But not by much.
Glancing toward the open-ended section of her cubicle, she said, “I’m not getting out of here anytime soon, Luke.”
“So I’m not going to see you today, either, huh?” His voice had a weird undercurrent, one she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“I wish I could. If I had a little longer for lunch . . .”
“Or I could have called earlier,” Luke said, his voice wry. “Everything going okay?”
Grimacing, Devon shot the work on her desk an evil look. “No. I think all my cases went and made like bunnies over the weekend. I swear, I don’t remember this many files being on my desk when I left Friday.”
“Happens to me every time I take a coffee break.” On the other end of the phone, Luke blew out a sigh and forced himself to tell Devon bye. She responded, her voice soft and quiet, and then the phone went dead as it disconnected. Lowering the handset, he hung it up and moved to stand at the window. Arms crossed, he stood there brooding. It had been four nights since he’d seen Devon for longer than thirty minutes. Too damn long, in his opinion.
When he’d gotten off last night, he’d swung by her house. It had been late—nearly midnight. A shitty shift: several nurses and two of the doctors out with an early case of the flu had him hanging out a good three hours past the end of his shift, trying to catch up and help out a little. When he’d driven by her house, everything but her security lights had been out. Giving up on hopes of seeing her, he’d headed home.
He missed her way too much.
This seeing her once or twice a week, it just wasn’t enough for him. The whisper of an idea formed in his mind, one he almost brushed aside.
It sucked, the way the past week had gone. Besides, it couldn’t hurt to ask . . . right?
“Do it,” he muttered. “Maybe you’ll sleep better. Hey, what’s the worst she can do? Say no?”
Before he could talk himself out of it again, he grabbed the phone and punched in her number. She answered with a breathless, “Luke, I’m on my way out.”
“You got a spare key?”
She paused. The silence seemed to stretch on forever, and Luke shoved a hand through his hair and resisted the urge to start pacing the doctors’ lounge. “I miss you,” he said, keeping his voice level and low. Damn it, did he miss her. He didn’t need to see her every day, although he’d sure as hell like to, but it had been almost a week since he’d seen her for any decent length of time, almost a week since he’d touched her. That was too damn long. “I’m not asking to move in or anything, but maybe while things are so crazy, I was thinking I could sleep over there every once in a while. See you in the morning before you go to work and stuff.”
“Luke . . .” Her voice trailed off, and he could picture her face. She’d be standing there, chewing her lip and trying to figure out how to tell him no. His gut knotted.
The door to the doctors’ lounge flew open, and Luke looked up, saw the grim look on the nurse’s face. “We need you out here, Dr. Rafferty. Gunshot victim en route, age nine. ETA less than five minutes.”
Luke swore and then blew out a breath. “Look, forget I asked. I got to go. Sweet dreams, Devon.”
DEVON climbed out of the car, her eyes scratchy with exhaustion and her head aching like a bitch. She was so damned tired, she just wanted curl up in bed and sleep for twelve hours straight. But instead of driving home after she’d finally finished up the day’s paperwork, she had driven to the opposite side of town, parked her car, and was now walking on very sore feet toward the brightly lit Emergency Department of Rudding Memorial.
The doors slid open soundlessly, and the familiar scents of the ER washed over her as she headed inside. She spent way too much time in these places. Unwashed bodies, the scent of antiseptic, blood, death—no amount of cleaning could ever completely erase the stink of death, Devon suspected. It was like it saturated the walls, the floors, and the very air.
It was past eight. There were a few empty chairs in the waiting area, which probably meant they weren’t having too chaotic a night. Swallowing, Devon shoved a hand into her pocket and closed her fingers around the key there. She did have a spare key, several actually. One at her neighbor’s across the street and one for her parents, and one on a ring she kept inside her office desk.
If she thought about this too much, she might change her mind. Her stomach was all jittery even thinking about it. She was half-terrified, half-elated. First time she’d ever given her key to a guy, first time she’d ever had the opportunity, first time she’d been tempted. First time—that was the source of the terror and the elation. Devon was a master at keeping herself slightly distant from most people. She let very, very few people inside the walls she’d built around herself, and this was just one more step to letting Luke inside those walls.
One more step? Hell, Devon, he’s already shoved the walls down and taken up residence.
Her mouth twisted in a grimace. Yeah, it was too late to keep him out now, which was why she was here with a recently made spare key. If she’d gone home to get the spare from her house, she would have thought about it too much.
Thought about it and maybe changed her mind. There was a big home improvement store a few exits up the interstate, and she’d dropped by there to get the copy made. While she waited, instead of thinking about that damned key and the reason she was getting it made, she’d called information and gotten the number for the chain restaurant across the street and placed a to-go order.
A couple of big, messy burgers and two orders of fries were currently in a brown sack, and the smell of the food wafted out to tease her nostrils as she headed for the triage desk. The nurse behind the glass window recognized her and slid the window open, giving Devon a friendly smile.
“Hi, Devon. I hadn’t heard that one of yours had come in. Did you get paged?”
Shaking her head, Devon said, “No, Karen. Actually, I’m here to see Luke . . . Dr. Rafferty.”
Karen’s silvered brows went up. A grin flashed across her face. “Oh, really?” She closed the window, but through it, Devon could hear her talking as she called somebody over to sit at the window.
A minute later, the doors of the ER swung open, and Karen stood there, still grinning, her hands tucked inside a very, very bright orange scrub jacket with grinning black skulls all over it. “You getting ready for Halloween already, Karen?”
Karen laughed. “Yeah. Drives a couple of the doctors batty. There’s one who just hates bright colors. I’ve got one that’s neon green with little witch hats all over it. I’m saving that one to wear just on the days he’s working.” She gestured down the hall. “Dr. Rafferty’s in the doctors’ lounge, I think. Probably trying to scrounge up something decent from the vending machine.”
The door to the doctors’ lounge swung open before they reached it, and Luke came walking out, adjusting a long white coat. He glanced up, saw her—and both of them stopped dead in their tracks.
Slowly, that familiar, sexy little grin curled his lips, and he murmured, “Hey.”
Swallowing against the nervous knot that had suddenly settled right in her throat, Devon smiled back. “Hey. Thought you might like something other than hospital food or chips from the vending machine.” She lifted the bag, and Luke crossed the few feet separating them, took the bag, but instead of looking inside, he reached out, hooked his hand around the back of her neck, and pulled her against him.
Wolf whistles and cheers rose up around them as he covered her mouth with his, but Devon didn’t hear any of it. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and her senses were full of Luke: the smell of him, the feel of him, the taste. Rising on her toes, she pressed against him, and he growled against her lips, then pulled back.
Blushing hotly, Devon buried her face against his chest as a couple of the nurses started to applaud. “Oh, geez.”
Luke laughed. “Ignore them, Devon.” Then he pulled away, sliding his hand down her arm to link their fingers.
Easier to do once L
uke led her into the doctors’ lounge and they settled down at a postage stamp-sized table. It was so damn small there wasn’t room for them to both sit at it without their knees bumping underneath. Luke’s solution was for him to place his legs outside of hers, squeezing in with his knees just slightly, just enough so she could feel him through the layers of his scrubs and her khakis.
He grinned at her and tore into the bag, popping a couple of fries in his mouth before he even unwrapped the burger. “Devon, you are an angel,” he said.
Devon laughed. “I don’t think bringing you a burger qualifies me for sainthood.”
“Does in my book.” He took a huge bite, followed by another. He was halfway done before Devon had even managed her first bite. “Man, I was starting to forget what real food tasted like.”
Grinning at him, she said, “Obviously. Maybe I should have ordered you two.”
He returned her grin. “Nah. I’ll just finish off yours. Not like you’ll eat more than half of it anyway.”
“Just don’t touch my fries,” she warned him as she shook some salt out onto hers and searched through the discarded bag for ketchup.
They ate in companionable silence, and slowly, Devon managed to relax a little. A couple of doctors came in and out, but none stayed for more than a couple of minutes. True to his word, Luke finished up his burger, and about half of hers as she polished off her fries. He tried to steal one, and she smacked his hand. “Hands off my fries, slick,” she said, grabbing the last two and popping them in her mouth.
“Greedy,” Luke murmured. He grabbed a napkin and wiped his hands and mouth as he pushed back from the table. “Come here.”
Devon glanced at the door but slid out of her chair, took the two steps necessary to walk around the table. Luke reached out and looped his arms around her waist, pulling her to stand between his legs. He rested his head against her belly, nuzzled her through her clothes. “Thanks for coming by.”
Sliding a hand through his hair, Devon wrapped her arms around his head and held him. “You look exhausted.”
“Hmmm. Bad shift,” he murmured. He tipped his head back and stared at her through gold-tipped lashes. “Seeing you helps.”
She eased back a little and slid her hand into her pocket. “I brought you something else,” she said. She held the key out to him and bit her lower lip nervously.
Luke’s eyes dropped to the key, then slid back up to her face. He said nothing, just reached out, took the key, and slid it into the breast pocket of his blue scrubs. Then he curved his hands over her waist, staring at her face. Slowly, he stood, his eyes never once moving away from hers as he pulled her in closer, leaned down, and pressed his lips to hers. He kissed her, deep, hard, all the while watching her.
Devon, unable to close her eyes, stared back at him, and by the time he lifted his head, a fine sweat had broken out all over her body, and her heart was racing like she’d just run a mile. “What if I decide to wake you up when I get there?” he asked, brushing his lips across her cheek.
With a shaky laugh, Devon replied, “After that, if you decide not to wake me up, I might get a little upset.”
“YOU didn’t have to get up,” Devon murmured as Luke slid into the empty stool across from her. Although his eyes were heavy with sleep, he looked a lot more alert than she felt.
When he’d come to her bed early that morning, a little before one, she’d been awake. She’d woken up when she heard him pull into the driveway and had watched from her window as he climbed out of his Jeep and headed up her driveway. By the time they’d both gone to sleep, it was nearly two, but she’d gotten a little sleep before that.
He hadn’t.
Shrugging, he said, “I’ll lie back down in a little while, if you don’t care.” Leaning across the breakfast bar, he rubbed his mouth against hers. “I can always sleep. Can’t always see you.”
Damn. A kiss from him did more to clear the cobwebs from her brain than a cup of coffee. Grinning against his mouth, she said, “Can’t argue with that logic.”
“Useless arguing with me anyway. Hmmmm . . . come here.” He closed his fingers around her wrist, tugged gently, until she slid down from her stool and circled the bar. Blood rushed to her cheeks as his gaze slid over her. The camisole and panties she wore seemed about as revealing as a teddy, and Devon wished she’d pulled some sweats or something on. “You’re so damn pretty,” he muttered, almost as if he could hear the self-doubts circling through her mind.
He closed his hands around her waist and lifted her. Reaching out, she braced her hands on his shoulders as he pulled her onto his lap so she straddled him. “Remember that night we ran into each other at the steakhouse?”
Cocking a brow, she asked, “Before or after you put your foot in your mouth?”
Luke dipped his head and nipped her lower lip. She squealed and jerked back, but he caught her head in his hands and then kissed her lower lip, gently, soothingly. “Smart-ass,” he muttered. “Before. When we were trying to get a place to sit down, I remember looking at you and thinking how much I’d like to shove that long skirt you wore up to your waist and lay you flat on a table so I could have my way with you.”
Devon wrinkled her nose. “Those tables are too damn skinny—and hard as a rock.”
“Hmmm.” He lowered his lips to her neck, and she shivered as he raked his teeth along the curve. “Yeah, I kind of figured that out, too. So I decided one of the barstools would work. I’d sit down, just like this, and put you onto my lap . . . just like this . . .”
She felt him tugging on her panties, and then he was pressing against her, pushing inside her. “Then I’d fuck you . . . just like this,” Luke said hoarsely, lifting his head and staring into her eyes.
Molten steel—his eyes were as hot as molten steel as he watched her face. The muscles in his arms moved with easy, liquid grace as he guided her in a slow, steady rhythm like she weighed less than nothing. “You’re so soft . . . so delicate,” he rasped. “Am I hurting you?”
Devon’s head fell back, and she moaned, arched closer. “No. Please don’t stop . . .”
“Wrap your legs around me,” he ordered, guiding first one leg, then the other around his hips.
Devon locked her ankles behind his back and started to rock against him. At first, he met her rhythm, but then he slowed, stopping altogether, letting her take over. So damn pretty, Luke thought. So soft, but so strong. She was delicate: delicately made, delicately curved, delicate, soft skin that would easily bruise. Yet she took him inside her, rode him with a sensual smile curving her lips, flexing her inner muscles around his shaft in a teasing caress.
Rising and falling against him, her hips circling, she draped her arms around his neck and dipped her head, pressing her brow to his. Her hair fell around them like a veil, blocking the world out so all he could see, all he could feel, was her.
His heart tripped a little as she slid one hand up to cup his cheek, cradling his face. Falling in love—he’d always imagined it would be a slow, lazy kind of drift. Lust was a crazy free fall, or so he’d thought. But he’d been wrong—and right.
Falling in love was, all at once, a slow, lazy little drift, like a feather circling down to the earth, that gentle drift into love happening over weeks or months—and a plummet off the edge of a cliff when you finally realized you weren’t falling in love; you were already there. Maddening, terrifying, and exhilarating.
Luke had suspected she could do this to him, but he still hadn’t been prepared for it. Wrapping his arms around her, he gave in, gave in to the needs of his body and a deeper need, a need that threatened to eclipse anything and everything else in his life.
EIGHT
IT wasn’t a fast thing, and it wasn’t really even intentional on Luke’s part. But as the weeks rolled by, he found himself more or less living at Devon’s house. It hadn’t dawned on him just how much time he’d spent away from his own place until he went home to get some clothes for Thanksgiving dinner over at Devon’s parents’
, and he saw the dust collecting everywhere.
He wasn’t obsessively neat, but he wasn’t big on dust or clutter, either, which translated to him cleaning up the small condo on a regular basis. Eying the fine coat of dust on his dresser, he thought back and tried to remember the last time he’d cleaned—and couldn’t.
Well, that wasn’t exactly right. He’d cleaned over the weekend, over at Devon’s house. Scowling, he swiped a finger through the dust and then turned around and stared at his room.
He hadn’t slept in his bed in over a week, and then it had only been for two nights, because he’d gone back to sleeping at Devon’s place. Paying for a place he barely used made about as much sense as him not owning up to how he felt about Devon.
The cleaning junk was in the utility closet off the kitchen. Tugging off the black sweater he’d pulled on over a T-shirt, he turned on some classic rock and set about spending the next hour or two cleaning his seriously neglected condo.
Halfway through, with the musty, closed-in smell replaced by the cleaning power of pine, he took a break and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. The fridge was about as neglected as the rest of the place: bottled water, a few cans of beer, some bologna and cheese, couple of eggs.
There was no bread in the house, no milk, next to nothing in the cabinets other than canned soup, peanut butter, and crackers. His belly rumbled, but he had plans that night with Devon that involved reservations, white tablecloths, and candlelight—followed by some wine, more candles, and a long, hot bath.
So instead of trying to put together something edible to go with his water, he flipped through the stack of mail that had been accumulating. He paid all his bills either online or through automatic withdrawals, so most of the junk was just that: junk. A glossy catalog caught his eye, and he found himself staring at a golden ring with one very shiny rock. Below the engagement band was a small picture, a woman with her arms thrown around some guy’s neck and that shiny rock sparkling on her finger.
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