Shaking my head with disgust, I pulled out my tape measure. It wasn’t really her ass I wanted to be looking at right now. It was her smile. But I’d ruined any chance of that.
I thought back to the man I’d been four years ago. I’d have been looking her in the eye and assuring her she was beautiful. My time overseas had changed me. Not the time itself, but what had happened there. Finding out firsthand that nothing lasts forever changes a person.
With a deep exhale, I took out my notebook and started taking measurements and drawing a diagram. I had to get this cut just right. Not only because I took pride in my work, but because the least I could do for the blonde doctor who was doubting herself was help her get this room ready for tomorrow.
The sound of footsteps in the doorway made me turn. She was back, wearing an apologetic expression.
“Sorry,” she murmured. “I left my phone in here.”
My heart raced as she ducked her head and went to pick her phone up from on top of a filing cabinet.
“Dr. Drake?” I said, clearing my throat to ease my nerves.
She turned, eyes wide. “It’s Jocelyn . . . I mean, Joss.”
Joss. It was a fitting name for this gorgeous woman. I rolled it around in my head a few times before continuing.
“Joss,” I said. “I just wanted to say that . . . well, you asked if you’re really that bad.” I ran a hand through my short hair, trying to think of the right thing to say. “And you’re not. You’re . . . beautiful.”
Her pink lips parted with surprise, and then their corners turned up a little. “Thanks, but you don’t have to—”
“I mean it,” I said. “I’ve seen you in the cafeteria before. Drinking tea and reading a book, usually. If I was the kind of guy who talked to people, I’d talk to you.”
Her brown eyes softened. “Well, you’re talking to me now.”
I nodded my agreement. “You don’t have to go. Unless you’ve got work to do. I mean, if you have work in here, that’s fine.”
Her smile widened. “I do have some things to do in here if you don’t mind. Is there anything you need that I can grab while I’m getting some stuff?”
“You guys have coffee?” I asked, getting up from the floor. “I could use a cup if you do.”
“Yeah.” She eyed me from head to toe. “Yeah, we have a cup . . . I mean we have coffee. It might not be fresh, though. Let me go check, and I’ll get you some. Bring you some. Coffee, I mean.”
She ran a hand over her ponytail, her cheeks slightly pink. Was I making her nervous? I’d never been smooth, and the past few years had left me even more abrasive than before.
But at least she didn’t look crushed anymore. A nervous woman was a hell of a lot better than an upset one.
Joss
The hot, moody guy from Mechanical had caught me way off guard. Beautiful? Me?
I grinned as I replayed his words in my head. If I was the kind of guy who talked to people, I’d talk to you.
Something told me that, coming from him, it was a huge compliment. Just his dark gaze up and down my body had me here dumping out the coffee and brewing a fresh pot to please him.
Hattie slid in next to me at the counter of the coffee station.
“Who’s that hot guy with the tools?” she whispered.
“Carson. He’s with Mechanical, and he’s fixing the cooling problems in my room. Or adding cooling, I guess.”
“So it’s hot in there?” Hattie fanned herself dramatically. “Maybe he needs to take his shirt off.”
“He wants coffee, so I don’t think he’s hot,” I said, measuring out grounds and dumping them into a clean filter.
“First of all, he’s hot and we both know it. His body alone makes me wish I had extra panties here.”
“Hattie.” I glared at her. “We’re at work. Geez.”
She rolled her eyes and continued. “My patient in three is progressing really well, and I’m in a good mood, so don’t blow it. Where was I? Oh, and second of all, you’re making him coffee?”
My cheeks heated. “It’s for me, too.”
“You don’t make coffee, Joss. You’ll drink the sludge from the bottom of the pot before you’ll make a new one.”
“Piss off,” I grumbled at her. “He’s helping me out, so yes, I’m making him some fresh coffee.”
“Ask him out.”
I gave her a dirty look. “He’s probably not even single, you crazy woman.”
“Find out. You’re not working tonight.”
“Well, he is. And I need to get back in there.”
She gave me a knowing smile but mercifully said nothing else. The good thing about having such a close friend was that she knew me very well. And the bad thing was also that she knew me very well.
It was unlike me to make fresh coffee, but it seemed the least I could do. I moved some supplies into the room while I waited for it to brew, trying not to look at Carson. He was working and needed to concentrate.
And he thought I was beautiful. I didn’t want to break the spell of happiness he’d cast over me with those words.
When the coffee was ready, I poured two Styrofoam cups full and headed back toward the room. Carson was about to walk in himself, and our eyes met as he held the door open for me. The indifference had faded. Now his eyes shone with warmth and a spark of familiarity.
Once he walked in and the door swung closed, I held out a cup of coffee, and he took it. Just his fingers brushing over mine sent a jolt from my head to my toes.
“Thanks,” he said, sipping the hot brew. “It’s good.”
His eyes were locked on mine, and their intensity unnerved me. When I sipped my coffee and tried to gather myself, he turned back to the wall he was working on.
I’d never felt such a quick magnetic attraction to a man. In the past, I’d been hit on by men with friendly advances and blatant come-ons. Carson was different from any man I’d met in the past, though. And now that I was past his quiet, withdrawn demeanor, I wanted to find out more about him.
“How’s it going so far?” I asked, propping open the door so I could haul more boxes into the room.
He glanced up. “Good. Let me get that for you.”
Before I could respond, he was up and halfway across the room.
“I’ve got it,” I said, dragging a box through the doorway.
“No, really. I want to.”
“I’m no weakling,” I said, elbowing him in the ribs. “Baby got back. I can do this.”
His single, low note of laughter was skeptical. “A nice ass isn’t gonna move heavy boxes, Joss. This’ll only take me a minute.”
I conceded, stepping aside. He stacked several boxes on top of each other and carried them all in together. The lines of muscles in his biceps flexed, and I imagined those arms around me.
“Your mother raised a gentleman,” I said as he turned to get the last of my boxes.
“Not my mama? You’re not from here, then?”
I smiled. “Nope. Michigan. You?”
“Missouri. Came here when I left the military.”
“Any reason? Girlfriend here?”
He cocked a brow at me and smiled. “No. Wouldn’t have just told you you’ve got a nice ass if I had a girlfriend. I got recruited for the job here and figured I’d try it.”
“Yeah?” I gave him a skeptical glance as he set down the last of my boxes. New Orleans was a long way from Missouri. I couldn’t help wondering if he was avoiding someone back home.
“If you want to spend some more time in front of the mirror, feel free,” he said. I looked over and saw that his serious expression matched his tone. But after a second he cracked a smile.
I melted onto the floor. He had a wide, perfect grin. Not only did his teeth look like something out of a toothpaste commercial, he also had a dimple in one cheek. It was so sweet and boyish that I just stared for a second before I came to my senses and remembered what he’d said.
“Yeah . . . sorry about that,” I mumble
d.
“Don’t be. A woman being in touch with her body is a good thing.”
“Oh, I’m in touch all right,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“What’s that mean?” he asked, picking up his drill.
My face burned as I contemplated telling him the truth.
“Just that . . . there’s no one handling that but me.”
“Handling . . . ?”
I buried my face in my hands. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, but I’d love to hear you say it.”
I shook my head and raised my face up to look at him. “I’m kind of awkward when it comes to that stuff. Weird, right? Vaginas are part of my daily life. I’ve studied them for years. But talking about my own makes me . . .”
“Blush,” he finished, pushing a battery pack into the drill.
I tried to cover my embarrassment with a laugh. “We can talk about your anatomy instead,” I said.
“My anatomy? You mean my cock? What would you like to know, doctor?”
My voice was lodged in my throat. I looked at him, wishing I were sexy and confident enough to sidle over and whisper something provocative in his ear. Instead, I looked at the ground.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he said.
“I’m not embarrassed,” I lied. “Just . . . tongue-tied.”
“I can’t concentrate on this if we’re gonna talk about your tongue and my cock in the same conversation.” He smiled and pulled a pencil from behind his ear.
I walked over to the wall where he was working and found an open spot. Pressing my back against the wall, I slid down to a sitting position and pulled my knees to my chest.
“Can I ask you something?” I said.
“Shoot,” he said, making a mark on the wall.
“Do you know about me?”
He looked confused. “Know what about you?”
“That I . . . I’m the one whose husband was getting it on with an ER nurse.”
He shook his head and made another measurement. “I mostly work alone. Don’t really hear much of that stuff.”
“Oh.” Now I wished I hadn’t mentioned it. “Well, that’s me.”
“I doubt that,” Carson said, making another pencil mark on the wall.
“No, it definitely is.”
“Your husband was a dumb fuck who cheated on you, but that’s just something that happened to you. It’s not who you are.”
I smiled at his assessment. “Don’t get me wrong; I’ve moved on. I just wondered if you knew.”
“I have to cut into this wall,” he said. “Might want to stand back.”
“Sorry, I’m keeping you from work. I’ll do my thing over here.”
“No, you’re good. I just don’t want to get drywall dust all over you.”
The tool he was using roared to life, and he cut a rectangular hole in the wall. When he was done, I walked back over and leaned against the wall he was working on.
“What branch of the military were you in?” I asked.
“Army.”
“For how long?”
“Five years. One of my good friends from high school was killed in combat during my second year of college, and I enlisted right after it happened.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He nodded silently.
“Can I ask what kind of work you did in the army?”
“Intelligence.”
I sensed he was closing up again, and a subject change was in order. “Seen any good movies lately?” I asked.
He gave me an amused look. “What is this, Twenty Questions?”
“Maybe.”
He wiped his forearm across his forehead to clear away the sweat. “Okay. But I get to ask you twenty questions, too.”
I licked my lips, nervousness setting in. “Is anything off limits?”
“I’m an open book,” he said, grinning.
“Okay. You want more coffee?”
“Nope. Next question?”
I gave his shoulder a playful shove. “That one doesn’t count!”
“Okay, starting now then. And do you guys have bottled water? This room’s gotta be eighty degrees.”
“I’ll grab some,” I said. “Be ready for your first question when I get back.”
“I’m ready,” he called after me, a playful note in his deep voice. “It’s you I’m worried about.”
I couldn’t keep the grin off my face as I made my way to the break room. I hadn’t flirted with a man in . . . well, a really long time. I didn’t actually want to do the math.
“Look at you,” Hattie said, looking up from the small recliner she was curled up in while eating leftover Chinese carryout with chopsticks. “I take it the hot handyman put that smile on your face?”
“Maybe,” I admitted, opening the fridge and taking out two bottles of water. “He’s different from anyone I’ve ever been interested in.”
“Then I like him. Different is good.”
I took my hair down from its ponytail and combed my fingers through it. “It’s just . . . you know, it’s not even a thing. But he’s a man, and he’s obviously attractive, and it feels good to flirt again.”
“It might be a thing. Give it a chance.”
I went to pull my hair back up, but she pointed her chopsticks in my direction. “Leave it down. There’s a toothbrush, deodorant, and perfume in my locker if you need them.”
“Do I smell?” I gaped at her and sniffed my pits.
“No. I’m just saying, in case things get really good.”
I rolled my eyes. “We’re just talking. There’ll be no hooking up in the research room.”
“Be bad, Joss. You can do it.” Her tone was mischievous, and I grinned at her in spite of myself.
Waving, I left the break room and headed back to the research room. Just the thought that Carson was there made my heart rate pick up speed. He was using tools to do manly work, which was actually pretty hot. Hotter than the forceps most of the men I hung out at work with used.
He was cutting another hole when I walked in, and I passed him the water.
“Thanks,” he said, gesturing at the wall. “This’ll work for now, but one of the guys who bends metal will need to finish off the ducts for me.”
“Did I tell you how much I appreciate this?”
“That your first question?”
I shook my head and smiled, heading to the row of boxes he’d lined up for me along one wall.
“Here comes your first question: Why did your parents name you Carson?”
“They were big Johnny Carson fans.”
“Really?”
“You let me off easy,” he said, not looking up from his work. “My turn.”
“Okay, let’s have it.”
His face scrunched into an aggravated expression, and he reached into his pocket, pulling out a buzzing cell phone. He read the screen and grunted before looking at me.
“ER. Sounds like a broken thermostat. I’m gonna run down and fix it.”
My excitement over our game deflated as he got up from the ground. He brushed the dust from his jeans and met my eyes across the room.
“You’ll be here when I get back?” he asked.
“Yep. I’m not going anywhere for the next fourteen hours or so.”
“When I come back, I’m gonna ask you the most kick-ass question of your life. It’s gonna blow your mind.”
“Is that so?”
He shrugged and grinned. “Maybe. Just be here.”
“I will.”
He grabbed his canvas tool bag and left. My excitement was back, making me warm and eager in places that hadn’t been warm or eager in a very long time.
Chapter Five
Carson
I pushed open the stairwell door and stepped into the hallway leading to the ER. A woman’s shrill scream sounded from somewhere close. Instinct made me reach for my hip, but of course there was no weapon there.
With a deep exhale, I rounded a corner and saw the source
of the panicked sound. A middle-aged woman wearing what looked like a bedsheet was yelling at a young African American security guard.
“Ma’am, please relax,” he said, holding out a hand in a gesture of peace.
“These bastards are trying to kill me!” she screamed, a wild look in her eyes as she glanced around. I’d seen the desperation in her expression before. She wanted to escape.
“You need to sit down,” the guard said. “The nurse is getting you some medicine. You can’t assault the hospital staff.”
“They’re trying to poison me,” she said sadly, scrunching her face. When she advanced on him, the guard rolled his eyes and held her back.
I slowed my pace and met the guard’s eyes.
“You need anything, man?” I asked.
“Naw, thanks.”
The ER was busy tonight, with lots of people moving through the hallways. I went to the desk, where a receptionist was fielding a phone call. She was just hanging up when I stopped in front of her.
“Carson,” she said brightly. “Thanks for coming.”
I glanced at her nametag. “Hey, Heidi. Which thermostat’s on the blink?”
“The one in waiting room number one. I turned it down, but nothing’s happening.”
“I’ll take a look.”
As I walked into the crowded waiting room the sounds of voices engaged in animated conversations, a crying kid, and the blare of a television hit me full force.
A woman who looked maybe nineteen or twenty sat in a chair next to the thermostat. She had a black eye and a bloody nose. It was no surprise that she had her arms wrapped protectively around her. She stared blankly into space.
Something inside me stirred. I’d seen women and kids injured overseas, but I’d never grown numb to it like some of my buddies had. I hated to intrude on the invisible barrier of protection this woman had formed around herself.
“Ma’am?” I said softly. She glanced up at me, and I thought of my little cousin Elaina This woman should’ve been a carefree college student like Elaina was right now.
“What?” she said, shaking off her daze.
“I need to look at this thermostat. Just didn’t want to scare you or anything.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh. Okay.”
Much as I liked the solitude this job often provided, I’d never been able to look away from someone in trouble. I wanted to tell this woman to turn in whoever had done this to her. But it wasn’t my place.
Healing Touch Page 3
