by Risk, Mona
A growl rumbled up from his chest. He moved her hand away from him and rolled her onto her back. Reaching for the night table, he opened a drawer, withdrew a silver pack and protected himself. His head lowered and he licked her belly button, while his finger waltzed inside her.
“Oh … no …please,” she moaned. His caress steadily eroded her ability to think. His lips rubbed against her most intimate part as his tongue teased her pleasure button. She arched and quivered against his mouth while wave after wave of sensation rippled through her.
When he rose, she opened dazed eyes and clasped her hands on his shoulders afraid to lose him so soon. He gave her a satisfied smile and gathered her closer, covering her with his body, pleasuring her as if they had all the time of the world.
Yes, they had the whole night, just for themselves. She smiled back. His lips were on her mouth working their magic. He slid inside her, withdrew, and plunged again. She moaned and wrapped her legs around him, unable to withstand the sweet torture. “Yves,” she whispered in a breath.
“Oui, chérie.” He accelerated his tempo.
She dug her nails into the muscles of his back, then smoothed her palm over his sweat-damp skin, breathed his scent, masculine and exciting. He sank deeper inside her. His tongue thrust in her mouth, his erection followed the same crazy rhythm. A rainbow of colors shaded all thought as she exploded in ecstasy and moaned the name Yves with the right man.
“All yours, chérie,” he groaned and climaxed with her.
And she lost track of time.
How long did they remain entwined? Her face nestled against the hollow of his neck, she basked in the aftermath of their lovemaking, happy and serene. Reluctant to move and wake from her incredible fantasy, she pressed her mouth to his collarbone. His erratic pulse drummed against her lips. Her fantasy was real, and her hero magnificent.
****
Yves hauled a deep breath and rolled over, tugging her on top of him.
She lifted her head and smiled. “That was fantastic.”
“Amazing.” He stroked her back and cupped her softly rounded behind.
“For you too?”
“Oh, yes.” With a gentle caress, he pushed away the strand of chestnut hair falling over her face. “Why don’t you sleep in my arms? We’ll have to leave by dawn to be back at the hospital on time.”
“Ouch, you have to remind me?”
“I wish we could stay longer.” Yves nipped the delicate skin of her throat and inhaled the fragrance of her perfume and the smell of her, still lingering on his fingers.
With infinite care, he gathered her in his arms, tucking her head against his shoulder. A few minutes later, her regular breathing told him she was asleep. He tightened his arms around her. He wouldn’t be able to close his eyes. Not with Mary-Beth naked in his arms.
He hadn’t lied to her. The chemistry had been incredible. He’d never enjoyed making love to a woman as he did tonight. The thought stunned him. Heat spread through his body and he felt hard again. So soon?
She was here for a month. She could sleep in his arms every night.
He smiled at the lovely woman resting against his chest now. His assertive Mary-Beth, so sweet and innocent in her sleep.
Having her in his bed every night would be wonderful. Pure heaven.
And absolutely unfair to her. She wanted stability and security in her life. He couldn’t give her that.
Stay away from her.
She stirred and cuddled closer, waking softly, demanding him.
Yes, stay away from her, he pledged as he tightened his embrace around her and rained kisses on her forehead and cheek.
Tomorrow, maybe.
Yes, yes. Tomorrow or later. But not now. He kissed her deep on the lips and slowly slid into her warm wetness.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Mary-Beth stretched her arms high above her head in front of the vanity mirror of the bathroom. She was still sleepy, dazed, languorous. Waking up in Yves’s arms, with their bodies joined was more than she’d ever dared to fantasize. With a giggle, she squinted at the bedraggled woman in the mirror. Mascara ringed her eyes and her hair tangled in disparate strands. Lord, she was a mess. A deliriously happy mess with swollen lips stretched into a big smile.
Am I in love? I think I’ve always been in love with Yves, mon amour.
Free and in love. She had the best of two worlds. What more could she ask for?
In a month, she’d leave his hospital. She’d make of this month an unforgettable heaven. Maybe by then, Yves would want her forever. Doubtful, but a girl could always dream. And she had to keep in mind that for better or worse was not part of his vocabulary. He didn’t like strings.
So? She just snipped hers and would rather taste life on her own, without new strings.
“Chérie, are you ready?” he called from behind the closed door.
“Give me a few minutes.” She’d dawdled enough this morning.
“We have surgery at seven. It’s already 4:30.”
“Yes, yes.” She hurried under the shower. “Back to earth, Dr. Drake,” she muttered as the let the water refresh her overheated body and dazed mind. Who knew what the next days would bring?
Five days after their visit to Paris, Mary-Beth’s heart squeezed with mortification. Every time she’d tried to talk to Yves, he’d slipped away into a different OR, an urgent meeting, or an important conference. Was he avoiding her?
If it wasn’t for the multitude of photos she’d saved in a computer folder labeled A Day in Paradise, she’d believe she’d imagined the whole thing.
“Dr. Drake, you’ll assist Dr. Julien on a pediatric cardiac surgery. Dr. Marcoli, you’ll work with Dr. Barrot on a brain tumor. Dr. Lopez, we will be covering emergency cases.” Yves’s brisk tone filled the silence as he read from the assignment board hanging on the wall of the corridor in the surgery wing.
He hadn’t even glanced at her. What the hell was the matter with him?
He couldn’t regret their night together, could he? She blinked rapidly and tried to slow the erratic race of her pulse as she focused on his proud profile.
“Dr. Drake, you look puzzled. Any questions about the assignments?”
What assignments? Had she missed something while ruminating on his behavior and her feelings? “No,” she quickly answered, hoping he wouldn’t ask her specific questions. His instructions completed, he caught her gaze and frowned. “Go ahead, doctors. Dr. Drake, please come to my office. I have a paper for you.”
A paper? She sighed and followed him. As soon as they were out of earshot, he paused, the deep green of his eyes simmering with concern. “Are you okay? You don’t look your cheerful self.”
She clenched the hem of her scrubs shirt to avoid reminding him that he was the one acting weird. For the last few days, he’d acknowledged her presence with a brief nod of the head, and then scowled and walked away. After their day in Paris. Was their wondrous night to be a one-night stand? Disappointment pooled in her stomach. “I’m fine. Perfect.” She exhaled and clamped her jaws shut.
He arched an eyebrow, but didn’t comment on her clipped tone. “We have been so busy I haven’t found the time to talk to you. I saw the request form you completed for training in pediatric surgery. I’ve arranged for you to assist our cardiologist, Dr. Julien. You will be working with him for the rest of the week.”
In other words, he’d made sure she was out of his hair. “Thank you,” she said and gritted her teeth. Take a deep breath and relax, Dr. Drake. She’d just received an exciting assignment for more in-depth training.
“I’m sure you will do a great job as usual. Go, he’s waiting for you.” She turned to leave, still seething. “Mary-Beth.” He touched her arm. “Don’t forget you’re coming to the fête champêtre with me on Saturday.”
She spun around, eyes wide-open. “The wine festival?” Was he seriously thinking of taking her after his recent arctic attitude?
“Yes. I hope you haven’t changed your mind?”
“No, I haven’t. I thought you did.” She shook her head as she saw his scowl. “Never mind.” He certainly knew how to confuse her. Her temples throbbed with pain.
“I’ll pick you up on Saturday at five o’clock.” He waggled a finger. “And please keep smiling. Frowning all day long is not good for the health. It also causes wrinkles.” He winked saucily.
Of all the insufferable men. She cursed herself for falling in love with him. “I may go with Roberto and Sophie.”
His forehead knit with a new scowl. “I said I-will-pick-you-up.”
Maybe she should have chosen psychiatry instead of pediatric surgery. Was there a specialty called Male Behavior of the French Aristocrat?
****
Standing next to Dr. Julien, Mary-Beth couldn’t believe her previous lack of enthusiasm. The whole medical team of surgeons, anesthesiologist, and nurses surrounded the warmer of a baby with hypoplastic left heart syndrome.
“I believe I can deliver blood to the left side of Baby Luc’s heart. Although I don’t know if the heart will respond. It’s a complicated case, but we will go for it.” Dr. Julien explained they could do a Norwood operation or a heart transplant. Since the requested heart hadn’t arrived yet, Dr. Julien couldn’t wait. They would do a Norwood operation.
No one dared to speak while Dr. Julien and his team worked on the baby’s heart. The OR was quiet save for the rush of air-conditioning that kept the room cold, the hum of the bypass machine, and the door whooshing open occasionally as a technician or nurse came or went. Every minute counted. Any wrong move could cost the baby his life.
Mary-Beth bit her lip, praying for the tiny heart to start contracting.
The surgeon removed the cross clamp, allowing blood to flow to the muscle itself. But the heart didn’t begin to beat. Instead, it fibrillated. Dr. Julien asked Mary-Beth to administer a cardiac depressant that suppressed arrhythmias.
God, the heart didn’t respond.
Julien asked for a shock. Mary-Beth gave him the paddles, and he delivered a pop. Luc’s heart continued to wiggle, contracting sporadically, then stopped. Julien gave it another shock. And another. Nothing happened. Luc’s heart remained motionless, and Mary-Beth’s heart skipped a beat.
“We’ll put him on bypass.” Dr. Julien worked to get blood to the baby’s left ventricle. But the echocardiogram taken was not better than the previous.
Mary-Beth shivered. After five hours of uninterrupted work and excruciating concentration, her first pediatric surgery was about to end with a baby’s death.
Life sucks.
The door opened. Yves walked in. “How’s it going?”
His shoulders slumped, Julien looked at the baby. “I think we’ve failed. It may be the end for him.”
“I just received a heart. We can still save him.”
“Let’s go for it. Come and help here.” Julien ordered. “I can use all the hands I can get.”
Mary-Beth exhaled a breath of relief. She’d fought to save that baby and he’d become important to her. A dear little thing she desperately wanted to help live. She bent over the operating table. “You’ll be fine. I can feel it.”
She also knew now pediatric surgery was exactly what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. Her time in surgery today almost made up for the frustration Yves had caused her in the morning.
Loving her French count could be her downfall. Saving babies would never disappoint her.
****
Where was Mary-Beth? Her car was still parked outside. She obviously hadn’t gone home although her shift had ended a few hours ago. Yves had looked for her in the residents’ office, in the library, on the whole surgical floor. He went back to ask the front desk of the hospital, but the security guard assured him that Dr. Drake hadn’t left the hospital.
On his way back to his office, he met one of the nurses. “Danielle, have you seen Dr. Drake?”
“Yes, she’s in the Pediatric ICU.”
Just like Mary-Beth to be checking on her latest patient when she should have been long gone. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “Thank you, Danielle.”
He sprinted toward the PICU. Sure enough, Mary-Beth stood in front of Luc’s isolette, her finger gently rubbing the baby’s foot while she cooed to him. Such a lovely picture.
Yves scrubbed and entered the sterile area.
Mary-Beth turned around. “Isn’t he gorgeous? I hope he’ll make it,” she said, her voice heavy with emotion.
“I hope so too. We did our best for him.”
“Thank you for letting me be a part of Dr. Julien’s team today. This is going to be my specialty. I’m convinced that pediatric surgery is the right thing for me.”
He nodded and watched her smile at the baby through the glass crib. “You will make a good pediatric surgeon. You are thorough, persistent, and compassionate.”
She’d also make a wonderful mother. She loved children.
He loved them too.
A longing he’d never known before tightened his throat. He clenched his fists to stifle those impossible dreams.
“I’ll apply for a fellowship at Columbia University, when I leave in three weeks,” Mary-Beth said without taking her gaze from the baby.
Yves’s Adam’s apple somersaulted. “Only three weeks?” Sacrebleu, she couldn’t leave now, not when he’d become addicted to her lovely face, to her smile and her voice. He wanted her in his arms, in his bed. Forever.
Maybe she’d agree to stay until he found a solution. “Mary-Beth, let’s have dinner tonight. I absolutely need to talk to you.”
Her head spun toward him and she raised her delicate eyebrows. “A serious talk?”
“Very serious.”
“About what?” Her beautiful violet-blue eyes suddenly sparkled as she gave him a long look.
“Uh…about your fellowship at Columbia.”
“Oh.” She shrugged and averted her gaze. “It’ll have to wait. I’m exhausted now. Actually, I’ll have a glass of wine to help me sleep better after today’s excitement.” She turned toward him and smiled—a sad little smile that didn’t brighten her face. “Even two glasses. See, I’ve learned your French ways fast.”
“Wonderful.” Where was the spark of liveliness that glittered in her eyes a week ago? She turned her head and focused on the baby as if she forgot Yves stood next to her.
What did he expect? Recently, he’d done his best to stay away from her, even ignore her. His throat tightened. He was responsible for her melancholy.
Could he take her in his arms and kiss her now? Explain his reasons? He scanned the nursery where several preemies struggled to live. Too many nurses came and went to care for the babies.
The statuesque Laure entered and smiled at him suggestively. He nodded without a hint of a smile on his lips and left.
She didn’t compare to Mary-Beth.
No one compared to Mary-Beth. It cut him to the core to think he might lose her in three weeks.
****
Yves lingered in the kitchen of the chateau hoping that Mary-Beth would come for a glass of wine. He poured himself a glass of Château Marancourt, sat the bottle on the table and settled in a chair waiting for her. Half an hour later, he exhaled with frustration. Either, he had missed her and she already had her drink, or she’d changed her mind and went to bed already.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway. He smiled and straightened.
“Monsieur le Comte, you are not sleeping yet?”
Yves’s smile faded. “Oh, it’s you.”
Hubert arched his bushy eyebrows. “I am sorry to disappoint you. I was coming to get my medicine that I left in the cabinet here.”
Staring at his wine, Yves nodded.
“What’s wrong, my boy? You look awful.” Hubert said, reverting to his paternal persona.
“Nothing special.”
“Really? Since your last trip to Paris, you haven’t been yourself. You hardly talk to anyone and when you do…” Hubert flapped his hand. “Let m
e guess. You didn’t have a good time. Dr. Mary-Beth ignored you. Maybe she wants that fiancé of hers more than we thought.”
Yves shrugged. “There’s no fiancé anymore. And she didn’t ignore me.”
“Ah?” Hubert’s face brightened with a huge smile. “Très bien. So what is the problem? She’s available, pretty and fun, a smart doctor.” The old man rubbed his hands. “The Lord up there answered my prayers.”
“No.”
“What do you mean?” Not waiting for an invitation, Hubert pulled a chair and sat across from Yves.
“She has only three weeks left.” Yves poured a glass of wine for Hubert and emptied his own, only to refill it.
“So? It never stopped you with others,” Hubert said with a little smile of pride in his protégé’s ability to seduce a woman.
“When things became too serious with other women, it was never a problem.”
“You let them go with a friendly peck, an expensive gift, and sometimes a few tears on the woman’s part.”
“I can’t do that to Mary-Beth. I can’t take advantage of her and then let her go.”
“Ah?” His butler’s tone sounded interested.
“It would be terrible, horrible, degrading.”
“Because?”
“Well, because she’s Mary-Beth. She’s… too special.”
“Crystal clear, my boy.” Hubert didn’t smile ironically, but nodded with understanding. “That should explain why you want her so much and why you can’t behave like a selfish womanizer.”
“Then what should I do?” Yves stroked his forehead in an effort to decrease his pounding headache. “I already tried staying away from her.”
“What? Why?”
“For her own sake, but it didn’t work. She looked depressed, and I could think of nothing else but how to bring her back in my arms. All I can offer her is passion, fun, wonderful nights.”
“It sounds great to me.”
“No, it sounds pitiful, not different from what I have shared with previous dates.” He slammed his glass on the table. “There should be an honorable way to keep her without losing her friendship, without feeling like a selfish jerk.”