A Family to Heal His Heart

by Tina Beckett

  Her eyes met his, staring at him for a long second. “Yes. I think you might have.” Her index finger wrapped around his. “This feels right, Zeke. I’m glad I’m here.”

  Glad she was at Mid Savannah? Or glad she was in his office, practically holding his hand?

  Because hell if he wasn’t glad of both of those things.

  The swirling in his head started again, maybe in reaction to her words. Or the light scent that her movements sent his way. Whatever it was, it was making him want to do something crazy. Something more than what they were currently doing.

  “I’m glad you are too.” He turned his palm and caught her hand, drawing her to her feet. “And it does feel right. Very, very right.”

  Her eyes held his, a growing warmth in their depths he hadn’t noticed when this conversation had started.

  He tightened his grip slightly and the muscles in his biceps tightened as he drew her hand closer. Except it wasn’t just her hand that answered the request. Her whole body did, taking a step toward him.

  Sliding off his desk, he found himself standing within inches of her. He willed himself to let go of her, and he succeeded in uncurling his fingers. Except his hand seemed to have a mind of its own, lifting to cup her face.

  “Yes. I think you could have talked me into almost anything.”

  As soon as she said the words he was lost, his mouth coming down to meet hers and finding her lips so much softer than he expected. And when she kissed him back, his world exploded—a million fragments flying in all directions. And for once in his life he didn’t care which pieces he found. Or which ones were lost forever.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SHE’D THOUGHT SHE’D never enjoy another kiss.

  But, God, when Zeke asked if he could have made her change her mind, she’d melted inside. He acted like it mattered. Said that her being here did feel right.

  And so did this.

  The heady warmth of his mouth filled her senses, and she couldn’t get enough of the taste of him, of the smooth slide of skin against skin. It all melded together into a luscious blend she would never get out of her head. The second he’d come around that desk, she’d started wondering what it would be like if he touched her.

  It was so much better than she imagined.

  Maybe that was what had made her curl her finger around his. Curiosity. What she hadn’t expected was the jolt of need that rocked her world and nearly made her gasp aloud. Had she ever experienced that before? She didn’t think so.

  Then he’d done the unthinkable and wrapped his whole hand around hers. Her senses had been swamped. A tsunami striking shore and wiping out every rational thought in its path.

  She was still caught in its grip.

  A tiny sound came out of her throat, and she inched closer, his hard chest brushing her breasts. Her nipples tightened instantly.

  She wanted him with everything that she had.

  The hands that had been cupping her face moved to her hips, and she thought he was going to haul her against him completely, but he didn’t. His grip was tight, but it was as if he were holding her in place, keeping her still. Was he trying to torture her?

  Something warred inside her, telling her to take another step and test that theory...see just how strong his resolve was, and just how much this kiss was affecting him.

  Surely he’d been swept along by the same wave.

  I dare you, Lindy. Do it.

  She opened her mouth, dumbfounded by the fact that it was something she’d never done before. Would never have thought of doing.

  Ever.

  The thought awoke some rational part of her brain, and she froze.

  What was she doing here? Wasn’t this exactly what she’d warned herself about: impulsively jumping into something she should avoid?

  Maybe. But for now...

  She closed her eyes, realizing this was about to end. Just one more second. Then she would move away.

  As if he’d read her thoughts, the pressure on her hips increased. Only instead of easing her closer, he propelled her a step backward, removing all points of contact—right before his head lifted.

  There was a glazed look in his eyes, that said stopping hadn’t been easy.

  Well, join the club, mister.

  Only in the end he’d been stronger than she had, and that bothered her on a level she didn’t want to explore.

  He spoke up first. “Damn.” He pulled in an audible breath and let it hiss back out. “I’m sorry, Lindy. I have no idea where that came from.”

  She did, but she wasn’t about to shoulder the blame by herself. At least not out loud. Inside, it was a whole different matter. She was the one who’d started down this road, but she wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe the realization that she wasn’t afraid of him, at least not physically.

  Emotionally?

  Lord. This man could destroy her, if she let him.

  She needed to make sure something like this didn’t happen again. She’d been so proud of her resolve, telling herself she would turn down any and all offers to date if they came about, which they hadn’t.

  Would I have changed your mind?

  His earlier words whispered through her head, and suddenly she wasn’t sure she could have been as strong as she’d thought. If he’d asked her out, could she have refused?

  Hadn’t that kiss answered that question? It had.

  And that scared her on a completely different level.

  She went with the first thing that came to mind. “Domestic violence is an emotional subject. You didn’t know about my past—and, honestly, I had no intention of saying anything until the Q&A. The last thing I need is anyone’s pity.”

  Oh, God, was that why he’d kissed her? Because he felt sorry for her?

  “You think that came out of pity?”

  This time he took hold of her hips and tugged her against him, making her very aware of where things stood between them. “This has nothing to do with pity.”

  Then he was gone, this time back behind the refuge of his desk, leaving her standing there...her breathing not completely normal yet. Neither was the rest of her. Little charges of electricity were still zapping between neurons, hoping to be reignited.

  Not a chance.

  She needed to get out of there. Before she did something she’d regret.

  “I should go.”

  He pushed the flyer across the desk to her. “If you still want me to be there on Friday, I will. How long does my part of the presentation have to be?”

  She was tempted to tell him to stay away. But surely by the end of the week she’d be able to put out the rest of today’s embers.

  And if she couldn’t?

  Then she was in big trouble.

  “Around ten minutes. Do you want me to put you down?”

  His thumb tapped out a rhythm on the surface of his desk, and she held her breath. As scary as this was, she really did think he could make a difference in the program.

  And if he ended up making a difference in her instead?

  Well, she would have to deal with that when and if it came up.

  “Yes. Put me down.”

  “Okay, I will. And thank you.”

  She didn’t say what she was thanking him for. Instead, she just turned around and hightailed it out of there, all the while praying that tomorrow would find her strong enough to put this all behind her.

  Because the last thing she needed was to get involved with someone, especially someone she worked with. Because if things went south...

  Lindy, they’ve already gone so far south they’ve jumped off the bottom of the globe.

  Ha! Well, then, it was up to her to reel them back in until her feet were standing on firm ground.

  No more talk of tsunamis. Or electrical charges.

  And, most of all, no more kis
sing of hunky surgeons.

  Who was she kidding? The truth was she would probably be reliving that kiss in her dreams. Tonight. Tomorrow night. And any number of unnamed nights in the future.

  And although Friday might seem like quite a way off right now, it would come long before she was ready for it to.

  So all she could do was regroup, and hope she could pretend she’d recovered from their encounter. Even if it was a complete and utter lie.

  * * *

  Tessa’s results were in. Zeke counted to five before opening the digital file. Either her parents would be referred to an oncologist, or he would schedule her for surgery to remove a benign tumor. He certainly knew what he hoped for. But what he hoped for didn’t always come to pass.

  He clicked on the folder, his glance skipping through everything but the meat of the report: ...atypical cells...noninvasive...

  He almost went slack with relief. It wasn’t quite benign, but it wasn’t cancerous either and more than likely confined to the area in which it was found. That was good news. Great news, in fact.

  The tumor would still have to be removed, and Zeke would need to get clean margins so that the growth didn’t come back, but there would be no need for radiation or chemo treatments.

  His fingers went to his cellphone to tell Lindy the good news, then he stopped. He didn’t usually call his surgical team individually and relay test results. They normally found out, but that was because of follow-up surgery or treatment.

  The truth was he just wanted to hear her voice. Maybe to make sure she was okay.

  His oath as a doctor was to do no harm. And he wasn’t quite sure he’d lived up to that in this case.

  He still wasn’t sure what had caused that kiss the other day, even though he had repeatedly micro-analyzed everything that had led up to it. To the point that it kept him awake at night and had ended with him standing under a cold blast of water on one occasion.

  Not that he was any closer to an answer now than he had been the day it happened. It had changed the way he scheduled his surgeries, though. Whereas where he might have requested her as part of his team before, he was now loath to attach her name to anything connected with him. She’d probably noticed, but if she was smart, she’d be relieved by it.

  Of course, there was the little matter of her wanting him to help with the Q&A on Friday and with the program itself, but surely that wouldn’t require a lot of time together.

  He picked up the phone again. But this time it was because he remembered her asking to be kept in the loop regarding Tessa’s results. But maybe he would simply text her rather than call.

  He punched in the words as quickly as he could, as if it would limit his contact with her. Tessa’s results are in. Atypical cells, but no malignancy. Will follow up with surgery at a later date. He then hit “send” and set the phone down again, forcing himself to go back to work, rather than worry about whether or not she would get the message and/or respond. He’d almost succeeded when a little ding told him he had an incoming message.

  From Lindy?

  Just leave it.

  Too late. His glance was already on the screen. It was from Lindy, but the message was short and succinct. So glad!

  And that was that.

  The next thing he knew, the phone was ringing. He swallowed when he saw it was from the same person.

  This time his subconscious didn’t argue with him. He picked it up and punched the button. “Bruen here.”

  As if she wouldn’t know who was on the line.

  “Hi, um... I was just checking to see if you know when surgery will be.”

  “I haven’t scheduled it yet. I just got the report.”

  “Oh, okay.” She hesitated, then said, “I’d like to be on the surgical team, if I could.”

  “Of course.” He wasn’t sure why she felt she had to ask. His heart clenched. Maybe because he’d avoided putting her on the schedule. It had probably made something that wasn’t really a big deal into something more than it was. Except to him it had been a very big deal. He’d never kissed a woman in his office before. And certainly not someone he worked with.

  “I was already planning on it.”

  “It just seemed as if...”

  He could almost hear the shrug on the other end of the line. Not willing to confirm that he was avoiding her, he countered by finishing her sentence in a completely different way. “It just seemed as if the schedules have changed? They have. I feel like I’ve been overtaxing some of the nurses and am trying to make things a little more equitable. Spread the load out among more people.”

  It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it was better than saying he didn’t want to work with her anymore. Because he did. He just wasn’t sure it was a good idea.

  “Okay. I just didn’t want what happened to change our working relationship.”

  He assumed she was speaking somewhere where she couldn’t be overheard. Maybe she wasn’t even at the hospital today. “It won’t as long as neither of us lets it.”

  Hadn’t he already done that?

  “Thank you. I, um... I promise I wasn’t throwing myself at you.”

  That was the last thing he would expect from her. “I know. I promise I wasn’t throwing myself at you either.” He couldn’t stop the smile that formed at those words. “Like you said, Lindy, it was an emotional subject. I think it just caught us both off guard. I’m glad you told me, though. I do think you’ll be a great asset to the new program.”

  “I think you will be as well. You still want to come, don’t you?”

  Hmm...that was probably going to be a yes on more than one level. But he wasn’t going there.

  “I do. And like I said, you’re the perfect person to talk about what it’s like to survive domestic violence. Not everyone there has been through what you have.”

  “I’m very glad of that.” He thought he heard a sigh. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep this between the two of us.”

  Was she talking about the kiss or her background? It didn’t matter. He’d never been one for indulging in workplace gossip—or workplace romances, for that matter—and he wasn’t about to start now. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve told no one. It’s no one’s business but yours.”

  “Thank you. I know I’m talking about it at the meeting, but I’d rather control how much is shared.”

  “Completely understandable.” He picked up a pencil and wiggled it between his fingers, surprised by how comfortable he felt talking to her, even after what had happened. What he’d expected had been awkward silences on both ends of the line. It was nice. As was hearing her voice again.

  A little too nice.

  “Well, I’ll let you go.”

  The pencil went still. “Okay. I’ll let you know when Tessa’s surgery is.”

  They said their goodbyes and then she was gone, leaving him to wonder if the next face-to-face meeting would prove to be just as easy as that phone conversation had been.

  Somehow, he doubted it. But if they could do it once, they could do it again. At least he hoped so. Because it would make work—and his life—that much easier.

  * * *

  Why had he thought this would be easy? He scheduled Lindy on his next surgical day and the second he saw her brown eyes peering at him from above that mask, he knew he should have waited a few more days. Because his glance had slid over her and remembered exactly what her lips looked like. What they felt like.

  How they tasted.

  Damn. But the only thing he could do was stick to the plan of getting past that memory. It would get easier with time.

  Lindy, on the other hand, seemed fine. Her eyes twinkled when she saw him, and he knew she was smiling beneath the mask, her nose crinkling in that adorable way that went straight to his gut. “This looks like an interesting case.”

  It was going to be interesting all
right. And that wasn’t including the case.

  “The infection hasn’t responded to antibiotics, like we’d hoped.” These pulmonary cases actually were interesting, but they were also nerve-racking. There was always the possibility of spreading the bacteria to other parts of the lung. This time, though, the pocket of infection was encapsulated and hopefully it could be removed and the lung re-sectioned, barring any complications.

  That wasn’t the only reason they were nerve-racking. They also brought up a lot of unwanted memories. His ex-wife had wanted him to change specialties for just this reason. Pulmonary cases almost always sent him home in a stupor that had nothing to do with drugs or alcohol.

  That first year had been the worst. He would spend weeks either not speaking or lashing out in anger if Janice tried to talk to him. Not physically, but he’d made it clear he didn’t want to interact. In failing his daughter, he’d also failed his wife. She’d needed him. And he hadn’t been there. She’d rightfully filed for divorce on the anniversary of Marina’s death.

  “Zeke?”

  Lindy had asked him a question.

  “Sorry, what?”

  “How many of these have you done?”

  He told the truth. “Too many.” He’d saved a lot of lives, but he’d also lost the one he’d needed to save the most.

  His daughter had died of childhood interstitial lung disease, only he hadn’t recognized it for what it was. Not at first. Not until it had been far too late.

  The guilt of that had almost killed him. He was a surgeon, supposedly one of the top in his field, and still he’d missed it.

  He could remember the times when Marina’s cough had turned into something worse, the recurrent bouts of bronchitis and pneumonia visiting their neck of the woods time and time again.

  By the time they realized what they were dealing with, they’d been unable to stop it. The fluid in her lungs that last time had been virulent and aggressive, and her tired body could no longer fight the ravages of her disease. Marina had died, obliterating his heart with one swift blow. And his marriage had imploded a year later, when he’d refused to leave his field of medicine.