by Tina Beckett
She studied it. The facial features were embroidered, and the black shoes were stitched from felt. There were smudges of what looked like dirt here and there and the thread on one of the shoes was fraying. Her eyes widened. This doll had been played with, not purchased from one of the island’s tourist shops.
She realized that the clinking of glassware had stopped and when she looked at Nate, she saw he was watching her with a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He took a sip of it. Then another.
“This is an interesting doll. Did you know that mothers here sometimes make these for their daughters? I had one when I was younger. I probably still have it somewhere, in fact.”
“Yes. I knew.” He took another sip of his drink and came over to her with the glass of wine. His eyes were not on the doll. They were on something off to the side.
Her curiosity got the best of her. “Where did you get it?”
A muscle worked in his cheek, looking much like it had last night. A sense of foreboding came over her, and Sasha thought for a minute he wasn’t going to answer her question. Then he said, “It was given to me. Let’s go talk about the gala, shall we?” His hand gestured toward the sofa on the other side of the room.
He’d made it about as plain as it could be. He didn’t want to talk about the doll. But why? Well, that was his prerogative, and this time, she wasn’t going to butt in where she wasn’t welcome. With one last glance at the lonely figure on the shelf, she took her wine and walked back over to the couch.
* * *
People had asked Nate about Marie’s doll before, and he’d always responded to them without hesitation. But when he’d noticed Sasha studying it, a rock had suddenly gathered in the pit of his stomach. It was the last thing he’d wanted to talk about after the meeting about a glitzy fund-raising gala, even though a portion of the money would go toward awareness of schistosomiasis, including water testing and prevention, as well as antibody tests and treatment.
So he’d snatched at the excuse to talk about something else. Anything else. But the second Sasha’s face had closed in on itself, he knew he’d been blunt. Too blunt. But unless he wanted to go into a full-scale explanation, it was too late to rectify his mistake.
She sat on the couch, stiff and unyielding, and held her phone tightly in her hands. “So tell me about the meals you’ve had in the past.”
He hesitated, the need to confide in her sneaking up on him again. He shook his head to rid himself of the impulse. Sitting in the chair across from her, he opened one of the file folders he’d brought over. In it were pictures from the past three galas. All three of them very different, but each of them elegant in its own way.
“These are shots from our other events. It doesn’t have to look exactly like these though.”
Sasha took the pictures from him and studied them, turning some of them sideways when the perspective changed. A movement caught his eye. She was methodically raising the heel of her right foot in and out of her shoe. She lifted it for a second or two before wiggling it back down. Up again, then pushing it back down.
Her feet hurt. She’d probably been in those shoes all day, and now he’d asked her to stay in them even longer. Well, technically she’d asked to speak with him, but still...
“Sasha.” He waited for her to look up before he finished. Her dark eyes met his, a question in their depths. “You can take your shoes off, if you’d like. Your feet look like they’re bothering you.”
Her nose squinched up in a way that made his stomach twist. “I was trying to be subtle, but yes, they’re new and it was stupid of me to have worn them today.”
“No one will see you in here.” He smiled. “It will be our little secret.”
She blinked, eyes holding his. “Are you sure?”
“Sure that it will be a secret?” He nodded at the sheaf in her hands. “I promise it won’t end up in that file folder.”
Sasha laughed and the sound tickled something in his chest, and he let the weight of Marie and that doll slide away. At least for a few minutes.
“Okay, then, as long as you promise.”
“I do.”
She slid her feet from the shoes, using one to push the footwear to the side. Then she let them sink into the carpet, her toes actually curling into it and tightening on the fibers. Parts down low tightened, flickered to life.
Damn. Time to talk about something else.
Before he could, though, Sasha sighed. “Thank you. This feels heavenly.”
Yes, it did. And it had nothing to do with the carpet. “I’ve been known to stretch out on it, when my back is hurting.”
Her brows went up. “You have back problems?”
“Just the normal twinges from age.” He’d fallen from a swing set as a child and every once in a while his L2 vertebra ached.
“Age...righ-h-ht.”
The way she drew the word out forced a laugh from him. “It’s either blame age or stupidity for it.”
“Stupidity?”
“Let’s just say jumping from a swing into a mud puddle doesn’t always go as planned. It’s all in the landing. And this one wasn’t good.”
“Ouch.” Her head tilted. “I can’t picture you swinging.”
For some reason the last word caught his attention in a totally inappropriate way. A funny retort came to mind, only she might not find it nearly as funny. “For good reason. The only place I swing nowadays is on my hammock.”
“Hammock? You have one?”
“I do. The catering team actually borrowed it for one of the galas. There should be a picture in there somewhere.”
He moved to the couch, anxious to shift his thoughts in another direction. She handed him the snapshots and he sifted through them, finding the one he was looking for. “Here.”
Sasha leaned closer to look at it to study the scene. Rough wooden pillars that were made to look like tree trunks boasted snaking vines and twinkle lights. His hammock was strung between two of them, layered with pillows and some kind of throw blanket.
“I love that. Something like this would be very doable for my mom. It wouldn’t look exactly like this, obviously, but a tropical theme would really fit with Saint Victoria.”
“Yes, I think this was my favorite gala.”
“I can see why.”
Her toes shifted in the carpet yet again, sending a sudden shaft of heat through his midsection. Her toenails were bare of polish and looked clean and natural. She was completely different from Tara. But then again, his former girlfriend had to maintain a polished appearance for his parents’ clinic.
Not that Sasha lacked polished. She just didn’t need it. There was a beauty about her that...
He cleared his throat. “So you think your mom can do this?”
“I don’t think she can. I know she can. She’s amazing.”
Her mom wasn’t the only one who was amazing.
Sasha’s eyes came up, and he realized he hadn’t responded to her statement. But right now, he wasn’t sure he could come up with anything coherent. “Are you worried, Nate?”
He was. But it had nothing to do with the gala and everything to do with her. And the crazy jolt he always got when she said his name. Maybe it was because she’d made such a big deal about not using it. But, more likely, it was the way her velvety tones wrapped around the sounds, holding on to them before releasing them into the air.
“No.” He paused. “Are you?”
Her thumb brushed across the glossy surface of one of the prints. “I...wasn’t.”
“Until now?”
She nodded, the tip of her tongue coming out to moisten her lips. That’s when he knew. She felt the change in atmosphere, just like he had. It was the same sensation he’d gotten on the balcony last night.
Maybe it would keep happening every time they were in a room together. Unless he did something radi
cal about it. Something to quench the sparks that were starting to sting the lining of his chest.
Maybe one kiss would put it behind him, just like it had with any other woman he’d been with since he’d broken things off with Tara.
Or maybe it would be like that accident on the swing, where what he’d thought would happen when he jumped ended up turning into something he’d never do again.
Wasn’t that the same thing? Either way, he’d try it once and be done with it.
He set down the picture he was still holding in his hand, and took the ones she had. Then he stood to his feet, reaching for her hand.
When she placed her fingers on his palm, it was as if an electric current surged through him, holding him fast in its grip. It was there when he closed his fingers around hers. It was there when he slowly pulled her to her feet.
And it was still there when his palms cupped her face, his thumbs sliding over it in a way that mimicked what she’d done with the photo a few minutes ago.
Suddenly he realized this was nothing like jumping from a swing and misjudging his landing. This was going to be far more dangerous. But like that foolish decision to leap out into the air, it was already too late to reconnect with the swing. All he could do was sail into space, and hope he survived the fall.
CHAPTER FOUR
HIS FACE WAS inches from hers. But he wasn’t moving any closer. Not so his fingers, which were brushing across her skin in a way that drove her wild.
Please, please don’t pull away this time.
The second his gaze landed on her, she shuddered. The molten depths of his pupils said this was nothing like last time.
“I just needed to see,” he muttered. “Just needed to know...”
Then his mouth was on hers, and her world turned inside out.
She wasn’t sure how this had happened. One moment they’d been talking about the gala. But when he’d come to sit next to her, her heart had started drumming in her chest as fear and anticipation swirled to life inside her. Fear that this was going to end up like last night. But anticipation that it might not. Maybe this time...
And it was better than even her sexiest dream. His mouth was plastered to hers as if he couldn’t get enough. And the feel of it was shattering and amazing all at once.
His hand sank into her hair, his fingers closing around it. But it wasn’t to control. It was as if he needed to anchor himself somehow. And she relished it, relished the reality of his arms around her.
His lips left her mouth, trailing to her ear, nipping at the lobe and making her shiver.
“Nate...” The whispered word came out before she could stop it. But he’d talked about lying on the floor, and right now, the carpeting seemed so inviting. How easy would it be to just sink down and have him follow her. Cover her body with his...
Images flooded her mind, causing parts of her to soften in readiness.
Or there was the couch.
Her hand went to the back of his head, drawing him back to her mouth. She opened, and his tongue accepted her silent invitation, sliding in and filling her, making her whimper with need.
A sudden loud knock at the door shocked her into immobility. Then she realized what it was and wheeled backward, their mouths coming apart, hand in her hair sliding free.
The back of her hand went to her mouth, trying to yank her brain back from wherever she’d left it.
His eyes speared hers. “Hell, sorry, Sasha. I...”
“Answer it.”
The reality was, if he said anything to her right now, she was likely to burst into tears.
Giving her one last glance, he strode over to his desk, standing behind it before he told whoever it was to come in.
The door opened and a face she didn’t recognize glanced her way for a second before looking back at Nate.
“We have a chopper coming in bringing a patient who has severe injuries to his arm and leg after being pulled into a piece of machinery. The leg was almost severed...he’s lost a lot of blood and right now and Dr. Sizer is on vacation, so—”
“I’m on my way. Get him as stable as you can and grab an operating room.”
“Thanks.”
The man withdrew.
“Sorry, Sasha, I need to—”
“I’m coming with you. I’m a surgeon and you might need some help.” The temptation to just fade away into the night was strong, but she wasn’t going to leave a patient in need. Besides, Nate was her ride home.
And that kiss? Not something she was going to think about right now.
He hesitated for a minute before nodding and saying, “Thank you.”
It was then that she realized that her feet were still bare and her shoes were somewhere behind her. God! Hopefully the man at the door had been too busy to notice, or too concerned about the patient to care.
And right now, that’s exactly what she needed to be. Too concerned to care.
* * *
Nate glanced at Sasha as she stuffed her feet back into her shoes, remembering they were hurting her. But he really did need the help. Grant Sizer was their trauma surgeon and this was his field. But Nate had dealt with some pretty traumatic injuries.
They went down in the elevator and out onto the surgical floor.
“Operating room three,” one of the nurses called out as they hurried by.
Side by side they scrubbed in at adjoining sinks. Side by side they entered the room and allowed two surgical nurses to glove them up.
Nate went over to the table and took over from the ER doctor who had been overseeing the process of keeping the man alive.
“What have we got?”
“Severe spiral lacerations to the right arm, and the right leg is basically held together by the bone. Much of the soft tissue has been sliced all the way through. We’ve clamped the arteries.” He looked at him. “We’re going to need several hands on deck for this one.”
He glanced at the IV pole next to the man’s head, where a pint of blood was already hung and dripping.
“Dr. James is a surgeon from Saint Victoria Hospital. If you can find me a microsurgeon, we’ll tag team it.”
“I’ve got one on call now.”
“Good.” He glanced at Sasha. “Can you take a look at the arm, while I tackle the leg?”
“Of course.”
“We’ll need a couple of sets of instruments.”
One of the nurses stepped forward. “We’re ready for you. We have other surgical nurses on standby if needed.”
His hospital had always run like clockwork and this was one of those times that he was extremely grateful it did.
He moved to the patient’s leg and assessed the injuries. It was bad. And just like the other doctor had said. There were huge slashes in the midthigh through which pearly bone was visible. The bone had probably prevented the limb from being completely severed. He could handle reattaching the large swaths of muscle and skin, if they could get the microsurgeon to work on the smaller vessels and nerves.
“How are you up there?”
Sasha glanced up at him, her eyes sharp and aware. Thank God they’d barely had any alcohol. That kiss had interrupted all of that. Strange that he should be grateful for something that never should have happened, but he was.
“Several deep cuts, but they haven’t reached the bone. Lots of work to piece everything back together, but I can do it.”
Thank God she’d stayed. “Thanks, Sasha. Go ahead and start.”
She nodded at him, her eyes crinkling above her mask as she smiled. “I already have.”
It was then that he noticed the needle and suture material in her hand.
Time passed in a way that was surreal whenever he was in surgery. It both dragged and sped by as he sutured by rote. The microsurgeon had arrived within fifteen minutes of being called and they both worked on differ
ent sections with the other surgeon doing the finer work and Nate doing the bulkier repairs. Periodically he glanced up at Sasha and saw her eyes fixed on what she was doing, the concentration on her face intense as she worked silently, calling out for different instruments periodically.
As he put the last suture in place, he glanced up at the clock and saw six hours had gone by.
And Sasha was nowhere to be seen. The arm was neatly bandaged, so she’d finished it all by herself.
They woke the patient up, and thankfully he regained consciousness fairly quickly. After losing almost half of his blood volume, there’d been the fear of brain damage. But he responded to simple questions with a nod. Then he was wheeled away into recovery.
Ted Daly, the microsurgeon, clapped him on the back. “Good work. I think we saved his leg. I didn’t even see his arm. How bad was it?”
“Not nearly as bad as what we had, from what Dr. James said.”
Ted glanced his way. “Did she already leave?”
“I’m not sure. She’s from Saint Victoria Hospital, came here for the meeting on the gala.”
“Right. I thought I recognized her. I liked her ideas of using local businesses.”
“Yes, so did I.” He mused, glad that everyone seemed positive about those suggestions. But right now, he was wondering where she’d gone. Had she asked for the shuttle to come after all?
He didn’t want her to leave without trying to figure out what had happened between them in his office. Or at least figure out where to go from here. How to backtrack and not let this interfere with their working relationship, since with her mom’s involvement in the gala there was bound to be some overlap.
“Well, I’m headed home again. If you see Dr. James before I do, please thank her. She probably saved us a couple more hours of work tonight.”
If he saw her before Ted did? Was the man going to seek her out?
And if he did? It should mean nothing to him. Nothing at all.
