Flirting with Forever

by Jennifer Bernard

  Ian was breathing fast, his eyes so dark that all the green had disappeared. “Why not?” Direct as ever.

  “Because—because we’re in a hospital,” she said nonsensically. “There are rules.”

  “I’m not aware of any rules about kissing that would apply to us. You’re not my patient.”

  “Well, there should be. Also, I’m…I’m your teacher. There are rules about teachers and students.”

  “I’ll inform the school board,” he said dryly. “I’m sure they’ll want to take disciplinary action.”

  She folded her lips together; the damn things wouldn’t stop tingling. Her entire body felt awake, as if she were Sleeping Beauty revived by nothing more than a kiss. “What about Helene?”

  “I haven’t seen her again.”

  Oh shit. That was news. That made everything more real—and more risky. “You don’t want to be part of my mess. I shouldn’t have opened the door, but that’s the kind of thing I do. I act before I think. Leap before I look.”

  He kept his steady gaze on her. It grounded her, like the tie-downs that kept the helicopter’s blades secured when it was parked. She couldn’t look away.

  An odd feeling of comfort crept over her, as if everything would be all right if they just kept looking at each other.

  Her phone buzzed, and reality came cascading back in pieces. Job. Mediguard Two. Patient. Life-saving stuff.

  “I have to go. Sorry.” She turned and fled in what she hoped was the direction of the staircase.

  She clattered up the stairs two levels to the roof, where she saw that Dan Stone was already pushing the gurney toward the Bell.

  Hauling in a deep breath, she shoved Dr. Ian Finnegan firmly to the back of her mind. Then she mentally piled up some imaginary bookcases and a bureau to keep that particular door blocked.

  Nineteen

  Elinor reluctantly agree to Bo taking the job on the Desperado, but asked Ian to personally checked out the vessel with his own eyes.

  “I know nothing about fishing boats,” he told her several times. “How is that going to help?”

  “At least you’ll be able to see if they’re actually running drugs or, you know, sex trafficking or something.”

  “You really should stay off social media, Elinor. The Desperado is one of the most reputable operations in Alaska. Did you get the testimonials I sent you? I talked to the harbormaster, the police chief, the fire chief, and the town’s oldest active fisherman.” He’d compiled summaries of their statements into a file of rave reviews. No one had a bad thing to say about Tristan Del Rey.

  Which irked him to no end.

  “And I’m supposed to trust someone named Old Crow?”

  “You’re supposed to use your reason instead of your overprotective parental instincts.”

  “You just don’t understand.” She sighed. “You never will, unless you admit you’re human someday and actually mate and reproduce.”

  “I’ve mated,” he said stiffly. “In fact—”

  “Sht. Sht. I don’t want to hear about you mating. I just want you to make sure Bo’s in good hands. He’s…you know how he is. He’s different. What if they don’t accept unconventional kids like him? Please, Ian.”

  He resigned himself to the inevitable. “I’ll tour the boat myself. But you should know that unconventional comes in many forms. This place has its fair share.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

  “Then maybe a Xanax would?” he muttered under his breath.

  If human reproductive instincts made a person behave like Elinor, why should he give them any attention? Wasn’t it better to ignore them and continue to hone his higher-thinking skills?

  Then again, all his higher thinking had pulled a disappearing act when Chrissie had kissed him. He’d forgotten that neurosurgeons didn’t generally have time to kiss in the hallway. He’d forgotten that he was a neurosurgeon. The only thing that mattered was the taste of her lips—wild raspberries under a winter sun—and the way her body trembled against him. He’d felt her nipples harden under her flight suit. Luckily he’d been wearing a white coat that covered his groin area, so no one knew that he’d carried that erection with him, on and off, for the rest of his shift.

  If one kiss could do that to him, he feared what more intimacy would do. And yet he craved it too.

  Talk about human instincts.

  And then there was that possessiveness that kept popping up like a nasty jack-in-the-box.

  It came back as soon as he set foot on the Desperado. Bo was already onboard in his brand-new oilskins, which were twice as shiny and orange as those worn by the other crew members. With his exuberant grin and proud strut, he didn’t seem to mind that he stood out like an eager-beaver thumb. He’d gone even heavier on the eyeliner than usual—probably going for the pirate look—but no one seemed bothered by that.

  Tristan welcomed Ian onboard with a handshake. “Good to see you, man.”

  His graciousness made Ian regret his ridiculous jealousy even more. “Thanks for the invitation. I’m looking forward to seeing Bo’s new life.”

  Tristan chuckled a little. “That’s a good way to put it. Fishing boats really do have a life of their own. You’re in a different world when you’re out at sea depending on yourself and your crewmates.”

  He gestured toward the wide-open deck with its neat piles of coiled ropes and it’s big overhead hydraulic crane.

  “Most important is to keep things tidy. When it’s blowing a gale and you can’t see a foot in front of you, you need to know exactly where everything is stowed. I’ll start Bo out with cleaning and learning how to coil lines and tie knots. We have a week at sea before we even set a line. He’ll spend it learning the basics. He’ll know everything about this vessel before too long.”

  Belowdecks, he showed Ian the living quarters. The bunks were tiny slices of space carved from the curve of the prow. The galley was surprisingly spacious, with a standard-size stovetop and a table with a high wooden rim around the perimeter. Another crew member was unpacking boxes of groceries into a storage room.

  “I believe in eating well while we’re at sea,” Tristan told Ian. “I never skimp on groceries. We’ll lay in more supplies in Dutch Harbor when we get there. Your boy won’t starve, unless he gets too seasick to eat. I also have protein drinks and soup in case he needs liquid nourishment.”

  Ian carefully surveyed every aspect of the vessel. Even to his uneducated eyes, the Desperado looked immaculately well-maintained. Every piece of equipment gleamed, every surface was clean, every crew member looked focused and capable. Tristan clearly took pride in his boat, as he should.

  “I’m impressed,” Ian told him. “Something tells me Bo’s going to learn a lot on this ship.”

  “Boat,” Tristan corrected. “A ship would be much bigger, more in the five hundred ton range.”

  Ian smiled ruefully. “There you have it. I’m learning something in just a short tour.”

  “Well it’s not brain surgery, but…” Tristan grinned in a self-deprecating way that made Ian like him even more.

  Chrissie had chosen her first boyfriend well.

  He startled when he heard Tristan say Chrissie’s name—apparently they’d both been thinking about her at the same time. “How do you and Bo know Chrissie?” he was asking.

  “Her car broke down and we stopped to help her.”

  Bo jumped in. “These other guys were hassling her, so we rescued her twice over.”

  Tristan shook his head with a funny smile. “That’s Chrissie Yates for you. You never know what’s going to happen around her.”

  Ian felt his spine snap straight. “It certainly wasn’t her fault.”

  “Didn’t mean that it was. She just has a way of…Chaos seems to find her, that’s all. Sometimes it’s good chaos. You can relax. I’m not criticizing her. She’s one of my oldest friends.”

  “I’m perfectly relaxed.” And yet Ian’s muscles tightened, as if he was poised to
attack if Tristan said anything against Chrissie. Was this another primal human instinct surfacing?

  An amused smile spread across Tristan’s face. “Hey, I get it. I was messed up over Chrissie for a while after she left.”

  “I’m not—“ He gritted his teeth. “You’re misunderstanding the situation.”

  “Okay.” In that easygoing way of his, Tristan shrugged one big shoulder and led the way out of the galley, toward the wheelhouse. ”I just hope you’re buckling your seat belt for the ride.”

  Ian had had about enough of those veiled digs. “Have you considered that Chrissie might have grown up since the time when you knew her?”

  Tristan looked at him sharply and then let out a laugh. “You know, I’ve always wondered what kind of man might be a good fit for Chrissie Yates. Hell, maybe it’s you. I like the way you keep standing up for her. She deserves someone who will do that. She dealt with a lot as a kid, much more than she lets on.”

  This conversation was confusing him. “So you care for her.”

  “Of course I care for her. If you do anything to hurt Chrissie, I’ll toss you overboard.” Tristan’s ferocious glare reminded Ian of Bo’s Blackbeard stories. But he stood his ground. They stared at each other as the deck rose and fell under their feet.

  Finally Tristan relaxed. “But our day came and went, and it’s not coming back. Chrissie had more problems than I could handle back then. She’s like a sister now.”

  Ian was tempted to interrogate Tristan about everything he knew about Chrissie. Tristan had known her as a kid, as a teenager, as a growing young woman—and Ian never would.

  But another part of him whispered something else—Tristan didn’t really know Chrissie. Because if he did, he wouldn’t be content with Chrissie being like a sister.

  Ian wasn’t. Not anymore. Not since that kiss. Or maybe not since he’d first seen her in that mountain pass.

  Twenty

  The question was, how to tell her that? All of a sudden, Chrissie was impossible to pin down.

  When he called to schedule the next flirting lesson, she announced that he didn’t need any more instruction.

  “Seriously, Ian, you can walk into any place where there are single ladies and you will draw attention. Then all you have to do is carry on a conversation just like the ones we’ve had and you’ll be fine!”

  “But—”

  “I have to go. I’m on my way to the property and the road’s icy as hell. I promised Prince Valiant I wouldn’t let anything else happen to him.”

  He heard a soft whine on the other end of the line. “Is Shuri with you?”

  “Yup. I’m showing her the place for the first time. There may be some rabbit-chasing.”

  “So you’re ready to face Yatesville on your own?”

  “I think so. I finally put on my big girl panties.”

  Why did she have to mention panties? That was just unfair. He wanted to be with her. Riding in Prince Valiant with Chrissie and Shuri sounded like paradise to him. Especially right now, as he stared at Old Crow’s MRI on the white box, thinking of the hard conversation ahead of him.

  “I can meet you there,” he offered. “It might be more difficult than you predict.”

  “No, thank you. I appreciate it, but I got this. I’ve dragged you into enough of my messes.”

  “Maybe I like your messes,” he said in a low voice.

  “What was that?”

  The radiologist tapped on the door, and he beckoned her to come in. “Nothing. I have to go. Please do call on me if you change your mind.”

  “I will.”

  But he knew she wouldn’t. Apparently his ability to read people had greatly improved, because he knew she was keeping him at a distance. Or maybe he knew how to read Chrissie and no one else. That was entirely possible.

  With everyone else, he needed an MRI.

  For instance, the radiologist was a woman named Jasmine. She was around his age, with gorgeous brown skin and a friendly smile. Sometimes he got the sense that she was flirting with him, but he was never completely sure.

  “What do you think, Dr. Finnegan?” she was asking him now.

  “I see no sign of a tumor or other pathologies. No lesions or infections. I suspect vascular compression of the trigeminal nerve.”

  She peered at the area he indicated. “I’ve never heard of that.”

  “It results in trigeminal neuralgia, which causes stabbing pain such as what Old Crow describes. The symptoms fit, and since the MRI has ruled out everything else, I’m going to move forward under that assumption.”

  An uneasy look came over her face. “Does it require surgery? He won’t like that.”

  “You know him personally?”

  “He’s my husband’s great uncle, more or less. He’ll probably say something about having lived a good life already and spending his last days at sea.”

  Husband. She was married, and he’d been wondering if she was flirting with him. This was exactly why he still needed help. Why did this always have to be so confusing?

  “Surgery wouldn’t be my initial recommendation. Is he open to medication? There are several options.”

  Jasmine’s troubled expression didn’t change. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “All I can do is present the options. It’s his choice.”

  “What will happen if he says no?”

  “The condition is degenerative,” he said gently. “But I promise I’ll do my best to make him understand.”

  “It’s just—” She sounded as if she about to burst into tears. “You have no idea how hard it is dealing with an old man who won’t listen to you!”

  Oh Lord. Ian froze, overwhelmed by the awkward situation. Should he comfort her? How could he comfort her? If only Chrissie was here to guide him. He’d been able to comfort her. But that was easy. It felt natural. This…

  “Dr. Finnegan.” Jasmine touched his arm briefly, her professional composure back in place. “I’m sorry. I made you uncomfortable. Old Crow really respects you. If you tell him he needs treatment, he might listen. Just don’t give up on him. He’ll act like he doesn’t care, but that’s not true. He does. Do you understand?”

  Ian nodded. “I’ll do whatever I can. I can promise you that.”

  Her wide smile—the one that he’d confused with flirting—returned. “We’re really lucky to have you here, Dr. Finnegan. Thank you.”

  With another nod, he moved past her and headed to the elevator that would take him to the temporary office he used when he was at Misty Bay Regional Hospital. There was no time to lose; he wanted to get Old Crow started on carbamazepine right away. And if Jasmine was right, he had his work cut out for him.

  Bethany Morrison ducked into the elevator just as the doors were closing. “Hi, Ian. How’s it going?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  She tucked her hair behind her ears and tilted her face toward him. She was another woman who had seemed to flirt with him, though he’d never been sure. “Of course.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Ian, I consider you a dear friend. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know.”

  He turned to face her, all his frustrations boiling over.

  “It’s not going well, Bethany. It’s not going well at all.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Difficult case?”

  “No no. It’s women. No offense.”

  “Go on.”

  He couldn’t have stopped if he’d wanted to. “I’ve been trying to learn more about understanding women’s signals and what constitutes attraction and interest, and what doesn’t. I’m still confused. There’s a woman who’s been…working with me. And I thought I was making some progress because talking with her is easy. The time flows when we’re together. I feel more confident in my interpersonal skills. I think about her when she’s not with me. And then she kissed me.”

  “Oh. Wow.” She started to smile, then stopped when she saw he wasn’t responding. “And that was a problem? You
didn’t want her to kiss you?”

  “I did. I kissed her back. I’d be happy to kiss her again. But now she says I don’t need her help anymore. She appears to be putting distance between us.”

  Bethany patted his arm with an expression of sympathy. “I remember what it’s like. Those early days when everything’s new and confusing and exhilarating. It’s fun, isn’t it?”

  “Fun?” That was the last word he would have chosen. “Elaborate on that, if you could.”

  “Well, look, I don’t know exactly what’s going on with you two. But that’s the glorious part. Neither do you. If you did, it would be…boring, right? Like reading a story that you already know?”

  He cocked his head, considering that. “Interesting analogy. But at least when you pick up a book, you know what kind of book it is. You know if it’s a mystery as opposed to the Oxford Textbook of Neurological Surgery. I thought we were reading one kind of book—”

  “Basics of Flirtation,” she suggested.

  “Yes. But after she kissed me, I assumed we had switched to another kind of book.”

  “The Joy of Sex.”

  He let out a laugh that echoed around the elevator. It surprised him; he wasn’t usually given to spontaneous bursts of laughter. It was almost as if he were channeling Chrissie’s reaction. He could practically see the sparkle in her eyes. “Not just yet.”

  The elevator dinged and the door opened onto the main hospital floor. He gestured for Bethany to step off first, then followed suit.

  “Why don’t you ask her on a date?” she suggested.

  “A date? But—” He couldn’t think of exactly why that was a bad idea. “We’re very different. I can’t imagine that we’d be compatible.”

  “I thought the exact same thing about me and Nate. In fact,” she leaned closer to him and dropped her voice to a whisper, “I thought you and I would make a good couple.”

  He startled in surprise. “You and I? But we’ve never dated.”

  “Because I had it all wrong. I thought Nate and I were too different, but I just didn’t know him well enough. Obviously you’re attracted to this woman and you enjoy spending time with her. You liked it when she kissed you.”