by Nora Roberts
It was a risk. She would be open, gaping, so much more defenseless than he. But she wanted it, all of it, and that exquisite bond of trust.
Once more she lay her lips on him, and opened mind, heart, body.
It was a bolt, a lightning strike, the power of those coupled needs, images. His desire, layered and tangled inside her with her own. It slashed through her, dark, bright, swollen with energy. Her head snapped back from the punch of it, and she came in one long erotic gush.
“God. God. Wait.”
“No.” He’d never experienced anything like it. The twisted bonds of unity only knotted tighter in a bold and beautiful mass of arousal. “More.” He set his teeth on her shoulder, craving flesh. “Again. Now.”
She couldn’t stop it, it lashed through her like a storm full of fury and brilliance. It was she who dragged him to the floor, she who panted out pleas, demands, threats as they tore at clothes.
She clawed at him, nipped as they rolled over the floor. His pulse was inside her, a savage beat that crashed against her own. The taste of him, the taste of herself, brewed together to saturate her.
When he plunged into her she felt the urgent pumping of his blood, the desperate maze of his thoughts. Lost. She cried out, once, twice. They were both lost.
She heard her name, his voice calling it inside her mind seconds before it burst from his lips. When he came inside her, dragged her with him, the glory of it made her weep.
20
Wade had his hands full—what was left of them after the ornery tabby badly misnamed Fluffy mangled them during her shots. Maxine was deep into finals, and he’d given her the day off, which meant he had only two hands to pit against four claws and a number of very sharp teeth.
He’d concluded, an hour before, that he’d made a mistake of horrendous proportions by springing Maxine. He’d started the day with an emergency that required a house call and put him solidly behind. Add the minor war in the waiting area set off by a personality clash between a setter and a bichon, the Olsons’ baby goat who’d managed to eat the best part of Malibu Barbie until her arm became lodged in his throat, and Fluffy’s vile temper, and he’d had a pisser of a morning.
He was cursing, sweating, bleeding, when Faith rushed in through the back. “Wade, honey, can you take a look at Bee for me? I think she’s feeling poorly.”
“Take a number.”
“It’ll only take a minute.”
“I haven’t got a minute.”
“Oh now … goodness, what happened to your hands?” Faith watched as Wade narrowly avoided another swipe and tucked the cat firmly under his arm. “Did that mean old pussycat scratch you, darling?”
“Kiss my ass” was his best response.
“Did she get you there, too?” Faith called out as he marched into the waiting area. “It’s all right, baby.” She nuzzled the puppy. “Daddy’s going to take good care of you in just a minute.”
He came back in to scrub up and dug out antiseptic.
“She’s been whimpering and sort of moaning all morning. And her nose is a little warm. She doesn’t want to play. Just lies there. See?”
Faith set Bee down, and the pup squatted by Wade’s feet, looked up at him pitifully, then proceeded to throw up on his shoes.
“Oh! Oh! For goodness sake. Must’ve been something she ate. Lilah said I shouldn’t give her all those cookies.” Faith bit her lip but couldn’t quite hold in the giggle. Wade simply stood staring at her, antiseptic in one hand, a thin trickle of blood on the other, and puppy vomit on his shoes.
“We’re awfully sorry. Bee, don’t you eat that. That’s just nasty.” She scooped up the puppy. “I bet you feel so much better now, don’t you, sweetheart? There, see that, Wade? She’s wagging her tail again. I just knew if I brought her in to you, everything would be fine.”
“Is that how it looks to you? Like everything’s fine?”
“Well, Bee’s sicked up what was worrying her, and I don’t imagine it’s the first time you’ve had a little doggie puke on you.”
“I’ve got a waiting room full of patients, my hands are scratched to shit, and now my shoes are going to stink for the rest of the day.”
“Well, go on up and change them then.” She stepped back when he made one of his hands into a claw. She loved the light that came into his eyes when his dander was up. “Now, Wade.”
He bunched the claw into a fist, then punched it lightly between his own eyes. “I’m going to go ditch these shoes, and when I come back, I want you to have cleaned this up.”
“Clean it up? Myself?”
“That’s right. Put your dog back in surgery, get a mop and bucket, and deal with it. I don’t have time for this.” He reached down, pulled off the ruined shoes at the heels. “And make it fast. I’m behind schedule.”
“Daddy’s a little cross this morning,” she murmured to Bee, as Wade strode out to the garbage. She looked at the floor, grimaced. “Well, at least you got the best part of it on his shoes. It’s not so bad.”
When he came back she was dutifully if inexpertly mopping. There were suds gliding across the linoleum on little waves of water. It almost seemed to him they had a current. But he didn’t have the heart to complain.
“Almost done here. Bee’s in the back playing with her squeaky bone. She’s bright-eyed and frisky again.” Faith dumped the mop in the bucket, sloshed more water. “I guess this needs to dry off some.”
As an alternative to screaming, he rubbed his hands over his face and laughed. “Faith, you are unique.”
“Of course I am.”
She stepped back as he picked up the bucket, emptied it, rinsed off the mop, then began to slop up suds and water.
“Oh. Well, I suppose that works, too.”
“Do me a favor. Go on out there and tell Mrs. Jenkins to bring Mitch on back. That’s the beagle who’s been howling the last half hour. And if you can find a way to maintain some sort of order out there for the next twenty minutes, I’ll buy you a fancy dinner at your choice of restaurants.”
“Champagne?”
“A magnum.”
“Let’s just see what I can do.”
He got his twenty minutes, barely, when he heard the urgent cry.
“Wade! Wade, come quick!”
He bolted out, saw Piney Cobb staggering under the weight of Mongo.
“Ran out into the road, right in front of me. God almighty. He’s bleeding pretty bad.”
“Bring him in the back.”
He moved fast. The dog’s breathing was labored, his pupils fixed and dilated. His thick fur was matted with blood, and more was dripping on the floor.
“Here, on the table.”
“I hit the brakes,” Piney muttered and stood back. “Swerved, but I clipped him anyway. I was heading into the hardware for some parts, and he come barreling out of the park right into the street.”
“Do you know if you ran over him?”
“Don’t think I did.” With trembling hands he pulled out a faded red bandanna and wiped his sweaty face. “Knocked him’s what I think, but it happened fast.”
“Okay.” Wade grabbed toweling, and since Faith was standing beside him, he simply took her hands, pushed them onto the cloth. “Press down, hard. I want that bleeding under control. He’s in shock.”
He yanked open the drug cabinet, grabbed a bottle to prepare a hypo. “You just hang in there, boy. Just hang on,” he murmured, as the dog began to stir and whimper. “Keep the pressure firm,” he ordered Faith. “I’m giving him a sedative. I need to check for internal injuries.”
Her hands had shaken when he’d pressed them to the wound. She thought she’d seen straight down to the bone in the gash gaping down the dog’s back leg. And her stomach had flipped over.
She wanted to snatch her hands away from all that blood, to rush out of the room. Why couldn’t Piney do it? Why couldn’t someone else be here? She started to say so, the words jumping into her throat. She could smell the blood, the antiseptic, and
the sour stench of Piney’s panic sweat.
But her gaze landed on Wade’s face.
Cool, composed, strong. His eyes were flat with concentration, his mouth firmed into one determined line. She stared at him, breathing through her teeth. Watching him work, the quick efficiency of it, the focus, calmed her even as the dog went still again beneath her hands.
“No broken ribs. I don’t think the wheel went over him. Might have a bruised kidney. We’ll deal with that later. Head wound’s pretty superficial. No blood in the ears. The leg’s the worst of it.”
And that, he thought, was bad enough. Saving it, and the dog, was going to be tricky.
“I need to move him into surgery.” He glanced back, saw that Piney had dropped into the chair and had his head on his knees. “I need your hands, Faith. I’m going to lift and carry him, you have to stay with me. Keep the pressure firm. He’s lost too much blood. Ready?”
“Oh but, Wade, I—”
“Let’s go.”
She did what she was told because he left her no choice. She jogged beside him, fumbling for the door with her free hand. Bee sent up a joyful bark and ran between her feet.
“Sit!” Wade said so sharply, Bee’s butt plopped obediently to the floor. The minute he’d laid the sedated dog down he grabbed a thick apron, tossed it to Faith. “Put that on. I’ve got to get pictures.”
“Pictures.”
“X rays. Go to his head. Hold him steady as you can.”
The apron weighed like lead, but she dragged it on, did what she was told. Mongo’s eyes were slitted, but it seemed to her he was watching her, pleading with her to help.
“It’s going to be all right, baby. Wade’s going to make everything all right. You’ll see.”
The sound of her voice had Bee whining and scooting over to huddle by her feet.
“Get rid of the apron now.” While he waited for the film to develop, Wade shot out orders. “Come back here and apply pressure again. Keep talking to him. Just let him hear your voice.”
“Okay, all right. Um.” Swallowing what tasted like bile, she pressed the thick padding over the gash. “Wade’s going to fix you up just fine again. You … you have to look both ways before you cross the street. You remember that next time. Oh Wade, is he going to die?”
“Not if I can help it.” He slapped the X rays onto a lighted panel, nodded grimly. “Not if I can help it,” he said again, and started gathering instruments.
Sharp silver tools glinted in the hard overhead light. Her head seemed to circle in time with her stomach. “You’re going to operate? Now? Just like that?”
“I have to try to save the leg.”
“Save it? You mean—”
“Just do what I say, and don’t think.”
When he peeled back the compress, her stomach gave a nasty lurch, but he didn’t give her time to be sick.
“You hold this, press this button here when I tell you I need suction. You can do that one-handed. When I need an instrument, I’ll describe it. Give it to me handle first. I’m going to knock him out now.”
He lowered the light, cleaned the field. All Faith could hear now was the slurping noises of her hose when he demanded suction, the click and clatter of tools. She averted her eyes, wanted to keep them that way, but he kept snapping out orders that required her to look.
Before long, it was like a movie.
Wade’s head was bent, his eyes cool and calm, though she saw beads of sweat pearling on his forehead. It seemed to her his hands were like magic, moving so delicately through blood, flesh, and bone.
She didn’t even blink when he slid the protruding bone back into place. None of it was real.
She watched him suture impossibly tiny stitches inside the gash. The raw yellow of the sterile wash he’d used stained his hands, mixed with the blood until it was all the color of an aging bruise.
“I need you to check his heart rate manually. Just use your hand, gauge his heartbeat for me.”
“It’s kind of slow,” she said when she pressed down. “But it seems steady. Like, bump, bump, bump.”
“Good, take a look at his eyes.”
“Pupils are awfully big.”
“Any blood in the whites?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Okay, he needs some pins in this leg. Bone shattered more than broke. Once that’s done I’ll close it. Then we’ll set the leg.”
“Is he going to be all right?”
“He’s healthy.” Wade used his forearm to wipe his brow. “And he’s young. He’s got a good chance to keep the leg.”
He worried about the bone chips. Had he gotten them all? There’d been muscle damage, some badly ripped tendons, but he felt confident he’d repaired the worst of it.
All this ran through one part of his mind while the rest was focused on securing bone with steel.
“I’ll know better in a day or two. I need gauze and tape. That cabinet there.”
Once he’d closed the wound, Wade bandaged and set the leg, then checked the dog’s vitals himself. He treated the raw scrape on the muzzle, behind the left ear. “He held up,” Wade murmured, then for the first time in over an hour, looked directly at Faith. “So did you.”
“Yeah, well, I was a little queasy at first, then …” She lifted her hands, started to gesture. They were streaked with blood, as was her blouse. “Oh. Oh my” was all she managed before her eyes rolled back.
He caught her, barely, then stretched her out on the floor. She was already coming around when he lifted her head and brought a paper cup of water to her lips.
“What happened?”
“You fainted, gracefully and at a convenient moment.” He brushed his lips over her cheek. “I’ll take you upstairs. You can clean up and lie down for a bit.”
“I’m all right.” But when he helped her stand, her legs wobbled. “Okay, maybe not. I might be better off flat out for a while longer.”
She dropped her head on his shoulder, half floating as he carried her up. “I don’t think I’m cut out to be a nurse.”
“You did great.”
“No, you did. I never thought, never understood why you do what you do. Always figured it as giving out shots and cleaning up dog poop.”
“There’s a lot of that.”
He carried her into the bathroom where he could brace her on the sink and run warm water in the bowl. “Just put your hands in here. You’ll feel better when they’re clean.”
“There’s a lot more, Wade, to what you do. And to you.” Her eyes met his in the mirror. “I haven’t been paying attention, haven’t bothered to look close enough. You saved a life today. You’re a hero.”
“I did what I was trained to do.”
“I know what I saw, and what I saw was heroic.” She turned, kissed him. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to strip to the skin and get in the shower.”
“You steady enough?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. You go check on your patient.”
“I love you, Faith.”
“I think you do,” she said quietly. “And it’s nicer than I expected. Go on now, my head’s still light enough for me to say something I’ll regret later.”
“I’ll be back up when I can.”
He checked on Mongo first, then cleaned up before stepping out into the examining room. Piney was still in the chair, and now Bee was curled sleeping in his lap.
Wade had forgotten about both of them.
“That dog gonna make it?”
“It looks good.”
“Oh Jesus, Wade. I’m just sick about it. I’ve been going over it in my head, and if I’d been paying more attention. I was just driving along and my mind was wandering, and next thing I knew that dog jumped right out in the road. Could’ve been a kid.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Hit me a deer a time or two. Don’t know why it didn’t bother me like this. Mostly I’d just get pissed off. Deer can do a hell of a number on a truck. Some kid’s gonn
a come home from school looking for that dog.”
“I know the owner. I’ll give her a call. You getting him here fast made a big difference. That’s what you ought to remember.”
“Yeah, well.” He sighed hugely. “This little gal’s right cute,” he said, stroking Bee’s head. “She came out here looking for trouble, chewed on my bootlaces for a bit, then she conked right out.”
“I appreciate your looking out for her.” Wade reached down and picked her up. Bee yawned hugely, then licked at the cat scratches on his hand. “Are you going to be all right?”
“Yeah. Tell the God’s truth, I’m going to go get me a drink. Cade’s probably sent out the marines for me by now, but that’s just gonna have to wait.” He got to his feet. “You let me know how that dog goes on, now, will you?”
“Sure.” He slapped Piney’s shoulder as they walked out.
The waiting room was clear. Wade imagined most of his patients got tired of the delay and left. He could only be grateful for the quiet.
He set Bee down with one of the dog treats Maxine kept in her desk drawer, then looked up Sherry Bellows’s number in his files.
The answering machine picked up, so he left a message. She’d be out looking for her dog, he supposed. More than likely she’d run into someone who’d seen the accident.
He left it at that and went back in to Mongo.
Minutes after Wade talked to Sherry’s machine, Tory listened to the same cheery voice announcing she wasn’t able to come to the phone. “Sherry, this is Tory Bodeen at Southern Comfort. I’d like you to call or come by when you get a chance. If you’re still interested, you’ve got a job.”
The decision felt good, Tory thought, as she replaced the receiver. Not only had Sherry’s references been glowing, but it might even be fun to have a bright face and willing hands around the shop for a few hours a week.
Business was slow today, but she wasn’t discouraged. It took time to establish yourself, to become part of people’s routines. And she’d had a handful of browsers that morning.
She used the downtime to work out an affordable schedule for her new employee. She got out the forms she’d need to fill out for tax records and added the list of store policies she’d typed.