“I’m sure it does,” Cole answered, trying to maintain his self-control, “but it’ll hurt a lot worse and a lot longer if you heal with a limp, and you know it.”

Morgan’s glare met Cole’s frustration. It was time for some gentle persuasion. That’s when Debbie stepped in.

“Cole, you’re wanted on the phone.” She touched him on the arm.

He jumped. He hadn’t even heard her approach, let alone the ringing of a phone. “Thanks,” he said shortly, refusing to meet her eyes as he lowered his father’s leg back onto the floor and went to answer the call.

“I’ll bet all this exercise stuff hurts a lot,” Debbie remarked as she knelt down at the place he’d just vacated.

Morgan nodded. At last! Someone who understood.

“I’d really hate it if I had to wear this hot old cast day in and day out, too.”

Morgan was hooked and didn’t even know it. Cole walked back into the room just in time to hear Debbie commiserating with her father. He started to object, thinking that she was about to undo all the good it had taken him days to effect when her next soft remark caught his attention, and he smiled. She was working his father like a pro.

“Here you are stuck in this house during the most gorgeous part of the year and can’t even take advantage of that great pool you have outside.”

Morgan grimaced, nodding as Debbie’s sympathy touched his wounded ego. He didn’t even see it coming when she remarked, “You know what? I think I’ll just call up that doctor of yours and give him a piece of my mind. Why doesn’t he let you do your exercises in the water, Morgan? They would be just as effective, and you’d be much more comfortable.”

Cole sighed. All his methods for trying to get his father to do his exercises—all his pleading, all his bullying, all his love—had failed. But Debbie had Morgan all but begging to do them, if he could only get into the pool. Thank God for small favors that came wrapped in enticing packages like Debbie Randall.

“What would you like me to do, Morgan? Want me to call that doctor and persuade him to our way of thinking, or do you want to continue working with Cole?”

“His name and number are on the pad by the phone in the kitchen,” Morgan said, waving his arm. “By George, you’re right! That pool would be just the thing.”

Debbie hid a smile of satisfaction as she patted him on the leg and arose.

“You’re dangerous,” Cole muttered as Debbie walked past him toward the kitchen.

“Yes,” she answered calmly as she passed him by without looking up, “and don’t you forget it.”

*  *  *