by Skye Jordan
She turned a thoughtful frown on him.
“The guy I thought you’d given your number to,” he reminded her.
“Oh right.” She reached over and stroked his cheek, the affection in her eyes burrowing into Noah’s heart. “He was a sports medicine doctor who’s heard about the cement your surgeon used and knows someone who works at the lab that makes it. Said he’s used it himself in a few delicate surgeries where a screw needed more traction in the bone. He was going to see if he could get more information for me.”
“Good to hear.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Thought I’d lost you to some brilliant venture capitalist.”
“Hardly.” She tipped her head back and looked him in the eyes, a soft smile turning her lips. “Besides, I’m yours, remember?”
And she kissed him, a lingering, sweet kiss that made him think of hearts and candy and flowers and forever—insane things that never entered his mind.
But as she turned to accept the driver’s hand and rose from the car, Noah knew without a doubt, he’d finally found himself an extraordinary woman.
One he wanted to think about a future with.
Julia woke languidly to the tickle of Noah’s warm mouth teasing the nape of her neck and his cock riding the small of her back. She smiled and stretched, then relaxed as he tightened the arm lying across her waist, drawing her naked body back against his. The slide of soft skin and warm muscle hazed her mind with a dreamlike quality. He was just too good, too perfect to be true. But their last few days together had been as damn near a fairy tale as she’d ever experienced, and if she hadn’t already fallen for him weeks ago, she would have hit hard over the last few days.
“Mmm.” She reached back and wrapped her arm around his head, sinking her fingers into his hair and pressing her ass against his erection. “What a beautiful way to wake up.”
“You’re tellin’ me,” he murmured between kisses down her spine. His warm, talented hands skimmed her waist, her belly, her hip, her thigh, and Julia was heating up again. “You feel like heaven.”
Her smile widened and her heart swelled. She tipped her head back to kiss him, caught sight of the clock on his nightstand, and she scrambled to a sitting position. “Is that right?”
He frowned at her. “What?”
“The clock. Is it almost ten a.m.?”
Noah propped one muscled arm behind his head and gave her that lazy half grin that made her want to do crazy things to him. “Eight hours of sleep—your rule. I’m just trying to obey.”
Alarm stung her chest. She was going to be late—and she couldn’t miss this appointment.
“Why?” He sat up, gripped her waist, and pulled her on top of him. Then brushed her hair out of her face and stroked his hand down her back. He made her feel so spoiled, so cherished. “Got somewhere to be? I was going to make you breakfast and feed it to you in bed.”
Her nerves were buzzing. She had to get away from him without looking like she needed to get away from him, all while not wanting to get away from him at all. “That sounds amazing. But with the guys coming over tonight, I’ve got to get to the grocery store and fit in your therapy and a workout before they get here.”
With a deep regret, she kissed him, then rolled off and popped out of bed just as his arm swooped out to catch her waist. She laughed and dodged. Noah dropped his hand to the floor with a dramatic groan of defeat, while he lay diagonal on his big bed, the sheets covering nothing but his perfect ass. And, God, he was a beautiful sight. Could easily make a girl forget every damn priority she had other than loving all over him.
She rummaged in the drawers he’d cleaned out in his dresser for her things and pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a long-sleeved blouse, then started for the bathroom to tie up her hair.
“Not even a quickie?” he asked. “Seriously?”
She laughed The man’s sexual longevity combined with his appetite took “quickie” out of his dictionary. “Superstar, you don’t know the meaning of the word.”
His cocky laugh followed her into the bathroom. After a quick cleanup, she braided her hair into one long tail. When she came out of the bathroom, Noah had pulled on gray gym shorts and looked lusciously rumpled as he walked downstairs with her.
In the kitchen, she paused to flip on the coffeepot, then threw ingredients for Noah’s morning smoothie into the blender and set a baggie of his supplements beside the coffeemaker.
“Okay, you’re set,” she said grabbing her parka from the hook by the back door and stepping into her boots. “Warm up with a run, and we’ll hit the workout as soon as I get home.”
Noah stood against the opposite counter and Julia had a flash of memory, of seeing him in that exact spot five weeks ago, but now, he dangled her keys from the fingers of one hand with the most adorable smirk on his face.
A lot of things hit her at once.
One: he was ridiculously delicious.
Two: he was stupidly sweet, wickedly clever, admirably dedicated, and insanely adorable.
And three…
Holy shit…three…
The sting of terror ripped down her spine.
I love him.
She was full-on, head-over-heels, slobbering-all-over-herself in love with the man.
He lifted the hand holding her keys by one finger and jingled them. “I’ll trade these for a kiss.”
His words snapped her back to reality, and a chaotic burst of fear and excitement fluttered in her belly. She reminded herself this wasn’t forever, tucked her heart back into its little cage, and forced a smile through the discomfort.
“I don’t know,” she sang, sauntering toward him, then curved her arms around his waist and leaned in. She pressed her body the length of his and snuggled her face to his throat, breathing deep of his unique, intoxicating scent. Then she kissed the base of his neck. “You…” She kissed a little higher. “Drive a…” She kissed that spot just below his ear that made him shiver. “Hard…” Then she scraped his earlobe gently between her teeth, grinning when he did shiver. “Bargain.”
She snapped the keys from his hand and stepped away. He grabbed her back, his arm locking around her waist, drawing her up against him with enough force to make her giggle.
“Little cheat,” he said, then kissed her.
The simple feel of his lips on hers, lips that must have kissed her hundreds of times by now, still made everything but Noah drift away. His teasingly demanding kiss turned softer, then deeper, then passionate, until Julia tingled all over.
“You know,” she murmured, sliding her hand over his bare, granite abs. “You’re way more cut than the first time I saw you like this.”
“That’s all you, beautiful.”
“I’m not the one who’s been doing those toes-to-bars, Superstar.” She forced herself to pull away, but stayed close and ran her fingers over his lips with the sad thought that they wouldn’t belong to her much longer. “I’d better get going.”
His hold loosened, but he didn’t let go. “Hey.”
“Hmm?” She lifted her gaze to his, hoping he didn’t see the heartache in her eyes.
His gaze was tender, his smile soft, and he ran the back of his fingers down her cheek the way he sometimes did after they’d made love and lay across each other, sprawled and sated. “I really do love the way you take care of me.”
The words jumbled in her head. She heard the “I really do love” and the “you,” only belatedly catching the other words in between and reconstructing the sentence. But by then, her heart was skittering around her chest like a psycho squirrel.
“Well”—she ran her thumb over his beautifully shaped mouth—“then I guess it’s good that I happen to love taking care of you.”
She kissed him, pulled from his arms, and headed out of the kitchen. “See you in a little—” She glanced down at her keys as she reached the front door. “Oh. Noah, you gave me your keys.”
She turned and found him following her toward the front door with that casual,
sexy saunter—no limp in sight.
“I know,” he said, glancing out the glass front doors and scanning the street. “We got six more inches of snow last night, and only the main roads will be plowed this early.” He ran his hand over her head and tugged on the end of her braid with a warm look in his eyes. “You’ll be safer in the SUV.”
Every muscle was strung tight by the time she reached Dr. McMillan’s office, but she didn’t have time to get herself together because she was already five minutes late to the appointment. She pushed the sudden rush of affection for Noah aside for later. Now she needed to do her job.
With the folder of information in hand, she entered the well-appointed office and was led down a hall past exam rooms and into Dr. McMillan’s private space, where she was directed to a chair across from his wide mahogany desk where she sat and was asked to wait.
She scanned the back wall dripping with diploma after diploma, certificate after certificate, award after award, and photo after photo after photo of McMillan with a dozen different immediately recognizable athletes.
Strike one.
She hadn’t cared for McMillan when she’d first met him with Noah. But this wall of accolades made her dislike—and distrust—him even more. Tension settled in Julia’s shoulders, and she tried to talk herself out of the skepticism that had already begun to creep in.
From the corner of her eye, she caught the flash of a white lab coat and turned to see McMillan stroll into his office and prop one ass cheek on the edge of his desk in front of her. He was in his late fifties trying desperately to hold on to his thirties. He grinned that impatient physician grin, showing perfect rows of pristine white teeth. Which matched his pristine white jacket and the pristine button-up and tie beneath. Which, of course, matched the pristine haircut and pristinely shaven jaw.
“Ms. Bailey, what can I do for you?”
No closed door, no handshake, no icebreaker.
Strike two.
“I’m here to discuss Noah’s—”
“Surely you know I can’t discuss my patients’ medical history with anyone other than the patient himself.”
“And anyone whom the patient agrees to share their medical history with,” she corrected. “As
you know from my last visit with Noah, he’s signed all the necessary paperwork to enable you to discuss his case with me.”
The skin over his cheekbones tightened, and the smile grew brittle. He didn’t like being corrected any more than he liked being questioned.
He crossed his arms. “So what did you need? I’ve got an office full of athletes who are waiting on me.”
“I’d like to discuss the cement mixture the surgeon used to augment the screw placement in Noah’s talus—”
“Why? What, specifically, do you want to know?”
She clenched her teeth.
Patience. Patience.
Julia opened the file of information and offered McMillan a copy of the product specification sheet she’d obtained from the doctor she’d met at the Wings event. “This is from the manufacturer.” He glanced at the page but didn’t uncross his arms to take it. Julia purposely let it hang in the air between them. “Specifically, I’d like to discuss this paragraph here.”
McMillan’s dark eyes scanned the page, before he straightened from the desk, arms at his sides. “Look, I don’t have the time to explain product specifications to you. What I can tell you is that Noah’s trust in my judgment is well-founded, and I’m very busy.”
He started past her, dismissing her without the decency to even take the time to actually dismiss her.
She stood, pausing in the doorway as he headed down the hall. “You don’t have time to discuss one of your gold medalists, Dr. McMillan?”
Her raised voice drew the attention of staff and patients alike, and stopped McMillan in his tracks.With his back still toward her, his hands clenched and released.
“Because,” she continued, “you must have skimmed the part of this study that says, and I quote, ‘Despite these interesting characteristics, in vivo studies on animal models are still incomplete, and ultrastructural data are lacking.’” She looked up just as McMillan slowly turned toward her with fury turning his brown eyes black. “Are you sure you don’t have time to discuss your use of untested material on one of your patients, Doctor?”
He started back toward her at a brisk pace, gripped her arm, and ushered her back into the chair. This time he closed the door and didn’t even attempt the fake smile. “What is this about?”
“It’s about exactly what I told you.” She waved the file of information she’d pulled together on Noah’s surgery and the screws, wires, and cement used to put him back together. “This prototype compound may have the ability to bind to the bone, but it does that by infiltrating the bone’s porous structure.” She snapped her forefinger against the paper. “And this report from the National Center for Biotechnology Information states that this compound doesn’t fully cure for eight to ten months. Doesn’t fully biodegrade for two years. Worse, there have been no documented studies to test the strength of the screws augmented with this material.”
He heaved a frustrated breath and crossed his arms. “Get to the point.”
She had to draw on every ounce of patience she owned to keep from screaming in his arrogant face. But this was bigger than her ego or McMillan’s ego. This was about Noah’s health.
So she drew a slow breath and forced her voice calm when she said, “My point is that if this cement infiltrates the porous structure of the bone, and if this cement doesn’t cure and turn into actual bone material for ten months, and if there are no studies showing its strength during the curing process, then the reality is that no one knows what will happen to Noah’s ankle if he has an accident before it’s fully cured.”
“That’s a lot of if’s, Ms. Bailey. You’re—”
“I’m deeply concerned for Noah’s health.” She took a step forward, imploring him with her expression, with her voice, with all the love in her heart for Noah. “I need to talk to the surgeon who operated on Noah about this compound, but he’s not returning my calls.”
“I’m sure he’s very busy—”
“The X Games begin in just a few days. Can you, in good conscience, assure Noah that his leg won’t shatter if he lands wrong? If his board hits a rail? If one of his aerial stunts goes haywire?”
“That’s ridiculous—”
“Is it? You know bone. You understand the structure. Just think about it for two seconds. Just consider the possibilities I’ve raised. This is Noah’s leg we’re talking about. His career. His future. He’s only thirty years old. He has his whole life ahead of him.”
McMillan’s gaze lowered to the carpet and his jaw worked. Thick silence filled the office for twenty seconds, and Julia swore a minute filled every second.
McMillan lifted a hand and rubbed his forehead, then let it drop against his thigh. “What do you want from me?”A better question would be, what kind of answer was that from a professional of this caliber?
“I want you to do whatever’s in Noah’s best interest. I want you to do for Noah what you’d do for him if he were your son. You have an obligation to do no harm. If you have any doubts about the stability and security of Noah’s ankle, you can’t sign off on his medical release to participate in the Games. And I believe this”—she lifted the report—“combined with your lack of information on the product used to piece Noah back together raises substantial doubt.”
He pushed from the desk, color washing his cheekbones again. “You’re not going to come in here, presume to know more than a specialist who’s been doing this since you were in diapers, and tell me what I can and can’t do. Nothing you’ve told me indicates Noah will have any problem performing at the Games. Every exam shows he’s been getting stronger and more stable. Every X-ray, every CT, every MRI has shown consistent improvement.”
“You’re not addressing the problem—”
“No, the real problem he
re is that you have a little bit of knowledge you’re trying to stretch a very long way. You’re way out of your depth here. I’ve seen this countless times, a physical therapist trying to play doctor when they barely understand their own field.” He passed her and flung open his office door. “And, honestly, I don’t have the time or patience to deal with it. Good-bye, Ms. Bailey.”
His accusation both infuriated and shamed her. She started toward the door with a last-ditch thought coming to mind. Pausing in the doorway, she met McMillan’s icy stare. “Will you at least inform Noah’s sponsor so he can get continued therapy? He needs consistent, quality rehab until the cement is cured and his ankle is fully healed.”
McMillan lifted his chin in a superior gesture and warned, “I’m a board-certified orthopedist with three decades of experience behind me, Ms. Bailey. I know what Noah needs. Now, please, don’t come back.”
Noah had finished his run and his stretches, and Julia still wasn’t back from the grocery store. He was breathing hard as he strolled into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. The garage door sounded, and Noah startled with excitement.
“Damn,” he muttered. “Get ahold of yourself. It’s not like she was gone weeks, for God’s sake.”
He opened the door to the garage just as she pulled grocery bags from the back of the SUV. “Hey.”
“Hey.” She’d said one goddamned word, yet he got a weird, stressed-out vibe. She wasn’t her bubbly self. He walked around the car and picked up the groceries she couldn’t carry, shut the back, and stood in her path to the door. “Are you okay?”
“Sure, fine. Why?”
He scanned her face, searching for the answer to that question. She looked as beautiful as ever, her face vibrant and fresh, her eyes warm, yet…something wasn’t right. “I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Just checking.”
Her smile was sincere and warm and…sad? She pushed up on her toes and leaned across their bags of groceries to kiss him. Then kissed him again.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” she said, almost a whisper.
