by Audra North
This was the part of her job that she hated.
It wasn’t the fact that her residents died. They were quite elderly, after all, and it was not unexpected. Rather, it was how she had to reduce the nuances of who they were and what had happened to them into unfeeling sentences, as though they were nothing more than items to be observed, catalogued, and then filed away.
The phone on her desk rang, and she grabbed at it, grateful for an excuse to take a break from the report.
“New Beginnings.”
“Carrie, it’s Kate.”
Carrie frowned at the sound of the voice on the other end of the line. “Kate, what’s wrong? You sound awful. Are you sick?”
A barking cough, followed by a groan, and then Kate’s rasping voice again. “Yes. Ugh. I have bronchitis. I saw the doctor this morning, and he gave me antibiotics, but given how sensitive some of our residents are to germs, he advised that I stay away for several days. I’m so sorry. I can’t come in to help this week.”
Carrie gripped the phone with both hands and shut her eyes. “Oh, no. It’s all right. You’re sick, for goodness sake. And I appreciate your concern for our residents, but remember that you have to take care of yourself, too.”
“You’re the best, Carrie. Thank you. I feel terrible.”
“Go get some rest, you poor thing. I’ll see you next week, okay? Feel better.”
Carrie hung up after Kate’s mournful good-bye and dropped her head into her hands. What was she going to do? They had two new residents arriving this week, and Kate had offered to work extra shifts to help make sure everything went smoothly. Without her, they would be shorthanded by half a position.
Bad luck comes in threes. Carrie could still recall her great-grandmother’s heavily accented voice making that dire warning, even though Babka had been gone for years. She had forgotten what little Polish she’d learned as a child from the family matriarch, but remembered that saying like it was yesterday.
First Rosie’s death. Then Kate’s cancellation. What next?
“Carrie?”
A voice from the doorway startled her, and she nearly fell out of her chair. She whipped her head up off her hands to stare at the man standing there.
Greg.
Since they’d never met outside of the hospital, she’d only ever seen him in scrubs or a white coat. But today…wow. He was wearing black trousers, tailored perfectly for his body, and the close fit showed off a trim waist and long legs.
“I can see I definitely made a strong impression yesterday if you’re speechless at the mere sight of me.” There was laughter in his voice, but something else caught at Carrie, too.
Shame.
She blushed and chided herself for staring at him like that, especially after he’d all but broken down in her arms yesterday. The reason she had been appointed the director of New Beginnings last year, at the relatively young age of twenty-eight, was because she had proven time and again how well she understood the importance of supporting the dignity of their residents.
She brought her eyes to his, hoping her cheeks weren’t bright red. She already looked awful after a sleepless night spent crying over Rosie.
“Dr. Stanton, what a nice surprise. Please, come in and have a seat.” She used his title deliberately, like she had yesterday, in the hopes that somehow it would remove some of the need she felt whenever she so much as looked at this man.
“It’s Greg, please. And I’m sorry to drop in unannounced, but I did want to follow up with you about Mrs. Hernandez as soon as possible. I regret that I was, um, unfocused yesterday, and I appreciate you giving me a chance to make up for my behavior.” His lips twisted in a wry smile.
She shook her head. “It’s no problem. I was actually writing the report on Rosie and would appreciate some time away from it.”
He took the chair across from her and both of them settled into their seats. “I’m sorry for your loss. You must have been very close.”
She nodded. “I’d like to think that I have a good relationship with all of the residents here. But Rosie was special. She didn’t have children of her own, and her husband died nearly a decade ago. When she arrived here a few years back, I was still the facility nurse. But we…clicked. And we became friends.”
“She clearly trusted you a great deal, since I noticed you signed all of her release forms.”
It wasn’t often the case that Carrie was chosen to make all the medical decisions for her residents. Most had authorized her to act on their behalf in case of emergency, and usually when something like this happened, family members were notified immediately and were able to show up at the hospital in time to handle most of the next steps for patient care. But Rosie was one of the few who had only Carrie.
“She didn’t have anyone else. At least, no one nearby. She has one distant relative who agreed to take care of the funeral arrangements remotely.” Her voice broke then, and she had to look up at the ceiling and blink rapidly to keep from crying. Rosie, who had been so full of love and life, exiting the world with no one but Carrie around…
A hand fell on her shoulder.
Greg had made his way around the desk and was standing next to her chair, making soft sounds of comfort as he patted her shoulder. That small gesture of compassion broke her control, and the tears spilled over anew.
She turned, resting her forehead against his arm, and Greg’s hand moved up to cup her cheek. The tears trickled between his palm and her face, the salty liquid, then cooling as he moved his fingers into her hair.
Sexy, strong fingers. Rough hair on his wrist where she brought her hand up to grip him, seeking support. She rolled her head back and forth over his arm, feeling the strength of bone and muscle beneath her as he rubbed the back of her head while she cried.
By the time the tears finally petered out, his sleeve was sopping wet.
God. What a mess. All of it. She’d gone and made everything so awkward.
She pushed to her feet, wavering a bit when she stood too fast. He put his arms around her, steadying her, and his embrace felt so suddenly, achingly right that she couldn’t move away. One hand moved up to stroke her back, while the other encircled her waist, holding her tightly to him.
How did she think it awkward, seconds ago? This was perfect.
“I’m sorry again, Carrie,” he murmured against her hair.
It felt so good to be in a man’s arms. How long had it been since she had been held by a man who wasn’t her father or her brother?
Too long.
And she was beginning to feel the effects of their closeness and the desire for him that she’d been hiding, her breasts swelling against his chest while the ache of emptiness between her legs grew stronger. She forced herself to move away before she did anything foolish, like push her hips into his. It was impossible to forget the way he had felt in her arms yesterday. So good.
He stepped back then, too, hesitating for a moment before taking a seat on the edge of her desk. She sank into her chair, realized that this angle put her right at eye level with his crotch, and immediately angled her head back to look up at his face.
“Thank you. It will take time, but I’ll get there.” Carrie straightened her posture and took a deep, calming breath. “How about you? How are you feeling today?”
He looked down at the desk, his left hand fiddling with a glass paperweight that one of her residents had given her last year but she never used. “I’m okay.” A loud sigh escaped from between his lips. “I truly regret what happened yesterday.”
She blinked. She’d just been thinking about how connected she’d felt to him, more than anything they’d shared during their year of building a strange friendship in the ER, and now he was saying he regretted it?
Don’t be foolish. He wasn’t thinking about it in “that way” at all.
She shook it off. Greg Stanton wasn’t here to stroke her ego. He’d done as she’d asked and come to see her, even if he was pushing himself too hard to get past a serious probl
em. That wasn’t any of her business, though. He wasn’t one of her residents.
“It’s okay.” She made herself say the words, even though she felt nothing close to okay. She felt completely turned around. “I hope you’ll consider seeing a specialist for your panic attack, though, especially if they’re occurring with any frequency. Some of New Beginnings’s past residents have been prone to anxiety and—”
“I’ll be fine. I took the week off.”
The words came out harshly, cutting into her professional-sounding speech. But it wasn’t the intensity that surprised her. Greg wasn’t the kind of guy who took vacations. Ever.
“How did you manage that?”
He palmed the paperweight and rolled it from hand to hand. She watched the way those long fingers stroked over the smooth glass and couldn’t help but wonder how they would feel on her body. She pushed the thought away.
“I’m still on call for things like transplants and such, but I only help out in the ER a couple of nights a week, anyway. It wasn’t too difficult to move things around a bit.”
“I see,” she said, even though she didn’t. She might not be the world’s foremost expert on anxiety, but she’d seen some of the residents deal with it, and a mere week off wouldn’t be enough to stop whatever was happening to him.
First he showed up here shortly after his attack, and now he thought he could get better in a week? What was it with men and denial? Were any of them capable of owning up to the obvious truth?
Calm down. You’re being too harsh. He’s trying to do the right thing. Stop letting the memories of Eddie get in the way of being fair.
It wasn’t easy, though. It had been well over a year since Eddie had finally faced his own truth and she’d been left with an unworn wedding dress and a lot of tears, but sometimes she found herself still so angry. She’d been used and discarded by a man who had spent too long hiding from his problems.
But even though Greg didn’t seem to be giving his anxiety as much attention as she wanted him to, that didn’t make him Eddie. At least Greg admitted to his anxiety. And then there was the fact that Greg wasn’t her boyfriend, or even her lover, even though she’d often thought about what that would be like. How it would feel to have those long legs between hers…
She drew in a ragged breath, feeling off-kilter. Her thoughts were all over the place this morning. “What are you planning to do with the time off?”
He lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know. I thought I would rest, but it occurred to me this morning, as I was driving here, that I’ve never actually had time off like this. I don’t really know how to rest.” His hands stopped, the paperweight suspended between them, and he huffed out a laugh. “I can’t believe I told you that.”
She couldn’t believe it, either. Greg was rarely forthcoming about his personal life, despite the hours they’d spent together in the hospital whenever she ended up there with one of her residents.
“I’m sure I would enjoy seeing whatever part of you that you wish to show me,” she replied, trying to sound casually accepting, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she realized that they sounded much more like a proposition, especially given her secret desire for him. She blushed hotly. “What I mean to say is, you’re always welcome here. I wouldn’t turn you away.”
God, still not right. Just shut up. His lips were quirked, as though he wanted to laugh but was trying not to. She meant what she’d said, though. Greg might be a bit lacking on the self-awareness front, but he’d shown up today and had the courage to apologize to her face. Not like Eddie, who had broken up with her in a very dramatic, unapologetic—almost even self-immolating—e-mail.
She shook off the bad memory and forced a smile. “Actually, I’m afraid I do need to get back to work. I’m shorthanded this week and have a lot to do.”
He nodded. “Of course. You’re busy. Thanks for the time.”
The way he said it, almost as though he were reluctant to leave, made her wonder… He had a week off at the same time that she needed extra help around here. He was more than qualified, from a clinical perspective, to assist her, and he seemed like a guy who cared about doing the right thing. Maybe being around people like her residents, who had seen and done it all and could put everything into perspective might be good for him…
Before she even knew what she was saying, Carrie had blurted, “Wait. Why don’t you spend the week here?”
One of those gorgeous, dark eyebrows quirked up, and she fought to keep her heart from racing. “Here?”
Now that it was out there, Carrie found herself warming to the idea. She nodded excitedly. “Yes, here. Volunteering. Our residents are always happy to meet new people, and it would be a low-key place for you to come every day. If you got called to the hospital, of course they’d understand.”
If she were being completely honest, getting to look at him and smell him and maybe even touch that hard-muscled arm every day had an incredible appeal.
Carrie gave herself a mental pinch. With thoughts like that, maybe she was the one who needed professional help.
He stared at her. “You’re serious.” It wasn’t a question, but she answered, anyway.
“Yes, of course I’m serious.”
He set the paperweight down with a loud thunk and ran a hand through his hair. “God, I don’t know. Maybe. People here are elderly, right? And they have medical conditions?”
She nodded slowly. What was he getting at?
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but shut it again immediately. He pushed off the desk, pacing away from her, then turned back again. “I don’t know. I don’t think I can take more people dying on me.”
He closed his mouth tightly, as though trying to prevent any more words from escaping.
“You’re…a heart surgeon,” she began, but he interrupted her.
“I know. It’s crazy. But—damn it.” He blew out a breath. “More often these days, I’m failing at keeping people alive, and I-I need a week away from death. After this, I’ll be fine. I’m sure.”
She blinked. “So you’re saying that you’re not sure about helping out here because you’re afraid one of the residents will die this week?”
“Yeah.” He shook his head. “I mean, no. I’m not afraid. I need a short break, that’s all.”
Poor man. He didn’t seem to realize how much, in fact, he needed this, to reconnect with life. One week off, while still on call, wasn’t going to cure anything.
She searched for the right way to communicate what she wanted to say. “Greg,” she began, and those honey-colored eyes bore into hers, “I admire that you want to save every person who passes through the operating room doors. But by the time someone needs to see you…well, it’s not the same experience as being around the residents here. I can tell you from experience that knowing and appreciating the complexity of life by spending time with those who have been through a lot of it teaches you to put death into perspective.”
He snorted. “Are you really trying to convince me that getting to know people will make it less shitty when they die? Because I’m not buying that.”
She shook her head. “No, certainly not. But in a place like New Beginnings, you meet a lot of people who have accepted that death is a necessary part of life, so the fear of it isn’t as strong.”
“I’m not afraid.”
Yes, you are.
But she didn’t say that. “I was talking about them. The residents. Spending time with them might help you, and I think they’d like having you here.”
He gave a low laugh and leaned forward, placing both hands on the desk and leveling his gaze on her. Carrie found herself blushing again at the hot, intense look in his eyes.
“And what about you?” It came out no louder than a murmur, but it hit her hard. The way he was staring at her, the way his voice slid over her skin, calling up images from a few moments ago that she’d been trying to suppress.
“What about me?” Damn. She even sounded aroused. Breathless
.
He smiled as though he could read her mind. “Would you like having me here, too?”
Was he coming on to her? She tried to regain some composure. “Of course. You’re a medical professional. You’re capable—”
His laugh interrupted her. “You really don’t realize, do you?”
“Realize what?”
“I want you.”
…
The look on Carrie’s face was priceless. Surprised, amused, and—interested.
“You-you—” she stammered.
“I want you. But you probably already figured that out. I’ve wanted you for a while. I’m not trying to scare you. I do want to get to know you better. A lot better. Knowing that, if you still want me to help out here this week…” Her eyes were still huge in her face, and he sighed. “I’m sorry. God. I’m not trying to be an asshole. I’m trying to be honest. I know I need some time off, and I’m taking it. But all I’m trying to do is get a handle on these attacks, not change my whole life philosophy.”
She blinked. “I—do—appreciate honesty.” Her words came out haltingly, but her voice was steady. “And that was definitely honest. And unexpected.” She drew in a shaky breath.
She hadn’t denied wanting him, too. But she hadn’t admitted it, either. “I know it’s unexpected. I admit that my social skills are a little rusty. I’m trying to be up front so that it doesn’t come across like I want something different.”
“What do you want, Greg?” She looked at him as though she genuinely wanted to know. That was promising.
“I barely talk to my own family, I’m so busy. Like I said, I’ve been dedicated to my career for a long time. I don’t sleep around or—shit, I barely sleep at all. The truth is that until I met you, I hadn’t wanted a woman, or even felt this kind of arousal, in a long time. There’s something about you, though—” He stopped abruptly and huffed out a laugh. “Every time I see you, I want to do things to you that…” He trailed off. Shit, that sounded wrong.
