warning bells weren't going off. Instead, as his hand found her breast one more time, she again found herself yielding to him when he moved over her and loved her once more.


Her cell phone's alarm jarred her awake…it was somewhere in the kitchen, long discarded with the trail of clothes that led from the bedroom to the counter. Groggily she sat up, nudging Woody aside and grabbing the sheet to cover her.

"It'll quit in a minute," he murmured.

"I need to find it. I've got to get to work."

"You know Garret will cut you some slack, after all the hours you put in while he was at rehab."

Jordan nodded, but was already pulling on her clothes. "I know, but I'll be late anyway…I'll have to go home and change."

"Can't you have that fancy-assed butler of yours bring you some clothes by here?"

Jordan inwardly frowned. Woody hadn't referred to her recent change in financial status the entire night. Why bring it up now? "Who? Harris?"

"Whatever his name is…" Woody turned over and glared at her now-fully dressed state. He much preferred her the other way…naked and warm in his arms…although for the life of him he couldn't tell what last night meant to her. The early morning light made her expression difficult to read.

"Harris isn't on duty everyday. With just me at the house, there's no need to have someone around all the time. Besides, I'm pretty independent."

"You're there in that big house all by yourself?"

"Not all the time. Harris is there a few days during the week and Millie, the housekeeper, is there for only a half a day about five days a week. I don't entertain like Grandmother used to so I don't need them full time…and I can cook my own dinner, so…" Jordan paused as she looked around for her other shoe, catching the look in his eye. "I guess we need to talk," she finished softly.

"About what?" Woody rolled out of bed and reached for his boxers, more than a little frustrated at her apparent need to leave and go to work."Last time we did this and talked, it all blew up in our face."

"What are you saying?" Jordan felt her heart plummet to the bottoms of her Sketchers.

Woody slid his boxers on and turned to face her. "You've heard the expression, 'fatal attraction'?"

Jordan nodded.

"I think that's what we've got a case of here. Anytime we can get each other into bed, it's awesome. Magic. Five stars. Fireworks. But outside of bed, things just kind of fall apart."

"So last night…"

"Was good for both of us. You have to admit that." His self-satisfied grin told her he had not forgotten any of her responses to him. Or his to her.

"That's it?" Jordan felt her throat tighten and tears began to form on the horizon.

"I tell you what I think…I think in one aspect you're right. We do need to move on…but I swear, anytime we're remotely alone and can get each other into bed…damn…."

"You son-of-bitch…"

"I've been called worse." Woody slid his jeans on and fastened them. "And I assure you, I'm every one of those things. But you have to admit, it's better this way. We blow off a little left over lust every once in a while and no one gets hurt. We know which buttons to push in each other and we both leave satisfied. What harm is there in that?"

"What harm? What about what we feel? What I feel?"

"You said it yourself, Jordan. We both need to move on….maybe we can now."

"But what if…."

"What if you've changed your mind?"

Jordan nodded, the lump in her throat growing larger by the minute.

Woody walked out of the bedroom to the kitchen to retrieve his shirt. "I'd say it was too late."


The stumble was what alarmed Woody the most.

It wasn't a stumble at a crime scene, where the terrain could be uneven. It wasn't a stumble on the basketball court, where the guys were known to play rough. It wasn't a stumble on the stairs or while he was out running.

It was a stumble across the smooth, hardwood floors of his apartment after Jordan left that morning. His right foot wouldn't move. And the pain that started shooting down his legs earlier was now becoming unbearable. Making his way carefully across the room, he stopped at his desk and opened the lower left drawer, pulling out a huge sheaf of papers…medical papers that the doctors had given him when he was released from the hospital after the Riggs shooting. Carefully, he sifted through any follow-up symptoms he might have. Finally, his brow creased with worry and biting his lip against the pain, he picked up the phone and called his surgeon.

After describing his symptoms to the nurse he waited. The doctor wanted to see him immediately.


It was an all-too familiar setting, Boston General. Jordan sighed as once again she found herself pacing the same waiting room she had over a year ago when she waited for Woody to come out of surgery from the Riggs shooting.

She had received the phone call from Woody's surgeon a few hours after she had finally gotten to work that morning. The unfamiliar number coming through on her cell phone caught her attention and she answered it immediately. She remembered the surgeon identifying himself and telling her that Woody was heading for emergency surgery even as they spoke. Something was shorting out his spinal column once again, and since it wasn't a bullet, the doctor couldn't be sure what was going on until he went in to see if there wasn't possible damage they had missed.

His situation wasn't life-threatening, but seeing as Woody still had Jordan listed as his next-of-kin, Dr. Roland thought Jordan should know….just in case anything went wrong.

Just in case anything went wrong? The thought flew through her mind as she grabbed her coat and told Garret what was happening. Everything is going wrong…first last night, then this morning, and now this?

Did our making love cause this to happen? Guilt began to play with her conscience. They had been more active last night than they were at the Lucy Carver Inn.

And why does he still have me listed as his next-of-kin? It's been longer than a year…he could have…should have…changed it by now.

Unless he assumed there was no one else…She chewed her bottom lip nervously, staring at the doors to the surgery unit, willing them to open.

"He'll be okay," Matt Seely said, catching the path of Jordan's eyes. Matt was Woody's partner now. After telling Garret what had happened, Jordan had phoned the red-headed detective and filled him in, letting him know what Dr. Roland said and asked that Matt be sure to tell the captain where Woody was.

To Jordan's surprise, Matt met her at the hospital. "Hoyt's my partner," was his simple explanation. "We've gotten close."

Jordan had nodded and welcomed the support.

"He's strong and in the best shape of anyone I know…" Steely continued.

"I know," she replied softly. "I just thought all this was over….behind him."

"We all did."

"But what…"

The doors to the surgery unit swung open then, interrupting the conversation as Dr. Roland walked through them. "Dr. Cavanaugh?"

"Here," Jordan said, turning away from Matt to face the surgeon.

"Nice to meet you," Dr. Roland said. He turned to Matt with a question on his face.

"This is Detective Seely, Woody's partner."

Dr. Roland nodded. "Then it's good you're both here. Woody's come through the surgery quite successfully. There was a blood clot that formed around the scar tissue and it was causing his already sensitive nerves to short circuit a little. We cleaned up the tissue and got rid of the blood clot…so his back and lower extremities are fine now…"

Jordan felt relief flood her body. But if last night had caused the blood clot… "Is there anyway to know how long the blood clot had been there?" she gamely asked.

"Not really. It may have formed over time…who knows? However, there are some other complications…"

Jordan swallowed hard. What else could have possibly gone wrong? "Complications?" she asked.

Dr. Roland nodded. "He doesn't remember anything."

"Anything?" Matt asked. "You mean about why he had the surgery?"

Shaking his head, Dr. Roland continued. "No. I mean he remembers nothing. Except his name is Woody Hoyt. Everything else has been wiped out."