by Barbara Lohr
“Good morning, Dr. Castle. McKenna,” two of the nurses greeted them. Instead of continuing on to the unit, he pulled her inside the office he had on this floor and closed the door.
So, no rounds?
Alone. With Logan.
Sunlight poured through the blinds. Heat poured through McKenna.
“McKenna, I can’t tell you. Until I saw this today…I wasn’t a believer.”
“Really?” She hoped she didn’t look smug. She also wished her body would stop humming like a well-tuned guitar.
Raking one hand through his sandy hair, Logan began to pace. “No, I admit it. Let’s just say I’m cautious. Please don’t take offense.”
Took everything she had to settle for a silent smile.
Logan plunked down in his chair, long legs extended and hands steepled while he continued to verbally process. She almost laughed as she perched on his desk and crossed her legs. This was the Logan she was starting to know.
Her friend, she reminded herself. Colleague and buddy.
“Birth is such a natural process, isn’t it, Logan? And water birthing is safe, especially with the resources we have here at Montclair.”
His eyes fell to her legs.
Being this close in the small office was probably not a good idea.
When he pushed up from his chair, Logan’s eyes were molten steel. “McKenna?”
Way too easy to slide off that desk and into his arms. No written invitation needed. No remorse either. Snug against his chest, she took a heady whiff of clean linen, soap and Logan.
“God, McKenna. I miss you,” he murmured.
Cripes. Of course she kissed him.
Forget her earlier intentions. The kiss was just that good.
A couple more and he reached over with one long arm and locked the door. A shiver cart-wheeled down her spine. His arms closed around her like a steel band. Suddenly a bold bad boy, Logan nudged her lips open with a tongue tasting of coffee. She moaned and matched him stroke for stroke. His hands skimmed down her sides, thumbs grazing the sides of her breasts until they anchored at her hips and tugged.
Like he couldn’t get enough of her.
Oh, goodness. She moaned and then bit her lip, remembering where they were.
Having a confidential meeting on the OB unit?
Oh, this was confidential all right. When she pressed into him, Logan groaned. She anchored herself to his shoulders with both hands.
When his hands went to the drawstring of her blue pants and tugged, reason returned. “Hold on. What are we doing here?” She laid one hand on his.
Hissing in a tight breath, Logan pulled back. Giving his head a jerk, he looked around the pristine office as if wondering how he got here. “Thank God I locked the door.”
“You got that right.” Part of her wanted him now, here, on a desk that looked like he never used it. So hard to put the brakes on, but McKenna groped for the lever in her mind.
One hand cupping a grin, Logan rocked back on his heels and stared at the tops of his loafers. “Well, McKenna. I wanted to ask you…if you wanted to go golfing Sunday.”
“Ah...”
“Priscilla can’t go.”
“What?" she squawked.
He chuckled. “Not really. But you deserved that.”
She did and released a shuddery breath. “Sure.”
“We could tune up our games.”
“I’d say our game is just fine.”
Reaching out, he ran one finger down her cheek. “I meant for the golf outing.”
“Oh, right. That game. Sounds good.”
He looked delighted. “Great. Terrific.” When he removed his hand, she missed it.
After sweeping her hair back, she tied it up with a scrunchie. Her neck felt damp and warm. Criminy, her entire body had turned liquid. She backed toward the door. “So, golf? Sunday?”
Logan nodded. “You’re on.”
He sure was. Maybe later she’d regret this.
But not now. Her body sang.
Outside, trees branches bent in the breeze. McKenna felt the hot, dry air before remembering she was in air conditioning. She had to get out of here. Stepping to the door, she gave him a cool nod, as if they were passing in the hall. “Dr. Castle.”
“Ms. Kirkpatrick.” His bemused smile quirked up.
Unlocking the door, she escaped and closed the door behind her. For a second, she leaned against the cool, firm wood. Sanity returned. Out on the unit, the world seemed normal. Food Service was delivering trays, and the smell of spaghetti and warm rolls filled the air. At the end of the hall, Leonard from Facility Maintenance mopped a floor with slow, rhythmic strokes.
Sucking in a cleansing breath, McKenna headed to the elevator. Time to give Vanessa an SOS call. Her best friend golfed and McKenna needed help before Sunday. As she passed the nurses’ station, Maggie McCree looked up. “Good day, McKenna?”
“Great. Thank you.” Eyes straight ahead, she marched toward the elevator. After punching the button, she happened to glance down. The drawstring of her pants was still undone. Wrapping her white coat tight around her, McKenna was glad no one was around to hear her laughing. She had to get a grip.
~.~
Logan fell back into his chair, folding his hands behind his head. What the hell was that? Right here, in his office? He chuckled. McKenna was crazy and she made him crazy. What was happening to him? Life with his grandmother had been pretty structured. His marriage had run along the same lines. Maybe a routine life was a recipe for disaster.
Now the warmth stirring in his gut felt good. How sick was it that watching McKenna work had been a turn-on? His admiration for her clinical skill in the birthing suite had converted quickly to roaring lust.
A woman passionate about her work was sexier than hell.
So why was she fighting him? Granted, this whole thing surprised him. Not what he planned. His conversation with Priscilla had been a total surprise and maybe added some insight. McKenna was such a gutsy girl. But underneath? Maybe not. Logan let his spine curve into the back of the chair. On Sunday they’d have time to take it easy. Measured play on the golf course. Today had been so impetuous.
This desk? He’d never look at it the same again.
Since he didn’t want to look suspicious, Logan gave McKenna a five minute lead before exiting his office. Head up, he surveyed the area. The OB unit seemed to be running smoothly. Dishes clattered as the staff served a meal. His stomach growled as he passed the nurses’ station, nodding to Maggie. “Good evening, Maggie.”
She grinned. “Hi, Dr. Castle.”
Wasn’t until he was waiting for the elevator that he realized it was noon, not evening. Taking one thumb, he jammed it against the button.
He’d caught McKenna with her guard down, and he wanted to keep it that way. No more talk about other women. Ignoring the tiny voice in the back of his mind that asked if he was ready for this, he hit the button again.
Suddenly he felt impatient for a lot of things.
Chapter 10
McKenna took a few practice shots at Logan's private club that Sunday while he picked up a golf cart. Moist air from the lake drifted over the city and hung heavy under low clouds. After adjusting her visor, she placed her yellow ball on the tee, took her position and swung. “Rats.” She totally missed the ball.
Golf was just a game. That’s all.
Today it felt more like a proving ground.
She was hanging out with Logan today, determined to prove they could spend time together without getting crazy. Thank goodness she’d been able to play nine holes with Vanessa the day before. But her good friend had wanted details.
“You’re not leveling with me,” Vanessa had protested.
“Logan often golfs with people he works with, and he asked if I wanted to play.”
Vanessa’s lips twitched. “He did, huh? Said he wanted to play? Really?”
“Golf. You can just wipe that evil smile off your face, missy,” McKenna had huffed.
They were pitching onto the green, but she whacked the ball so hard, it rocketed over the hole and into the woods behind.
Vanessa watched the arc of McKenna’s shot with a knowing smile. “Anything you say.”
Today McKenna had to concentrate on golf when she played with Logan. The golf outing wasn't that far away—just a couple weeks after the group returned from Guatemala. She hadn’t played much since last fall, and her game showed it.
As she stared out glumly over the driving range, Logan drove up and parked the cart right behind her. Neither one of them was on call that weekend so the day felt free. Instead of cleaning her apartment or heading over to Connor’s for a barbecue, she was golfing. With Logan.
“All set?” His gaze swept her white shorts and moss green polo.
Holy hellfire. One of his looks, and her whole body sizzled.
“You bet.” Grabbing her clubs, she headed for the cart.
“Looks like you know what you're doing,” he said with satisfaction as he belted her clubs to the back of the cart.
“Looks can be deceiving.”
After she'd slotted her clubs back into her bag, she jumped into the cart and they were off. At the first hole, she hit a decent drive. Of course, Logan whacked his ball a lot farther. No surprise to her after years of golfing with her brothers. Men had those broad shoulders, and Logan was no exception.
In his case, those shoulders tapered to slim hips. Hard to look at him in his fitted blue polo shirt and not remember how his chest had felt against her during the heated session in his office.
Thinking about it brought a hot flush. Stepping up to the tee, McKenna took a deep breath and tried to center herself as she went into her swing. She smiled at the satisfying crack when her driver made contact with the ball.
“Great shot. You're on the fairway,” Logan said, jostling her back to the present. “You’re good at a lot of things, McKenna. A talented lady.”
Might be overcast today, but his eyes? Blazing with approval.
“Have you spoken to your grandmother about the Foundation golf outing?” she asked as they putted the second hole a little while later.
“I did. She sounded kind of excited.” His hand rested on his thigh and she had to pull her eyes away. “She enjoys being part of things that recognize my grandfather and my dad, of course.”
“Sounds as if you're close.”
They were headed for the next hole. Obviously comfortable on this elite course, Logan steered the cart down a path that wound through stands of mature oaks. “She's all I…” Logan began before pressing his lips together tightly and looking down at the scorecard. “Looks like this is a par five.”
His words hung in the air. Was his grandmother all he had? Her heart turned over. He was so quiet about his background. McKenna liked the fact that he didn’t make a point of his family connection to the hospital. Some physicians wielded their name like a weapon. Not Logan.
“I think you're up,” he said.
She hopped out. Just as she swung, thunder broke the air with a rumble she felt in her toes. Fat drops of rain plopped onto her visor.
“I don't like the looks of this.” Logan glanced at the sky. They both hustled back to the cart.
Five minutes later she was sliding into the Porsche, Logan's windshield wipers working frantically. Huddled in the front seat, they were caught in a downpour. “Do you mind if we just wait out this worst part?” he asked. “I hate to drive on the Dan Ryan during a storm.”
“Protecting your prize car?”
“Protecting my prize passenger.”
McKenna could hardly hear the pounding rain above the beat of her heart. Logan’s front seat smelled like leather and his spicy aftershave.
She was learning all these personal details about Hot Doc. And she liked them way too much. Made it so hard to distance him.
“A penny for your thoughts.” His fingers played with her hair.
“Just thinking about how crazy this is.”
“I’m beginning to like crazy.” With a mischievous smile, he pulled her toward him.
Not that it took much effort. She was already into a serious lean, so why not go there? Sure, she should have stopped it right there. All things considered, that would have been the reasonable thing to do.
Now she welcomed the slight scratch of his chin, the bump of his nose. The kiss wasn't a first-time kiss. Not after his office. The curves of Logan’s lips felt warm and familiar.
What was a girl to do? Restraint was useless.
Water coursed over the parking lot. Didn’t take long for the windows to fog up. In no time at all she'd bridged those bucket seats and was cuddled in his lap, arms around his neck. Sometimes she was just too darn bold for her own good. “This is insane.”
“Maybe we should commit you to the psych ward.” He whispered kisses onto her neck.
“My friends might agree.”
The laugh deep in his chest reverberated in her breasts. They responded. In fact, every pore in her body reacted to him. When his lips circled back to hers with a lot of tongue, she almost went through the roof.
Could. Not. Get. Enough.
And that was dangerous.
They didn’t notice when the rain stopped. Suddenly the only sound was their breathless panting. The silence brought her back to her senses. Catching his face between her two hands, she dropped a kiss on the tip of his nose. She slid back over into the passenger seat and straightened her polo. “Enough for now.”
He lifted one brow. “You can be very bossy.”
“Not the first time I’ve been told that.” But he didn’t seem to mind. Now.
What was she going to do? Her stomach growled.
“Did you have breakfast?” he asked, starting the car.
“If you can call a bagel breakfast, then, yes.” But her tummy gurgled again.
With a knowing smile, he shoved the car into gear. “I make a mean omelet. And I’m famished.”
“In that case, I’m hungry.” Food might help her stop trembling, She may have had “just hanging out” in her mind, but her body didn’t agree. Slipping off her golf shoes, she slid on her flip flops.
When they reached his condo, he got to work in a kitchen that was all gleaming white and stainless steel with black accents. “Look around if you like,” he said after he handed her a mimosa. Couldn’t pass up that invitation. Taking the flute in one hand, she wandered. Tall bookcases reached the ceiling of the main room and floor-to-ceiling windows offered an expansive view of the lake. Every book, every lamp seemed placed with precision, the black alternating with gray in the furnishings. Her stomach dropped.
Could this man handle one week in Guatemala?
Deep in thought, she returned to the kitchen. The glass panels of the white cabinets gave a glimpse of neat stacks of plates. Cups all faced the same direction. She was relieved when he pulled open a drawer crammed with towels and pulled out an apron. The drawer was a jumble. Hallelujah. After donning the apron, he popped English muffins in the toaster and began slicing red peppers and onions with the same precision she’d seen in the OR.
He looked up. “What?”
“Like the apron.”
Logan looked so darn cute standing there with “Hot Doc” scrolled in white across the black apron. “The magazine gave it to me.” He almost sounded apologetic.
“I think it’s spot on.”
“If you say so.” Grabbing a whisk, he started to beat the heck out of the eggs with a practiced hand. Soon onions sizzled in the skillet. Leaning against the black granite counter, she enjoyed watching him cook. Her brothers liked to mess around in the kitchen. A weight lifter, Nick had thought it was woman’s work. She could just imagine her former boyfriend’s comments about the apron.
Perching on a tall stool at the black marble counter, she peered over into the pan. “Let's see, so far I've seen you throw in peppers, crabmeat and shrimp.”
“And don't forget the kalamata olives. Bam!” He whirled his spatula in
the air, imitating TV chef Emeril Lagasse.
“You never cease to amaze me. So much more fun than I imagined.”
A frown creased his forehead.
“That's a good thing, Logan.”
His sculpted lips twisted. “Maybe I’m too serious for my own good. Except with you, McKenna. With you, everything is fun.”
Such an open admission. She swallowed hard.
“Thank you. I think.” She was relieved when Logan returned to his cooking. Hadn’t she heard these compliments before? But this was different. Logan was a guy in an apron.
Strong men wore aprons.
Two minutes later, he nudged an omelet onto each of two black-rimmed plates and she picked up her fork. “Enjoy.” He took the stool next to hers.
“This is fabulous,” she groaned after her first bite. Oh, my God. Logan’s omelet was coming in a close second to waffles. He’d pulled croissants from his freezer and nuked them in the microwave. The flakiness broke in her hands when she wielded a butter knife with cinnamon brown sugar butter that made the croissant a delight. For the next few minutes they concentrated on food. But she couldn’t keep quiet for long. “Do you mind if I ask some questions?”
His eyes turned wary. “Fine as long as I have the same opportunity.”
“Understood.” She had to choose her words carefully. “When a man is divorced, of course you wonder about what happened to that marriage.”
Elbows on the counter, he seemed to consider the question. “Sure, I guess so. Rebecca was a nurse interested in midwifery. We came from similar backgrounds, so we knew each other.”
What did that mean? West Side and wealthy?
“What brought you together?”
“We made a common mistake.” His expression turned reflective. That happened a lot with Logan. “We assumed that because we were alike in a lot of ways, we would make a good couple. We’d gone to the same prep school, had some of the same friends, But that wasn't the case.”
“Why didn’t it work out? What were your differences?”
Logan jumped to his feet and jerked open the refrigerator door. “How about some seafood sauce? I think this omelet calls for a little something more.”