Saving Dr. Tremaine

by Jessica Matthews

  He showered, washed his hair, and tried not to imagine Annie standing in this very spot lathering her trim body with the same bar of soap. If he didn’t turn his thoughts in another direction, and soon, he may as well return to his apartment and take a cold shower.

  Maybe this arrangement wouldn’t be as horrible as he’d first thought. The inconveniences seemed minor because, in essence, he’d have all the comforts of home and the added bonus of freshly prepared meals. As Galen had said, so she’d burned a few hot dogs. It happened to everyone.

  But if she planned to use her grill, he intended to lend a watchful eye to the proceedings.

  By the time the last drip of water had gurgled down the drain, he felt like a new man.

  He left the bathroom, eager for his cup of coffee, but as soon as he approached the kitchen, a strange combination of scents tickled his nose. When he rounded the corner, he saw scrambled eggs on the stove and Annie diligently standing over the sink, scraping frantically at something in her hand.

  The toast. She’d burned it.

  Somehow, he wasn’t surprised. Because the incident seemed so…Annie, and because the hot water had washed away his tension and left him with a strangely mellow feeling, a smile tugged at his mouth.

  “Do the guys at the fire station stand prepared with a fire extinguisher when you cook?” he teased.

  Annie’s chuckle was as relaxing as the sound of his mother’s wind chimes. Without wasting a motion or appearing embarrassed, she removed the last charred area with her butter knife, then slathered the toast with margarine.

  “Actually, they look forward to my turn in the kitchen,” she said.

  “Really?” He eyed the scrambled eggs on the stove. If they tasted as good as they smelled, she was probably telling the truth.

  She nodded. “Really and truly. Besides, this isn’t totally my fault.”

  “Ah, yes. The defective toaster is to blame.”

  “Absolutely.” She grinned. “The heating element works great, but you have to stay alert and manually lift the lever to raise the toast when it’s done. Otherwise…” She shrugged.

  “So why don’t you buy a new toaster?” He started to say how inexpensive they were, but realized it seemed tacky to mention finances when her furniture, from the well-worn sofa to her scarred table and wobbly chairs, showed distinct signs of wear and tear. Like the fire departments in so many other small-to medium-sized communities, Hope’s wasn’t known for its high salaries.

  “I’ve thought about it,” she admitted, as she removed a mug from a cupboard and filled it with his coffee. “I’ve even gone to the store and picked out the model I’d like, but when it came time to carry it to a checkout line, I couldn’t.”

  “Why not, for pity’s sake?”

  She shrugged. “Sentimental reasons.”

  “Sentimental reasons?” he echoed, incredulous.

  “This was my grandpa’s,” she said simply. “I have a lot of fond memories associated with this toaster.”

  He saw a small appliance while she saw a family heirloom. Could the two of them be any more different? “Oh?”

  “It’s true,” she insisted, as if she’d heard the skepticism in his tone. “He’d cook breakfast and it was my job to watch the toast. We had a lot of great conversations while we waited for the bread to turn the right shade of golden brown. In fact, we had our process timed down to the second and it never failed.”

  “Then what went wrong today?” he wanted to know.

  “I was paying attention to other things.” In spite of her casual air and the way she focused her attention on retrieving plates and cutlery, the dusky rose hue creeping across her face was unmistakable. Because she wouldn’t look at him, he suspected that thoughts of him and not her finicky toaster had occupied her mind.

  The idea gave him a sort of proud satisfaction. Then, because he didn’t want her to see him grinning like a teenage boy who’d just discovered that a cute girl had a crush on him, he hid his amusement behind a cough.

  “You should have gone over to my place and borrowed mine,” he said.

  “I thought about it, but I didn’t want to snoop through your kitchen. I also didn’t want to risk ruining the eggs.”

  “Good idea.”

  She motioned to the large pan on the stove. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “I am, but you didn’t have to fix breakfast. I had a roll around four this morning.”

  “A roll won’t tide you over until lunch. You’ll sleep better if you go to bed with a full stomach.”

  “You’re probably right.” He leaned closer to the stove and sniffed. “Are they ready to eat?”

  His impatience made her smile. “Sure. Help yourself. This is a self-serve kitchen.”

  “If you say so.” He took the spatula she handed him and began scooping half of the eggs onto his plate, dripping cheese in the process.

  “Take as much as you want,” she said. “I only want a few bites.”

  He hesitated. “You’re not hungry?”

  “I’m not a big breakfast-eater.” Then, seeing that he’d left half the eggs for her, she took the spatula and dished most of what remained onto his plate.

  “Have a seat,” she said cheerfully, as she scraped her serving onto her saucer.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” He grabbed his plate and fork and sat at the table, waiting impatiently for her to join him. His stomach growled and she giggled as she sank onto her chair.

  “Dig in.”

  For a man who usually ate hospital food, Annie’s fare was ambrosia. “This is really good,” he commented.

  “Thanks. Oh, by the way, I want to clean out your refrigerator before the trash man comes,” she said, as she started to eat. “It’s his day, you know.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  She shrugged. “I’m responsible for you losing everything. I’d also rather take care of it before I lose my second wind.”

  He looked past the woman who could infuriate him with uncanny precision and saw what he’d missed earlier. She still wore her blue uniform and it bore enough wrinkles to suggest that she hadn’t taken it off at any time during the last twenty-four hours. Dark circles rimmed her eyes and tired lines etched her mouth. She was obviously as tired as he was, if not more so.

  And yet she’d taken time to prepare a meal for him. Idly, he wondered if Erica would have done the same. Somehow, he doubted it.

  “If you don’t like the eggs, I can fix something else.”

  He cleared his apparently grim expression. “Oh, no. These are great.” If everything Annie cooked was this good, he’d better plan on spending extra time in the housing complex’s exercise gym. “I was just noticing that you look like hell.”

  “Careful,” she warned jovially. “You’ll turn my head with such sweet compliments.”

  “Didn’t you sleep last night?”

  “A few hours. From one to three-thirty.” She shrugged. “Sleepless nights go with the territory.”

  He frowned, thinking of how his early morning cases had come via car instead of ambulance. If Annie hadn’t slept, why not? “You didn’t transport any patients to me.”

  “One man refused treatment and the other calls were for MVAs. Both of those were fender-benders and because the guys were drunk, the police hauled them to jail.”

  “Busy night. You need to get some rest.”

  “I will. Just as soon as I clean out your—”

  “No.” He sounded more harsh than he’d intended. “You will not clean out my refrigerator.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. I don’t expect you to be my slave for the next three days. If that’s what you intended to get on my good side, then the deal’s off.”

  Hurt filled her eyes as she abandoned her fork on her now-empty plate. “I was only trying to help.” Then, before he could say another word, she rose and began filling the sink with water.

  You handled that well, Tremaine. He ran his hands through his s
till-damp hair as he decided what to do to repair the damage he’d so clearly and thoughtlessly inflicted. “Annie?”

  “What?”

  He winced at her curt tone. “Annie, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have. Why did you?”

  She was nothing if not direct. “I’m not used to…” He paused, not sure how to finish his thought.

  She looked at him. “You’re not used to what?”

  He shrugged, unable to explain that he was used to being the one who took care of situations and not vice versa.

  “To being polite or considerate?” she asked. “Are you this rude to everyone, or do you save up your grumpiness so you can dump it all on me?”

  He opened his mouth to protest, then realized he couldn’t because he was guilty as charged.

  Why did she bring out the worst in him? He was around irritating people all day long, from aggravating pencil-pushers to staff who didn’t belong in the ER, but he could dismiss them without a second thought. Annie, however, was different. She’d burrowed under his skin and he simply didn’t understand why.

  Yes, you do, his little voice stated. Admit it.

  OK, he thought grudgingly. The fact was, he didn’t know what to make of this particular woman. Annie was as bright as a new penny in her attitude and appearance, but she drew trouble—at least where he was concerned—like a magnet. If something could go wrong, it invariably did. After dealing with surprises all day, he didn’t want any when he came home at night.

  If that weren’t enough, being with her hammered home the very picture of what he was denying himself. Her smile made him think of sunny days and children frolicking through the park under his watchful eye.

  His watchful eye. Therein lay the whole problem. He was overprotective and he knew it. His entire family knew it, too, which was why they’d demanded that he pursue his own life instead of running theirs. He was sure to act the same with his own children and the thought of them rebeling against him like his siblings had was far too frightening to contemplate. It would be far better for everyone if he focused on his career and left raising a family to those who were better suited to the task.

  Yet the path he’d chosen conflicted with his attraction for Annie. She was too undisciplined and too impetuous for a man who’d vowed to have a quiet, undisturbed life. What better way to fight her charm than to scrutinize everything she did and find it lacking?

  “I’m sorry,” he said, evading her question because the answer that popped into his head made him seem shallow and petty. “I know you mean well, but you don’t have to knock yourself out. As you said, this isn’t the end of the world, so stop trying to make amends. We’ve made our deal and it’s enough, so let it go.”

  She bit her lip, then nodded. “Fine.” With that one word her voice wobbled and he hated knowing he was the cause.

  If he wanted the next three days to pass peacefully, he had to make amends. He rose and stood beside her, watching as she squirted enough detergent into the sink to fill a bathtub with suds.

  He took the bottle out of her hand. “Annie?”

  “What?” Her voice sounded thick.

  “Are you OK?”

  “I’m fine,” she said with a sniffle.

  Her word contradicted her actions and he knew she wasn’t as “fine” as she’d claimed. She wore the same look his sisters did whenever they struggled to maintain their composure.

  You caused it, now you fix it. The lesson his father had taught him early on—the same lesson he’d tried to instill in his siblings after their dad had died—echoed in his head. He reached out to pat her shoulder awkwardly, but it only seemed to make things worse.

  She drew a shuddering breath and he knew she had to release her pent-up frustrations with a good howl.

  Uncomfortable with tears and resigned to weathering their appearance, he drew her against his chest. At first she held herself rigid, then relaxed against him as she buried her face in his neck and used his collar to mop her cheeks.

  He rested his chin on the top of her head and waited for her storm to subside. As he wrapped his arms around her, one thing became crystal clear.

  Annie fit against him perfectly. Holding her wasn’t anything at all like holding Lynn or Carrie.

  A host of other details hit him so quickly he could hardly process them all. A citrusy scent surrounded her and her braid hung over his forearm on her back. The few tendrils of hair that loosely framed her face were soft and tickled his neck.

  “I’m not crying,” she sniffled a minute later.

  “Of course not.”

  “It’s been a rough day.”

  “I agree.” Although having her in his arms at the moment seemed a pleasant reward.

  “I usually don’t go to pieces.”

  He suspected as much. She might be impetuous and laid-back, but she’d always been cool under fire. Obviously, the stresses of the past twenty-four hours, especially Turlow’s death, had turned his harsh words into the final straw. “I know.”

  “I hate it when I lose a patient.”

  “So do I.”

  “I’m overtired.”

  “We’ll both feel better after we’ve slept a few hours.” Having her in his embrace sent his thoughts down a road that had nothing to do with sleep and everything to do with kissing.

  “You’re right. We will.” She moved out of his embrace, but before she could get completely away he grabbed her hand. With his other hand free, he tipped her chin so she would look directly at him.

  “Are we OK now?” he asked, referring to both her mental state and their tenuous relationship.

  She managed a smile. “Yeah. Sorry about your shirt.”

  His shirt? He felt the damp spot on his chest and grinned. “What’s a little water between neighbors?”

  “True.”

  Her grip was strong for someone with such fine bone structure but, considering her job, he shouldn’t have expected otherwise. Her skin was soft but he could feel the calluses on her palms from the lifting and carrying that was a part of her routine.

  He wondered why he couldn’t release her, then decided the reasons didn’t matter. He only knew that he didn’t want to and for now that was enough.

  As he gazed into her dark brown eyes and saw the surprise in those depths, it became clear that she was as stunned as he was by the strong current flowing between them.

  Reluctantly, he let go. Surely this moment of temporary insanity would fade once he broke off their contact, but it didn’t. He wanted to touch her, to draw her against him once again.

  Determined to focus on the mundane instead of her full, kissable lips, he said, “Leave the clean-up to me.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “You can and you will,” he said firmly. As exhausted as she appeared, he wouldn’t sleep if he knew she was still working. “We had a rule at our house. ‘He who cooks doesn’t do the dishes.’”

  Her smile made him feel as if the sun had come out from behind a dark cloud. “Far be it from me to break any rules.”

  “Then it’s settled. Now, hop in the shower and let me finish my breakfast in peace.” He softened his gruff order with a smile.

  “Yes, sir, Captain Bligh.”

  Determined to ignore the water running in the bathroom, he washed the few plates and the pan before he settled into Annie’s lumpy recliner and clicked on the television. A few minutes later he heard definite sloshing noises.

  Either the walls in her apartment were paper thin or his hearing was far better than he’d thought. He found himself wondering how many bubbles covered her body.

  He clenched his jaw and focused on the newscaster, but his thoughts kept drifting in the direction of Annie’s bathroom. Out of desperation, he opened the morning paper to think of something other than what she was doing behind the closed door, but the articles faded into insignificance as he heard the water gurgle down the drain. Oh, how he wanted to act as her towel and wrap himself ar
ound her.

  Jared folded the paper into a haphazard bundle and tossed it on the end table. If he stayed a minute longer, he’d drive himself crazy. On the other hand, it seemed rude to leave without a goodbye when she’d gone to so much trouble on his behalf. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to wait.

  Annie commanded herself to take a leisurely bath, but it was difficult, knowing that only a single door stood between her and Jared. It was ridiculous to feel this self-conscious. At the fire station she ate, drank and showered with men in the next room all the time. Neither did she have trouble sleeping in quarters with only partitions between their beds for privacy.

  None of them, however, upset her equilibrium like Jared did.

  None of them had ever held her like he had either, which brought her back to her current problem.

  It was far too easy for her tired mind to imagine his hands gliding over her skin as he traced every curve and hollow. Naturally, she expected to do the same and the combination of those unruly thoughts caused a heat to rise from within.

  To think she’d blubbered all over him. Now he’d see her as empty-headed and emotional instead of competent and level-headed. Disgusted at herself for showing weakness to a man who so clearly hated it, she wanted to hide in the bathroom until he left.

  Don’t be a coward, lass. Her grandfather’s voice seemed to resonate in her ears and she stiffened her spine. So, she’d suffered a momentary lapse of control. She was entitled to act out of character now and then.

  She drew on a pair of denim shorts and a fluorescent yellow T-shirt, then hurried into the living room where she found Jared grimly watching the news channel.

  “Don’t tell me the news is that bad,” she said lightly.

  “Just the usual.” He rose. “Thanks for breakfast and just so you’ll know, I plan to sleep through lunch.”

  Considering it was almost ten a.m., she intended to do the same.

  “I’m going out for dinner, so don’t worry about that either.”

  “I won’t,” she said, as she walked him to her door. “But if you should change your mind, I’m going to grill chicken.” She grinned. “So close your balcony door when you leave.”