David’s blend of old-fashioned chivalry and respect for the opposite sex made Casey feel cherished as a female and valued as a human being. What woman could resist a man who treasured and admired her?
He peeled off his gloves and paper gown on the way out of the nursery and stuffed them in a disposal bin. He stopped at a computer for a moment, no doubt entering a few notes about his exam, then he smiled at the blond nurse. “As usual, Sandy, the babies are thriving under your excellent care.”
The woman beamed at him. “Thank you, Doctor.”
A stab of jealousy pricked Casey. Okay. Maybe the nurses did know how kind he was.
“I’d like the parents to do a couple of hours of Kangaroo Care with their daughter tomorrow. If all goes well, in a couple of days we should be able to wean her brother off the vent.”
He helped Casey up from the chair. “Okay, Tinkerbelle, let’s go teach you to breathe.”
Stiffening, she snapped her gaze to his twinkling blue eyes. Had he noticed that watching him had stolen her breath?
He took the pillow from her, reminding her of her childbirth prep class. Her shoulders sagged with relief. What a ninny.
“What’s Kangaroo Care?” she asked, letting him guide her back onto the elevator.
“It’s a form of parental bonding for preemies. The mother or father cuddles the baby, who’s wearing just a diaper and hat, inside their shirts against their bare chest.”
“That sounds nice.”
“It’s more than nice,” he explained. “It helps control the infant’s temperature, and for some reason medical science can’t explain, the babies improve faster. Their heart rates are steadier and periods of apnea decrease—not to mention the babies sleep deeper and breastfeed earlier.”
“No big mystery there.” She smiled, punching the third floor button. “Everyone knows love works miracles.”
~*~
“Strong and steady.” Marc frowned on Thursday evening as the pulse in Brianna’s wrist suddenly kicked into double time under his fingers. Or was he feeling feedback from his own pounding heart? The skin on her forearm felt like a rose petal as he shifted his fingers slightly.
Nope. Every beat was definitely hers.
She wasn’t a nervous Nellie who’d get worked up over a simple post-op exam, so maybe she wasn’t as indifferent to him as she’d like him to believe. Either that, or he’d somehow pissed her off again. “For someone four days post-op, you seem to be feeling pretty good.”
“That pain med you’ve got me on is good stuff.”
“I’m glad to hear it’s doing the job.” He dropped her arm back on the bed. “Have you called your sister yet? I really think—”
“Shhh!” She held up her hand. “Listen.”
“What?” He glanced behind him. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Right. That’s the sound of nobody caring what you think about this subject.”
“Cute.” He pulled his stethoscope from around his neck. “Don’t think I’m gonna give up. If you want me to sign your discharge, you’ll arrange for someone to stay with you for a couple of days after you go home.” He stuck the instrument’s binaural tips in his ears and bent forward to lay the diaphragm against her back. “Breathe deep for me.”
When her lungs expanded, his gaze strayed to her round breasts thrusting out near his face as she inhaled. Damn, he needed a longer stethoscope—say, about the length of his arm.
He closed his eyes and concentrated, listening for rales. What was it about Brianna McIntyre?
Sure, she had nice rack, but it wasn’t as if she was stacked or anything. He hadn’t ogled a woman under his care since his first year in med school. Even then, he’d never obsessed over a patient’s breasts or fantasized about sucking them. Especially not four days after her surgery.
In fact, he hadn’t even looked when he’d been treating Miss February, who’d used any excuse to flash her double-D mammaries at him and every other man in the vicinity of her hospital room.
“So am I still alive?” Brianna murmured after he’d listened to her lungs longer than necessary. Opening his eyes, he found her staring at him, her nose only centimeters from his as she moistened her lips. Now it was his ticker’s turn to do the mambo.
Any doctor in his right mind would’ve straightened up and put some distance between himself and his patient the second the tip of her tongue flicked out.
Except, nobody could ever accuse him of being completely sane—particularly after Brianna’s arms slid around his neck and pulled his head closer. For a moment, his mental function ceased as she pressed her soft mouth to his and every neuron in his lips misfired, overloading his sensory cortex with the feel of her warm tongue.
When his brain finally assimilated the sensation, he nearly lost it. Man, she tasted good.
Too good. He wanted more.
Unfortunately, his more rational half bellowed, ‘What’re you doing, you idiot! The AMA will yank your license before you can say unprofessional ethics.’
His cerebral wiring must have short-circuited again, because the warning never made it from his head to the rest of his body. Instead, he stupidly kissed her back, coaxing her lips to part so he could sample the interior of that tempting, luscious mouth.
Her tongue flirted with his in a primal mating dance, and his groin tightened. In seconds flat, every drop of blood rushed south, engorging his erection until he was harder than a neuro hammer. For the first time since he’d met his late wife, he wanted to make love to a woman other than Francie. More than he wanted to breathe.
Brianna’s eager moaning undid him. It wasn’t until the mesh sleeve over the IV in her arm brushed his neck that something snapped inside him. His good judgment flooded back.
“Shit!” He recoiled from her as if he’d been thrown clear by a five-hundred joule defibrillator jolt. “What the hell am I doing?” He backed into the privacy curtain he’d had the good sense to pull around her bed. At least none of the nurses had witnessed him molesting his patient.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry.” Her face turned bright pink as she covered her eyes with her hands. “I can’t believe I did that. I don’t understand what came over me.”
“No.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I never should’ve let it happen.” How the hell could he forget where he was or that she was his patient?
“But I’m the one who kissed you,” she argued, peeking between her fingers, tears glistening in her eyes. “It was as if I had no control over myself.”
He understood all too well. He’d never been so turned on nor had so little restraint. It was as if he’d gone temporarily insane with lust. Two more seconds, and he would’ve crawled into bed with her.
“You must think I’m a total tramp.”
“I don’t think anything of the sort.” How could he criticize her when he was guilty of fantasizing about screwing one of his patients? She, at least had the excuse of recovering from brain surgery. What was his?
He blew out a deep breath, expelling her seductive scent from his nose and forcing himself back into compassionate doctor mode. “Don’t beat yourself up. Strange behavioral hiccups are normal. There’s probably pressure on your frontal lobe that’s weakening your impulse control—not to mention, you’re hopped up on pain meds.” Which made him even guiltier.
“Great. So from now on, I’m gonna try to seduce every man I meet?”
Marc smiled at the ridiculous scenario her mortification and distress had conjured up. “Hopefully just the ones you’re attracted to.”
“Very funny. I don’t even like you.”
Oh, really? “What just happened sort of disproves that claim, don’t you think?”
She turned her head to gaze out the window for a moment and then looked back at him. “Okay, so perhaps you’ve grown on me. Maybe I’m even slightly attracted to you. But that’s no reason for me to come on to—”
“Relax. Your lapse of inhibition is most likely temporary.” He just prayed his
own lack of control was, too. “In a week or so, you’ll be your old self again.”
“I sure hope so. If not, I might as well forget my career as a sales rep. Then again,” she continued ranting, “I could just change my product line and join the oldest profession in the—”
“Stop!” He gripped her shoulders and stared into her eyes. “You’re making more out of this than you need to. It’s not that big a deal.”
At least, not for her. For him, it was a huge problem.
“Oh?” She arched her eyebrows. “How many of your other patients have kissed you while you’re examining them?”
“You’re definitely the first. But if it makes you feel any better, last year I treated a centerfold who kept prancing around the halls naked.”
“Big deal. She probably didn’t have any inhibitions to begin with.”
“Then you might also like to know one of my male patients goosed a couple of the nurses. And he was a priest.”
Laughter bubbled out of her despite the anxiety still contorting her flushed face.
“See? You’re not alone. A lot of people behave out of character after brain surgery. All that you’re experiencing is to be expected. I didn’t touch the area of your brain that would affect your judgment, so I’m sure it’s due to the swelling. Everything will go back to normal in a few days. I’ll have you moved to a regular room and see you there in the morning.”
She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Thank you. I promise nothing like this will happen again.” Her mouth twisted into an abashed smile. “Unless, of course, you kiss me first.”
Which was precisely what he feared.
~*~
“Good evening, everyone.” Tammy Jensen strode into the classroom and clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s all get comfortable in a circle on the floor and get acquainted. Mommies sit between your coach’s legs, and use his body to support your back.”
Casey sent up a silent prayer of thanks that Paul’s nurse was the instructor for the course and none of the other seven couples enrolled in the class knew David.
The tension of the evening had already given her a severe case of heartburn. The acid from the tomato sauce she’d served for dinner seared the back of her throat.
She scooted back on the carpet between David’s denim-clad thighs into the protective cocoon of his muscular chest and arms. Nervous shivers skittered down her spine.
“Is the air conditioning too much?” he murmured, gently rubbing his warm palms over the goose bumps decorating her bare shoulders.
“A little.” If he kept touching her like that, she wouldn’t be cold for long.
Tammy squatted next to them and whispered, “Hi, Casey, Dr. Lambert. Dr. Brennan told me about your situation. I’ll try not to cause you any undue embar—”
“It’s okay, Tammy,” David reassured her. “Just treat us like any other couple, and call us by our first names. Nobody here needs to know our unusual circumstances.”
“Sure thing.” She stood and smiled at the class. “I’m Tammy Jensen, a registered obstetrics nurse. I’m also halfway through my training as a midwife. Why don’t we go around the room and let the coaches introduce themselves and their partners—and to keep things simple, let’s stick to just first names. Also, let us know if this is your first baby.”
Tammy pointed to a couple a few spaces away from them, leaving David and Casey until nearly the end.
Unfortunately, every guy introduced himself and then added, “And this is my wife,” followed by the woman’s name.
When their turn came, David cleared his throat, and his hot breath tickled her ear. “We’re David and Casey, and this is our first baby.” Not to mention, also their last.
When everyone seemed to accept his introduction as par for the course, Casey released the breath she’d been holding—but a split second too soon.
Before the next man could utter a word, his wife interrupted. “David, aren’t you a pediatrician?”
So much for remaining anonymous.
“I think you treated my niece in the emergency room about a year ago.”
“Uhhh—that’s possible.” The vibration of his deep voice rumbled against Casey’s back.
“A doctor, huh?” Her husband slapped David’s shoulder. “Didn’t you cover all of this in med school?”
“Dr. Lambert is here to coach Casey,” Tammy interjected in an attempt to get the class back on track. She looked at the couple seated next to them. “Now, what’re your names?”
When everyone had been introduced, Tammy flipped off the lights and showed a video portraying a typical delivery. David’s coarse five-o’clock shadow brushed Casey’s temple while she shifted her weight several times, trying to find a comfortable position.
“Would you sit still, already,” he muttered, the tension in his entire body evident.
Her breath caught when his lower portion stiffened against her back. By the time the opening credits finished floating across the screen, his thick erection had swelled to a proportion she didn’t dare let herself imagine.
The thin knit of her top and his golf shirt offered little insulation from the heat emanating from his chest. His erratic breaths came faster and faster until he was practically panting in her ear, filling her with a heady sense of feminine power.
If she inched away, he’d know she’d felt his arousal. Heck, how could she not feel it?
She tried to ease her bottom forward a bit, but the broad palms spanning her belly held her firmly against him. “I’m sorry, Tink,” he murmured in her ear. “Just relax and ignore it.”
Right. That was like asking her to ignore a lit stick of dynamite pressed to her back, ready to explode.
His hoarse whisper shook, revealing his tenuous control. “You have to remember how long it’s been for me.”
For him?
It’d been over two years for her. If she could even classify what she’d had as sex.
The two guys she’d had serious relationships with had both had hair-trigger libidos. Initially, she’d thought her disappointment in the bedroom had been her own fault. However, the more women’s magazines she read, the clearer it became how self-centered the men she’d been involved with had been.
After getting a taste of David’s tenderness and passion, she couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to make love with him. Would he be as patient and considerate in bed as he was out of it?
“I feel as if all I’ve done tonight is apologize,” he murmured into her hair while the woman in the video breathed through a contraction. “I’m sorry I’ve made it so hard for you.”
She pursed her lips, suppressing a chuckle at his unintentional double entendre.
“What’s so funny?” he growled, somehow sensing her amusement.
“Think about what you just said.”
Seconds ticked by before his soft groan told her he’d realized his poor choice of words. “I’m sorry. You know I—”
“I know.” She patted the forearm resting on her belly. “It’s all right. Now, shut up and let me watch the video.”
Before the night was over, they needed to have a long talk. Things couldn’t continue the way they’d been going. At least, not if she wanted to stay sane.
Chapter 8
“What sounds good?” David slid the Friendly’s ice cream parlor menu back into its rack in the booth.
Casey had seemed both hesitant and relieved when he’d suggested stopping for desert on the way home. Only an idiot would go straight home to his big empty house with a raging hard-on—and way too many bedrooms.
She cast yearning glances at the sundaes on a nearby table. “I really shouldn’t eat ice cream. I’ll just have salad.”
“Unh-uh.” He smiled at the pink-haired waitress waiting beside their booth and ordered Casey’s favorite. “One large hot fudge brownie sundae with maple walnut ice cream, chopped almonds, and extra whipped cream.” Holding his fingers up in a peace sign, he added, “Two cherries and sp
oons. We’ll be sharing.”
“Thanks,” Casey muttered once the teenager dashed off. “I always knew you were the spawn of Satan.”
“In the flesh.” He grinned. “You can afford the calories. You barely touched that incredible dinner you fixed.” When he’d arrived home, Casey had served him homemade cheese ravioli and sauce prepared with fresh plum tomatoes and herbs. “The last time I had a meal that great was....well, never.”
“I didn’t eat much tonight because I made a pig of myself at lunch. Believe me,”—she grimaced, rubbing her throat—“my pasta sauce doesn’t taste as good the second time.”
“I’m sorry.” He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “I wish I could make all of this easier for you.”
“David, would you please stop apologizing. I love being pregnant—no matter how much I might sometimes imply otherwise.”
As if she would ever seriously complain.
It was nearly impossible not to take advantage of an easygoing woman like Casey, who gave and gave and gave....and never demanded anything in return. He was beginning to understand why Brianna had always felt as if she were exploiting her sister’s generous nature.
At dinner and on the way to the hospital, Casey had kept him so busy answering questions about his day, he’d never had a chance to ask anything about hers. “How’s the shopping going?”
“Good. Except for a few accent pieces, I’ve ordered all the furniture. Mattie and I found a beautiful set of light cherry tables for the living room and a couple of lamps at an antique shop in New Hope. I picked up a bunch of accessories there, too.”
He wrinkled his forehead. “Mattie?”
“Mrs. Berger. She insisted I call her by her first name—which is actually Matilda.” Casey sipped her ice water. “She wouldn’t hear of me treating her until I flashed your credit card and told her you were footing the bill.”
“Good. I’m glad the two of you had a nice time. So when is everything arriving?”
“The painters are coming next Monday and Tuesday.”
“I don’t want you breathing the paint fumes.”
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