Here I Am by Rochelle Alers Page A

However you plan to deal with Brandt…” Her words trailed off when Ciara gave her a look that spoke volumes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tell you how to do your job.”
    â€œIt’s okay. I’ve had to deal with much more difficult patients than your son.”
    Brandt Wainwright would probably yell, but Ciara doubted that she would have as hard a time handling him as some of her other patients.
    She waited for Leona to leave and then went to see if Brandt was still asleep. Walking into his bedroom, she saw him lying on his back, arms above his head. At first she thought he was asleep, but as Ciara moved closer to the bed she realized he was staring up at the ceiling.
    â€œHow are you feeling?”
    Brandt turned his head slowly. He’d tried to remember the timbre of Ciara Dennison’s voice, but couldn’t because of the drug that managed to not only dull the pain racking his body but also his brain. He didn’t like taking it because it tended to impair his speech and ability to think. His eyelids fluttered as he fought against the dulling effects of the painkiller.
    â€œBetter.” He pointed at the armchair near the bed. “Please sit down and talk to me.”
    Ciara complied, staring at the powerfully built, bearded man with the piercing blue eyes framed by long, dark lashes. “What do you want to talk about?”
    A hint of a smile tilted the corners of Brandt’s strong mouth. “Anything, as long as it keeps me awake.”
    â€œHave you ever thought that perhaps you need to sleep?”
    Brandt closed his eyes. “I slept enough when they doped me up in Asheville.”
    â€œThe term is sedated, not doped,” Ciara countered.
    â€œYou call it whatever you want, but it’s still doping to me.”
    Sitting up straight, she met his angry glare. “There’s no need to get testy, Brandt.”
    â€œAnd you don’t have to be so prissy.”
    Ciara could give as well as she could get but decided to swallow her response, realizing that going head-to-head with Brandt would end in a stalemate. “I’m willing to sit and talk. What I’m not going to put up with is you cursing at me. Save that language for the locker room.”
    Brandt’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me you’re that prim and proper.” As soon as the words were off his tongue he realized he may have misread Ciara Dennison.
    â€œWhat I am is none of your concern. What you should concern yourself with is taking a shower and washing your hair. After that I’ll bring you something to eat.”
    Brandt ran his fingers through his mussed hair. “I took a shower this morning, but I didn’t get around to washing my hair, because there wasn’t any shampoo in the bathroom. As for food, I don’t want that stuff my mother left in the freezer.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with it?”
    â€œWhat’s right with it?” Brandt asked. “It tastes like hospital food.”
    Ciara looked away so he couldn’t see her smiling. “Are you hungry?”
    â€œYes. I feel like I haven’t eaten in days.”
    â€œWhat do you want? Steak and potatoes?”
    Brandt grinned at Ciara, revealing a set of beautifulstraight white teeth. “Steak and potatoes, Philly cheese-steak or sausage and peppers.”
    â€œWhat are you, on some kind of bodybuilding diet?”
    â€œHell, yeah,” he drawled.
    â€œI’m going to set up a swear jar, and every time you curse you’ll have to put a dollar in it.”
    Brandt crossed his arms over his chest. “And what do you intend to do with the contents?”
    â€œDonate it to charity.”
    â€œIf that’s the case, then I’ll put a couple of thousand in it beforehand and cuss away.”
    Ciara rolled her eyes at him. She’d dated a man who after one drink couldn’t complete a sentence without using four-letter words. The alcohol