by Dee Palmer
“No, I have to get home.” I start to struggle, and like a snake with its prey, his arms constrict so tightly I feel my bones creak.
“Your knees are cut to shit, Regan, and I know you think I’m an asshole, but I’m not about to leave you bleeding on the sidewalk,” he quips, and I snort out a flat and knowing laugh.
“I don’t think you’re an asshole.” I look up as he looks down, his soft lips carving a perfectly smug smile that I am happy to wipe clean off his stupidity handsome face. “I know you’re an asshole, a certified, gold medal, rock solid asshole.”
“Fine, I’m an asshole and you’re coming with me.”
I let out a resigned and heavy sigh, which I feel originate deep in my belly. It’s not like it’s the worst offer I’ve had, and, if nothing else, heading into the Emergency Room with a Head of Paediatrics means I will jump the queue and might just get home before morning.
“Um, Joel, you’ve missed the hospital entrance.” I strain to twist my head in the direction of the turning we should’ve taken.
“Have I? Well, now I can see why you’re the youngest nurse to lead the neonatal team on the peds unit.” His tone is thick with sarcasm.
“Cute.” I try to wriggle to free myself, but his arms are like a vice around my body, the heat from him and the way his stony muscles mould against me, even through his leathers, is all kinds of distracting.
“Hospital, Joel?”
“I’m not taking you there, unless you want tongues wagging as to why I’m carrying you in my arms with you looking all hot and sexy, with swollen lips and just-fucked hair,” he argues, and I comically open and close my mouth without making a sound as his words sink in.
“I… No. I don’t want that.” I admit after only a second of reflection. This sordid thing we share is only bearable because no one knows.
“Right, so shush and let me handle this, and stop wriggling, you’re making me hard.” He winks and smirks like the devil himself has taken the reins, and I close my eyes and wonder if this night could actually get any worse.
Yes is the answer, in case you were wondering.
One Year Ago
“Oh, my goodness, Regan, you need to see the new Head of Paediatrics. Lord, he is like Adonis on steroids.” Betty fans her chubby cheek, blushes, and smooths her salt and pepper hair back into its tight bun. Her eyes widen with her knowing look of excitement. I shuffle the papers I need to sort on my desk and tip my head to the side with confusion.
“Dr Wimpole? Are you kidding? He looks like a hundred years of in-breeding, no chin, enormous forehead, and he is fooling no one with the comb-over. Betty, he is bald as a coot under those mousy brown strands. He’s a nice guy and a great doctor; however, a looker he is not.”
“No, didn’t you hear? They withdrew the offer to Dr Wimpole. Apparently the board wanted this other guy the whole time. They never thought he’d accept.”
“Why wouldn’t he accept?” I bristle with the notion anyone would turn down my hospital. I love this place. It’s more than my job; it’s my family, and, like any proud momma, I am ready to defend it with open claws and a fierce tongue.
“Nothing against the hospital, I’m sure, it’s just he’s supposed to be the tip top, a high flyer or something, and he’s coming from abroad,” she says, elongating her words with awe. I roll my eyes. Hotshot doctors, in my experience, have overinflated egos, god complexes and, even on a bad day, would give Narcissus a run for his money. Betty shrugs and continues absently to wipe the same part of the reception desk where I am standing. “Maybe he has golden balls. Anyway, he did accept, and if I was twenty years younger…mmm-mmm.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Oh, I know everything. There have to be some perks to being a housekeeper. We go unnoticed, and we hear every tiny bit of gossip.” She leans closer, her hand providing a screen even if her voice is still loud enough to wake the dead.
“That’s not exactly gossip, Betty. This is supposed to be my ward; you’d think someone would’ve dropped me a memo.” I shake my head. I may not go unnoticed, but it seems I am still the last to know.
“They did, it’s in your tray.” She points to the stack of papers on my desk.
“Dusting?” I arch my brow.
“I wasn’t prying, Regan. It’s right on the top.” Her eyes fall on the memo, and I reach to pick the sheet of paper from the top of the pile. She continues to talk a conspiratorial tone that makes me smile. “Anyway, mark my words, this one might be just good enough to turn your head. It’s about time you had a little fun.”
“Thank you, Betty, but the last thing I need is… Oh, no!” I scan the information, and my playful reply dies in my throat as recognition drains the colour from my face.
“Girl, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you all right?”
“No…yes…I mean I don’t know. But ghost is about right,” I mumble, feeling prickles tingle the length of my spine with a rush of memories. I spin when I hear my name.
“Nurse Jones.” The head of HR gives a tight smile that fails to crack her chalky, bright red lipstick.
I force myself to speak. “Cathy, good morning.” The air inside me feels suddenly too heavy to exhale. A lead weight seems to be crushing my chest, and I find I am gripping the reception desk like a vise to anchor myself upright. It’s him.
“Good morning. Ah, you got the memo. That will save some time.” Cathy motions to the paper that is now a crumpled in my fist. For someone in human resources, she is remarkably oblivious to my strange reaction. “This is Dr Lincoln Prescott. We’re very lucky to have him join our team.” She beams and stands to the back, making way for the manly mountain beside her. I blink several times, my eyes adjusting as if the sun has just risen before me. His tall, broad frame is unchanged, dirty blond hair falls over the vacant eyes of the most beautiful man I ever loved, the only man I ever loved. Attached to the stiff arm he holds out before him is the invisible blade I can feel slice me open when he looks right through me.
“Nurse Jones. I look forward to working with you.” He shakes my hand, and I jolt at the spark of skin touching skin. I look for acknowledgement that he felt it. The spark was real, right? Nothing.
“Dr Prescott.” My mouth dries, and I struggle to swallow the lump that’s choking me up. Don’t fucking cry, Regan. What the hell!
“Right, good.” Cathy’s interruption pulls me back, and the tingle of tears that momentarily threatened vanishes. “I’m sure Nurse Jones will introduce you to her team later, Dr Prescott. For now, though, the board has arranged a special brunch, which has been set up in the boardroom, if you’d like to accompany me.” She waves her hand in the direction of the ward exit, and they both stride off without a backward glance. It takes a moment to regain my composure, but even then, I have very little to contribute to the renewed conversation with Betty.
“Mmm, mighty fine, wouldn’t you say?”
“Wow,” is all I can manage.
“See, I wasn’t lying, was I? Shame he’s gay.” Betty muses with an apologetic tilt of her head.
“He’s what? What makes you think he’s gay?”
“Oh, just a feeling, I mean he looked right through you, and you, my dear, are a stunning beauty.” Betty beams at me, her insightful comment striking me hard. I fix an expression of passive indifference, hiding the turmoil of uncertainty and hurt raging like a storm inside me.
“Betty, I look like I haven’t slept in three years, and I have baby vomit in my hair.” I brush off the entire interaction as best I can and am grateful when Betty laughs, gathers her cleaning trolley, and walks away, waving me off as she disappears down the corridor.
“You do make me chuckle,” she calls back.
“Yeah, I’m a joke all right.”
“Nurse Jones,” Joel steps into the staff locker room. My shift is over, and I’m just getting my coat. He returned to my ward after his brunch, and only ten minutes into introducing him to my team, I had to stop myself and check my m
emory for glitches. I questioned whether I even knew him at all. He’s professional, yes, but with no eye contact, no humour, and absolutely no nostalgic recognition. It’s like working alongside a robot, an uncommonly hot robot with the emotional range of a vending machine. No, at least a vending machine has the capacity to bring joy. My best friend Harper frequently referred to Joel as cold, he never was, not with me, not until today.
“Dr Prescott.” I respond flatly.
“Could I have a word in private?”
“Sure,” I grab my bag and sling it across my body. I brush past him, and when I can hear that he isn’t following me, I tilt my head to indicate the fire escape. The heavy door shuts behind him, and the words leave my mouth before I have the good sense to shut my lips.
“You look good, Joel.”
“This isn’t a reunion, Regan. I just wanted to clear the air,” he clips, and I reel; his words feel like an icy slap across my face.
“Right, of course. And for the record, I wasn’t trying for a reunion. You made your feelings perfectly clear when you left.” My spine straightens as righteous indignation fights with tears and the fury swirling like a tornado in my veins. My head spins with the absence of four long years, regret, and a million unheard rants.
“Riiight, I left.” He purses his lips, holding back a tight smirk, and he folds his arms. His tone couldn’t be any more condescending. His recollection is at odds with mine, but I let him make his little speech. “You barely spoke two words on the way back from the cabin and then disappeared off the face of the earth, and I left.”
“You made yourself quite clear regarding how you felt about me, Joel.” His eyes darken, and I see the first flash of torment that makes my tummy tighten. I made mistakes, and I know I did, but I only left because I had no choice. He did, and he didn’t choose me.
“Did I? Did I really, Regan? Because if that was the case, just tell me how the fuck you could do what you did?” He steps forward and checks himself, keeping a distance that seems to cause him physical pain.
“What? What I did?” Shock mingles with my disbelief. Just where does he get off…
“Yes, Regan. You ripped my fucking heart out when you cut me off.” He glares at me, and I feel the unfamiliar chill race the length of my spine, so very cold.
“What heart, Joel?” I hold his gaze. His hazel eyes narrow, and the muscles clamping his jaw shut, jump with rage. He sniffs a humourless laugh before speaking in an equally derisive tone.
“You think I don’t have a heart because of three fucking words, three words that, ninety percent of the time, mean nothing when people say them.”
“It wasn’t that, and you know it.” I fight back the tears. He is not going to make me cry; I’ve cried enough.
“No, no, I don’t know it, Regan, because you left.” His lips curl with the vitriol in his tone, and then, all of a sudden, it’s gone. Every ounce of fury vanishes from his features, and a veil of indifference settles like a heavy cloak. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. You don’t matter.”
“Yes, I did get that loud and clear, thank you.”
“Oh, no, thank you, because, thanks to you, I am never doing that again, not with anyone.”
“Well, I’m struggling to find one thing to thank you for.”
“You can thank me that, as far as working together, we never happened.” He pulls the fire door open and, as if he can’t help the ingrained manners, holds it wide for me. I step through, and before I walk away, I turn back.
“Actually, I am thankful for that. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it; I know I won’t.” He strides off in the opposite direction. I don’t know why, but I can’t draw my eyes away even when he grabs the hands of two nurses that are waiting expectantly by the main exit.
That’s that, then.
Joel doesn’t put me down, even when I growl through gritted teeth that I am capable of walking, and that he is embarrassing me as he squishes us both into the revolving doors to his luxury apartment building.
Big mistake.
“You want me to put my cock where, baby?” He booms out loud enough to wake the dead and silence the crowd. Of course there would be spectators to my humiliation. “Well, okay, but we’re going to need a lot more lube.” I gasp and slap my hands over my face, but it’s too late. I can see all eyes are on us.
His apartment building is no ordinary apartment building. It has a massive vaulted entrance, reception area, a sophisticated lounge bar on one side, and a fully-manned concierge on the other. Tonight, at least, it’s packed to bursting with residents and guests, all enjoying some Christmas cheer. Joel’s voice echoes off the marble walls and bounces around, finding every single individual in the vicinity, and knocks the festive fun right off their faces. My eyes are squeezed tightly shut behind my hands, but I’m too damn shocked to close my dropped jaw.
My face burns with a thousand flames of mortification, and since escaping his ironclad grip is futile, I do the only thing left at my disposal. I bury my head against his chest and pretend I’m invisible.
He continues to stride through the atrium without a care in the world, his light hum turning into a chuckle so deep I can feel the resonating rumble against my nose, which is pressed hard against his firm chest.
Ground, swallow me now…please.
I only come up for air when he opens and closes his apartment door, and I know I am safe from all the raised eyebrows.
Joel’s apartment is his castle, his sanctuary; all his homes are. Despite his inability to keep his dick in his pants, he is extremely private in some respects, and this is one of them. No one ever stays over, not even his life-long buddies. He’s more than happy to take up an entire hotel floor to entertain, hold the best parties, and even share for more than a one-nighter if some girl is stupid enough to…
Anyway, the point is, his home is sacred, and if I’m honest, I’m more than a little surprised he’s brought me here. And if I didn’t hate him so much right now for that little stunt downstairs, I might ask why. As it is, I just want my busted knee fixed and to get out of here.
He slides me on to the black granite island in his sleek and clinical kitchen. When he finally releases me, I pull back and punch him hard on his pec. He doesn’t flinch, and I doubt the impact made it through his thick padded leathers, but I had to try.
“You motherfucker!”
“First thing’s first, Regan, let me fix your leg, then—”
“Gah! You complete arsehole, I wouldn’t fuck you again if you… God! How could you do that? All those people… They probably think…” My words fail to sufficiently relay my horror, so they simply dry up in my open mouth.
“Think what? That you like it up the ass?” He winks but dodges my next punch with a sly duck to the side. “Don’t you, Regan? See, if my memory serves me… Or have you changed so much? Because you certainly were the kinkiest—”
“Oh. My. God. Joel. In fucking private, arsewipe!” I cry out, my cheeks are on fire from a fifty-fifty mix of pure rage and… No, make that a hundred percent rage.
“It was just a joke.” He holds his hands up in surrender as he’s hit with my death glare. He offers up a light shrug and purses his lip to one side, not quite pouting, but definitely attempting to placate with his trademark charm. He continues with a softer, more coaxing tone, as if he’s trying to talk down a ‘jumper’. “Most people laughed, Regan, and the rest were too drunk to care. Besides, what do you really care what a bunch of strangers think? You worry too much.”
“Well, some of us have responsibilities and care about our reputations.” His jaw clenches, and the muscle jumps about like it’s at an angry rave. I realise instantly I’ve pissed him off, casting aspersions, especially regarding professional reputations. However, I’m not the one with a trust fund to fall back on, and as much as I know his reputation is important to him, it happens to mean food on our table to me.
It’s one of the only two things I care about.
I
huff an exhausted sigh. ”Fuck it, this isn’t worth it. I’ll take my chances at the ER.” I jump down and wince when the jolt reopens the deep slice in my knee.
“Like fuck you will, now sit back and stay, or I will tie you down,” he growls, irritation and desire fighting for dominance in his hazel eyes. He picks me up before my feet even recover from the sting of hitting the hard floor and plops me back on the counter top. “Good girl.” He holds my gaze all the time as he traces the back of his hand from my brow, around the back of my ear, taking only a few stray strands of hair away from my face, and then sweeping his palm back to cup my cheek. The tenderness in his touch completely disarms me, and then he plants a kiss on my lips so light that I’m glad I kept my eyes open, or I wouldn’t have believed he was capable of something so heartfelt.
Oh, God, not these feelings.
My tummy flutters, and warm and tingly nonsense starts to bombard me from the inside out. I know I shouldn’t feel like this, but I can’t help it. This is Joel.
He steps away and walks across the living space and through a door in the far corner, his bedroom, I assume. I take a moment to look around. A little like its owner, the apartment is stylish, chic, expensive, and devoid of human sentimentality and emotion. Still, the view of Chicago is stunning. The Wrigley Building no longer dominates the skyline, but it’s still my favourite, and Marina City is a class act juxtaposed to the bully next door. I’m so distracted by the lights and reflection in the river in the distance that I don’t hear Joel return. I jump with a gasp when his hands rest on my hips, and my head whips round from the city vista.
“I need a little help here, Regan. Can you lift your butt?” His fingers curl over the edge of the elastic of my trousers, and I slam my knees together as if that will help.
“Why? No!” I cry out a little too loudly, and he grins wolfishly.
“No?” He arches a brow high and looks at me as if that’s the first time he’s heard that word. “Lift your damn ass, Regan, or I’ll do it for you, and that means you’ll be either over my shoulder or over my knee.” It’s no longer a request, and that hint of threat makes the hairs on my neck spark to life once more. I lift my bottom tentatively and watch him watching me as he peels my trousers down my legs, knowing full well I left my panties in tatters on the supply room floor, and I’m naked underneath.