by Lucy Ryder
Startled, she lurched backwards—okay, shrieked and jumped about a foot in the air—and bumped into a nearby medicine trolley that hadn’t been wheel-locked. A hand shot out to grab her but she yanked her arm away, the abrupt move sending the trolley skidding out from under her. She fell hard against the sluice trolley and went down in a tangle of limbs, another shriek and—yay—a half-dozen bedpans that crashed around her like the sounding of the Apocalypse.
For a couple of beats she lay there stunned until she became aware of two things. One: her notes were fluttering to the floor like confetti and, two—oh, God—Gabriel was dropping to his haunches beside her. Through the roaring in her ears she thought she heard him ask repeatedly if she was all right.
Realizing he was feeling her up, she jolted like she’d been shot. “What…what the heck are you doing?” she gasped on a rising inflection, shoving at his hands.
But he brushed her aside and growled, “Damn it, Holly. Stay still until I’m satisfied you’re—”
The door burst open and three nurses spilled out, coming to an abrupt halt when they saw Holly flat on her bottom, bedpans and folio paper scattered all over the floor—and Gabriel Alexander’s hands high up on her inner thigh.
Their eyes bugged.
“Dr. Buchanan?”
“Dr. Alexander?”
“Omigosh, are you all right?”
Sucking in a breath, she did a lightning-quick assessment and decided that other than her bruised bottom and her battered pride she was fine. “I’m…fine,” she said, shoving Gabriel away and scrambling to her feet to hide her hot face.
Gabriel shot out a hand to steady her when she swayed and though she stiffened she didn’t pull away. She did a mental eye-roll. Not after what had just happened—all because she hadn’t wanted him to touch her.
“What happened?” the head nurse demanded, popping her head out the door and frowning at the debris scattered across the floor.
“The brake was off the meds trolley,” Gabriel said, his voice more steely than she’d ever heard it.
“No,” Holly hastened to say. “It was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going and Dr. Alexander had to save me from—”
“It’s not all right,” he interrupted tersely. “Dr. Buchanan could have been seriously injured because someone didn’t follow safety procedures.” He frowned at the head nurse as the others scurried to pick up the scattered bedpans.
“Dr. Alexander—”
“Leave the papers,” he ordered tersely, ignoring Holly’s attempts to smooth over the situation. “I’ll help Dr. Buchanan collect them.”
Once the bedpans had been returned to their place and the trolleys locked, he waited until the frosted door closed on the cowed nurses before releasing his grip on Holly.
Without speaking, she dropped to her haunches and silently began gathering up her notes. She was shaking inside and had to bite her lip against the pain radiating from her elbow. She tried to hurry, wanting to escape without making even more of a fool of herself.
Unfortunately it was waa-aay too late for that.
She was on her knees when they both reached for the last page. Holly froze. With her heart in her throat, she was compelled to lift her gaze to his—and felt herself fall all over again. This time into a pair of blue-green eyes. Déjà vu. Blue-green eyes that swept over her face as though they’d been starved of the sight of her.
“Holly,” he said coolly, his face expressionless. But there was a wealth of emotion in his eyes—anger, frustration, accusation, even concern, and something so dark and hot it sent hurt slicing through her.
Swallowing the sob that rose into her throat, she shook her head, snatching at the pages in his hand before surging to her feet in one smooth move. She abruptly swung on her heel and surprised herself by not falling flat on her face. Before she could stomp off with her head held high, he grabbed her arm.
Instantly pain ricocheted from her elbow to her shoulder and she flinched, unable to prevent a gasp from escaping.
He immediately released her. “What? What’s wrong?”
Tears—that had little to do with the pain in her elbow—blinded her and she shook her head again and turned her face away. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I just bruised my elbow, that’s all.”
“Let me see.”
“No.” She sucked in a steadying breath and said it again, this time quietly. “No. It’s nothing, really. I’ll be fine.” She wasn’t talking about her elbow. At least, not just.
“Fine, but we need to talk.”
She gulped and thought, Go away, Gabriel, can’t you see I’m having a mini-freak-out here? “There’s nothing to say, Dr. Alexander.”
His eyebrows flattened across the bridge of his nose and his lips firmed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’ve already said everything I need to hear.”
“What?” He looked so confused Holly almost relented but then she recalled the sight of her sister clinging to Gabe and her resolve hardened.
Folding her arms beneath her breasts, she thrust out her chin in silent challenge. “To Paige.”
He rubbed the lines of exhaustion between his eyes and Holly was tempted to reach out and smooth them away. “Paige?” he demanded testily. “What the hell does Paige have to do with anything?”
Holly’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding, right?” Her hands curled into tight fists to keep her from taking a swing at his thick head. Maybe jolt his memory? Knock him out?
“I honestly have no idea—” He abruptly shook his head as though to clear it. “What about Westchester?”
She tried to look innocent. “What about Richard?”
“Yeah, right. It’s fine to find fault with me when you ran off with him, leaving me to face your mother. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was? For both of us?”
“No more humiliating,” she snapped, “than you discussing me…my scars.” Not to mention devastating. She sucked in a steadying breath when she realized she was starting to hyperventilate. “Not to mention my sagging breasts and my huge ass and thighs!” She lowered her voice to a fierce whisper when a couple of nurses passed, eyeing them with avid curiosity. “With my sister?” She jabbed a finger at him and hissed, “My sister!”
He had the grace to wince. “You heard that?”
Suddenly Holly was exhausted. She’d been functioning on pure adrenaline since that night and she wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep for a month.
“Of course I heard it,” she said wearily. “Paige made certain I heard it. Like she made certain I saw how she touched you and plastered herself…” She sucked in a steadying breath. “And how you did nothing…nothing… to stop her.”
Her phone rang and she checked the caller ID, viciously punching the disconnect button when she saw who it was.
“Now, just a minute,” he said incredulously. “That’s what this is all about?”
Holly glared at him.
“Damn it! I can’t believe—!” He broke off with a muttered oath and shoved his hands through his hair, looking agitated and…and hot, damn him. “Did you…did you hear everything I said to Paige out on the terrace?”
“I…I heard enough,” she snapped. “Enough to know you agreed with her. But that’s okay since it’s nothing I haven’t heard before,” she said coolly. “A million times. But I can’t believe you agreed with her. Not after—”
Fortunately Gabriel’s furious “I did nothing of the sort” interrupted what she was going to say. Then her phone rang again and she was just about to throw the thing against the wall when she realized it wasn’t Paige this time but her mother. “You know what, never mind. I have to go.”
“We need to talk.”
“I hardly think—”
His hand closed over her shoulder and whipped her around. “We’re going to have that talk,” he said firmly, his eyes glittering with determination and something else that Holly couldn’t identify. It made her stomach drop then bounce ba
ck up like she’d fallen from the top of the Empire State building.
“I have to go. My mother’s sent a car to take me to the hotel. I’m helping with the last minute details of the charity auction for the ball tonight,” she explained when he looked like he wanted to throttle her.
“Fine,” he said shortly. “I’ll see you there. Save all your dances for me.”
“You have an invitation?” she asked, mouth dropping open. She shook her head. Of course he had an invitation. “I mean, I might not have time—”
“I’ll see you there,” he ground out an instant before he yanked her against him and slammed his mouth down on hers in a hard, punishing kiss. It stunned her with its heated ferocity and even after he’d shoved back and disappeared into the surgical ward she stood open-mouthed, wide-eyed and more than a little dazed.
He’d tasted of anger and frustration, she thought dizzily. And a wild, wild lust that had just a hint of what she thought was desperation. But that was ridiculous. Wasn’t it?
It took a passing med student asking, “You gonna answer that, Dr. Buchanan?” to realize she was staring at her buzzing phone as though she’d never seen it before.
A look at caller ID galvanized her into action. Once Delia Buchanan was on a roll, it took a force of nature to stop her.
Gabriel paid the cab driver and turned to look up at the blazingly bright façade of Manhattan’s finest hotel. It figured that the charity foundation, which he now knew was run by Delia Buchanan, would host it here. Its five-star rating, as well as the richly appointed furnishings, would draw New York’s social and moneyed elite.
It was clear by the number of glittery ballgowns and designer tuxes that the elite had converged on Manhattan for the prestigious occasion. Gabriel entered the hotel and was immediately struck by the intricate lay-light high overhead, brilliantly illuminated and casting a rich warm glow over the huge lobby.
He’d stayed at the hotel only once before, when he’d flown out to see the chief of surgery, P&R head and the hospital CEO about heading up their special cases team. He hadn’t seen it filled with so many bejeweled women in long glittery dresses or starched stiffs then, and despite the reek of money and breeding all but choking the atmosphere he had to admit he was impressed as hell.
Delia Buchanan must be very pleased with the turnout, he thought. He just hoped she was even more pleased when the contributions came pouring in.
He nodded to a couple of hospital board members gathered near the entrance and paused on the threshold. The enormous neoclassical ballroom had recently been renovated to its original opulence, a perfect setting for dining in splendor and emptying out fat wallets.
Gabe wondered what little Lacey Carmichael, his latest patient, would say about all this. She’d probably think she’d stepped into a fairytale with music and dancing…and gorgeous princes and princesses. She, as well as a lot of other children, was in dire need of the care the money raised would provide.
His lips curved as he thought about that morning when he’d carried the tiny four-year-old into the OR. Bright, sweet and with an adorable lisp, she’d wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his cheek.
Lifting a hand, he was surprised not to feel the damp spot her lips had left and his heart ached for the brave little girl who’d cheerfully told everyone who’d listened that Mr. Doctor was going to make her beautiful again.
Fortunately she was still very young and the trauma of being savaged by a friend’s pet would fade, along with her scars.
When Holly’s mother had called him last week to urge him to attend the ball, he’d told himself that he’d accepted for Lacey. He’d lied to himself. It was also a chance for him to get Holly alone and…
And what?
Apologize? Bare his soul? Force another kiss on her? He didn’t know. Only this afternoon he’d looked into huge blue eyes full of hurt and pride and had known one irrefutable fact: he loved Holly Buchanan more than he’d thought it possible to love another person.
It had left him reeling, totally off balance, like the world had spun off its axis. Like he’d been head-punched by a linebacker. Hell, he was still reeling. Or maybe he’d always been a little off center and Holly just…righted his world. Made everything better. Brighter, sweeter…Hell…it had sounded sappy and a little goofy even thinking about it.
But this bizarre feeling growing inside his chest had had his emotions seesawing between elation and pure terror. It had left him feeling shaky and sick. And then he’d heard that Holly had talked to Dr. Hunt about taking up a fellowship in another city and the sick feeling had morphed into outright panic.
She was planning to leave—because she thought he preferred Paige. As if anyone, especially that spoiled shallow supermodel, could ever make him feel the way Holly did.
Suddenly the thought of being without her had filled him with a determination born of fear. A fear he’d shoved aside with the knowledge that if she didn’t care about him—even a little—she wouldn’t be thinking of ditching her plan. Or him.
He was going to make her listen and he was going to do it tonight. And then he was going to take her home and tie her to his bed.
Fingering the invitation Delia had delivered to the hospital, he recalled the neatly penned instructions on the back.
Gabriel. Table 1 to the right of the dais. 7:30. Don’t be late or I’ll send out a search party. Delia.
He checked the seating plan on the easel at the entrance and headed across the dance floor. The live orchestra, all students from the Manhattan Music College, filled the ballroom with lively music, proving that Delia Buchanan supported young talent as well as raised funds for the disfigured.
She was a remarkable woman, he thought. Just like her daughter.
He skirted a group of people sipping champagne and debating the safety of air travel when a familiar voice purred behind him, “You all alone tonight, Gabriel?”
He didn’t have to turn around to know that Paige Buchanan was on the prowl.
“No, actually,” he said, turning to find a stunningly made-up Paige clinging to the arm of the man she’d not two weeks ago said was a dead bore.
“Ms. Buchanan, Westchester.” He greeted the other man blandly but he guessed his feelings were pretty clear because Richard Westchester’s brown eyes twinkled as he thrust out his hand in greeting.
“Alexander.” His handshake was firm. “If you’re looking for Holly, I saw her talking to the senator and Mrs. James over at the auction table.”
A senator? “Thank you.” He was just about to head off when Rick tilted his head, studying Gabe with narrowed eyes.
“You know, you remind me of someone. I thought so the other night but I just couldn’t think who it was. Seeing you again has reminded me. Are you by any chance related to the Long Island Alexanders? Mark Alexander’s son, Steven, is about your age, maybe a little younger, and you look a lot like him.”
Gabe had known this moment would eventually come. Had prepared for it. But it still gave him a jolt. “No,” he said casually. “I’m from California.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Rick mused. “Funny how life is. I guess it’s true what they say about having a twin somewhere in the world.”
Gabe was saved from replying by Paige. Clearly tired of being ignored, she tugged impatiently on Rick’s arm. “Come on, Ricky.” She pouted. “I want to show you the dresses I donated to my mother’s little pet project.”
“The auction,” Rick said, by way of explanation to Gabe, who couldn’t have cared less unless they brought in a lot of money.
“I’m sure the foundation is grateful for your loss,” Gabe said politely. Paige sent him a cat smile.
“And you, Gabriel?” she purred. “How grateful are you? Considering most of the funds will be going to pay for your salary?”
“God, Paige,” Rick groaned. “Give it a rest, will you? You know very well that Chrysalis can’t afford to pay Dr. Alexander’s fees. Anything made here tonight only goes to the medica
l costs for the miracles he performs.”
Furious with Rick for daring to contradict her in front of Gabriel, she rounded on him. “I’m only saying—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Rick interrupted wearily. “We get it. The great Paige Buchanan threw a couple of her old rags at the foundation and now everyone must be overcome with gratitude. You’re thirty-one years old, for God’s sake. Don’t you think it’s time you stopped behaving like a spoiled brat?”
“I am not that old,” she whispered furiously, two spots of color appearing high on her famous cheekbones.
Rick sighed. “We’re the same age, Paige, and I’m thirty-one. Almost thirty-two, in fact, which means—”
“I know what it means, Rick. It means you’re an insensitive jerk and I never should have agreed to come with you tonight.”
“No one else would bring you,” he said brutally, to which she replied by sending him a look that should have sliced him to shreds before spinning on her heel and flouncing off.
After a short silence Rick shoved a hand through his hair. “Sorry about that. The thing is…” He let his breath out in a long hiss. “I’ve been in love with Paige since I was six.” He gave a hard laugh. “And you can see just how that worked out for me.”
Gabe was confused. “If you’re in love with Paige,” he asked, “then what the hell was that display with Holly the other night?”
A dull flush rose up Rick’s neck. “My pathetic attempt to make Paige jealous.” He gave an embarrassed laugh. “I thought you’d arrived with Paige and…and ended up embarrassing myself. Look, Holly’s the best, but Paige? Well, it’s always been Paige for me.”
Gabe understood because he had a feeling it would always be Holly for him. “My condolences.”
Rick’s laugh burst out and he grimaced. “Thanks. And now I think I’ll just go drown my sorrows. Coming?”
He shook his head. “I need to speak to Holly.”
“Hope you have better luck,” Rick muttered.
After he left, Gabe spotted Holly across the ballroom and sucked in a hard breath at the picture she made; slender and stunning in a long column of ice blue that complemented her dark hair…and deepened the blue of her eyes.
