“Good—you’re still here.”
Her heart bumped against her ribs as she looked up at Justin, but she kept her tone cool, casual. “Actually, I’m just on my way home.”
“We’ve got two ambulances coming in from an MVA—one carrying an expectant mother.”
“Dr. Terrence can handle it.”
“He can, but Callie asked me to find you.”
“Why?” she wondered.
“The pregnant woman is her sister.”
* * *
According to the report from the paramedics, the taxi in which Callie’s sister and her husband were riding had been broadsided by a pickup truck that had sped through a red light.
Avery watched the clock as she scrubbed, conscious that each one of the five minutes she was required to spend on the procedure was another minute the expectant mother was waiting. Dr. Garrett was already working on the pregnant woman’s husband, who had various contusions and lacerations and a possible concussion.
When Avery finally entered the OR, she was given an immediate update on the patient’s condition.
“Camryn Ritter, thirty-one years old, thirty-eight weeks pregnant. Presenting with moderate bleeding and uterine tenderness, BP one-ten over seventy, pulse rate one-thirty, baby’s rhythm is steady at ninety BPM.”
The numbers, combined with her own observations, supported the diagnosis of placental abruption with evidence of fetal bradycardia, which meant that delivering the baby now was necessary for the welfare of both mother and child. Thankfully, Dr. Terrence had already requested that the anesthesiologist give the patient a spinal block, so she could start surgery almost right away.
She’d lost count of the number of C-sections that she’d performed, but she’d never considered a caesarean to be a routine surgery. Every pregnancy was different and every baby was different, so she was always hypervigilant, never taking anything for granted. But at thirty-eight weeks, both mother and baby had a really good chance as long as she could get in before anything else went wrong.
“Where’s Brad?” the patient asked worriedly.
Avery glanced at Callie, who was holding her sister’s hand. Ordinarily she would have banned the nurse from the operating room because of the personal connection, but in the absence of the woman’s husband, she was counting on Callie to help keep the expectant mother calm.
“Brad’s her husband, my brother-in-law,” Callie explained. Then, to her sister, she said, “He was a little bumped up in the taxi, but Dr. Garrett’s checking him over now and running some tests.”
“He was bleeding,” Camryn said. “There was so much blood.”
“Head injuries bleed a lot,” Callie acknowledged. “Remember when you got hit with a baseball bat in third grade—while you were wearing my pink jean jacket? It took mom three washes to get the blood out.”
Her sister managed a weak smile. “So he’s okay?”
“He’s going to be fine,” Callie promised, more likely to soothe the expectant mother’s worries than from any certainty of the fact. “Dr. Garrett’s one of the best doctors on staff here. Dr. Wallace is another.”
“Brad really wanted to be here when the baby was born.”
“I’m sure neither of you expected that your baby would be born tonight, under these circumstances.”
The anesthesiologist was near the head of the bed, monitoring the mother’s vital signs and intravenous levels. He nodded to Avery and, after confirming that her patient could feel nothing, she drew the scalpel across her swollen abdomen.
A planned caesarean usually took between five and ten minutes from first cut until the baby was lifted out. In an emergency situation like this one, an experienced doctor could perform the procedure in about two minutes.
Dr. Terrence—who had scrubbed in to assist—worked to keep the surgical field clean, swabbing with gauze and holding the incision open while she worked. They were approaching the two-minute mark when she reached into the uterus. Clear fluid gushed around her gloved hand as she cradled the small skull in her palm and carefully guided the head, then the shoulders, out of the opening.
Her hands didn’t shake as she lifted the baby out of the mother’s womb. Her hands never shook when she was under the hot lights of an operating or delivery room. She didn’t let herself feel any pressure or emotion while she was focused on a task. Her unflappable demeanor was, she knew, only one reason some of the staff referred to her as “Wall-ice.”
The baby’s color was good, and when Avery wiped his mouth with gauze and gently squeezed his nostrils, she was immediately rewarded with a soft cry.
“Is that—” Camryn’s voice hitched. “Is that my baby?”
“That’s your baby,” Avery confirmed.
“He’s a boy,” Callie told her sister, watching with misty eyes as the cord was clamped and cut. “You have a beautiful, perfect baby boy.”
“I want to see him,” the new mother said.
“You will—in just a moment.”
“Seven pounds, five ounces, nineteen inches,” another nurse announced from the corner of the operating room, after the newborn had been wiped, weighed and swaddled.
Camryn wiped at a tear that spilled onto her cheek as the baby was placed in her arms. “Where’s Brad? I want to see him. I want him to see our baby.”
“He’ll be here as soon as he can,” Callie soothed.
While the nurse and her sister talked quietly, Avery continued to work, suturing up each layer of abdominal tissue. But even as she focused on her task, she was thinking of the awe and wonder on Camryn’s face when she saw her baby for the first time—and immediately fell in love with him. Avery had seen it happen countless times, but it never failed to tug at her own heart.
Half an hour later, when she finally left the new mom with her baby, she again crossed paths with Dr. Garrett in the hall.
“How’s dad?” she asked, referring to the baby’s father whom he’d been working on in the adjacent room.
“Aside from two broken ribs, a punctured lung, mild concussion and a head laceration that required twenty-two stitches to close, he’s doing just fine.”
“Twenty-two stitches? I just put in more than twice that number and delivered a baby.”
“Competitive, aren’t you?” Though his tone was teasing, his smile was weak.
“Maybe a little,” she acknowledged.
“Boy or girl?”
“Boy.”
He slung a companionable arm across her shoulders as they headed down the hall. “Good work, Wallace.”
“You, too, Garrett.”
They walked together in silence for a few minutes, until Avery caught him stifling a yawn. “I imagine it’s been a very long night for you,” she said.
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” he reminded her.
“Was,” she corrected.
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “What?”
“It’s after midnight now.” Afterward, she would wonder what caused her to throw caution and common sense to the wind. But in the moment, it seemed perfectly natural to lift herself onto her toes and touch her lips to his cheek. “Happy New Year.”
She could tell he was as startled by the impulsive gesture as she was, but when he looked at her, she saw something more than surprise in his eyes. Something that made her heart pound harder and faster, that made her weary body ache and yearn. Something that warned her she’d taken the first step down an intriguing—and potentially dangerous—path.
He took the next step, pulling open the nearest door—to a housekeeping supply closet—and tugging her inside. She didn’t balk or protest. For more than three years, they’d danced around the attraction between them. They weren’t dancing anymore.
“Happy New Year,” he echoed, then crushed his mouth down on hers.
Chapter Two
His kiss was hot and hungry and demanding. She kissed him back, just as hotly and hungrily, responding to his every demand and meeting them with her own. If she’d been able to think cle
arly—if she’d been able to think at all—she might have drawn back. But the moment his lips touched hers, all rational thought slipped from her mind. In fact, her brain seemed to have shut down completely, letting the hormones that flooded through her veins lead the way.
And they were leading her to a very happy place. A place where his hands were all over her, touching and teasing, giving her so much pleasure and still making her want so much more.
He eased his lips away from hers. “I like the sparkly things in your hair, Wallace—they really dress up your scrubs.”
“What?” She frowned as she reached up, startled to realize that her hair was in a fancy twist instead of her usual ponytail. So much had happened since she’d left home, she’d almost forgotten about the party and the decorative pins she’d impulsively added to her updo for the occasion. “Oh.”
“You were out celebrating the New Year,” Justin guessed.
“I never actually made it that far,” she told him.
“I’m sure your date was disappointed.”
“It wasn’t a date,” she said. “Not really.”
“Good.” He slid his hands up her back, drawing her closer, and lowered his head to nip playfully at her bottom lip.
This was dangerous. He was hardly touching her and her resistance was melting. He wasn’t her type. Not at all. He was a player and a doctor and everything she didn’t want in a man.
But right now, she didn’t care about any of that. Right now, she did want him. Or at least her body wanted to feel the way she knew he could make her feel, the way he was making her feel.
“But I am sorry your plans were ruined,” he said.
“They were actually Amy’s plans—and I was kind of relieved to escape another blind date.”
“Then you weren’t planning to ring in the New Year with wild, sweaty sex?”
“The thought never crossed my mind.” His hands grazed her breasts as they skimmed up her sides, making her breath hitch. “Until now.”
“Really?” He smiled against her lips. “You’re thinking about it now?”
She slid her hands beneath his scrub top, over the smooth, taut skin of his abdomen. “Yeah, I’m thinking about it now.”
“If you want to hold that thought, I’m off shift in a couple of hours.”
She scraped her teeth lightly over his jaw. “I’ll change my mind in a couple of hours.”
“I definitely don’t want you to change your mind.” He whisked her scrub top up over her head, unveiling her pink lace bra, and his brows lifted. “You sure you didn’t put this on for your date?”
“Forget about my date,” she suggested. “And focus on me.”
“I’m focused,” he promised, his thumbs stroking over her rigid nipples through the delicate fabric. “Very focused.”
Her head fell back against the door as arrows of sensation shot straight to her core. Her body was on fire. She was burning with want, with need. Desperate, aching need. She was so tightly wound up she was practically vibrating.
Then he dipped his head and found her breast with his mouth, suckling her through the lace. She slid her fingers into his hair, holding him against her as waves of exquisite sensation washed over her.
His mouth moved to her other breast as his hand slid down the front of her pants, his fingertips brushing over the aching nub at her center. The light touch made her gasp and shudder. He parted the soft folds of skin, groaning his appreciation when he found that she was already wet.
“You do something to me, Wallace,” he admitted gruffly.
“Do something to me,” she suggested, reaching a hand into his pants to wrap around the hard length of him, making him groan again. “Do me.”
“I will,” he promised.
But for now, he continued to touch and tease her. She bit hard on her lip to keep from crying out, her palms flat against the door to hold herself upright as her knees quivered and her body shuddered.
She was gasping and panting and on the verge of melting into a puddle at his feet when he pushed her panties down to her ankles with her pants, then shoved his own pants and boxers out of the way. Finally he covered her mouth with his and thrust into her, kissing her hard and deep as he took her body the same way.
She was ready for him. More than ready. But it had been a long time, and she’d almost forgotten how good it could feel. How exquisitely and blissfully good.
It was pretty much a consensus among the female contingent of the hospital nursing staff that Dr. Garrett could satisfy a woman’s every want and need, and he lived up to that reputation now. He used his hands and his lips and his body to drive her to the ultimate pinnacle of pleasure and far beyond, soaring into the abyss with her.
When she finally floated back to earth, her body was still pinned against the door, still intimately joined with his. She took a minute to catch her breath as he did the same.
“I think I might need the paddles to restart my heart, Wallace.”
She forced herself to match his casual tone. “Then it’s a good thing you’re a doctor.”
But even while her body continued to hum with the aftereffects of pleasure, her mind was beginning to remember the hundred and one reasons that giving in to the attraction she felt for Justin was a bad idea. The number one reason was the MD that followed his name; the hundred other reasons were the hundred names of other women he’d undoubtedly pleasured in a similar manner.
He brushed his lips against hers—the kiss surprisingly tender and sweet on the heels of their passionate and almost desperate coupling.
“Do you ever wonder how we didn’t end up here before now?” he asked her.
Her brows lifted. “Mostly naked in a housekeeping supply closet?”
“I was focused on the mostly naked part,” he said. “And thinking that I’d like to take you back to my place and progress from mostly to completely naked.”
She shook her head and pushed him away so she could pull up her pants and gather the rest of her discarded clothing. “Not a good idea.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because we have to work together.”
“We’ve always worked well together,” he noted. “And now we know that we play well together, too, and—”
She touched a hand to his lips, silencing his words as she shook her head. “No.”
He frowned. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she insisted, refastening her bra.
“You’re just going to walk away?”
She tugged her shirt over her head. “Well, someone is eventually going to need something from this closet, so it’s probably not a good idea to stay here.”
“You know I’m not referring to the closet but what happened between us,” he chided.
“It was an impulse, Garrett. Nothing more than that.”
“An impulse,” he echoed.
He sounded oddly hurt by her characterization of their actions—but she was probably just imagining it. After all, Justin Garrett didn’t do emotions or involvement. He moved in and then moved on, and she thought he would appreciate that she didn’t want anything more than that.
“It was an intense situation in the ER tonight and we both worked hard to ensure a young couple had reason to celebrate rather than mourn the start of the New Year.”
“You think that what just happened between us only happened because of adrenaline?” he asked incredulously.
“And proximity,” she allowed.
“So this is normal postoperative procedure for you?”
“No!”
“Then it was out-of-character behavior?” he pressed.
“Very,” she admitted.
“And probably an inevitable result of the fact that you’ve been denying the attraction between us for more than three years.”
Probably. Although she had no intention of admitting it. To Avery’s mind, it was bad enough that she’d succumbed to the attraction she’d tried so hard to ign
ore without giving him the additional satisfaction of knowing that she’d harbored those feelings for so long.
But he was right—she’d been attracted to him from the beginning. The day she interviewed with the chief of staff at Mercy Hospital, the first time she’d met Justin, he’d smiled at her and her pulse had skyrocketed.
She wasn’t unfamiliar with attraction, but she couldn’t remember ever having it hit her so immediately and intensely. On her first day of work, he’d flirted with her a little, and she’d flirted back.
And then, later that same day, she’d seen him flirting with someone else. The day after that, it was someone different again. It had only taken three more days—three more shifts at the hospital—for her to realize that Justin Garrett, aka Dr. Romeo, was not her type. He’d continued to flirt with her—or try to—when their paths crossed, but she’d given him no encouragement.
Not until she’d kissed him.
“I have to go.”
He slapped his hand against the door to prevent her from opening it. “And you’re still denying it,” he noted.
“Let me go, Garrett.”
“I’m not holding you hostage. I’m just trying to have a conversation.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. You got another notch to add to your bedpost—isn’t that enough for you?”
“I don’t have bedposts,” he said. “Which I’d be happy to prove to you if you come home with me when I get off shift.”
“No,” she said firmly.
He brushed a loose hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear, the light touch of his fingertips on her skin making her shiver and want him all over again. Damn him.
“What did I do wrong?” he asked her. “Aside from taking you against the closet door with all the finesse of a horny teenager, I mean.”
She wished she could blame him for that, but she’d initiated everything. She wished she could dismiss the experience as unsatisfactory, but the truth was, despite the setting and the pace of the event, her body had been very thoroughly satisfied.
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