by Jo Davis
He hesitated for a couple of seconds. “Thomas Wayne Skyler.”
Shea began to clean the scratches on his right arm, hiding her surprise. Why hadn’t she known that before? Hearing his full name made him more . . . real, somehow.
Sean continued. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-three.”
“Who am I?”
Those pale eyes, a tad clearer now, danced with mischief. “My asshole of a captain. Sir.”
Sean laughed, the sound rusty, unused. “Since it appears you’re going to survive, I’ll let you get away with that. Just this once.”
“Thanks, Cap.”
He hasn’t really noticed me yet. How will he react when he sees me? Will he be glad? Angry? Distant? God, anything but the last.
Shea quelled her trepidation and took the plunge. “What about me? Do you know my name?”
He turned his head and blinked up at her for a few seconds. Then his face broke into a wide, happy smile. A smile that stole the oxygen from the room. Made her light-headed. “Shea. How’d you get here?”
“I work here, hotshot. Remember?” Finished cleaning his arm, she tossed the cloth and peeled off her gloves, then discarded those, as well.
His happiness dimmed some. “Oh. Right.”
Had he thought she’d come especially to see him?
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Quite a heroic feat you performed. Do you recall what happened?”
He snorted. “Told him not to move, but he panicked. Jumped on me. Almost turned me into a human wrecking ball.”
“You did good, kid,” Sean praised.
His cheeks colored, but he gave a slight nod. “Thanks.”
The captain rose to go. “They’re going to do a CAT scan as a precaution, but I believe you’ll be out of here in a few hours. When they spring you, go home. Get some rest, and we’ll see you in forty-eight.”
As she watched him leave, Shea heard Tommy say, “How have you been, Shea?”
She found him watching her, gaze intense. Hot. Not a trace of his ordeal in evidence, save for the obvious scrapes on his face and the ugly bruise forming on his right arm and shoulder.
In fact, with his blond hair tousled and framing his angular face, bronzed male nipples tightening from the chilly temperature in the room . . . he looked good enough to eat with chocolate syrup and a cherry.
Down that path awaited disaster.
“Just fine,” she said, hating how her voice squeaked. “You?”
His reply was a soft caress. “Lonely.”
One word. One glorious word conveying a wealth of meaning, and her blood sang.
What does that mean? He’s waiting for me? Breathe.
Suddenly, he sat up on the bed, swaying a little. “Whoa.”
She grabbed his arm to steady him. “What are you doing? Lie back down before you fall over.”
“No. I can’t ask you this while flat on my back.” He removed her hand from his arm and curled his fingers around hers.
Oh, no.“Ask me what?”
“Will you go with me to Zack and Cori’s wedding this Saturday? Be my date?”
Her throat shrank to the size of a pinhole. Why was it so hard to tell him? “I can’t. I—I already have a date.”
His smile wilted. And the genuine hurt in his blue eyes was something she hoped never to see again.
Slowly, he let go of her hand and she felt the loss of his warmth like a physical blow. “I see.”
“I’m sorry, Tommy. Really. But . . . save me a dance, okay?”
What a stupid thing to say. She had to get away from the pain etched on his face.
“I—I’m going to get another nurse to stay with you.”
Shea turned and fled the exam room without looking back.
Fleeing the pain in her heart wasn’t quite so simple.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jo Davis spent sixteen years in the public school trenches before she left teaching to pursue her dream of becoming a full-time writer. An active member of Romance Writers of America, she’s been a finalist for the Colorado Romance Writers Award of Excellence, has captured the HOLT Medallion Award of Merit, and has one book optioned for a major motion picture. She lives in Texas with her husband and two children. Visit her Web site at www.jodavis.net.
