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  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Synopsis

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About the Author

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Bella Books

  Synopsis

  Darcy Silver has everything money can buy except for a way to erase the past. A tragic car accident has left her temporarily dependent on others for even the most basic of needs—but everyone she cares about seems to have abandoned her.

  Dr. Andrea Trapani would like to forget the past too. Being a full-time medical caretaker for a cantankerous woman is not where she expected her career to take her. But when Andrea sees that Darcy’s frustration will have serious medical consequences, she vows to bring peace and stability to Darcy’s world.

  As two wounded souls fight to overcome their past and face the fears of the future, will love be the right medicine?

  Copyright © 2016 by Catherine Maiorisi

  Bella Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 10543

  Tallahassee, FL 32302

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  First Bella Books Edition 2016

  eBook released 2016

  Editor: Shelly Rafferty

  Cover Designer: Sandy Knowles

  ISBN: 978-1-59493-493-3

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  About the Author

  Catherine Maiorisi lives in New York City and often writes under the watchful eye of Edgar Allan Poe, in Edgar’s Café near the apartment she shares with Sherry her partner, now wife, of thirty-eight years.

  In the seventies and eighties while working in corporate technology then running her own technology consulting company, Catherine moaned to her artistic friends that she was the only lesbian in New York City who wasn’t creative, the only one without the imagination or the talent to write poetry or novels, play the guitar, act or sing.

  Since she found her imagination, writing has been like meditating for Catherine and it is what she most loves to do. But she also reads voraciously, loves to cook, especially Italian, and enjoys hanging out with her wife and friends.

  When she wrote a short story to create the backstory for the love interest in her two unpublished NYPD Detective Chiara Corelli mysteries, Catherine had never read any romance and hadn’t considered writing it. To her surprise, “The Sex Club” turned out to be a romance and was included in the Best Lesbian Romance of 2014 edited by Radclyffe.

  Another surprise was hearing the voices of two characters, Andrea and Darcy, chatting in her head every night, making it difficult to sleep. Reassured by her wife that she wasn’t losing it, Catherine paid attention and those conversations led to her first romance novel, Matters of the Heart.

  Catherine has also had two mystery short stories published in the Murder New York Style Anthologies, “Justice for All” in Fresh Slices and “Murder Italian Style” in Family Matters.

  An active member of Sisters in Crime and Mystery Writers of America, Catherine is also a member of Romance Writers of America and Rainbow Romance Writers.

  Dedication

  To Sherry, thank you for believing in me.

  Acknowledgments

  I’d like to thank my wife Sherry for never doubting when I said I was going to write a novel that I would; for treating me as a writer before I felt like one; for her tough love as my first reader; and for her ongoing support and encouragement.

  Thanks also to my second readers and best friends Lee and Judy for their continued support, for patiently reading multiple versions of the same manuscript and still managing to offer constructive criticism.

  Special thanks to Ann Roberts, Bella author of romances and the Ari Adams mysteries, for her generosity in reading Matters of the Heart and writing a wonderful critique and then taking the time to discuss the changes over the telephone. For me, one of the highlights of the Golden Crown Literary Society Conference in Portland was meeting Ann.

  Last, but certainly not least, thank you readers. I assume if you’re reading this, you’ve read Matters of the Heart. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  Chapter One

  Dr. Andrea Trapani had plunged into disease-infested jungles filled with armed hostiles with less trepidation than she felt now about to enter the home of the cantankerous Ms. Darcy Silver. As she eyed the elegant mansion and its half-block walled garden, she wondered again why she’d thought this was a good idea.

  But a commitment is a commitment. She squared her shoulders, picked up her suitcase and medical bag and passed through the wrought-iron gate. At the top of the curved stone staircase, she lifted the bronze eagle and knocked on the carved wooden door. Waited. Knocked again. About to knock a third time, she noticed the door was slightly ajar and stepped in, nearly tripping on a haphazard pile of suitcases and shopping bags just inside the huge foyer. Her nose twitched. The lovely fragrance of the colorful bouquet of fresh flowers on a small oak library table deeper inside the foyer was not at all what she expected. Could she be in the wrong house? She dug in the pocket of her jeans, retrieved the paper Julie Castillo had given her, and confirmed she was in the right place. A
ccording to Julie, they were expecting her. But where was everybody? Surely a house this big had servants.

  Andrea placed her suitcase behind the library table to avoid it being taken by mistake, then peered into the large, sunny living room on the east side of the foyer. It was warm and comfortable-looking, rather than dusty, musty and forbidding as she’d imagined the house of the miserable Ms. Silver. In the formal dining room across the foyer, a magnificent chandelier glittered over a long rosewood table with, she counted, seating for thirty. She grinned, imagining the bitchy Ms. Silver sitting at the table scowling at her cowering minions, like in a Dickens novel.

  As she moved back into the foyer, she became aware of voices from above. She grabbed her medical bag and followed the voices up four flights of steps and down the hall until she reached the door to a room where a woman in a hospital bed was engaged in a vicious shouting match with an angry blonde standing over her. Neither noticed Andrea just outside the bedroom. Feeling uncomfortable about interrupting, she waited for a lull.

  “My bags are packed. I’m leaving, Darcy.” The blonde leaned over the woman in the bed. “I didn’t sign on for feeding you or washing you, and certainly not for giving you bedpans and serving on you twenty-four hours a day, but I tried. I can’t do it. I can’t tolerate your foul temper. I can’t deal with your belittling me while I’m trying to help you. Most of all, I can’t watch your self-destructive behavior. In the week or so you’ve been home from the hospital the aides you haven’t fired have walked out because of your foul mouth and foul temper. Even the visiting nurse has refused to come back. That has to be some kind of world record.” The blonde turned from the bed and began to pace, giving Andrea a glimpse of the red-faced, dark-haired Darcy Silver.

  “What kind of woman walks out on a lover who can’t do anything for herself?” Darcy Silver whined. “It’s a terrible thing to be in pain. It’s even worse to be in pain and helpless. But it’s devastating to be in pain and helpless and abandoned by friends, by everyone you thought cared. You say you love me, Gerri, but if you did, you would stay and take care of me.”

  Gerri laughed. “Love you? How can I love you, Darcy? You live behind a glass wall and you’ve never once let me through. The sex was great but it was always all about you, you giving, you touching, you in control. You never let me touch you physically or emotionally. It’s almost as if anyone who cares for you, who loves you, is worthless.”

  “You are worthless. Get your stuff and get out. I don’t need you or anyone else.”

  “That’s good since none of your precious” —Gerri made quote marks with her fingers— “‘inner circle’ of friends have shown up to see you, forget lift a finger to help.”

  “Get the hell out.”

  “You can’t do a goddamn thing for yourself.” Gerri glared at her. “I should leave you alone to starve to death or drown in your own piss and shit. That’s what you’d do to me. But I’m a better person than you, so I’ve arranged for a live-in doctor to oversee your care and a nurse for the night shift. The doctor should be here shortly.”

  “Are you crazy? A live-in doctor? And a nurse? Did you discuss it with Candace?”

  “I would have if she’d answered my urgent calls about you.”

  “Another ungrateful bitch. I refuse to have strangers.”

  “Too bad, baby doll. Even the exalted Darcy Silver doesn’t always get what she wants. Anyway, I’m out of here as soon as the doctor shows up. Maybe she can sign you into some fancy institution where your money will buy tolerance for your nastiness.”

  “I’m not going to a nursing home.”

  “Up to you, darling. The agency I’ve been dealing with refuses to send anyone else so the nurse is from a new agency. I paid for the first twelve-hour shift out of the money you put in my account but the agency owner will be here tomorrow morning to get your oral approval since you can’t sign. The doctor is not from an agency.” Gerri leaned over the bed again. “You know, Darcy, it would be nice if you said ‘Thank you, Gerri, for all you’ve done and for not leaving me to rot by myself.’”

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  “Ah, there’s the Darcy I know and love.”

  “Bitch.”

  Chapter Two

  Her veins were popping, her face was almost purple and she was breathing so heavily Andrea feared she’d stroke. As unpleasant as stepping into the middle of the screaming match would be, she needed to protect her soon-to-be patient. She knocked and entered. Her first full-faced look at Darcy Silver surprised her. Not only was Darcy much younger than she’d expected but even red-faced with rage, not a speck of makeup, and with her long dark hair splayed in clumps over a rust-stained pillow, the prominent cheekbones, the sensuous lips and the sparking sapphire eyes added up to striking.

  At the knock, Darcy’s eyes shot from Gerri to Andrea. She glared, eyes narrow, lips curled in a snarl. “Who the fuck are you? And why are you sneaking up on me?”

  Andrea wasn’t sure whether it was the foul language, or the vilest tone of voice anyone had ever hurled at her, but she froze, pinned by those blazing blue eyes. “Dr. Andrea Trapani. I was sent—”

  “Get out. I don’t need a doctor to wipe my ass.”

  “Good luck, Doctor.” Gerri looked apologetic.

  Darcy’s head swiveled to Gerri. “Why are you still here?”

  “Ta-ta, Darcy.” Gerri breezed past Andrea, leaving a trail of flowery perfume in her wake. “Have a good life,” she tossed over her shoulder.

  They listened to her run down the steps, footsteps getting fainter with each flight of stairs until the only sound was Darcy’s labored breathing. Andrea and Darcy regarded each other in awkward silence, then both jumped when the slamming of the front door echoed through the silent mansion. Gerri had left with a bang. “Well, Ms. Silver, do you want me to go?”

  Insolent sapphire eyes raked her from head to toe with such intensity that Andrea felt she was being undressed and touched. Areas of her body that had been dormant for months quivered and, much to her chagrin, the flush infusing her body reached her face. It wasn’t the first time she’d been scrutinized like that, but it was the first time a woman had done it, and the first time her body had responded.

  “Do I look like I have a fucking choice?”

  Darcy couldn’t see her racing heart or the throbbing of her…body and she hoped the nastiness in the question meant that Darcy hadn’t noticed her red face. She breathed deeply. Her best friend Julie Castillo, Darcy’s cardiologist, had encouraged Andrea to take this job to get her mind off Nora and ease back into medicine. Though Julie had warned Andrea that Darcy was very, very difficult, she hadn’t mentioned Darcy’s age or beauty or her unpleasant, aggressive sexuality.

  “I’ll leave after you’ve made arrangements for twenty-four-seven coverage tomorrow, if that’s what you want. But you need to calm down now and try to relax.”

  “I don’t need you to tell me what I need to do. What you need to do is stop standing there like an idiot. If you’re here to take care of me, how about you do your job and take care of me.”

  “I’d like to take your blood pressure, then settle in. Is there something you want now?”

  “I’m thirsty. There should be cold water in the refrigerator behind me. And don’t settle in too much, you may not be here tomorrow. I don’t need another doctor. And I certainly don’t need to pay a doctor to wash and feed me.”

  Andrea bit her tongue. Apparently, judging from the odor of sweat and urine, and the stained pillowcase, washing Darcy hadn’t been a priority for her aides. And, apparently no one had told Darcy she definitely needed a doctor; then again, she probably hadn’t listened. As she filled a glass with water from the pitcher in the refrigerator, she cursed herself for not wearing scrubs and a lab coat. Her scooped-neck top was going to give Darcy skin and cleavage to ogle.

  She lifted Darcy’s head and placed the straw between her lips. Darcy’s perfect black eyebrows arched as her eyes widened but she didn’t comment. W
hen she finished, Andrea removed the straw. Darcy’s sly smile telegraphed her enjoyment of her close-up of Andrea’s breasts. Avoiding those impertinent eyes, she gently placed Darcy’s head on the pillow and patted her lips dry. “I’m going to take your blood pressure now. I’m worried by the look of you.”

  “How sweet. Here five minutes and you’re already worried about me.”

  Andrea ignored her. Darcy’s eyes followed her as she retrieved the stethoscope and blood pressure cuff from her medical bag. She moved the light blanket aside to expose Darcy’s right arm and was surprised to find Darcy naked, no hospital gown, no diaper. Her right arm was propped up by pillows, had a shoulder-to-wrist cast and was bent at the elbow in a V shape, awkward at best and not available for pressure. She covered the right arm and moved the blanket from the left arm. Its cast ran from just above her elbow to her wrist, with a couple of broken fingers as well, but the upper left arm was available for the blood pressure cuff.

  “Neat huh? Just enough arm available for you to play doctor.” Her voice was taunting and her eyes bounced from Andrea’s face to her breasts and back. “I always loved that game.”

  God, what an offensive pig. Andrea had dealt with her share of pigs in the emergency room but they were always men. Andrea pumped then concentrated on listening. Just as she’d feared, Darcy’s pressure was in the danger zone. She’d let her relax for a while and take it again. If it didn’t come down, she’d call Julie and have Darcy hospitalized. She undid the cuff.

  “Not good? How high?” For the first time, Darcy spoke without sarcasm, anger, or nastiness.

  Andrea met the inquisitive blue eyes. “Not good at all. Two-hundred-one over one-hundred-ten. We need to watch this, Ms. Silver, it’s dangerously high.”

  “We do, huh?” The ridicule in her voice was blistering. “Okay, no jogging for me today.”