Love on the Night Shift

by Radclyffe

  Cindy Hopkins’s lips trembled, and she held on to Grady’s gaze as if it was a lifeline. She nodded.

  As Grady spoke in a low, measured tone, Blaise sensed a bubble of intimacy and empathy closing around Grady and the patient’s wife, as if all that really mattered, all that existed, were the words that fell between the two of them. She’d seen it before, the almost magical connection that some health care providers were able to make instantaneously with patients. Something in their eyes, the way they held their bodies, the tone of their voices. She wasn’t certain it was a skill that could be learned, and she knew it was a trait that carried over into other situations. She’d felt it herself with Grady from their first interaction—a level of intimacy that should have taken much longer to form but was no less intense for its brevity.

  Grady seemed to have all the time in the world, and Blaise was nearly as captivated as Cindy as Grady went on, “Dr. Alvarez will explain to you what we did, and what we can expect with your husband’s recovery. But right now the only thing you need to think about is that his surgery is over. He’s doing very well, and we’re going to be doing everything we can to make sure he continues to do well. Okay?”

  “You’ll be taking care of Wilbur while he’s here?” Cindy asked.

  “Dr. Alvarez will be in charge, but I’ll be looking in on him too.” Grady stood. “If you have any questions at any time, you can have the ICU nurses page one of us.”

  “Thank you so much,” Cindy said.

  “Of course.” Grady said good-bye and walked with Blaise out into the hall. She stopped and slid her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. “Aren’t you done with your shift?”

  “Yes,” Blaise said. “I just wanted to check on Wilbur’s wife, and the case. Patty said it went really well.”

  “Really well. Pedro Alvarez is a really good surgeon.”

  Pedro came around the corner. “So’s McClure.”

  Pedro was short, barrel-chested, and handsome as sin, with sparkling dark eyes, an exuberant personality, and an ego the size of North America. Everyone loved him, from staff to patients. He clapped Grady on the shoulder.

  Grady looked uncomfortable but managed to smile. “I didn’t have all that much to do, really.”

  “Well, anytime you want to scrub in, McClure, just let me know. Thanks for the assist.”

  “My pleasure,” Grady said. As Pedro disappeared into the waiting room, she leaned toward Blaise. “Buy you breakfast?”

  “Oh…no, thanks, I have to pick up my daughter.”

  “Didn’t Abby Remy say the kids probably wouldn’t even be awake until noon?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “And you said you weren’t going to go to sleep right away because you had the day off.”

  Blaise narrowed her eyes. “Okay, what, do you have eidetic auditory powers, and you remember everything you hear word for word?”

  Grady looked smug. “When I’m interested in who’s talking.”

  Blaise ignored the little jolt of pleasure at Grady’s shameless flirting. She should say no. She wanted to say no. Except she didn’t. Because she was curious, and she hadn’t been curious in a very long time.

  “Just breakfast.”

  Grady held her hands palm up. “Of course. What else.”

  What else indeed. Blaise shook her head and marched toward the elevators.

  Grady hurried to catch her. She hadn’t really expected Blaise to say yes. The invitation had popped out because during the quiet times in the OR when Pedro had been suturing and she’d been assisting, or when they’d been waiting for the scrub nurses to open one of the grafts, her mind had drifted unerringly back to Blaise. Snippets of conversation, a quick glimpse of Blaise watching her when Blaise thought she wouldn’t notice, an energy in the air whenever they were alone. Hormones, pheromones, maybe, but the effect was real. She was attracted, and she didn’t want to spend twenty-four hours—maybe more—wondering if she was imagining the speculative look in Blaise’s eye.

  When Blaise finally said yes, a surge of excitement bubbled through her chest. She ought to have been tired. She’d been standing for six hours in one spot, her attention riveted on the twelve-inch-square space in front of her, which was all that was visible of Wilbur Hopkins’s open abdomen. When she looked into the wound, she didn’t see Wilbur. Instead, the vessels and organs formed a familiar roadmap, leading her on a journey she’d taken hundreds of times before, but one whose paths changed with every trip, whose route to the destination was subtly different, each and every time. The roadblocks, the detours, or the new highways were always a surprise. Every surgery was an adventure, filled with the consoling sense of the known and the exhilaration of anticipation.

  Once the incision was closed and the drapes were removed and Wilbur appeared, everything changed again. The patient, not the surgery, became the focus, and all that mattered was getting Wilbur Hopkins safely out of the hospital. That and being assured that those in Wilbur’s life were supported and informed. Usually, once she’d settled the patient in recovery and talked to the family, the high began to dissipate. But the instant she’d seen Blaise, the adrenaline had surged again. Blaise ignited the same sense of challenge and exhilarating journey as stepping into the OR did. She wanted to step onto that unknown highway, to ride out the twists and turns and obstacles, and ultimately, if she got lucky, end at a satisfying destination. She’d often felt that way when she was about to get involved with a woman, but never about one she’d just met—and never so intensely.

  “Are you sure you’re not too tired?” Blaise asked as they rode the elevator down in silence.

  Grady’s attention jerked back to the present, and she leaned her shoulder against the elevator wall to face Blaise. They were alone, and Blaise was inches away from her. The urge to kiss her was as unexpected as it was overwhelming. Something in her face might have revealed what she was thinking because Blaise took a step back.

  “I’m not tired,” Grady said, hearing the huskiness in her voice. She didn’t bother to hide whatever was in her eyes because Blaise had already seen it. “I was just thinking…about you, actually.”

  Blaise held her hand up between them like a traffic cop, and Grady couldn’t help but grin. “That sounds a little ominous. Should I ask what you were thinking about?”

  Grady wasn’t entirely certain that Blaise really wanted to know the answer. Blaise always had a little edge of defensiveness in her voice, as if she was fighting with herself as much as resisting Grady’s attempts to get closer.

  “It isn’t anything too dangerous. I don’t think so, at any rate.”

  Blaise huffed. She didn’t believe that for a second. Grady McClure was dangerous. She’d been wary of her from the instant they’d met, and it wasn’t just because of the knee-jerk response to her name. Grady, with her easy smile and insistent flirting and bursts of genuine interest and unexpected empathy, made her wary and…intrigued. That persistent urge to discover the real Grady beneath the practiced charm was even more unsettling than her instinctual uncertainty about her. Blaise liked people. She liked women. Differently than men, true, but when she met a new woman for the first time, she didn’t automatically note how sexy she was—okay, sometimes she did, she was still breathing, after all—but usually attraction came slowly when she discovered who they were as people, enjoyed their sense of humor, and found out they shared common interests. She thought Abby Remy was wonderfully attractive—although, come to think of it, she never got any of the twinges she had when she looked at Grady. But then, Abby was married, and she definitely did not go there. But still, she could appreciate everything about her. And then there was Grady.

  Grady was studying her. She could feel it. Actually studying her, as if there was something to see that she was keeping hidden. And, of course, there was. And that was enough to make her stiffen her shoulders and lift her chin. Grady McClure was not going to poke around in places she wasn’t invited. In places no one was invited.

  “So,�
�� Grady said, “back at you. What are you thinking?”

  “You first,” Blaise said.

  Grady laughed. Blaise was not going to give in easily. That was challenge number one—getting Blaise to admit she was interested. Not admit it to Grady, although that would be nice, but to herself. Because she was, or she wouldn’t be riding down in the elevator for a spur-of-the-moment breakfast with a woman she just met. Grady knew that as surely as she knew she didn’t usually want to spend time—doing anything—with a woman as badly as she did with Blaise.

  Blaise Richelieu was not the kind of woman who took chances. If Grady had to put words to her, they would be competent, confident, studied, certain. All of those things came from having a firm hold on her emotions and as much control as possible on her environment. That was clear from the way she handled everything in the emergency room. From her conversation on the phone with her daughter to her interactions with Abby. Blaise planned her life. No unanticipated detours for her. And that’s what Grady was. An unanticipated bump in the road. She laughed again. She couldn’t stop thinking about highways and unknown destinations for some reason.

  Blaise raised an eyebrow.

  “Okay, you win,” Grady said. “I was thinking that you rarely drive above the speed limit, maybe a safe three or four miles over but not enough to get you a ticket. When you use MapQuest, you pick the most direct route, unless of course you get an alert there’s heavy traffic, and then you weigh your decision considering directness versus speed. You plan your weekend meals ahead of time, and I bet you cook on Sunday afternoon. Oh, and you drive a Subaru—plenty of cargo space, environmentally efficient, and great in the snow.” She stopped, watching Blaise, whose pupils widened just a little, a faint flush rising to her cheeks. “How am I doing?”

  “It just so happens,” Blaise said, “that I have a big not-so-fuel-efficient Suburban.”

  “But I got the other stuff right, didn’t I?”

  Blaise actually clenched her jaws. Grady could tell because a little muscle bunched at the angle of her very elegant cheek. That was very sexy, and she liked knowing that she’d gotten a response. Challenge number two. She’d have to watch very closely to discover exactly how Blaise felt about things because she wasn’t going to reveal them easily. So she studied her even more.

  “Okay, four for me, one for you. Your turn.”

  The elevator opened, and they stepped out.

  “I was thinking you’re complicated.”

  Grady stared. “What?”

  “Complicated. Contradictory.”

  “That sounds bad.” Grady frowned. She hadn’t expected her to accept the offer of breakfast, and she hadn’t expected a serious answer to her question. And now she didn’t know what to think of the answer. “Is it?”

  Blaise slowed and searched her face, looking for something Grady was half afraid she would find—and half afraid she wouldn’t.

  “I don’t know yet.”

  Challenge number three. Discover a way around the roadblocks Blaise set out to keep her away, and why they were there.

  Blaise stopped at the foot of the sidewalk adjacent to the employee lot on the west side of the main hospital.

  “Where are you parked?” Blaise asked.

  “On Union Street.”

  Blaise gave her a look. Union Street was in the center of town, and nowhere near the hospital. “How did you get to work?”

  “I ran.”

  “You ran. Up the mountain?”

  Grady snorted. “It’s not exactly a mountain—it’s a big hill.”

  “Well, that’s true, but I happen to know that with the twists and turns and the rise in elevation, it’s pretty challenging.”

  “You run?”

  Blaise didn’t answer for a moment. Then, with obvious reluctance, she nodded. “I do.”

  “So you know it’s not that big a deal.”

  “It would be for most casual runners.”

  Grady lifted a shoulder. “I don’t have time to do much of anything else, in terms of exercise, so I run.”

  “I know what you mean,” Blaise said. “What do you do for strength training?”

  “Push-ups. It gets all the muscle groups, and I can do it at home. You?” They reached the front door of the hospital and Blaise pushed it open. Grady grabbed it and held it from behind, her arm brushing Blaise’s shoulder. The heat of her body, which shouldn’t have been noticeable, seared through Blaise at the slight touch. She quickly moved to the side to break the contact as Grady followed her outside.

  “Planks. I hate them, but they’re wonderful.”

  “Yeah,” Grady said, “I feel that way about yoga.”

  Blaise laughed, that pure free sound that was so at odds with her usual restrained composure. Grady’s heart gave a little thump, and the frisson of excitement that she was beginning to associate with being around Blaise returned. The sun was up, bright in a blue sky, and despite the September chill, the morning was glorious. And Blaise glowed.

  “I drove,” Blaise said quietly. “Come on. I’m parked back here.”

  Grady followed her, and at that moment, she knew with certainty she would’ve followed her anywhere just for the chance to hear that laughter again.

  Chapter Six

  “This is me,” Blaise said, clicking the remote to open the doors on the black Suburban.

  “Nice ride. So, let me guess—when you’re not running the emergency room, you’re toting around the hospital VIPs.”

  “Actually,” Blaise said, climbing into the driver’s side and starting the engine, “I’m toting sports equipment and half a field hockey team.”

  Grady hurried to jump in beside her. “I guess your daughter plays?”

  “She does,” Blaise said. “I also coach.”

  “Play in college?”

  Blaise backed out of the parking place a little faster than she’d intended, hitting the brakes hard enough to rock them both back. If Grady noticed, she didn’t say anything. She had intended to play field hockey in college, but that hadn’t happened when she’d gotten pregnant and college turned into something very different. “No.”

  Grady tilted her head. “Okay. So, let me guess. Lacrosse or—”

  “That’s your favorite game, isn’t it? Playing at guessing until you find out what you want to know?” As soon as the words were out, Blaise immediately wanted to kick herself. She’d just opened a door she absolutely wanted to keep closed. The door marked Let’s Get Personal. The Tell Me About Yourself door. Doors like that swung both ways, and she wasn’t offering to reciprocate.

  Grady of course walked right through and planted herself in the middle of the I Want To Get to Know You room. “I enjoy finding out about the women I find interesting, but I’ve got other games I like better. If you’re interested.”

  Blaise gripped the wheel at ten and two, as if she was back in driver’s ed a decade and a half ago, and stared straight ahead as she maneuvered the SUV down the winding road from the summit, where the Rivers presided over the valley and the village, to Main Street. The two-lane road divided the village into the north and south sides, and the one major cross street in the center neatly cut east to west.

  “I walked into that one, didn’t I,” Blaise said.

  Grady stretched, seeming to fill up the usually roomy front, and draped her arm along the top of the bench seat. Her fingers came to rest an inch or two from Blaise’s shoulder, but Blaise could swear she could feel them brushing her skin. Could her imagination really make her skin tingle otherwise? Blaise cut her a look and Grady smiled, looking a lot like one of her favorite lazy cats, indolent and arrogant, with a self-satisfied smirk as if she had a secret that she knew you wanted to know. Which of course, was completely not true. There was nothing about Grady McClure that she wanted to know.

  She could hear her mother’s voice reminding her only a fool tells lies to themselves. If she didn’t want to know more about Grady, why was she going out to breakfast with her?

  She s
ighed. “There’s nothing to tell.”

  “About field hockey?” Grady prompted, knowing damn well Blaise wasn’t talking about field hockey. Blaise was uneasy and struggling with herself. Maybe it was Grady, or maybe she was always this uncomfortable with anyone getting close. Teasing seemed to work. She’d almost seen a smile a couple of times, and she didn’t miss the flush that started on Blaise’s neck and moved down to the vee of her silly scrub shirt covered with iridescent fish. How a woman could look so sexy wearing something like that was beyond her, but Blaise managed.

  Grady had seen women in scrubs, dozens of them, every single day of her life for years, and no one had ever looked as good as Blaise did. So good, that every time she looked at her, she thought about what was underneath the school of fish, and right at this moment, the vision was enough to make her clit twitch. She shifted her hips and stretched out a little bit more. She’d changed into jeans and a T-shirt when she’d left the OR, and for some reason, her favorite slouch-around jeans felt a little bit too tight in vital spots. Blaise Richelieu was driving her crazy in more ways than one.

  “Sports is usually one of those safe topics, you know,” Grady nudged. “Like the weather.”

  “You know what there is to know, and it’s none too illuminating,” Blaise said. “My daughter plays. I played in high school, so I know the rules, and I can run up and down the field enough times to keep up for at least part of the game. End of story.”

  “You look like you’re in shape enough to keep up with almost anything,” Grady murmured, and this time, Blaise was the one who shifted a little bit in her seat. Score. Blaise was interested. The question was, why was she throwing up roadblocks over simple things like high school sports?

  “So,” Blaise said, slowing as she reached the village center. For a Saturday morning, everyone in ten counties seemed to be in town, and they were all looking for parking places. Traffic crawled. “Choices are relatively limited. We’ve got the Two Sisters Café, which makes a decent diner-type breakfast, anything you want, served with a side of coronary artery disease. It’s usually my go-to place. There’s the café—great coffee, fresh pastries, and usually a breakfast special or two. Other than that, there’s the doughnut cart on Main Street—gourmet doughnuts, croissants, pastries, and other absolutely sinful concoctions.”