Just Right: The Bradfords, Book 1

by Erin Nicholas

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  About the Author

  Look for these titles from Erin Nicholas

  To save one good man, she’ll have to let her inner bad girl out to play…

  ER nurse Jessica Bradford is a good girl. Okay, a reformed bad girl, but she’s done her late father proud. Now she’s one step away from landing Dr. Perfect, aka handsome, sexy, heroic Ben Torres—the hot fudge and cherry on top of her hard work scooping out a respectable life.

  Ben learned the art of sacrifice from his missionary parents, but when a drunk driver he saved kills three people, he quits. To be precise, the fist he plants in the man’s face gets him suspended. And the first dish he wants on his newly empty plate is Jessica—preferably naked.

  Jessica can’t believe the Ben she’s found drowning his sorrows in a bar is her knight in shining scrubs. And he won’t be pried loose until she bets 48 hours of her time in a game of pool. She loses. And the next morning she stands to lose much more.

  The Chief of Staff’s recommendation for the promotion she’s been after rides on her ability to keep Ben out of trouble until things blow over.

  Except “trouble” is all Ben wants. And despite herself, Jessica finds that she’s more than willing to go down with him…

  Warning: Contains hot love in a store dressing room and in the front seat of a car—at the expense of a very nice strawberry patch, unfortunately—oh, and hooker boots. Can’t forget the hooker boots.

  eBooks are not transferable.

  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

  577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

  Macon GA 31201

  Just Right

  Copyright © 2010 by Erin Nicholas

  ISBN: 978-1-60504-947-2

  Edited by Lindsey Faber

  Cover by Scott Carpenter

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: March 2010

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  Just Right

  Erin Nicholas

  Dedication

  To Lindsey, who gave me a shot, who likes my books almost as much as I do, and who can look past the overuse of my favorite words and punctuation to the story and characters underneath.

  Chapter One

  It was not a good day to go low-carb.

  Not that any day was a good day to go low-carb. But as she struggled to hold the bloody, pissed-off drunk down on the trauma room table, Jessica Bradford really missed the double-chocolate jumbo muffin that was a part of her usual Wednesday morning routine.

  “Get off me! Let me go! Get off me, you bitch!”

  She didn’t think she’d been called a derogatory term this early in the morning before. Great, a new record.

  It was going to be a long day.

  She sighed. As the first nurse into the room as the gurney rolled in, Jessica got the questionable privilege of getting to hold the guy’s hand. Kind of. She somehow wrestled the man’s arm down again, thumping it against the examining table with more force than was strictly necessary. Dan, another of the ER nurses, got a firm grip on his wrist.

  “Okay, Linda, now,” Dan said to another nurse. “Get it in now.”

  Linda’s hands were admirably steady as she inserted the needle to deliver a potent sedative into the man’s forearm.

  “Ow! You bitch!” The man attempted to bring his hand up alongside Linda’s head.

  His arm rose only a couple of inches as Jessica and Dan held strong, but Jessica’s arms burned with the effort and she knew she couldn’t hold him much longer.

  Amazing. The man looked like he’d been in a minor scuffle—and had come out the winner—instead of a head-on collision on the expressway. Not to mention that he had been acting like a pain in the ass since he’d been brought in. That had to use up some energy.

  Linda focused on her task and managed to get the needle taped down securely before the man could rip it free with his thrashing. Fortunately, his other arm was broken in at least three places and he was unable to use it to do more damage to himself or the staff working to help him.

  “Please let it work quickly,” Jessica prayed.

  The crash of metal against the hard tile floor was earsplitting as the man’s right foot kicked over the tray near the bed and the array of instruments hit and scattered. But he’d been aiming for the nurse who was cutting open the leg of his blue jeans.

  “Get off of me!” the man bellowed. “Goddamn it!”

  “Not quickly enough,” Dan replied dourly.

  Jessica had to put all one hundred and twenty pounds of her body weight against the man’s arm to keep him from yanking the IV out before the sedative could work.

  “Turn the drip up,” Jessica muttered.

  The man tried to thrash his other arm, but instead moaned loudly. Of course, the alcohol content of his blood likely dulled the intensity of the pain somewhat. Including the pain from the gash on the top of his head that was spurting blood even as the ER physician, Matt Taylor, labored to stitch it shut. The man’s head jerked from side to side and he continued to swear at everyone who came into his line of vision.

  Nearly three minutes later, he finally began wearing out, or the medication was kicking in, or both, because he started to calm. Jessica slowly released her hold on him, then carefully stepped away from the table, rolled her head and rubbed the back of her arm. Wrestling a man with three times her muscle mass and ten times her adrenaline levels had definitely created some knots.

  Just then, the exam room doors banged open.

  And Ben Torres walked in.

  Jessica froze mid-knead.

  The genes Ben had inherited from his half-Hispanic father were gloriously evident in his tanned skin, dark hair and deep brown eyes. But even without the eyes, he took up space in a confident, graceful, solid way that made Jessica think about things she hadn’t thought about in years. Things like large hands and proportionate other body parts. And other thoughts entirely inappropriate in a place where things truly were life and death.

  It wasn’t her fault she got distracted. Dr. Ben Torres was magnificent. Even when he was upset. As he obviously was now.

  He was scowling as he stalked into the room.

  “How are the kids?” someone asked.

  “Dead in the ambulance,” Ben said flatly without looking at anyone but the man on the table.

  A nurse automatically handed Ben gloves, which he pulled on as he came toward the man.

  “What about the mother?” Dan asked.

  “In a coma. Bleeding profusely,” Ben said shortly, stopping at the foot of the table the man lay on. “She won’t make it.”

  No one responded for a moment and all sexual thoughts fled Jessica’s mind as she stared at Ben. It wasn’t just the news he’d delivered.
It was tragic, but unfortunately not an uncommon report for an emergency room. It was the way Ben said the words. There was a coldness in his voice that Jessica had never heard from him. The rest of the staff responded similarly, shrinking away as he passed them. Ben was always serious in the ER, intent on his work but calm and composed. Now he looked furious, barely holding on to his anger.

  Then the relative silence was interrupted by, “Son of a bitch!”

  The man on the table suddenly tried to sit upright. Matt’s hands still held the end of the thread that was partially keeping the man’s scalp together. The man howled in pain as the thread in his head pulled and his mangled arm shifted.

  People around the table lunged to restrain him again and someone yelled, “Give him more!” Someone went for a syringe and Jessica went for the wrist with the IV. But as she leaned in, the man grabbed the front of her shirt and jerked her forward.

  “Damn it! Get me out of here! Get them off of me!”

  She wrapped her hands around the man’s arm and opened her mouth, but before she could respond, Ben pushed in next to her and grabbed the man’s wrist. He twisted and the man yelped and let go. Jessica stumbled back as Dan came forward too and pushed against the man’s chest, forcing him back down on the table.

  “Calm down,” Ben ordered the man.

  “Screw you.”

  “These people are trying to help you,” Ben said, through gritted teeth.

  Jess was close enough to see the tension in his face.

  “Screw them!” the man shouted. “I don’t want their help.”

  He pulled hard against the arm Ben held, then grimaced in pain as Ben squeezed his wrist.

  “Don’t you remember me, Ted?” Ben asked, his jaw tight. “I put your sorry ass back together two months ago when you plowed your car into that tree.”

  The man didn’t look any happier, but his struggling slowed a bit as he stared at Ben. “That’s right,” Ben went on. “Thanks to me you were able to get up this morning and appreciate the beautiful sunrise and get ready for work at a rewarding job where you help people and contribute to society. Oh, wait.”

  He leaned in closer to Ted, his expression dark, his tone cold. “That was the woman lying on that table in the next room. But the breakfast she made and the hugs she gave her kids and the latte she bought today were all her last. Because of you.”

  Jessica wasn’t breathing and she knew no one else in the room was either. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Ben and the intensity of the emotions on his face.

  Ted squirmed on the table and tried to turn his head away from Ben’s stare of contempt, but Ben caught Ted’s chin in his hand and forced the man to look at him.

  “Look at you.” Ben’s voice was low and angry. “You’re barely scratched up compared to those kids, but these people still have to stay and help you. But I know you’re wasting their time, just like you wasted mine. I spent four hours in that operating room making sure you would live. But when you got in your car this morning you were basically telling me to fuck off, weren’t you? And this time you took three people with you.”

  Ben looked like he’d like to take the man’s head off. “That woman and her kids would still be alive if I hadn’t done my job so well. It’s probably a good thing you don’t need surgery today. I might not be having as good a day.”

  Jessica wanted to gasp at Ben’s implication, but she couldn’t force any air into her lungs. And she couldn’t look away to see what how the rest of the staff was reacting.

  “You’re a waste of time. And you are going to jail for this.”

  Ted’s eyes went wide and he struggled in Ben’s hold, thrashing his head side to side.

  “This is crap! Get me out of here! Goddamn assholes!”

  The man’s bellowing jerked Jessica out of her daze. Thank goodness, because she was close enough to Ben that she found herself flinching away as he pulled his arm back. She jumped when his fist came forward quickly and connected with Ted’s face.

  Ted howled and struggled to lift a hand to where blood was now running from his nose. But the staff stood frozen for several seconds.

  Dan reacted first, pivoting and putting his shoulder into Ben’s chest. “Back up, Torres.”

  Dan had to let up on the pressure he was exerting to keep Ted down and the man thrashed, rolling side to side. Dan gritted his teeth and turned back to subdue the patient, unable to deal with both men at once.

  Jess recovered, sort of, and stepped in front of Ben. “I’ve got him,” she said to Dan, putting both hands on Ben’s chest.

  She pushed him back, aware of the pounding of his heart under her palm and, inappropriately, aware that she’d never touched Ben other than brushing against his arm or hand while they were working.

  “Dr. Torres,” she said, willing him to look at her when he resisted the pressure on his chest.

  His six foot two inches to her five foot six was a significant difference, not to mention his solid two hundred pounds of muscle to her slim build, which was mostly from good genes versus good exercise habits.

  She pushed harder. “Ben!”

  He looked down at her and backed up a step. She followed him as she glanced over her shoulder at the man who continued to moan and complain.

  “You could have broken his nose,” she said for Ben’s ears only.

  “I did.”

  She looked up quickly. His tone was so flat she could only assume that cracked cartilage had been his intention. She swallowed, not sure what to say to that. And completely unable to fully pull her attention from the body heat soaking into her palms.

  Ben stared down into the eyes of the woman he’d purposely been not touching since he’d come to Omaha. She looked so damn good. She smelled delicious. And her hands were on him. Finally.

  Ben glared at the man writhing on the table and the rage tightened his chest again. He wanted to concentrate on something good, something pleasurable and sweet, like the woman in front of him.

  But Ted Blake had to get into his car this morning instead of sleeping off his drinking binge.

  Ben wasn’t sorry he’d hit Ted. He wanted the selfish, stupid bastard to feel at least a measure of the pain he’d caused. The blood from Ted’s nose couldn’t come close to equaling the amount of blood the five-year-old and two-year-old in the next room had lost because of him. But the feel of his fist connecting with the cartilage in Ted’s nose had been at least slightly satisfying. Ben knew it meant he’d stooped to Ted’s level, that two wrongs don’t make a right and all that bullshit. But hitting Ted had definitely felt good.

  And damn, Ben wanted to feel good. It had been a long time since things had been that simple.

  He especially wanted to kick his obsession with fixing things—things that didn’t stay fixed in particular.

  Ben focused again on Jessica, who still had her hands braced on his chest and who was still looking at him like…he was a successful, respected surgeon who’d punched a patient in the face.

  He just wanted to feel good. And he had an excellent idea about how to make that happen at the moment.

  He grabbed her by the upper arms, pulled her up onto her tiptoes and kissed her, eliciting as many gasps from the ER staff as when he’d hit Ted.

  This felt so much better.

  Hell, he was going to get suspended anyway. Might as well add sexual harassment to the list while he was at it.

  Not that Jessica was responding like a woman being harassed. Her hands gripped his shoulders and she tipped her head to the right, making the fit of their mouths more absolute. She pressed her chest and hips against him, parting her lips for his tongue to invade the silky heat of her mouth.

  In fact, the only reason Ben didn’t back her up against the nearest wall and make things really interesting was the security guards who showed up.

  One cleared his throat. “Dr. Torres, we’ve been asked to escort you off of St. Anthony’s campus.”

  Ben released Jessica, finally feeling some of the long
-sought satisfaction when he saw her lift her hand and press her fingers against her lips, her green eyes wide, a long strand of her dark hair slipping from the ponytail she always wore neat and tight.

  “Okay.” He had no intention of resisting.

  “The patient is finally under sedation,” he heard a nurse report to Dan.

  Perfect.

  “Let’s go.” Ben turned and led the way out of the trauma room, more than ready to leave.

  The truth was, he should have walked out of the ER and not come back a long time ago.

  There were five words that Jessica hated to hear from her brother.

  “Jess, I need a favor.”

  Yep. Those were them.

  She closed her eyes. “Come on, Sam. I had a long day.” She wanted to prop up in bed, watch Seinfeld reruns and eat a pint of Peanut Butter Passion.

  “It’s important, Jess,” Sam said, his tone the one he used for coaxing shy women out onto the dance floor. “I tried to handle it, but I need your help.”

  The tone always worked on curvy blondes.

  Jessica was not a curvy blonde.

  “I’m…busy.”

  “Dry your hair and get dressed,” he said. “I told you—it’s important.”

  Jessica paused with the comb halfway through her straight brown hair and stared at the phone receiver in the mirror. How had he known her hair was wet? That was weird.

  “I said I’m busy.”

  “No. You said I’m, then there was a long pause before you said busy.”

  She scowled. “So?”

  “So, that pause means you were trying to think of a good excuse because you can never quite bring yourself to lie about it. You’re at home. It had to be taking a shower, doing laundry or cleaning the apartment.”

  Jessica bristled. “I do other things here than…wash things.”

  “Yeah, but if you were really doing anything important you would have actually been busy and you would have just told me what you were busy doing instead of using the noncommittal, generic I’m busy.”