Mac’s Bedside Manner

by Marie Ferrarella

  He wanted it all. He wanted to have her in her bed, nude and ready for him.

  Hell, he would have wanted her right here, on the floor, if there hadn’t been a little girl to consider. As much as the fire was beginning to rage within him, Mac didn’t want to take the chance of having Amanda wander down the stairs at an inopportune moment.

  But there was the bedroom.

  Still kissing her, his mouth slanting over and over against hers, he began to slowly guide her from the front door. His heart was pounding hard in anticipation, as hard as if he’d just spent a full hour working out in the gym with weights.

  Except this workout promised to be a great deal more pleasurable.

  Jolene felt desire scraping its nails across her, beckoning her onward. Urging her to draw this man back inside her house and take him upstairs…

  Alarms suddenly went off in her brain, bringing her out of her revelry.

  What in heaven’s name was she doing? Running into the enemy camp, naked with a sign around her neck saying Take Me?

  With the last ounce of willpower she could scrape together, Jolene pulled away. Her hands wedged against MacKenzie’s chest, she pushed him back as if he’d been a volleyball just served over the net.

  Her breath returned to her lungs in fits and starts. “Just what the hell are you doing?” she said accusingly.

  For the first time in his life, he felt just the slightest bit shaky in his knees. The lady gave as good as she got. “It’s called a kiss. If I have to explain it to you, it’s been too long.”

  So what, this was now an act of charity on his part? He was the neighborhood Goodwill wagon, devoted to going around and lending out his lips and who knew what else to sex-starved women?

  Not by a long shot, buddy.

  Her eyes blazed. “It’s called seduction and you don’t have to explain a damn thing.”

  “Good.” He reached for her. “I was never good with words.”

  She slapped away his hand. “Oh, don’t act humble with me, MacKenzie. You are very good with words, and lips—and I’ll bet everything else you came equipped with.” He grinned at her and she could have scratched off his expression with her nails. Instead she took a step back from him. “But I am not in the market for a quick roll in the hay.”

  Very slowly, his eyes washed over her, taking long, languid measure. “I’m never quick.”

  More bragging. She didn’t need to hear this. Didn’t need the quick, heart-fluttering electrical impulse that was traveling through her at the very suggestion behind his smile.

  “Save it, ‘Harrison,’ for one of your honeys.”

  For a second there, when he’d kissed her, he’d thought that perhaps she was ready to retire her dueling pistol. Apparently not. This obviously wasn’t going to be the kind of night he’d envisioned just a few seconds earlier.

  So be it. He could accept that, even though every fiber in his body cried out for satisfaction.

  For her.

  But he wanted her clear on something. He didn’t like the image she’d just erected of him. It wasn’t funny anymore. “I don’t have ‘honeys.”’

  “Oh, please.” Jolene rolled her eyes as she put as much distance as she could between them before she was tempted to fling herself back into his arms. She could feel her lips still throbbing. “Next you’re probably going to tell me you have deep, meaningful relationships with every woman you sleep with.”

  He wasn’t about to lie. Everyone knew commitment was not on his agenda. But neither was he after something tawdry just to satisfy an urge. To have her believe that would have been an insult to all the women who had been part of his life.

  “The relationships are meaningful for as long as they last.” He could see she was about to laugh in his face. “I don’t do one-night stands, Nurse DeLuca, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  She began moving around restlessly, angry at the way things had turned out. Angrier still at the way she’d caught herself wanting them to turn out.

  “You don’t want to know what I’m thinking.” Jolene pivoted on her heel, suddenly facing him. “So what are they, then? Two-night stands? Maybe three? How many times do you generally sleep with a woman before you suddenly disappear?”

  There was no rule of thumb, other than to call a halt to things when it looked as if they were getting too serious. He wasn’t about to lead anyone on, no matter how enjoyable the sex.

  “I enjoy women,” he told her simply. “And they enjoy me.” He had no idea why he felt he had to explain himself to her, or why he was bothering. But for some reason, it seemed important. “I’ve never forced myself on anyone, never taken anything that wasn’t offered.”

  Was he telling her that she’d thrown herself at him? She fisted her hands at her hips. “Then what do you call what just happened here?”

  For two cents, he’d shut her mouth the old-fashioned way…but then he’d be negating what he’d just said. So he kept his distance, wanting not to. “Satisfying our mutual curiosity.”

  She swallowed, suddenly feeling as if she was losing ground. “I wasn’t curious.”

  If he didn’t leave right now, he was going to break all his own rules and be the exact kind of man she was accusing him of being.

  Mac opened the door, stepping over the threshold. “All you had to say was no.”

  Fuming, angrier with herself than with him, Jolene grabbed the door and slammed it in his face. “No,” she yelled at it.

  She heard the sound of his shoes on the pavement as MacKenzie walked away, heard the car start. Turning from the door, she found she couldn’t take a step farther.

  Jolene leaned her back against the front door and slid down until she was sitting on the floor in a confused heap. So many conflicting emotions were running through her, firing shots aimlessly in the air.

  She wrapped her arms around her knees, leaned her head against them and cried.

  She felt like a woman on death row, waiting to walk the last mile, not knowing exactly when the door to her cell would even open. More succinctly put, she was waiting for her first hideously uncomfortable encounter with MacKenzie at the hospital after the fiasco of the previous evening.

  With every hour that went by, though extremely busy, Jolene became more and more on edge. She hated the way she felt, hated MacKenzie for making her feel this way.

  Damn it, why had she let him kiss her?

  She’d gone over and over that in her mind during the wee hours of the morning, upbraiding herself, finding no answer that remotely satisfied her. Things were just not going to be the same at Blair, not while they were both working here. Not after that.

  Stupid, stupid, she thought as she applied EKG tabs on an overweight man who had come in complaining of chest pains.

  She credited MacKenzie for having enough sensitivity—or whatever he chose to call it—to realize that what he’d had before him last night was a woman who needed affection, who needed to feel desirable. He had all the training to carry that off with aplomb.

  The rat had come at her like a homing pigeon at dinner time.

  And if she let him make love to her, he’d undoubtedly do a fantastic job of it. And then go on to the next woman.

  Attaching all the right wires to the right tabs, Jolene pressed a button on the machine and watched as a printout came oozing out of the portable EKG unit.

  Remember what you learned from Matt.

  The problem was, what she’d learned from Matt was to distrust every man with even an ounce of charm. And that wasn’t the way she wanted to be, not deep down. She wanted to be able to trust people, both male and female, no matter what they looked like. She wanted to be normal, the way she had been when Matt had come into her life. She wanted to be full of hope and optimism and joy.

  The way she’d felt for one thrilling moment when MacKenzie had kissed her.

  “How bad is it?”

  The patient’s raspy voice quavered as he asked her, his small eyes watching the squiggles that were bei
ng printed.

  She knew it wasn’t up to her to give a prognosis, to say anything other than everything would be fine and leave it at that. But she hated seeing anyone in misery.

  Jolene smiled at him. “Looks pretty good, Mr. Rand. The doctor’ll be by in a few minutes to talk to you. You might just have a case of indigestion. That can get pretty nasty sometimes.”

  The man beamed at her, relief shining from every inch of him. “Really?”

  “Really, but you might want to see a cardiologist just in case. Dr. Graywolf is on staff and he’s excellent.”

  “Graywolf, huh?”

  She nodded, taking the tabs off the corpulent man again and quickly returning them to their rightful place. “Lukas Graywolf.”

  “Thanks, I’ll remember that,” he called after her. Rand was still beaming.

  “Oh, nurse, nurse, please, I can’t get up and I need to go to the bathroom before I explode,” the man in the next bed pleaded, trying to snare her attention.

  Jolene turned. The patient, a man in his seventies, was hooked up to all manner of monitors. Getting up would require a huge effort and involve an incredible amount of untangling.

  “Be right there,” she promised. “Just let me put this away.”

  She pushed the EKG machine back to its place, then darted into the supply closet to get a urinal for the man in bed number seven.

  There had to be a full moon out tonight, she thought. The E.R. was packed.

  Walking out again, she saw MacKenzie walking in her direction. An urgent sense of self-preservation had her making a sharp U-turn and darting back into the closet.

  This was ridiculous, she thought. She was a grown woman, why was she hiding in the closet?

  Because she didn’t want to talk to him, that was why. Not now at any rate. Maybe in a year or so.

  And suddenly she didn’t have a year. Or even a “so.” The door was opening and she just knew MacKenzie was going to be standing on the other side of it.

  She was right.

  The serious expression on his face faded, replaced by the grin she had gotten accustomed to seeing on his lips as he looked down at what she was holding.

  “Looking for donations, Molly Pitcher?”

  Color flashed into her face. For a second, she’d forgotten all about the urinal and the man who needed it. She braced herself, sure that MacKenzie would try to detain her here until he had his say.

  “Bed number seven is going to burst if I don’t get to him.”

  To her surprise, MacKenzie stepped out of the way and let her pass. “Can’t have that.”

  But then, to her dismay, he followed her out of the supply closet and back down the hall.

  That’s all she needed, to have him cause a scene. There was no avoiding it. She was going to have to have this out with him before they got back to the central floor.

  Her heart pounding, she turned on him. “Look, about last night—”

  Mac cut her off at the pass. “Yeah, I had a nice time. Your daughter’s really a wonderful kid. She’s a great credit to you. I’m assuming you raised her by yourself.”

  Again, he managed to floor her. Not expecting anything remotely close to what he’d just said, the compliment threw her completely off.

  She wasn’t even sure which statement she was answering. “Yes, I did. I am, but—”

  “But?”

  Jolene stopped, regrouping. Trying not to think about last night and the way he’d made her feel. Soft, pliant. Willing.

  If this kept up, she had a feeling she was going to wind up her own worst enemy. “What are you trying to do to me, Harrison?”

  Mac winced at the use of his given name. It had been his mother’s maiden name. His family tree, if carefully traced, went back to both American presidents via a distant relative connection. That didn’t make him dislike the name any less.

  “Just trying to say thanks for last night, Nurse DeLuca.” He paused, knowing that if he said “no,” she would definitely say “yes.” But he had to try. The woman had to have a kinder side to her somewhere. “Could you maybe find it in your heart not to call me Harrison?”

  It really bothered him to have her use his first name. She had to admit she got a kick out of that.

  “Maybe,” Jolene answered loftily. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Dr. Mac, could you come here a minute?” Mac turned toward the nurses’ station and saw Wanda holding the telephone receiver over her head to get his attention. “There’s someone on the phone asking for you.”

  “You’d better go answer that. It might be another eager date,” she said sarcastically.

  “Not on the hospital line.” He made it a strict rule. That was what his cell phone was for. “Sure,” he said to Wanda. And then he looked down at the item Jolene was still holding in her hand. “You said something about bed number seven exploding?”

  Oh God, she’d forgotten all about the man.

  Not saying a word, Jolene hurried away to bed number seven, hoping she wasn’t too late.

  She could have sworn she heard MacKenzie laughing behind her.

  The first encounter had been less awkward than she’d imagined. The ones that followed that day were even less so. He was completely cordial, but no friendlier than he had been before they’d gone out. To her surprise and no small confusion, MacKenzie acted as if nothing had happened last night beyond the usual.

  He acted as if there hadn’t been all the ingredients for a spontaneous combustion.

  Tired, she opened her locker and took out her purse. It was good to be going home.

  Her thoughts shifted again.

  Had it all been just her imagination, fueled by the fact that she had been almost devoid of all intimate contact for almost the last three years?

  Or was he just being clever and laying a trap for her by playing with her mind? At a loss, she closed the door again and spun the combination around.

  She had no way of knowing what was going on in his head. All she knew was that suddenly, a man she didn’t want to even think about was on her mind a great deal of the time.

  And she didn’t like it.

  Mac replaced the receiver in its cradle and leaned back in his chair, stealing a moment for himself. The chair, several generations old, squeaked in protest. He vaguely noticed.

  It was all set.

  The paperwork had all been approved, the hospital agreeable. He even had a pediatrician, Alix Ducane, standing by, just in case. Tommy’s stepfather was bringing the boy in tomorrow to undergo the first of the surgeries.

  Mac didn’t think that more than three, possibly just two, would be required to fix the damage that had been done by the man’s dog. A dog Allen claimed was now chained up in the backyard.

  Mac made a mental note to drive by the house and check that out for himself if he could. He didn’t particularly trust anything Paul Allen had to say. According to a friend he had on the Bedford police force, the man had been obedient when someone from animal services had gone out to check out the Doberman. He’d promised to keep the dog chained up outside and away from the boy.

  Mac hoped that fear would work where logic and compassion hadn’t.

  Pushing himself away from his desk, he got up, wondering where the wisdom was in allowing children into the lives of people who didn’t deserve them, or had no use for them. Sometimes he couldn’t help wondering what God was thinking.

  If it hadn’t been for having two children, his parents wouldn’t have remained together for more than a couple of years, if that long. Instead they’d stayed married until he turned eighteen, as if his age magically dissolved the sham that had been their marriage.

  The more he looked around, the more he saw that marriage was just a shackle imposed by society in order to try to foster some kind of stability. Most of the time, all it did was foster discord before the marriage in question disintegrated.

  Even Jolene was an example of that. She would have been a great deal happier if she’d never married her ex. Pr
obably a lot less suspicious, as well, he was willing to bet.

  Would he have been as attracted to her if she hadn’t posed such a challenge?

  He thought of the kiss the other night and had his answer. He definitely would have. There was no doubt in his mind that if she hadn’t had her ex in her life, Jolene DeLuca still would have been one of the most attractive women he had ever seen.

  And he was willing to bet that the way she kissed had nothing to do with her ex-husband.

  Walking out of the small cubicle, he saw Jolene hurrying to one of the trauma rooms.

  Speak of the devil.

  Instinct had him picking up his pace and following her. Bursting through the swinging doors, he saw that there was a large man convulsing on the examining table. Activity hummed around the victim.

  Standing at the head of the table, Lukas Graywolf was issuing orders.

  Abruptly the man stopped convulsing. The monitor attached to him was flat-lining. Lukas called for paddles to be charged.

  Mac raised his voice above the din. “Anything I can do?”

  Paddles in hand, Lukas looked up and saw him standing just inside the doorway. “We’ve got it covered, Mac. But thanks.”

  Just before he walked out of the room, his eyes locked with Jolene’s. He could have sworn he saw tears in them, but then she turned away.

  Probably just a trick of the lighting, he decided.

  He stood there a moment longer, watching her. There wasn’t a moment’s hesitation as she seemed to anticipate Graywolf’s orders. “We’ve got a pulse,” she declared with relief.

  A strange feeling came over him as he watched her. If he hadn’t known better, he would have said it was pride. But that was ridiculous. Pride was only there if strong feelings were present. There were no strong feelings here, other than attraction.

  Mac walked out. He didn’t have time to stand around and ponder things that made no sense. He had patients to see.

  Chapter Ten

  Mac stopped leaning against the wall and came to attention the moment Jolene walked out of the staff lounge.

  He’d been waiting for her. The expression on her face earlier in Trauma Room Two had haunted him for the better part of his shift. She’d looked as if she needed a friend.