Resisting Her Rebel Hero

by Lucy Ryder

  Learning they were less than five minutes out of Spruce Ridge, he instructed the pilot to radio ahead with their ETA and to have a resus team waiting at the helipad. He tossed aside the headset and dug into his rucksack for the supplies he’d thrown there earlier.

  He ripped off the plastic needle cover with his teeth and plunged the syringe into the vial of atropine. With a smooth one-handed move that might have impressed Cassidy if her patient hadn’t been in trouble, he drew back the plunger.

  “Get that into his vein,” she ordered sharply, before stopping the chest compressions to begin mouth-to-mouth. The following minutes were filled with the urgency only experienced by medics concerned with saving a life, and by the time they landed and rushed him across the helipad, Jim Bowen’s pulse was once again steady.

  The ortho specialist was already suiting up when Cassidy followed her patient into the OR. The gray-haired surgeon’s piercing blue gaze studied her over the top of his spectacles as he thrust his hands into latex gloves.

  “Grant Sawyer, orthopedic specialist,” he introduced himself brusquely. “Mahoney from Crescent Lake?” And when she nodded, he barked, “Fill me in.”

  Cassidy gave a succinct report of their intervention while the theatre staff prepped Jim for surgery. Sawyer listened and nodded as he skimmed through the patient’s chart.

  “Good job,” he said with a brusque nod, and turned away to rap out orders for blood and instruments, leaving Cassidy with the impression that she’d just been dismissed.

  She backed out of the OR, fighting the feeling that she should be doing something. Anything but stand around while others worked miracles.

  Sam was waiting in the hallway. “You okay?” he asked, shoving off the wall he’d been propping up. Cassidy nodded absently and pushed the tousled hair off her forehead. “Why?”

  “Resus says ER’s swamped and could use some help. You up for it?”

  “We’re not flying back?”

  Sam shook his head. “Storm’s too bad. We’re lucky we made it before all aircraft were grounded. Pilot’s already gone and all roads into the mountains have been closed.”

  Cassidy’s belly clenched. “So we’re…stuck.”

  Sam placed a warm hand into the small of her back and sent her a crooked grin. “Just you and me, babe. Until morning.”

  Cassidy rolled her eyes at his use of the hated word that was strangely enough starting to grow on her. “And an ER full of accident victims.”

  “Yeah.” He laughed dryly, steering her down the wide hallway. “And that.”

  *

  Hours later Cassidy pulled off her latex gloves and made the last notations on her clipboard. Darkness had long fallen and the storm had turned the world beyond the hospital walls white and icy. Fortunately the number of casualties had dwindled to a trickle and she could finally take a break.

  She was also starving.

  Stretching tired muscles, Cassidy wandered out to the waiting room and handed the clipboard to the woman manning the nurses’ station. “Finally packing it in, honey?” the nurse asked with a sympathetic smile.

  “You’re good to go,” Cassidy replied, smoothing her messy hair off her face and twisting it at the back of her head, where she pinned it using a couple of pins someone had found for her. “Have you seen Major Kellan?”

  “Big handsome hunk with the pretty eyes?”

  Cassidy smiled at the woman’s description. “That’s him.”

  “I saw him heading towards the doctors’ lounge with the ER manager about ten minutes ago,” the nurse reported and eyed Cassidy with open envy. “You two…together?”

  “Yes,” she said with a small smile, and turned to head down the passage. They were together but not together. She didn’t think any woman could say she and Samuel Kellan were…together. He didn’t do together with anyone—which should have made her feel better but didn’t, especially when she entered the doctors’ lounge and found him surrounded by admirers.

  Almost immediately he turned, a warm, intimate smile curling his lips when their gazes met and held. He quickly excused himself and headed across the room to wrap his hands around her upper arms and yank her against him. Her squeak of surprise was abruptly cut off by his open-mouthed kiss, and before she could react, he’d sucked out her brain along with her breath.

  Several long seconds later Sam broke off the kiss and lifted his head a couple of inches. “Hey,” he murmured, his rough, deep voice sliding against her like a heated caress.

  She gulped in a shocked breath and gaped at him. “Wh-what…?” Her mouth snapped shut on her stuttered attempt at coherence. Besides, they were standing in a brightly lit doctors’ lounge filled with openly staring medical personnel.

  “Work with me here, babe,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. Baffled by his unexpected behavior, Cassidy opened her mouth again. “What…?” but Sam was tugging her into the hallway.

  “Hey,” she complained, and tugged against his grip. “Coffee. Now. Maybe even intravenously.”

  Sam grimaced. “Forget about that swill. I’ve got something better.”

  Her mouth dropped open and she stared at him in shocked silence before sliding her gaze down his hard belly to his crotch. Did he…? Could he really…?

  “Doc!” Sam’s eyes widened but he was also battling a grin. “You have a dirty mind,” he accused, and when she just rolled her eyes he spun her around and hustled her back against the nearest wall, his body following.

  Surprised by the slick move, Cassidy gave a startled squeak even as his mouth closed over hers, and then he was kissing her like he couldn’t wait to get her naked. She slapped a hand against his chest and made a gurgling sound in her throat.

  Sam reluctantly backed off, looking a little wild. Cassidy flushed and tried to shove him away but he leaned into her and rasped out, “Give me a minute.” She opened her mouth to tell him he’d had his minute when she felt something large and hard poking her belly. She froze, her flush deepening, until she was sure she was glowing like a neon sign in the desert.

  “What is it with you and walls?” she huffed out, secretly grateful for the hard body keeping her upright. His gold eyes gleamed at her through thick dark eyelashes.

  “If I don’t take advantage of the nearest one,” he growled, “you’d be practicing those sneaky evasion techniques you’ve perfected over the past few weeks.”

  Cassidy opened her mouth to reply when her stomach growled and she dropped her head back and closed her eyes in defeat. Sam chuckled and pushed away from the wall.

  “Looks like you need more than coffee.”

  “I’m starving,” she excused herself with a faint blush. “I wonder what the hospital cafeteria is serving.”

  Sam grimaced and stepped back, his hand sliding down to circle her wrist. “Nothing good, believe me.” He gave her a gentle tug closer. “Let’s go.”

  “Where? I’m starving.”

  His eyebrow rose at her petulant tone. “And I’m going to feed you,” he promised. “Just not here. I managed to get us a room at a hotel a couple of blocks away.”

  Shock and panic moved through Cassidy. “What? No!”

  Sam’s brow rose. “No?”

  “No,” Cassidy said shortly. “I’m not sharing a room with you.”

  He sent her a chiding look. “Now, babe—” he began.

  Only to have Cassidy interrupting with, “I beg your pardon?”

  He grinned, leaving her head reeling at his abrupt mood changes. “You really shouldn’t try that icy debutante tone with me, Doc.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He leaned closer with a sinful grin that sent alarm and heat arrowing through her. “Makes me hot,” he murmured against her ear, and Cassidy felt her cheeks heat. She could feel exactly how hot.

  She edged away. “I can get my own room, Sam.” No way could she spend the night with him and not expose herself. Her feelings were too new, too raw—and she was terrified she would just blurt them out in the heat o
f the moment.

  “No, Cassidy, you can’t.” And when she scowled he smoothed his hand down to the base of her spine and tugged her closer. “And not just because you didn’t bring cash or cards. The hotels in the area are all full. I checked. I was lucky, really lucky to get that room.”

  His look was carefully casual. “So, dinner and the last room at the inn?”

  Cassidy sighed and made a helpless gesture. “Sam—”

  He captured her hand. “Look,” he interrupted quietly, “I know you don’t get involved with people you work with. But we’re not colleagues here. We’re just a man and a woman who are attracted to each other.”

  She looked up in surprise. “I thought—”

  He shrugged out of his parka and wrapped it around her shoulders as he steered her towards the main entrance. “You thought what?”

  Looking up into his handsome face, Cassidy recalled the conversation she’d overheard earlier that day. “I know you were planning to meet up with some of the nurses later.”

  His stopped abruptly. “What?”

  She licked her lips and exhaled noisily, hoping he couldn’t see how much the knowledge hurt. “I understand. Really. It’s not like we’re—” She stopped abruptly and looked away, unable to continue.

  Sam folded his arms across his chest. “Not like we’re what, Cassidy?”

  She swallowed and smoothed her tousled hair off her face, looking anywhere but at him and feeling unaccountably flustered. “It’s not like we’re…well, together. Or anything,” she ended lamely.

  His mouth compressed into a hard line and a muscle jumped in his jaw. “Well, you apparently know more than I do,” he growled. “Jeez. You don’t have a very good opinion of men, do you? Or is it just me?”

  Startled by his mercurial moods, Cassidy stared up at him. “What are you talking about?

  His jaw clenched. “I’m talking about the fact that you think I’d have sex with other women just because you’re avoiding me.”

  She flushed. Okay, so that’s exactly what she’d thought. “Sam—”

  “Cassidy,” he mocked gently, and cradled her face between his warm palms. “It’s just you,” he murmured, his eyes a deep dark gold that had her heart lurching in silly feminine hope. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? “Since that night in county lock-up, it’s been you.”

  For now, she wanted to add, but didn’t want to ruin the fragile mood between them. Sucking in a shaky breath, she sent him a falsely bright smile and shored up the cracks in her composure. She’d take what she could and protect her heart later. When he was gone.

  “I think you promised me dinner,” she murmured, and his grin was quick and white in his dark face. Leaning forward, he planted a hard kiss on her mouth. “That’s just the appetizer, babe,” he promised quietly. “We have the whole night to savor the main course.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CASSIDY WOKE ON a surge of adrenaline, abruptly and fully alert between one breath and the next. Heart pounding in her chest, she blinked into the darkness and struggled with a sense of disorientation.

  Quickly taking stock, she realized she wasn’t at home in Boston and she wasn’t in her bed at the inn. But she was naked, which could only mean one thing…Sam!

  Fear and a gut-deep knowledge that something was very wrong had her rolling over in the wide bed just as she heard it again—harsh, ragged. There was a heavy thud and something crashed to the floor, instantly followed by a litany of snarled curses.

  Pulse spiking with alarm, she lurched upright and tried to recall where the bedside lamp was situated. His abruptly yelled, “No! No!” sent chills streaking up her spine, and a quick tactile reconnaissance of the mattress confirmed she was alone in the bed. Was Sam fighting some psycho who’d sneaked into their hotel room?

  “He’s just a kid, for God’s sake. Let him go… God, let him go.”

  He? Who was he talking about? Heck, who was he talking to?

  A low, threatening sound vibrated deep in his throat, making the hair on her body stand on end before a babble of foreign words filled the room, menacing and a little frightening.

  Launching herself across the bed, she fumbled for the light switch, rapping her elbow on the bedside table and almost knocking the lamp over in her haste. She finally located the switch and blinked against the sudden light bursting into the room.

  She didn’t know what she’d expected but it wasn’t Sam fighting an unseen enemy. Oh, God, she thought. Was he experiencing a flashback or having a nightmare?

  A murderous bellow had Cassidy’s heart rate spiking. She watched wide-eyed as he struggled violently, arms pinned to his side, tendons, sinew and well-defined muscles straining beneath acres of sweat-slicked skin.

  He was gloriously naked, but for once she failed to appreciate the perfect lines of his hard body. Her gaze was locked on his face. His shadowed features contorted with fury as he lurched around the room, crashing into everything in his path. It was a wonder he didn’t wake up with all the noise he was making and Cassidy wondered if he was reliving some actual or imagined event.

  He suddenly stiffened, and with a hoarse, anguished “No!” he jolted like he’d been struck. Then he slowly sank to his knees, his breath coming in ragged dry heaves.

  Biting back the cry that rose to her lips, Cassidy pressed herself against the headboard, wanting desperately to go to him. She needed to go to him—especially when he thrust his hands through his hair and she got her first good look at his face. He looked completely and utterly devastated.

  No longer able to keep her distance, she slid from the bed and approached him warily, desperate to comfort him. A hoarse moan tore from his throat and the desolation in the sound lifted the hair at the nape of her neck. She halted a few feet away and dropped to her knees, the sight of his wet cheeks wrenching at her tender heart. Unbearable pressure squeezed her chest in a giant fist and before she could stop it from happening, her newly exposed heart quivered…and broke.

  A sob rose in her throat and she reached out a hand, her trembling fingers sliding greedily over the rounded ball of his shoulder. His skin, normally so warm, was damp and cold to the touch and her medical training took over. She wasn’t a psychiatrist, but working in ER she’d witnessed enough cases of psychological trauma to know shock when she saw it.

  “Samuel,” she said firmly, rubbing his wide shoulder in slow, soothing movements. For long moments he remained unresponsive, the room filled with nothing but his harsh breathing—his body shaking as shudders moved through him. “Sam. Wake up, you’re dreaming.”

  His muscles turned to stone beneath her hand as he abruptly stilled. He slowly lifted his head, turning a gaze completely stripped of emotion in her direction. He looked at her as though he didn’t know her and wasn’t quite sure what she was doing there.

  Tension radiated off him like a nuclear blast and she braced herself for his reaction. But after long tense moments he blinked as though coming out of a trance, confusion pulling at his dark brows.

  “Cassidy?” His voice emerged, hoarse and a little rusty. Her shoulders sagged and her breath escaped in a relieved whoosh that left her trembling and dizzy.

  Okay, she thought, so far so good.

  Shifting closer, she carefully smoothed a line from his shoulder to his bulging biceps and curled her fingers into his inner arm where the satin-smooth flesh was clammy. A fine tremor twitched the muscles beneath her hand. Even in the dim light his pallor was evident, as was the fine sheen of perspiration, the dazed disorientation in his eyes. She pushed damp hair off his forehead with her free hand before cupping his hard, beard-roughened jaw in her palm.

  Staring into his distressed eyes, she whispered, “It’s okay, Sam…I’m here,” fighting the need to wrap her arms around him, to press her body close, share her warmth. Protect him from his demons. “I’m here.”

  After a couple of beats he lifted unsteady fingers to brush a light caress over her mouth. His tender touch, so at odds with the violen
ce she’d sensed in him just moments ago, tore at her control, and a tear finally escaped, the accompanying sob a hot ball of razor-sharp emotions in her throat.

  His eyes tracked the silvery tear before he caught it near her mouth with the tip of one long tanned finger.

  “You’re crying.” He sounded baffled, concerned, as another tear escaped, then another.

  Horrified by her slipping control, she covered his hand with hers and turned her face into his wide, calloused palm, choking back emotions that seemed to be rising faster than Biblical flood waters.

  Get a grip, Mahoney. The guy needs your strength here, not tears and certainly not any declarations of love.

  “I… It’s nothing,” she replied softly, nuzzling his hand, her gaze clinging to his as though he would vanish if she blinked. “Something happened. Tell me about it.”

  If Cassidy had blinked she might have missed the shield slamming down between them. Between one breath and the next his eyes cleared as he abruptly withdrew. All without moving a muscle. Then his hand slid out from beneath hers and he moved away, leaving her cold and oddly hollow.

  The barrier was as tangible as a brick wall. Feeling suddenly exposed she hurriedly looked around for something to cover her nakedness. Spying his soft, well-washed T-shirt, she grabbed it and hastily pulled it over her head, surrounding herself with his familiar scent.

  He was slumped back against the bed, wrists draped over his upraised knees, head bowed, breathing heavily as though he’d run ten miles in full gear up a steep mountain slope. His face was gray and emotional strain carved deep furrows beside the tense lines of his mouth.

  Wishing she could comfort him and knowing it was the last thing he wanted from her, Cassidy felt raw emotion rise like a tide from her chest into her throat. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the room’s sudden chill.