Harlequin E Contemporary Romance Box Set Volume 3: Falling from the SkyMaid to LoveWhen the Lights Go DownStart Me Up

by Sarina Bowen

  The director chuckled. “Is this about Hank Lazarus?”

  “It might be.” God, she was such a wimp. “It is,” she corrected. “You said he wasn’t my patient, and I know that’s strictly true. But that doesn’t mean it would be proper for me to date him.” And date was a heck of a euphemism at this point.

  There was a silence on the other end of the line, and Callie hated the sound of it. “Let’s think this through,” the director said. “During the course of your week, do you provide medical treatment to any of the study participants?”

  “Never. The head of the therapy department does that. My role is only to observe and collect data. But I’d never want anyone to say that our study is flawed because of my personal relationships.”

  “Callie, did you happen to look up this issue in our employee handbook?”

  “No.” She swallowed hard.

  “Well, it does not say that a doctor who senses a romantic relationship developing with her patient will be executed by firing squad.”

  Callie swallowed. “That’s good to know.”

  “It advises the doctor to seek guidance from her superiors, and to terminate the professional relationship.”

  “Okay?”

  “Right now you’re seeking guidance, so that’s covered. And now I’m going to temporarily relieve you of operating the study, until we can work through these questions together.”

  Callie gulped. “Okay.”

  “Even if we decide that another employee should take over for you, I can’t think of any reason why you couldn’t coauthor the results next year. At that point, the study participants will be numbers on a page.”

  “Thank you.” I think. Callie exhaled, still rattled. Because it couldn’t possibly be that easy. “Doctor Fennigan…”

  “Elisa.”

  “Elisa, are you sure there’s no way I could get in trouble for dating Hank? My job is very important to me.”

  The director was quiet for a moment before answering. “There’s always a worst-case scenario. Suppose a relative of Hank’s decides to hate you, or one of the study participants gets pissed at the hospital for some reason—there’s always a chance that someone with an ax to grind will make a big stink over whatever they can find to work with. You could end up on the wrong side of a newspaper article. But the thing is, that could happen even if you didn’t pursue a relationship with Hank, true?

  “Right?” Callie’s head hurt from trying to guess all the possibilities.

  “There’s always something to go wrong. But that’s life. The one thing I’m certain of is that we spend our best years inside that hospital building. And if the right man wanders through those doors, we can’t dismiss him out of hand. Because hotties driving red sports cars aren’t just falling from the sky.”

  Callie let out a laugh that hopefully did not sound too soaked with tequila. “No, they’re not. I just wish it weren’t so complicated.”

  “You’ll figure it out, I’m sure. Good night, Callie.”

  “Good night, Elisa.”

  Callie disconnected. For a moment, all she could do was stand there in the cold, letting the snow continue to coat her hair. It was falling in earnest now. Director Fennigan had not said what Callie had expected her to say. And while she felt relieved that the director was not horrified by her dalliance with Hank, the way forward was still not obvious.

  She tipped her eyes upward, revealing a pattern of whirling white flakes illuminated by the streetlights. “Can’t I get a little sign?” she asked the empty street. “Just a nod from God that it will all turn out okay?”

  But as she watched the whirling snow, and tried to listen to her heart, all she received in answer was a very fat snowflake that landed square in her eye. Blinking, Callie pulled open the door to the bar. Shaking snow out of her hair, she walked back into the warmth of Rupert’s, and the sounds of laughter and football. Hank’s pleasantly bulky form was there, muscular forearm on the bar, his head cocked to see the score on the screen. The sight of Hank waiting for her gave Callie’s heart gave an involuntary shimmy.

  Not so fast, atria and ventricles. No matter how irresistible she found Hank, she was still mad. Striding up to where he sat at the bar, she delivered a very sharp smack to his shoulder.

  “Ow,” he complained, his eyes still on the TV. “What’s that for?”

  “You know what that’s for. You forced me to out myself to the hospital director.” When he turned to face her, she smacked him again. “Not nice.”

  “Ouch,” he repeated. “That hurts.” But he proceeded to rub the opposite arm, as a cocky smile lit his face.

  “You know, punching works better,” Stella Lazarus said as she came by with an empty tray. On her way past, she made a fist and nailed her brother in the shoulder.

  But Hank ignored her. Moving fast, he hooked his hands around Callie’s jaw and pulled her forward, drawing her into an aggressive kiss.

  Unready and off balance, Callie could mount no defense against those full lips. Hank gave a grunt of pleasure as he invaded her mouth, his tongue sweeping against hers with no preamble. Tipped into his chest, she found herself holding on instead of pushing back. The combination of alcohol and a lusty kiss made her hearing swimmy and indistinct. Even so, she picked up one or two cat calls in the background, and the sound of Stella Lazarus telling them to get a room.

  Just when Callie’s knees began to go squishy, the kiss ended almost as abruptly as it began. Gripping Hank’s jacket for support, she felt drunker than at any other point in the evening.

  “I’m going to take you home now,” he said.

  That helped to shake her out of her trance. “No, you’re not.” She couldn’t put last night on replay. When she’d decided to get drunk tonight, the plan wasn’t meant to include him. Alcohol and Hank were potentially devastating, a combination so potent that the dosage was impossible to calibrate. “Where’s Tiny? He’s waiting to take me home.”

  Hank dropped some bills onto the bar. “He went out the back. Said to tell you good-night. Hey—Stella! Since you never brought me a beer, can you at least bring me my wheels?”

  “Whoops. Sorry,” his sister said as she scurried to the corner to get his wheelchair.

  When it arrived, he dropped into it. “Come on. My car is out in front.”

  Callie watched the snowflakes swirl in front of Hank’s headlights. “Can you even drive a Porsche in the snow?” The brain-scrambling kiss had left her feeling the need to be a little catty. As if arguing with Hank would help her keep her defenses engaged.

  “Lady, my baby has four-wheel drive and snow tires.” Hank sounded a bit miffed at the suggestion that his car wasn’t manly enough for the task.

  Callie sank back into the luxurious seat. The car smelled deliciously of leather upholstery and Hank. So…sexy.

  Argh. When it came to him, her defenses were faulty. Always.

  They rode along in silence, the lights of town fading away behind them. “I was already going to speak to Dr. Fennigan. You didn’t have to force the issue.”

  “I know you were,” he said, his voice a sexy rumble. “I just accelerated the conversation.”

  “Because a girl who only gets drunk twice a year really wants to talk to her boss on Tequila Night.”

  His laugh was dry. “You could probably perform neurosurgery drunk, Callie. And I wasn’t going to let you wait a week to talk to her. That’s too much time for you to climb back into that pretty head of yours, and think up a dozen more reasons why I’m a bad idea.”

  “I don’t do neurosurgery,” Callie pointed out. Hank chuffed out a laugh, and the car began a slow climb up a mountain road.

  “Are you going to tell me what she said?” Hank asked, his eyes on the road.

  “I haven’t decided.” She peered out the window, looking for familiar landmarks. But there weren’t any. “This isn’t the way to my house.”

  “And who said you were impaired by alcohol? It’s the way to mine.”

  “Ha
nk! What the hell? Stop the car.”

  As soon as she said it, he pulled into a strange driveway, stopping when they were just off the road. Silently, he turned to her, one eyebrow cocked questioningly.

  Callie crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m still mad at you.”

  “What did Fennigan say?”

  She called you a hottie. “She took me off the study.”

  He lost his cocky expression then. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”

  That admission of guilt ought to have made her feel better. But it only made it harder to stay mad. “That’s all right,” she said. “I deserved it. And I was expecting worse.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Hank said, his voice soft. “When I was your patient, you turned me down right away.”

  “But sometimes it doesn’t matter whether you sinned or not. It only matters whether people think you did. You also outed me to Tiny tonight, and that was before I got to speak to Elisa.”

  “Yeah,” Hank admitted. “But Tiny would never throw you under the bus. I think he’d lay down in the road, first. People love you, Callie. You get the benefit of the doubt, because you deserve it.”

  That was just about the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her. But it was also just plain optimistic. “I’m not brave,” she said.

  “I know.” He reached across the gearbox to take her hand. “You told me that during Silence of the Lambs.”

  She squeezed his hand, wishing that life were easier, so that she’d never have to let go. “I’m not brave. But also, you’re not ready.”

  “For what?”

  “For me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’ve had such a tough year, and you’re not ready to…to…commit.” As soon as the word left her mouth, she was sorry she’d said it. It was too much to ask of him.

  “Says who?”

  “Look, don’t deny this. If it weren’t for your accident, I wouldn’t be your choice, okay? I’m not your type. I’ve never been your type. And I don’t want to be the one who cares too much, and have you be the one who settled.”

  She felt his hand go tight in hers. “Shit, that is so unfair. When my fear got in the way, you called bullshit. And now you’re pulling the same crap on me? What’s the point of playing that game—trying to guess whether we’d have ever met? We’re great together. We’ve had a real connection since the first time you walked into my hospital room.” He took a deep breath. “It’s not fair for you to pretend you don’t feel it, or that it doesn’t matter.”

  The anger in his voice made her heart beat faster. “Hank,” she said quietly. “I think you have no idea who you want. You just got your life back, and I hear that you’re grateful to me. And God knows I’m so happy for you. But you could have anyone.”

  “And so could you! What does that have to do with anything? Maybe we would have found each other, anyway. Don’t pretend like you know.”

  She swallowed, feeling dizzy. She did know, actually.

  “What?”

  She shook her head.

  “Callie, level with me—it’s really the least you can do.” He took his hand back, gripping the steering wheel instead.

  “You’re going to say I’m reading too much into it.”

  “Try me.”

  “Hank, we did meet. On the worst day of your life, Dane and Willow introduced me to you.”

  His dark eyebrows shot up. “Oh, fuck. Really?” Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose. He was silent for a minute. “Damn. It was right before my run.”

  Callie stopped breathing.

  His chin snapped up to look at her. “I asked Dane where we were drinking later. And I made a crack about his being whipped.” He chuckled, but then there was pain in his eyes. “You had on a bright pink hat.” He reached across to place one hand on the crown of her head. “It covered your hair, and I wondered what color it was. And Dane was holding the baby.” The fingers that he brought up to touch his lips were shaking. “And I was such an asshole.”

  “It was a stressful moment…”

  “That’s not why I said the things I said.” He gave his head a shake. “I was so jealous, Callie. It was my hometown mountain—it was supposed to be such a big day for me. And a big year. But my bitchy girlfriend had just given me the ‘look, when you get back, we need to talk,’ speech. And my buddy Dane is standing there, and he has everything. There was a family standing beside him. He figured it all out, and I was just floundering.” He took a long, shaky breath. “So if you think you know how it was with me then… Well, lady. You don’t know a thing.”

  Callie was so surprised that she had to remind herself to breathe. “Hank,” she whispered, leaning across the gearbox, gathering him in as best she could. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t get it. It’s just that you looked like someone who had everything he wanted.”

  “I’m telling you to your face, Callie, things I never told anyone before. I can’t make it any clearer than I’m making it now.”

  “Okay, okay,” she soothed. “That was stupid of me. I was afraid to have my heart broken.”

  He wrapped her in powerful arms. “You know, I might not have been ready to meet you a year ago.” He kissed the top of her head. “But I was getting there. The accident wasn’t the only reason. I was coming to the end of wanting to be young and stupid.”

  She squeezed him again. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Sometimes I worry that I was never young and stupid enough. It’s like I’ve been trying to make up for it now, acting like a crazy lady.”

  “I can help you with that. I do stupid and crazy really well.” He rocked her gently. “I want you, Callie. And you want me. Nothing else matters.”

  “California,” she said.

  His arms held her even tighter. “Stop.”

  “You said if I mentioned it again, you would…”

  She didn’t get the words out, because his lips covered hers. The kiss was slow, smoldering with the promise of even hotter things to come.

  When they finally came up for air, Hank was perfectly silent for a long minute. In the dashboard lighting, his serious face took on a wizened expression. “Vermont is going to wake up to a powder day tomorrow. But I was hoping to wake up next to you.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Hank put the car in gear. Callie sat back in her seat, and he pulled onto the road again. It was only a couple more minutes until they rolled into his garage. Hank opened the driver’s side door. He had to put his chair together one more time. That took a couple of minutes, so he handed her his key. “Here. You choose which side of the bed you want to sleep on. Choose carefully, because it’s not just for tonight.” He reached into the backseat for a wheel.

  With a full heart, Callie did.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Callie woke up the next morning to the press of a hard wall of muscle at her back. She lay still for a moment, taking stock. Hank’s hand was draped over her hip, his fingers splayed out on the sensitive skin of her belly. She was dressed in one of Hank’s big T-shirts. This one had a double-black-diamond symbol on the front, beneath the words Experts Only.

  That was, however, the only thing she was wearing. Last night, they’d made slow, sleepy love curled together much as they were right this minute. Just thinking about it gave Callie a warm tingle.

  And Hazardous was a cuddler. Who knew?

  Callie lifted her head an inch to peer at Hank’s clock. It was eight-thirty already. She should be headed to the hospital by now. At the very thought, a spear of anxiety sliced through her head. Because no matter how many lovely things had happened last night, her career had been altered by a single, drunken phone call to the hospital director. At the thought, her head began to thrum with worry.

  Or maybe that was the hangover talking.

  The warm hand that had been draped onto her belly began to move. It squeezed her hip. Then it traveled gently around back, tracing circles at her waist. Closing her eyes, Callie lay st
ill. No matter how complicated the day would get, she would take this moment to appreciate the feel of Hank’s fingertips on her skin. It would be easy to get used to this kind of affection. “Callie,” he whispered.

  She rolled over, and her first sight was a panorama of his impressive chest. She let her gaze drift slowly upward, past the six-pack to the inked shoulders. When she reached his face, she expected to find an amorous look in his eye. But what she saw was something else.

  Intensity.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked, reaching out to brush a hand past the morning whiskers on his jaw.

  Hank propped his head on his hand, regarding her seriously. “I just realized. You saw it happen.”

  “What?”

  “If I met you at the ski mountain that means you saw me break. Callie, you watched.” His eyes were dark pools, boring into hers.

  She reached out again, touching his chest, measuring the hard press of muscle under her hand. He was so difficult to read right now. He seemed almost angry. “I was there,” was all she could think to say. It was the truth, whether he liked it or not. “It’s not my fondest memory.”

  “But you’re here now.”

  She blinked at him, caressing the sunburst tattoo under her hand. “Of course I am.”

  He reached out with both hands, hauling Callie into his embrace. “You really are amazing.”

  “Why?” She nuzzled the skin just beneath his ear.

  “Because you want me anyway,” he said, arranging her on his chest. “I just…” He let out a big breath. “A lot of my old friends look at me, and I can just see the wheels turning. They’re making the comparison. Doesn’t matter what we’re talking about—the Patriots, the weather. They’re thinking, that poor slob. Look at him now. You never look at me that way, and I thought it was because you didn’t have a reference point. I thought you never saw the real me.”

  Callie popped up so that she could look down into his eyes. “No, I’ve got the real Hazardous.” She cupped his chin with one hand. “He’s right here.”

  Hank didn’t say anything. But his eyes shone with such depth and wonder that it made her heart swell to see it. Callie dropped her head onto his shoulder, and his arms encircled her again. He returned to stroking her back, while Callie listened to the thud of his heart through his chest.