The Surgeon's Favorite Nurse

by Teresa Southwick

  He moved to block her path, then put his hands on her shoulders. “And you didn’t point a gun at him or pull the trigger. It’s time to stop punishing yourself. You’re a good person. You deserve happiness.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t ever want to go through that again.”

  “There’s no reason to believe you will.”

  “I’m not willing to take that chance. You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone.”

  Not entirely true. He’d lost his father. Technically the bastard had walked out, but he was still gone. Would it be worse if he knew for sure that the guy was no longer on the face of the earth? He’d never know and it was still different from what she was going through.

  “You can’t give up,” was all he could think of to say.

  “I already have.” Her eyes were bleak. “After the shock wore off, I had an emotional meltdown every day. Sometimes it was private, but not always. I couldn’t control the grief. In public it was humiliating and horrible.” She met his gaze. “One minute I’d be laughing. The next I’d hear a song that reminded me of him and end up on the floor sobbing.”

  He’d never wanted to hold her more than he did right then. If wrapping her in his arms would assure her that nothing bad would ever happen again, he’d do it. But no one could promise that.

  “Hope…”

  She met his gaze. “Then I began to realize something. After every episode there was more time until the next one. A couple of days would go by before I fell apart again. Pretty soon the memory of losing him wasn’t the first thing that popped into my mind when I woke up in the morning. Weeks would pass without remembering he was gone.”

  “It’s called healing. You go on living your life as before.”

  Her eyes blazed with anger. “After falling off a cliff, if it’s survivable you heal. That doesn’t mean you do it again. If there’s enough pain, you stop climbing mountains.”

  “Listen to me, Hope.” Gently he squeezed her arms, just enough to get her attention. “If anyone understands dedication to the job it’s me. Did you ever consider the possibility that your husband would have gone on that call even if you’d asked him to come home?”

  “No—” She shook her head.

  “Be honest. Sometimes the job has to come first. Kevin sounds like he was a really good man. There was a kid who needed him. It never occurred to him that he couldn’t do what had to be done and still get home to you.”

  Her eyes widened as she let out a long sigh. “Maybe he’d have gone anyway. Maybe I knew that—”

  “It’s not your fault, Hope.” If he repeated it enough, she might start to believe.

  She nodded, but the tears welling in her eyes slid down her cheeks. Jake gathered her against him and held her, just to comfort her, but the quiet crying didn’t stop.

  One minute Hope was in Jake’s arms, the next he’d hustled her out into the parking lot without anyone seeing the humiliating meltdown. He didn’t let go of her until he’d unlocked the car door and handed her into the passenger seat. The leather was soft but cold and she missed the warmth of his body.

  He got in beside her and started the car, then pulled out onto Warm Springs Road. After making a right on Durango Road, he made a left onto the 215 Beltway and headed…Somewhere. She didn’t even care.

  Hope leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes, but that didn’t stop the tears from leaking out. Part of her wondered where Jake was taking her and the other part didn’t give a damn.

  She didn’t know how much time passed before he drove through a familiar gated entry and a minute later into his driveway. The front of the house looked exactly as it had the two times she’d been there, bright with strategic lighting. She liked his place. It was a reflection of him—brilliant and noble. Fighting against that hadn’t worked out very well and the battle was wearing on her.

  Jake shut off the car, then exited and came around to her side. When he opened the door and held out his hand, she put her fingers into his wide, warm palm and let him help her out. The chill wind blew, making her shiver.

  He pulled her against him and said, “Let’s get you inside.”

  She’d barely nodded before he was moving forward. After unlocking the door and disarming the security system, he led her into the media room.

  “Have a seat. I’m going to turn the heat up and get a fire going.”

  She sat on the leather corner group and watched him press the igniter on the wall beside the fireplace where flames instantly appeared. A small smile curved her mouth when she thought he probably wouldn’t win any wilderness badges, but she was grateful for not having to wait long for the heat.

  Right after he disappeared down the hall she heard the hum of the furnace. When he came back, his suit coat and silk tie were gone and he was carrying a brown-, beige- and peach-colored afghan. He bent in front of her and took off her shoes, then met her gaze, a worried look in his eyes before tucking the blanket around her.

  “I’m going to get you a brandy.”

  “No. It’s okay, I don’t need—”

  “How long do you want to fight it before you give in and listen to me?” He rested his forearm on his thigh and studied her.

  Her eyes hurt from crying and she was just plain tired of fighting. His fiercely protective expression had already started to warm her, but she said, “Brandy would be nice. Thank you.”

  He nodded, then stood and disappeared somewhere beyond where she was sitting, mesmerized by the dancing flames. A clink of glass told her he was making good on the promise, then he reappeared with a snifter in his hand and held it out.

  “Thanks.” Their fingers brushed when she took the glass and electricity arced from the point of contact all the way to her toes.

  “I’m going to fix something to eat,” he said.

  So there she sat looking at a cheerful fire and holding a glass of brandy. After taking a sip, she shuddered at the taste, then closed her eyes and let the warmth roll clear through her.

  Behind her she heard the rattle of silverware and the refrigerator door slamming. She wasn’t particularly hungry but figured this was less about food preparation and more about giving her space.

  Suddenly space seemed highly overrated. She’d been alone for a long time and could hardly remember what it felt like to have someone take care of her. It was nice. A pathetic word for the care, support and attention Jake had just given her, but the best she could come up with. For reasons unclear to her, the words and scene a short while ago in her office had lifted the burden of regret and sorrow from her heart.

  The problem was that fear had moved in and taken its place. Letting go of the guilt felt a lot like flying, but a crash landing could follow and the thought of that was terrifying. Loneliness was sad, but safe. She just wasn’t sure she could pick herself up and go on if fate smacked her down again.

  “Are you a fan of mustard?” Jake called from the kitchen.

  She shifted on the couch and tucked her bare feet up beside her as she turned toward his deep voice. Her heart skipped and twisted at the sight of him. His dress shirt was unbuttoned at the neck and the long sleeves rolled up to midforearm. A lock of dark hair fell over his forehead and the gleam in his eyes lit a fire inside her as real as the trail of heat from the brandy. He was looking at her expectantly, clearly waiting for an answer to the question.

  For the life of her, she couldn’t remember what he’d asked.

  “Mustard?” he said.

  Right. A yellow condiment. Huh? “For what?”

  “Ham sandwich.”

  “Do you need some help? I’ve just been sitting here like a lump. Someone could use me for third base.”

  He shook his head. “You’ve been regrouping.”

  “Is that your official diagnosis?”

  “It is. And brandy is the official prescription. Have you finished?”

  She looked at the small amount in the snifter and drained it, then looked at him as fire spread through her for an e
ntirely different reason. “Yes.”

  “A model patient.” He rested his palms on the kitchen granite as he looked at her. “So…mustard or mayonnaise?”

  “Mayo.”

  “Cheese?”

  “No.”

  He finished up in the kitchen, then carried two paper plates into the room and handed both of them to her. Then he went back for napkins and a beer before joining her again. When he sat close to her, his thigh somehow ended up beneath her knees. She craved the closeness but also feared it.

  She gave back one of the plates after he set his drink on the coffee table. “Thanks for cooking.”

  “Yeah, a regular gourmet feast.”

  She took one of the triangles and bit into it, then realized how hungry she was. It didn’t take her long to finish.

  One of Jake’s dark eyebrows arched. “Do you want another one?”

  “I’m not ruling it out until after the first one hits bottom.”

  He chewed thoughtfully and finished his sandwich before saying, “I’m sorry it’s not champagne and celebration.”

  “That was my fault,” she said.

  “Honest emotion isn’t something to apologize for.”

  “Still, I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  “I’m not,” he said, all hint of teasing gone. “In fact I’ve been trying to figure out what to say to get through to you.”

  “About?”

  “The fact that you didn’t die and it’s okay to be alive.”

  She sucked in a breath at the blunt statement. “You don’t think I know that?”

  “You have a room at the Residence Inn and drive a rented car.”

  “My job is temporary.”

  “Because you won’t let it be permanent. All the better to run away from life.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing,” she protested.

  “You think I don’t know what living looks like?” He stared at her, intensity crackling in his gray eyes. “I’m a surgeon. I do invasive procedures to fix people fighting for as many days on this earth as they can get. Quite literally I hold life and death in my hands. Sometimes a patient slips through my fingers for no apparent reason, even though I’ve done everything right, everything in my power to save them. You think that doesn’t piss me off?”

  “I’m not your patient,” she snapped. “This isn’t surgery. It’s my life—”

  “And I’m trying like hell to save it. Because I know that the patients I lose would have given anything for just one more shot at a life. And you’re wasting yours. I hate waste. It pisses me off, too.”

  She threw the afghan aside, slid her legs off the couch and shot to her feet. “How dare you? Why do you care?”

  He stood, too, staring down at her. “I just do.”

  “Not my problem.” She started to turn away, not sure where she’d go, anywhere away from him. But he stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  “You’re wrong about that. When are you going to get it that your problem is my problem?”

  Hope glared at him. “Why did you bring me here?”

  “That’s a good question.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “To talk this through. Privacy.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “What do you think I want?” he shot back.

  She searched his eyes and her soul. A shudder ran through her. “A chance,” she whispered.

  “What are you afraid of?”

  She dragged in a breath. “I’m afraid that taking the next step means that I care more than I want to. If I let myself go there, it could destroy me. Because if I get knocked down again, I’m not sure I’ll be able to get back up.”

  Jake slid his fingers into her hair and cupped her face in his hands. She tilted her cheek into his palm, unable to pull away from his touch.

  “No one knows what’s going to happen tomorrow. I can’t promise to make your future perfect. But I want to make you see what I see.”

  “What?”

  “You’re stronger than you can possibly know. Hope—” The single word vibrated with intensity. “It means belief in something with the expectation of fulfillment. Even your name is about moving on.”

  His gaze skipped over her face for several moments before he dipped his head and gently kissed her. The soft, sweet touch was like an explosive charge that punched a hole in the dam of her feelings and brought them surging out. She cupped his face in her hands, savoring the scruffy roughness on his cheeks and jaw. He needed a shave and she didn’t care if he scraped her raw. She wanted to laugh at the sheer joy of that thought.

  Somehow the words and tears had washed everything away, leaving her bright and shiny. She felt brand-new. A clean slate. The first day of the rest of her life.

  Jake pulled back, breathing hard. “This isn’t why I brought you here.”

  “I know.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him again.

  He stopped her. “I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea—”

  “Every idea I have feels exactly right.” She slid her fingers into the hair at his neck.

  “You’re sure about this?”

  She smiled. “Very.”

  A heartbeat later they were devouring each other while closures, snaps and belts were feverishly undone. Jake pulled her sweater over her head and flung it somewhere. As soon as her arms were free, she went to work on the buttons marching up the front of his white dress shirt, but her hands were shaking and it was taking too long. He grabbed the bottom and dragged it over his head.

  Then his gaze dropped to her breasts and the prim white bra holding them. He reached behind her to unhook it and the thin nylon dropped between them. “For Valentine’s Day I’m buying you lace.”

  Her heart caught as she let herself look ahead and anticipate the future, something she hadn’t done for a very long time. The exhilaration made her feel bold and sassy. “That’s a waste of money. It will just end up on the floor.”

  He grinned a whole lot of wicked. “But the vision of you wearing it will stay in my head forever. You can’t put a price on that.”

  And then they came together, bare from the waist up. Soft to hard; skin to skin. The dusting of hair on his chest teased her breasts, sending liquid desire coursing through her. She tugged him toward the couch, desperate to be horizontal in his arms, but he held her fast, much stronger than she was.

  He lifted his mouth from hers and dragged in a breath. “No. Bedroom.”

  She’d single-handedly rendered him incapable of anything but one-word sentences. How awesome was that? But his mouth on her neck produced the same result.

  “Here. Now—”

  “I want you in my bed.” He brushed strands of hair from her face and met her gaze. “I’ve spent too many nights remembering you there with me. Too many dreams of you in my arms only to wake up empty and alone.”

  If anyone knew that feeling, it was her. It was awful. She’d been heading for this emotional cliff for a while, but the achingly sweet words sent her tumbling over.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  He swung her easily into his arms and carried her down the hall to his room. Light from the backyard illuminated the bed with sheets, blanket and comforter at the foot. She had the fleeting thought that just once she might like to see his bed made.

  Possibilities.

  It felt good to think about what could be.

  He set her down and took his time removing her slacks and panties, trailing kisses over her breasts, belly and the inside of her thigh. She couldn’t remember wanting the way she wanted him now and simply couldn’t wait any longer.

  She reached for his hand as she backed toward the bed. When their gazes locked, his eyes caught fire. Desire poured through her until there was no room for anything else, including fear.

  As they tumbled to the sheets together, Hope was breathing so hard she could barely draw in air. “Now, Jake. Please—”

  “I know.” He was already pulling a condom out of the nightstand. “Me, too—
”

  He ripped open the packet and covered himself. Then he rolled over her and nudged her thighs apart with his knee. The gentle thrust belied the frenzy of movement moments ago. He entered her slowly, tenderly, as he framed her face with his hands and kissed her until she wanted to weep from the sweetness of it. When he traced her lips with his tongue, she opened to him and he plundered her until their breathing was ragged.

  The tempo of his hips increased and he drove into her until the knot of need inside her tightened, then exploded in a fireball of heat and light. Tremors of pleasure rolled through her for what seemed like an eternity and Jake held her until it stopped. Then he started to move slowly again, but quickly picked up momentum until he groaned and went still. Hope held him until his body went lax and she felt his smile against her neck.

  “Awesome,” he mumbled.

  “That goes double for me.”

  He chuckled as he rolled out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom. She drifted in a haze of happiness until the mattress dipped and he was back, pulling her into his arms.

  “I’m sorry about the champagne and flowers.” He kissed her temple.

  “There weren’t any,” she reminded him.

  “That’s what I’m sorry about. Next time I’ll take you to a fancy restaurant first for food, flowers and expensive bubbly. I owe you.”

  “It sounds lovely. Count me in. But you don’t owe me. You’ve given me more than I could ever have imagined.”

  Joy welled up inside her because for the first time in a long time she wasn’t looking back. And when the future stretched out in front of her, the past wasn’t standing in her way.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After waking up beside Jake and a repeat of the night before, Hope’s day had started the best possible way. After that, he’d given her his house key and told her to meet him there after work. It was nearly time to leave the hospital after a long day and just thinking about him made her want to hum. That felt like a miracle.

  Condolence cards had told her that time would heal her heart. That one day she would wake up, remember Kevin and not hurt. She’d never believed that until today. Somehow she knew that her husband was happy because she was moving forward again.