by Helen Lacey
Her fingertips were warm, her touch electric.
His stomach dropped. Damn, she just about undid him.
Brant groaned. “Lucy...stop.”
She didn’t move her hand. “I can’t,” she said and then fingered the small scar on his chin. “How did you get this?” she asked, moving her fingertip to the scar at his temple. “And this?”
“I don’t remember,” he said vaguely and stared into her face.
Her cheeks were ablaze with color. Combined with her glorious hair and bright green eyes, it was a riveting combination. And he was immediately drawn into her gaze. Into the very space she possessed.
Brant moved his free hand to her nape and gently rubbed the skin at the back of her neck with his thumb. Her eyes widened immediately and a rush of soft breath escaped her. He couldn’t have moved away even if he’d tried. She was pure temptation. Pure loveliness. And he wanted her. Brant wanted her so much it was making him crazy.
He said her name again, watched as her lips pouted a little in pure, sweet invitation.
Her hair tangled between his fingers and his grip tightened. She was looking at him, all eyes, all longing, and when he dipped his head, his intention clear, Brant heard a tiny moan escape her.
Her mouth was warm against his as their lips met. She shuddered, half resistance, half compliance, as if in that moment she wasn’t quite sure what she wanted. But it only lasted a second and then she relaxed against him. Brant instinctively pulled her closer. Her lips parted fractionally and he deepened the kiss, felt her shudder again before she opened her mouth to let him taste the softness within. It was the sweetest kiss he’d ever experienced, almost as though it possessed a kind of purity that had never been matched, or never would.
Brant suddenly felt as if he’d been sucker punched. Because he’d known, deep down, that kissing Lucy was always going to be incredible. Everything about her had been tempting him for months. Every look, every word, every touch, had been drawing them toward this moment. Toward each other. In that instant there was no denying it, no fighting it, no way he could have stopped himself from getting pulled deeper under her spell. And she felt it as much as he did, he was certain.
Her hands were now on his chest and then his shoulders, and he wrapped his arms around her, feeling her soft curves press fully against him. Her breasts, belly and hips pressed to him so perfectly her body was suddenly like a narcotic, drugging him mindless as the kiss continued and she tentatively accepted his tongue into her mouth in a slow, erotic dance that felt so good his knees weakened.
He pulled back when he needed to take a breath and stared down into her face. She was breathing heavily, as if she’d just run a marathon. And her green eyes were luminescent and shimmering with a kind of longing that heated his blood even further. He fought the urge to kiss her again. And again. Because he knew where it would lead. He wanted to make love to her so much he could barely think straight. He wanted to take her into his bed and peel off her silly pajamas and make love to every inch of her, over and over. He wanted to drug her mindless with kisses and to caress her skin until she begged for him to be inside her and then lose himself in her body for all eternity.
And knowing that she’d allow it was suddenly like a bucket of cold water over his libido.
He wasn’t about to confuse her picket-fence dreams any more than he already had.
Brant released her abruptly and stepped back. “You should leave.”
She moved unsteadily and gripped the table with one hand. “Brant... I...”
Her hurt expression cut through him, but he ignored it. “I mean it. Go home, Lucy,” he said coldly. “I don’t want you here.”
Chapter Seven
It took Lucy about three seconds to grab her things and leave. She didn’t bother getting back into the trench coat and instead had that and her bag clutched between her hands as she raced out of the room and down the stairs. She picked up her umbrella on the way and was out the door and back in her car so fast she was out of breath and had a pain in her chest. She took a few deep breaths to calm her nerves as she buckled up and started the ignition.
And cursed Brant Parker the whole drive home.
Jerk.
She wasn’t going to waste one more minute thinking about him.
I don’t care if he is a great kisser.
Ha! She didn’t have anything to compare it to anyhow. Perhaps he was a lousy kisser.
Yes...he’s a terrible kisser and I never want to see him again.
Only...his kiss was incredible and the very idea of never seeing him again made her ache inside. And it confirmed what she’d suspected for weeks...she was falling for him. And it scared her to death. Because it was plain he would never return her feelings. He’d closed off that part of himself that was about emotion. It was a coping mechanism, she was certain. He’d experienced some trauma, something that had made him shut down. She’d seen it before firsthand...in herself. Right after her mother was killed and then in college when her roommate was raped. For years afterward she’d walked around wrapped in a kind of protective armor, never getting close to anyone, never letting anyone in. It had taken six months of therapy to help her heal and only once had she’d been able to self-reflect and realize she needed help. Brant was nowhere near that point. She knew it. And it made her ache for him.
Her lips tingled when she remembered their kiss. All her adult life she’d imagined that first kiss...what it would mean and who she’d share it with. In her most secret dreams she’d held on to the hope that Brant would sweep her off her feet and kiss her senseless. And for that brief moment he had...wholly and completely. And despite knowing it would probably never happen again, she couldn’t and wouldn’t regret it. Being with him, feeling his heart beat wildly beneath her palm, knowing he’d been as caught up in the moment as she had been, had fulfilled her every fantasy.
Still, she hurt all over thinking of his parting words.
Her cell rang and she let the call go. It beeped a few seconds later, indicating she had a message. By the time Lucy pulled into her driveway it rang again. She ignored it, got out of the car and headed inside. It took fifteen minutes to lock up the house, brush her teeth and hair and climb into bed. She stared at the cell phone for a good couple of minutes before she finally pressed the message button.
Brant’s deep voice was instantly recognizable.
Her heart seemed to skip a beat. And then another.
“Hey...it’s me.” There was a pause. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And I’m... I’m really sorry about tonight. If you still want to come to the hospital on Friday I’ll pick you up around nine.” Another pause. “Thanks for the stitches. So...good night.”
The message ended and she quickly let the next one play.
“It’s me again.” Another pause, longer this time. “It’s just that a guy like me...can hurt a woman like you without even trying. Good night, Lucia.”
Tears welled in her eyes a she ended the message and propped the phone on the bedside table. It was impossible to hate him. Even though good sense told her she should.
When she awoke the following morning she was weary and mad with herself for allowing him to invade her thoughts so much. She had an eight-hour shift at the hospital ahead of her and didn’t need thoughts of Brant Parker distracting her while she was on the job. She had plenty of work to keep her busy and, when she had a chance, she made Brant an appointment with Dr. Allenby. She sent him a text message with the details and left out anything remotely personal. He replied with a brief thank-you text and she didn’t respond further.
Thankfully it was a quiet afternoon in the ER and when she took a lunch break around two o’clock she spotted Colleen Parker sitting in the cafeteria. Colleen volunteered at the hospital a few times a month and was on the fund-raising committee. Lucy purchased a pot of tea
and a savory muffin and walked across the room.
“Hello, there,” the older woman said and welcomed Lucy toward her table with a friendly wave. “How are you?”
Lucy nodded, knowing she must look haggard and sleep-deprived. “Great. You?”
Colleen smiled warmly. “Very well.”
“How’s your brother-in-law?”
Collen nodded. “I saw Joe yesterday and he seems to be doing well, considering. I haven’t seen you around much this week. Everything okay?”
Lucy shrugged and then nodded. “I’ve been busy.”
Yeah...busy making out with your son.
“Not too busy for a cup of tea and a chat, I hope,” Colleen said, motioning to the chair opposite.
Lucy sat. “Of course not. How’s the fund-raiser going?”
Colleen waved a hand over the stack of files on the table. “I’ve been doing the rounds. We desperately need new recliners for the maternity rooms. You know, the ones that allow the new moms to nurse easily and new dads to sleep.” She grinned ruefully. “But each one is a couple of thousand dollars and trying to raise that kind of money around the holidays is almost impossible. I may have to put aside my pride and ask the O’Sullivans to make another sizable donation.”
Lucy knew Colleen had little time for the wealthiest and most influential family in town, given that they had treated her eldest son so poorly while he was married to Liz O’Sullivan, and often still did two and a half years after her death. But since they shared three grandchildren, she also knew Colleen remained civil and supported Grady’s decision to keep his daughters in their lives.
“Maybe the holiday season will increase their generosity,” she suggested.
Colleen made a face. “Nice idea. At least I only have to deal with Liam now and not the old man.”
Lucy made a mental note to have a word with Kayla. Her friend seemed to have some influence with the older O’Sullivan son, despite her protests. “I’m sure it will work out. I’d like to believe that people are more generous at this time of year, so perhaps some of that holiday spirit will rub off on the O’Sullivans.”
“Yes,” Colleen replied, smiling. “You’re probably right. So, how’s your car? Brant said you had some trouble with it last week.”
It was a subtle change in conversation and Lucy bit back a smile. Her car troubles seemed like an age ago. “Fine. I got a new battery and that fixed the problem.”
Colleen’s expression narrowed. “And I believe you’re coming to the hospital tomorrow?”
“Yes,” she replied, coloring when she realized Brant and his mother had been discussing her.
“That’s very kind of you. Grady and I will be there, too. Marissa is watching the girls at the ranch.”
Lucy would be surrounded by Parkers. But it didn’t make her uneasy. She liked them all very much. Although the idea of seeing Brant again was tying her belly into knots. “I’m sure your brother-in-law will be fine.”
“I hope so,” Colleen said and looked unusually pensive. “Joe is a lot older than my husband and they were more like father and son than brothers. When Alan died,” she said of her late husband, “Joe became both a father and uncle to my boys. He means the world to them, and to Brant in particular. I know he’d be devastated if anything happened to his uncle. And after what he went through on his last tour in the military... I’m scared for what this might mean.”
Lucy saw the older woman’s chin quiver. Usually, Colleen Parker came across as strong and self-assured and able to handle anything. But believing her youngest son was troubled was clearly more than she could cope with. And Lucy instinctively offered comfort.
“He’ll be fine,” she said and patted Colleen’s hand. “Brant’s been talking to me, starting to open up,” she said, exaggerating the truth a little since Brant hadn’t really told her anything. But Colleen needed reassurance. “He’s strong, like you, and I truly believe he’ll be okay.”
“I hope so. And I’m glad he’s been talking to you,” she said, looking a little relieved. “As a child he was always much quieter than his brother...more serious. But he feels things deeply and that makes him sensitive, which is why he’s such a good listener and a good friend to the people he’s close to. When he chose a military career I knew he would give it one hundred percent of himself. I only hope he hasn’t gotten completely lost in the process.”
Lucy smiled. Yes, Brant was a good listener. “Like I said, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
She wasn’t about to discuss his upcoming meeting with Dr. Allenby. If Brant chose to tell or to not tell his family, then it was his business. She was a doctor, and although he wasn’t her patient, she still had a moral and ethical responsibility to respect his privacy.
Lucy finished her tea and muffin, steered the conversation toward the upcoming wedding for a few minutes, and then left to return to the ER.
The next few hours were busy as a young man with a suspected spinal injury was brought in after he’d fallen off a horse at one of the local dude ranches while on vacation. He was immediately transferred to Rapid City for tests. Once he was on his way, a girl of eight with chronic asthma and very concerned parents came into Triage. As her shift was finishing she stitched up another boy who’d torn his earlobe on a fence.
She left around six. Once she was home Lucy fed the cat, showered, changed into sweats and made a toasted cheese sandwich for dinner.
She sat in the living room, crossed her legs lotus-style and grabbed her cell. She’d made a decision while showering to drive herself to the hospital in Rapid City the following morning. She didn’t want to spend time with Brant in the close confines of his truck. The less time they spent together, the better it would be for her peace of mind. She sent him a text message to say she’d take her own car and then flicked on the television.
There was no point in pining over what could never be.
I don’t want you here.
She didn’t need to hear that again anytime soon.
He didn’t want her in his apartment. Or his arms. Or his life.
And the sooner she accepted it the better.
For everyone.
* * *
Brant pulled into the hospital garage in Rapid City just after nine-thirty on Friday morning. His brother and mother were about twenty minutes away. They could have travelled together, but he was in no mood for chitchat and had opted to drive in by himself. Without company.
Without Lucy.
He headed for the surgical ward and stopped at the nurses’ station to ask what bed his uncle was in. When he entered the room he discovered Lucy sitting on a chair beside Joe’s bed, smiling at something his uncle was saying. He lingered by the door, watching her. She looked so effortlessly pretty in a bright green sweater and jeans. Her hair was down, framing her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her mouth looked fuller, softer... Just the idea of her lips against his made his gut churn. Recollections of kissing her, of holding her, bombarded his thoughts. Nothing had ever felt better and there was no way to erase the feel of her against him or the taste of her kiss from his memory.
She looked up as if she’d felt him standing there and their gazes clashed. It was electric. Powerful. If he’d had any doubts he’d been somehow pulled into her vortex over the past week, they disappeared. She was under his skin and in his thoughts. And he knew he was right to have sent her away the other night. If she’d stayed, they would have ended up in bed together, he was sure of it. They would have made love and then he would have been in so deep, Brant knew he would have no hope of pulling away from her without breaking her heart. Or his own. He didn’t want that to happen. The closer they got, the more she’d dig away at him, which was out of the question. He didn’t want anyone digging. He didn’t want to see query and then sympathy in her eyes.
Because he would. She’d get him talki
ng—that was her way. Everything he’d been through in Afghanistan would be out of the shadows and under the microscope. He’d be back out on the ridge again. Only this time he’d have no cover, no one watching his back, no one taking a bullet meant for him.
“You plannin’ on hanging around the doorway all morning?”
His uncle’s voice jerked him back into the moment. “No,” he said and stepped into the room. “Of course not.”
“Looks like you haven’t slept for a couple of days,” Joe remarked and frowned. “Everything all right?”
Brant nodded and didn’t dare look at Lucy. “Fine. What time are you heading into surgery?”
Joe shrugged. “Anytime.”
“The surgeon will make a final decision within the next half hour,” Lucy said, pointing to the chart at the foot of the bed. “If the OBS are good, then it will go ahead as planned.”
Brant moved toward the other side of the bed. Damned if he couldn’t pick up traces of her apple shampoo in the air. He ignored it and started a conversation with his uncle, blindingly conscious of every move she made.
Grady and his mother arrived a few minutes later and he was grateful for the reprieve. His brother began talking to Lucy and while his mother chatted to Joe, Brant hung back and tried to ignore the sudden pounding at his temples.
Forty-five minutes later his uncle was wheeled from the room and taken into surgery. Grady and his mother took off for the cafeteria and Brant remained in the waiting room with Lucy. The room was small with half a dozen chairs, a small table covered with dog-eared magazines, a tea and coffee machine, and a water cooler. Brant sat at one end, Lucy at the other.
“Are you okay?”
Her soft voice echoed around the room. He watched as her gaze flicked from his face to his tightly clenched hands. Feeling her scrutiny, he relaxed his hands. “Sure.”
“I know you’re worried,” she said quietly. “But the bypass procedure your uncle is having is fairly standard. I’m certain he’ll pull through it without any problems.”
