A Nurse to Tame the ER Doc

by Janice Lynn

  She was even more impressed when Duffy’s song ended and they started playing another. This time Jack did the vocals. His voice was a raspy baritone that reached inside and tugged at her very being.

  The man had a beautiful, unique timbre.

  A beautiful, unique everything.

  She wanted to close her eyes and just listen to his voice, but her eyes refused to be denied the privilege of feasting on the image of him strumming along on his guitar while he sang.

  When the song ended, Taylor clapped and gave a self-conscious whistle. Another first. This stepping outside one’s comfort zone thing wasn’t so bad.

  Actually, it was kind of fun.

  “I think you have a groupie,” Duffy teased.

  “Never had a groupie before,” Jack mused, his smile aimed at Taylor. “But we are at a music festival, so I’m game.”

  “Can’t say I’ve ever been a groupie,” Taylor admitted, knowing her cheeks were pink but that a silly smile was on her face. “Maybe I’ll settle for being an avid fan, rather than a full-fledged groupie.”

  “Far less fun. Stick with the groupie,” Robert suggested, gathering a few laughs.

  “Avid fan is more my speed,” Taylor admitted, feeling a little self-conscious that all the men’s attention was now on her rather than their music. “Don’t stop playing on my account. I was enjoying listening.”

  “You play?” Duffy asked, offering her his guitar.

  She shook her head. Maybe she’d add guitar lessons to the growing list of things she’d tried since her divorce. So far she’d taken art classes, cooking classes, exercise classes, and was taking a foreign language course online. Not necessarily to expand her horizons but to figure out things she liked and enjoyed rather than be an extension of her parents, then Neil.

  “You sing?” Robert asked.

  She gave him a dubious look. “Not if I want to keep any of you as friends.”

  A few chuckles sounded.

  “We’re not a picky crowd, so feel free to join in at any time. The more the merrier.”

  Duffy launched into another song, but Taylor didn’t know the words so joining in wasn’t an option even if she’d wanted to give it a try.

  After a few more songs Robert stood, stretched, and announced he had plans to meet a cute little nurse who was working in the main medical tent. The others left one by one, leaving Taylor and Jack.

  “Do you really not play or sing or you just didn’t want to show up us guys?”

  “Ha,” Taylor snorted. “Believe me when I say I did you a favor by keeping my mouth shut.”

  Jack’s gaze dropped to her lips. “A shame. I’m positive I’d enjoy hearing you sing.”

  “You only say that because you’ve not heard me do so,” she assured him, thinking she’d never be comfortable enough to sing in public.

  “You don’t sing, you don’t play music, and this is your first music festival.” His gaze searched hers. “What do you do in your free time, Taylor?”

  Good question. One that two years ago she’d have answered with do everything she could to keep her husband happy, spend all her time trying to somehow be good enough so that perhaps their failing marriage would morph into what she’d once dreamed it would be. A year ago she’d have answered with cry and try not to dwell on the mess she’d made by not really knowing the man she’d married in a whirlwind while thinking she was the luckiest girl alive that a handsome plastic surgeon wanted to marry a plain Jane like her.

  Thank goodness she’d never given in to his wanting her to not work but stay home. As his wife, she’d gone part time, but had kept working. The ICU, her patients had been her solace. Other than her work, she’d had no life, no being Taylor, just Mrs. Dr. Neil Norris.

  “I run.” One of the habits she’d picked up immediately following her divorce.

  “Competitively?”

  She snickered. “Hardly. I run for me, to relieve stress, for exercise, to clear my head.”

  She’d started on a whim of wanting to be healthy but running had quickly become her therapy. She spent the time working through the past, how it had molded her, how she was determined to break those molds and forge herself into a person she liked. Neither her indifferent parents nor Neil got the final say on who she was.

  “So you work, sleep and run.” Jack frowned. “Not a very exciting life you’re describing, Taylor. Surely there’s more?”

  “I never claimed I led an exciting life.” She crossed her arms as she stared back.

  “What else, Taylor?” he pushed.

  Glancing down at the green grass beneath her tennis shoes, she shrugged. “I have all the usual hobbies people have.” She did. Now. “I sculpt.”

  She’d signed up for the sculpting class after seeing an ad she’d come across on social media but had loved it from the first moment she’d felt the clay between her fingers.

  Jack’s brow lifted. “As in statues of naked men?”

  Taylor rolled her eyes. “That’s such a guy question.”

  His lips twitched. “But is it true?”

  “A couple of times,” she admitted, her face warm and getting warmer at how his eyes twinkled.

  “In the name of art, right?” he teased.

  Smiling, Taylor didn’t bother to explain she’d been oblivious to the men who’d posed during her art class. She could barely recall what they’d looked like. What she’d enjoyed had been the feel of the clay beneath her fingers as she’d taken nothing and transformed it into something.

  Much as she’d done with her life.

  Nothing to something.

  “I’d like to see some of your work.”

  Unless he saw the piece she’d brought to give to Amy, it was unlikely. Until recently, she hadn’t wanted anyone to see her work as too much of her was caught up in it.

  “Or if you got the urge to work while here and needed inspiration...” His tone teased.

  Yeah, had Jack been the model, she seriously doubted she’d have been oblivious. Looking at the man was like looking at the most interesting piece of artwork she’d ever encountered, beautiful, intriguing, and full of character.

  Meeting his gaze and feigning excitement, she couldn’t resist saying, “You really think Robert would do that for me?”

  Jack laughed. “I’m sure you could convince him.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, trying to sound unsure. “There’s that nurse he was meeting when he took off earlier.”

  “There is that.” Jack’s gaze stayed locked with hers, both of them smiling, Taylor feeling really good on the inside.

  This, she thought. This was fun. Light and held no real meaning. Just a man, a woman, and good old-fashioned physical chemistry.

  Was the new Taylor the real Taylor, okay with starting something with Jack—a doctor, for goodness’ sake!—when she knew they’d go their separate ways when the music festival ended because she didn’t want a relationship? Not that she suspected he did either, just that she didn’t want a man in her life. She had too many things to still learn about herself.

  “Hungry?”

  Starved, and not for food. She wanted what she saw in his eyes, in what being near him hinted at within her body.

  Did that mean she was okay with a meaningless fling?

  Or maybe she just wanted to learn what Jack could teach her about herself?

  He propped his guitar against his chair and stood. “I have sandwich stuff. You want to eat with me or grab something from a vendor?”

  “You don’t have to feed me.” Was she talking food or sex? Or both? “I brought food.”

  His lips twitched. “Something more exciting than ham and cheese?”

  “Does such a thing exist?” she asked with feigned seriousness, eliciting a laugh.

  While he pulled out his sandwich supplies from his cooler,
Taylor dug through her supplies to find a plastic container of cookies she’d made, thinking she and Amy would gobble them up.

  When she set them on his table, he stopped what he was doing and helped himself to one.

  “Hey, these are good.”

  He sounded so surprised that Taylor laughed.

  “You didn’t mention anything about being a good cook,” he accused.

  “I’m not, but I can bake cookies.”

  During her classes, she’d discovered she found cooking so-so but enjoyed baking. She’d mastered basic skills but had thrown herself into spending more time at her sculpting class.

  “They’re good,” he repeated, reaching for another.

  She slapped at his hand. “Didn’t your mother make you wait until after dinner before having dessert?”

  His gaze lifted to hers and, grinning, he shook his head. “My mom would have been the first to encourage me to have the good stuff first because life is short.”

  Taylor’s brow rose. Wow. “Sounds fun.”

  And very unlike her older parents who hadn’t planned to have children, hadn’t wanted them, but had been stuck with her all the same.

  “But not very nutritious,” Jack added wryly.

  “There is that.”

  * * *

  Jack spread a blanket on the ground a good distance back from the stage. He and Taylor could have made their way closer, but closer to the stage meant more crowded. No way could they have seen from their sitting positions.

  Taylor’s arms were wrapped around her knees and she was watching the band as if they were the most fascinating group she’d ever seen. Her head bobbed ever so slightly to the beat.

  “Our little jam session may fail to impress you now that you’ve seen this.”

  She glanced toward him. “Not likely. You were good.”

  “Glad you thought so.”

  Still looking his way, she asked, “Did you ever want to play music professionally?”

  He chuckled. “Probably the same as every other kid who played an instrument dreams of being a rock star. But if you mean was I ever in a band then, yeah, a few over the years.”

  “What happened?”

  “I wasn’t that good, and I fell in love with medicine.”

  Her expression became thoughtful. “A musician or a physician. Interesting choices.”

  “Maybe if I’d been better at the music there wouldn’t have been a choice.” He shrugged. “Once I was exposed to medicine, there wasn’t a choice. I knew that’s what I was supposed to do.”

  Not once had he ever regretted that decision. Sometimes life threw things at you to point you in the right direction. In his case, life had hit him over the head—heart—to steer him down the right path.

  “I’m glad you get to play from time to time and have both in your life.”

  Ready to shove the past back as far away as it would go, he took a drink. “I enjoy life.”

  A true statement. He’d dealt with what had happened years ago to Courtney and had spent years making atonement. It was all he could do.

  “Not many people can say that,” Taylor mused, her voice sounding almost wistful.

  He turned toward her. “Can you?”

  She took a long time answering, but finally nodded. “I am enjoying life very much. Thank you.”

  The emotion in her voice, almost surprise, at her answer did funny things to Jack’s chest.

  He reached over, took her hand into his and gave a reassuring squeeze. “I’m glad you’re enjoying life, Taylor.”

  He was also glad that rather than pull her hand away, she laced her fingers with his and shot a grateful smile toward him. As if maybe she’d meant right now, this very moment, was what had made her say she was enjoying life.

  That he played a role in her happiness.

  A humbling thought.

  There was something fragile about Taylor. Something that brought out a protectiveness that left him feeling a bit lost.

  In the past, if he’d felt an attraction to a woman and that attraction was reciprocated, he’d acted without hesitation. Lord knew, he was no saint. Far, far from it.

  Taylor felt an attraction to him. He was sure of it. Although there was a hesitation on her face at times, she hadn’t really tried to hide her interest. But there was a vulnerability in her eyes that had him second-guessing himself. He didn’t do vulnerable in his personal relationships and sure didn’t want to feel protective of someone he was destined to walk away from.

  Still, what he wanted to do was lean over and kiss Taylor.

  They wouldn’t be the only couple at the concert making out. Kissing would be tame compared to some of the amorous sessions that happened around the festival.

  But most of those making-out sessions were just chemistry playing out between young, healthy couples.

  Just?

  What was it he thought was between Taylor and him should he kiss her, if not just chemistry?

  He didn’t do relationships that weren’t just physical chemistry. Not ever.

  Well, once, but never again.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  IT HAD BEEN a long time since Taylor had been on a date.

  Years.

  The last dates she’d been on had been with Neil.

  Neil, who had been perfectly put together, clothes always perfectly arrayed and wrinkle free, appearance always perfectly groomed, hair always perfectly styled.

  Neil, who had always taken her to the nicest restaurants, to premier shows in Louisville, to only the best of the best. Taylor had taken that to be a sign of him trying to impress her. In reality, it had only been Neil being Neil and wanting to show off his possessions to the world. He thought he deserved the best of the best, that the entire world revolved around him.

  She’d been the envy of her fellow nursing students because the hospital’s most eligible bachelor was besotted with her, bought her clothes and jewelry to wear to events with him. If only they’d known the only person Neil had been besotted with was himself.

  She still wasn’t sure what had attracted Neil to her. He’d wanted to change everything about her. Maybe he’d wanted a doll to bend and shape into what he wanted her to be. She’d played that role well for her parents. Letting him take over had been easy. When he’d decided she was who he’d wanted for a wife, she’d thought she was the luckiest girl alive. Plain her the wife of a renowned plastic surgeon who wanted to give her things and show her off to the world.

  They’d been the envy of all their friends—Neil’s true purpose.

  To Neil, she’d been a possession. A piece added to his collection to be seen and not heard. Had she not caught him cheating, she might still be in her oblivious bubble of living her life on eggshells.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, stop.”

  Taylor glanced toward the man next to her. A man who was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and whose pulled-back long hair was unkempt in a sexy sort of way—a man who had a shadow on his face where he needed to shave, and whose blue eyes were fringed with thick, dark lashes.

  A man who made her stomach flip-flop. Jack seemed comfortable with who he was and didn’t need to impress anyone.

  Which felt like a breath of fresh air.

  “Deal,” she agreed, inhaling deeply, determined she would push thoughts of Neil far from her mind. These days, she rarely thought of him, but meeting Jack seemed to have triggered a plethora of comparisons.

  “Good.” Jack studied her. “I was beginning to think I was going to have to visit medical for crush injuries. Quite a grip you have there.”

  Relaxing her hold, Taylor glanced at where their fingers were interlaced. She liked his hands. Strong, capable, clean but not professionally manicured and softer than hers. Had she been clamping down or holding on for dear life?

  She glanced back up. �
��Sorry.”

  Eyes locked with hers, he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against her fingers. “You’re forgiven.”

  Taylor’s stomach bypassed flip-flops and went into full out Olympian gymnast gold medal mode. Wow. If she’d thought his touch caused zings, his lips were powerhouses.

  “That was easy,” she pointed out, wondering why she was tempting fate. “Not making me beg for forgiveness?”

  Neil would have made her grovel.

  Ugh. She didn’t want to keep comparing Jack to Neil, but perhaps it was inevitable.

  Jack’s eyes were locked with hers, his expression serious, his hand warm around hers. “Forgiveness isn’t on the list of things I want you to ever beg me for.”

  Taylor’s insides quivered. She swallowed the lump in her throat and turned back toward the stage and pretended to watch the band.

  All her brain could process was that Jack had kissed her fingers, had implied he’d like her to beg him for...for what?

  Sex.

  If she was willing, he wouldn’t make her beg.

  Heaviness plagued her chest, making breathing difficult.

  She’d been over-the-moon giddy that her body wanted him, but the reality was she’d only had sex with one man and she’d been married to him.

  Maybe that’s why Neil had married her.

  Because she’d refused to sleep with him, saying she was saving herself for marriage. His ego had liked it that he’d been the only man she’d been with. Or maybe it was the challenge of possessing what he’d been denied.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Who?” she asked, glancing toward Jack.

  “The man you keep thinking about.”

  She winced. Obviously, she sucked at hiding her emotions. “I’m sorry.”

  “Your thoughts aren’t good ones.”

  She glanced down at their hands. “Was I squeezing your fingers again? Sorry.” She lifted her gaze to his. “I’d never intentionally hurt you.”

  He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Despite the fact we just met, I know that about you.”

  “How?” she asked, her voice catching in her throat and coming out hoarse.