by Janice Lynn
“This isn’t the time or place for this discussion.”
Seeming to recall where they were, Amelia took a measured breath, her chest rising and falling with remembered anger. They’d made progress today, in the sick ward, but now she looked ready to rip her peace treaty to shreds and declare all-out war.
“I’m not sure we should ever have this particular conversation,” she said between straight, gritted teeth.
“Make no mistake. This is one conversation that’s long overdue and unavoidable.” One they should have had years ago. “Eventually, we’ll have to face what’s between us. Past and present.” But she wasn’t ready to admit as much yet and he’d been a fool to try to push her into doing so. “It would be nice if we could forget everything we knew about each other and start over. Without the past clouding the way you view me.”
“Short of a case of amnesia, I don’t see that as a possibility, do you?”
“You want me to hit you over the head and see if that works?” he offered, half-serious as if he thought that would erase the past, clear the slate. He wanted the opportunity to get to know Amelia, to explore the attraction between them.
“Just being near you is like constantly being hit over the head,” she muttered, not looking at him.
“With good thoughts?”
“With thoughts of how much I’d like to hit you over the head.”
He laughed.
“That wasn’t supposed to be funny,” she warned, but when her gaze met his, a smile twisted her lips.
Cole’s body lit like a Fourth of July celebration. And just as quickly fizzled out when Amelia’s expression tightened and she desperately began setting up boundaries again, terms to their peace treaty.
“Look, you were right about us having to set aside the past while working together. I’ve already admitted that. But that doesn’t mean I want to be your friend or to recapture whatever was between us.” She stared him straight in the eyes. “I don’t. What happened in the past just needs to stay in the past.”
Disappointment and frustration hit him. When he opened his mouth to say more, she shook her head at him.
“Whatever it is you want from me, Cole, it isn’t going to happen.”
“How do you know?” he pushed, obviously shocking her Stockton good sense. “How can you be so sure that what I want isn’t going to happen?”
He wasn’t sure about anything where she was concerned. Then again, he’d never had to work to gain a woman’s good favor before. Women had always come to him, never mattered one way or the other.
Except Amelia.
“I just know,” she stubbornly replied, dropping her free weight back onto the rack and glaring at him.
“Because you aren’t willing to give me a chance?”
Looking totally exasperated, she faced him with her hands on her hips and her eyes full of fire. “A chance at what? What is it you want?”
“You.”
She shook her head. “What kind of game are you playing?”
Is that what she thought? That he was playing with her? He wanted her, was honest enough to admit to that want, and she thought he was playing games? But what about her? Because for all her bluster, for all the hatred that blazed in her eyes, desire blazed just as strongly. She could deny it all she wanted, but Amelia wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her.
Glancing around the workout room, he noticed they’d started to attract some attention.
“Let’s go somewhere we can talk in private, Amelia.”
Looking as if she planned to run and never look back, she shook her head. “I agreed to a truce for professional reasons, Cole. Nothing more. If you have some sister fantasy or are just trying to use me to get to Clara, get over it. You are the last man I’d ever willingly become involved with. Understand?”
With that, she spun, swishing her ponytail at him, and walked away, leaving him to wonder why he couldn’t have left well enough alone, biding his time and accepting the progress they’d made today instead of pushing for more.
But he knew.
The more time he spent with Amelia, the more he wanted her, the harder not pushing became.
He’d only been on board a few weeks. He had over five months to go. Five months of being with Amelia, of convincing her to give him a chance so he could work out the crazy hold she held over him.
Five months.
It seemed like no time at all.
It seemed like forever.
Why did Amelia think him being here had anything to do with Clara? All he wanted was for her to forget he and Clara had ever been engaged so Amelia could see the potential of him and her.
Sister fantasy indeed.
There wasn’t room in his fantasies for anyone other than Amelia and hadn’t been for years.
Six weeks into his deployment, Cole shined the light into a soldier’s eyes, watching the reflexive size change in response. Perfect. He looked in ears, making note of bulging red tympanic membranes, checked nostrils that revealed swollen mucosa and purulent drainage. He checked a throat that was beefy red, raw.
Running his fingertips over the man’s cervical lymph nodes, he felt swollen glands. “That sore?”
Wincing, the man nodded.
The soldier’s submandibular, pre- and post-cervical and auricular nodes were all enlarged and tender.
The man’s heart rate was increased, but that wasn’t uncommon when febrile. Lungs sounded raspy with a soft inspiratory wheeze in both lower lobes. There was no abdominal tenderness, although the man had reported some digestive trouble over the past twenty-four hours.
“I’m going to start you on medication.” Cole told him the names of the medicines and what each was for.
The man nodded his understanding.
“Unfortunately, you are infectious. I can’t let you return to your berthing quarters.”
Nodding, the man looked as if he’d expected as much. “I’ll be sleeping in quarantine?”
“Yes.” Cole let his nurse know the man would need to be put in quarantine, along with several others who were also suffering from the virus that had hit the ship. Keeping the virus from spreading to the rest of the crew was of paramount importance.
“There’s an abdominal pain in bay one. Lieutenant Sanchez,” Richard informed him. “Dr Stockton is in with her. She asked for a consult when you finished.”
Amelia. With the viral outbreak, they’d been so busy they’d not had any more serious talks, only skimmed the surface, being cordial, being polite, only occasional unguarded glances hinting at what lay beneath.
“Knock, knock,” Cole said, rounding the curtain to enter bay one and take in the scene before him.
Amelia looked fabulous in her khaki pants and navy knit shirt, the collar turned down at the base of her throat. Her hair was up in a ponytail and her eyes held compassion as she examined her patient.
A softly crying pretty Hispanic woman lay on the exam table, her arms crossed protectively over her ample chest.
Having been bent over the woman, stethoscope in her ears while listening to the woman’s lower abdomen, Amelia glanced up, seeming surprised to see him. She straightened. “I’m sorry, Dr Stanley, but I don’t need your help after all.”
“You’re sure?” Cole’s brows drew together. She didn’t want him to consult? Were they reverting back to that? He didn’t buy it. Amelia was a wonderful doctor, one Cole trusted implicitly. Her professionalism and ethics wouldn’t allow her to put a patient at risk for personal reasons. “It’s no problem for me to have a quick look.”
She shook her head, conveying with her eyes that she’d like him to leave without making a big deal of it. What was going on?
Making a quick decision, he shrugged. “If you need me, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks.” She waved him out and turned her attention back to her patient.
Half an hour later, he caught her coming out of the medical office. “Earlier, you released the abdominal pain without observatio
n. False alarm?”
“Not really.” She didn’t meet his eyes, which sent up warning flags left and right.
“What was wrong?”
“I’d rather not discuss my patient.”
He eyed her curiously.
“Look,” she began, “it’s not my place to tell you. There are a few things on this ship that are still private, believe it or not. I won’t break patient confidentiality unnecessarily.”
“How is consulting with me about an abdominal pain patient a breach of confidentiality?” he asked in frustration. “I’m the surgeon.”
“Not all abdominal pains require a surgeon.”
“This one didn’t?”
“Obviously not or I would have gotten you to check her rather than asking you to leave.”
“Obviously.”
She hesitated a moment, her expression softening, reeling him in without even realizing that’s what she was doing.
“Thanks for not making a scene in front of the patient. I was afraid you’d insist on checking her.” She met his gaze. “I appreciate that you did the right thing, letting me do my job.”
At her tentative smile, the ship shifted beneath his feet. “When is she coming back for follow-up?”
Again, a slight hesitation. “She’ll come back if needed, but she’s putting in for a reassignment.”
A reassignment? “Sea life not for her?”
“Not everyone takes to ship life.”
Which they would have discovered during the many training exercises prior to deployment. Interesting.
“She was suffering from seasickness?” he asked, wondering if Amelia would lie to him. Although he didn’t know what had been bothering the woman, he did know seasickness wasn’t a likely diagnosis.
“No, she’s been aboard the ship for some time, but…” She paused, glanced at him and then shrugged. “Let’s talk about something else. How are you holding up? Lots of viral patients?”
Cole studied her, admired her for protecting her patient, even though she should know she didn’t have to protect the woman from him. Probably an STD, likely pelvic inflammatory disease or something similar, possibly even pregnancy, since Amelia was being so secretive.
“More than I’d like. If we can’t get this quarantined, we’re going to have an epidemic on our hands.”
She ran her fingers through her ponytail then tightened the elastic band. “That’s what I’m afraid of. I saw mostly viral patients during sick call this morning, too. The senior medical officer has put out an advisory for everyone to come in at the first sign of symptoms so we can stop the spread.”
Watching the play of light hit her shiny dark hair, wishing he could run his fingers through the silky gloss, could lean down and breathe in the scent of her shampoo, the scent of her, Cole gave a wry smile. “Which means the medical crew is going to be all the busier.”
Returning his smile, she nodded. “Yes, sir. You sure you want to stick around for this?”
His gaze met hers, sent a thousand silent messages, asked a thousand questions, all of which Amelia didn’t respond to. If only she’d tell him what was in her mind. Did her body heat up the way his did any time they were near each other? Did every sense become sharper, more alert, more aware, the way his did?
Of course, she didn’t answer any of those questions and he couldn’t voice them. Not yet. All he could do was smile at her and hope that with time whatever was between them would come to a head and free them both.
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here,” he admitted, watching the color of her eyes darken to rich melted chocolate, watching her full pink lips part, and a short gust of air escape. “With you, Amelia. Nowhere else.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
ONE day at a time, Amelia reminded herself later that day. One day at a time. That’s how she’d deal with Cole. How she was dealing with him, and how she’d continue to deal with him.
So far she was six weeks down and twenty more to go. That was only one hundred and forty days, give or take a few pending either of their reassignments.
Not that she was counting.
Sighing, she glanced across the sick ward to where he stood, laughing at a joke the physician assistant had told. Tracy, Richard, Peyton and a couple of nurses and corps-men stood with them. So did the senior medical officer. Despite the crazily busy day they’d had, they all looked relaxed, if a bit tired. They all looked toward Cole with respect and admiration, with friendship.
Cole belonged on board the USS Benjamin Franklin as much as if he’d been there from the day the ship had first sailed for training exercises.
As much as she hated to admit it, she’d grown to appreciate his presence in the sick ward, too.
They’d had another swamped sick call, which had run over into the scheduled appointments. A nasty upper respiratory virus was running rampant across the ship. If Cole hadn’t been there to help, following his surgery clinic, none of them would be anywhere near finished. They’d all had their hands full, mostly with viral patients but also with the usual plethora of cases as well.
Then there had been the young lieutenant who worked in the ship operations department and suffered from abdominal pain. Although the carrier intelligence center officer’s diagnosis hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary in the grand scheme of life occurrences, the diagnosis wasn’t one Amelia commonly made. Actually, she hadn’t diagnosed a pregnancy in months.
The woman hadn’t wanted to put down that she thought she was pregnant, had begged Amelia to keep her secret until she’d figured out the course of action she wanted to take and for Amelia to please honor her wishes. The woman had likely had an on board affair with another officer and was fearful of both of them facing dishonorable discharge.
Regardless of her reasons, Amelia had hedged the best she could. Only she and the lab technician who’d performed the test knew the woman’s real reason for visiting the sick ward.
She partially owed thanks to Cole for that. Had she realized the woman’s true reasons for the visit she wouldn’t have requested the consult, but she hadn’t known prior to their private discussion.
Cole had deferred to her request. Would his predecessor have done so? She doubted it. Not only had the man who’d gone through the training exercises with the ship been higher ranked but Dr Evans had been full of arrogance as well. He’d have insisted on checking the woman.
Cole didn’t pull rank. He listened, really listened. Just as he’d always listened to her. Whether in regard to a particular professor or a recount of her rounds, Cole had always had time to listen, to offer advice or guidance. He’d smile, offer a comforting word, a gentle pat of his hand across hers.
And she’d wanted more. Even in the earliest of days, she’d wanted Cole. Had been aware of everything about him. She’d denied her feelings, of course, even to herself. How could she not have when he’d belonged to Clara?
Even now, when she didn’t want to like anything in regards to Cole, she was finding way too many things to like.
The way he smiled, the way he volunteered to help, the way he interacted with the crew, the way he threw himself one hundred percent into everything he did, the way he looked at her as if she were the only thing he saw.
Yesterday in the gym, while she and Suzie had put their time in on the elliptical, with him on the machine next to theirs, she’d found herself laughing at his corny jokes.
And when had he fallen into sitting with them in the dinner wardroom each night? When had she stopped resenting him for doing so? When had she started looking forward to the moment he joined their table, adding a flavor to the meals no cook could produce?
Remembering that she didn’t like him was getting more and more difficult because, darn it, he was likeable.
More than likeable.
How could she like him when she was swamped with guilt? When each and every smile that passed between Cole and herself was a betrayal to her sister?
She ran her fingers through her hair, ca
tching his gaze as he glanced up from the group he was talking to. He wore navy pants and shirt with the navy medical logo on the left breast. The color only intensified the blueness of his eyes, making her think of childhood days of playing beneath a cloudless sky. That’s what Cole was. A sunny day. Only his sunshine was deceptive, more dangerous, threatening to burn her to ashes.
“Did you hear what Peyton said?” he asked, his smile lethal.
How was it possible for him to look so great when he should be dead on his feet? She must look like death warmed over. Yet he looked as if he could pull another clinic without batting an eyelash.
Amazed by his endless energy, she shook her head. “I think my ears are too tired to hear anything other than the call of my pillow.”
Concern flickered in his eyes. “You okay? You’re not coming down with the virus are you?”
She shook her head. “I’m just tired.”
And disgusted with myself that I’m falling for your charms all over again even though I know better.
Analyzing every feature to the point she felt as if she should put her hands in front her face, he didn’t look convinced. “You shouldn’t have worked through lunch.”
“I didn’t do anything you didn’t do,” she reminded him.
Despite the fact that he didn’t have to be there, Cole worked just as hard as the rest of them.
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m headed for a shower, then to grab something to eat.” Tracy spoke, tossing her stethoscope down on the counter. “I’ll see you guys in the morning. Let’s pray this virus passes quickly and doesn’t take hold of any of us.”
Amelia nodded, as did the rest of the crew as they broke up, each heading their own way, until the sick ward became eerily quiet.
Only she and Cole remained.
Slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, Cole crossed the room to stand close. Too close.
Running her hand over her tight neck muscles, she held her ground, pretended like his nearness didn’t make her nervous. “Thanks for your help today.”