So how in all of tarnation did he know her name?
Turning around, she faced the man she’d secretly lusted after from the moment she’d met him for the first time hundreds of years ago, including as recently as forty years ago before his last reincarnation at the In Between—the place where souls go on their journey to their final resting place.
His strong presence and lightly scented, musky cologne still overwhelmed her, dwarfing everything going on around them. Even after all these years, he still left her with butterflies in her stomach. Those yards and yards of muscles and clear skin kissed by the sun left her unsurprised all the nurses and hospital staff were always gushing over him.
Gazing up at his flawless olive skin pulled taut over razor-sharp cheekbones, Rocky looked into his ebony eyes rimmed with a thick fringe of lashes, hoping she was doing a decent job of hiding her surprise.
Wiping her suddenly sweaty palms on her scrubs, Rocky smiled as though he weren’t stealing the very breath from her lungs. “Yes?”
He stared down at her for a moment longer, scanning her face with a half-smile, before he rocked back on his heels and drove his hands into his crisp white doctor’s coat. “I was told you were the person who could help me.”
Rocky smoothed a hand over her scrubs again and cocked her head. “Help?” she asked, licking her dry lips in nervousness.
Two seconds in a hallway with this man and she was all manner of undone. It was ridiculous. She’d avoided him here at the hospital and everywhere else for this very reason—because he did things to her insides no man had ever done before, and it was damn hard to hide. Harder still to hide the fact that she knew him, but he didn’t remember her.
Which hurt. Hurt like the fire of a thousand suns on her skin. But it wasn’t his fault. That’s what reincarnation did. It made you forget the people you knew and the places you’d been. With some people, reincarnation left lingering memories, that sense of déjà vu, but apparently that wasn’t true for Hudson.
He nodded, his dark, slicked-back hair gleaming with the bounce of his head. “Yep. Help. I was just in Mr. Ferris’s room, and he’s in need of a bit of cleanup. Housekeeping told me you were up on this floor, doing your rounds.” Hudson thumbed over his shoulder in the direction of Mr. Ferris’s room. “Things got a little hairy in there, literally,” he said with a cheerful laugh. “He’s a werewolf stuck in shift, and he’s shedding like there’s no tomorrow. Can you help?”
Rolling her tongue in her cheek, she nodded her head in return, keeping her response short and sweet. “Of course, Dr. Kahlil. I’ll get right on that.”
Turning her back on him, she scrunched her eyes shut and prayed her cheeks wouldn’t go red-hot as she prepared to sweep up after Mr. Ferris, but a light hand on her shoulder stopped her.
“Quick question, if I may?” he asked, his voice gruff with obvious curiosity as he let his hand drop to his side.
Shit. Shit. Shit. She didn’t want to engage with him, not even a little. It hurt too much to keep her emotions in check. It hurt a lot. But what choice did she have? As far as he knew, she was an employee here in the hospital, and he was her superior.
Plastering a smile on her face, Rocky turned back around and twisted a handful of her ponytail between her fingers to ground her and keep from turning tail and running.
“Of course, Dr. Kahlil,” she offered in what she prayed was a cordial tone.
He paused for a long, agonizing moment, his gorgeous eyes roaming over her face before he asked, “Have we met? I feel like we’ve met somewhere… Maybe outside the hospital? You seem very familiar to me.”
She swallowed hard. Sweet Jesus in a tutu. Had they met? Hah! Boy howdy, had they ever met. But how could she tell him they’d indeed met—over and over—just before he rose from the ashes like a phoenix does during reincarnation, when she wasn’t supposed to have met him at all in the first place?
It was against the rules to communicate with anyone when they were making the journey from the In Between to their final destination, even if his destination was earthbound. Her job was clear—escort souls from life to death, period. No dabbling with their journeys, no talking, and absolutely no shenanigans in the interim.
Mingling with anyone other than her own kind was frowned upon. The depiction of reapers in modern-day movies and television was mostly accurate in its solitude.
Swathed in long, dark robes, they gathered souls without a word and aided them to the other side with the point of a finger. But reapers stuck to reapers, period, and if mingling was frowned upon, personal involvement wasn’t just frowned upon, it was forbidden.
No one was as surprised as she’d been when she’d encountered Hudson for the first time all those centuries ago. As a phoenix, he was able to freely walk the In Between on his way into and on his way out of his life on Earth. He didn’t need a reaper escort due to his inevitable rebirth.
He’d lingered on the plane just a little too long all those years ago, and shortly after she’d dropped off her assigned soul, he’d spoken to her.
And okay, look. He was gorgeous. So sue her, she’d talked back. It started out quite harmless, and she’d double dog dare another reaper to turn her nose up and ignore a guy as good-looking as Hudson Khalil if he did the unthinkable and engaged her in conversation during a soul transfer.
Their conversation had been incredible, and in all these centuries, she’d been unable to forget it—or the ensuing conversations they’d had during his next rebirths, which she conveniently managed to find out about and even more conveniently attend.
But the worst of it all remained: once he left the In Between and was reborn, he forgot all about her and their in-depth, often thought-provoking, sometimes intimate chats.
She’d tested the truth of his “phoenix amnesia” on several occasions before she’d truly believed he didn’t remember what went on at the In Between.
She’d “accidentally” bumped into him at a chariot race in Rome, and in much later years, she’d tested it again by drinking a beer with him and his group of friends at Woodstock.
If he remembered her, he was an amazing actor, because he’d never once let on he recognized her, and she’d honored her reaper code of ethics by not jarring his memory and keeping her distance on the outskirts of any conversation.
There’d been a couple of other times over the years she’d purposely sought him out, but she’d always had the same result. He’d made it clear he had no clue who she was, and she’d left things that way, as heartbreakingly hard as that had been to do.
All that lovesick nonsense aside, why now, after all this time, was he suddenly remembering her? Or maybe she was placing too much importance on what was likely a coincidence. She probably looked like someone he knew. That explanation worked as good as any.
“Rocky? Is it okay if I call you Rocky?” Hudson asked, cutting into her way-too-deep-for-this-time-of-day thoughts. He fingered the chain poking out from his crisp purple dress shirt and tucked it back under the collar.
She vaguely wondered if it was the same chain with the odd-looking charm around it he’d had all those years ago when they’d first met…before she remembered he was staring at her, waiting for an answer.
“Of course, Dr. Khalil. And I don’t think we’ve ever met. I guess I just have one of those faces,” she replied, hoping her voice wasn’t shaking the way her knees were.
He smiled, affable and delicious, but his eyes were determined chips of granite. “First, please call me Hudson, and I don’t think that’s it. I don’t think anyone could accuse you of being just another face in the crowd.”
Now she really did blush; she felt the hot wave sweep over her and touch her cheeks. Instead of screaming the words, “How could you forget everything we shared?” she remained calm and rational.
“Well, Hudson, I’ve been employed at the hospital for about a month. Maybe you’ve just seen me around. I do clean the ICU, and you spend a lot of time here as a cardiologist, don’t you? Stands
to reason, me being a background staple and all, I’d become familiar.”
He gave her a critical look before his dark eyes lightened and he smiled wider. “Maybe that’s it…but I don’t think so.”
Okay, and? What was she supposed to say to that? Time to nip this in the bud before she couldn’t extract herself from a potentially messy situation. It was enough that she’d stalled Marty’s reap for as long as she had. Encouraging Hudson Khalil to remember how he knew her was unequivocally off the table.
So she shrugged her shoulders as if this wasn’t the man she’d pined over for centuries, and gave him a vague smile. “Well, while you figure it out, I’d better go do my job and handle Mr. Ferris’s room. Should I bring in the big guns—wet and dry vac—or will a broom and dustpan suffice?”
He chuckled that husky, warm chuckle of his, the one she heard over and over in her dreams. “I think a broom and dustpan will do the trick. Thanks for helping a guy out.”
“Ahem,” a grumbly voice, irritated and brisk, whistled into her ears out of nowhere.
Both Rocky and Hudson looked to the left, toward the nurses’ station, where the brick wall of a man fondly known by the OOPS women as Dr. Doomsday frowned at them. His bushy brows furrowed, his beady eyes zooming in on them.
Oh, good. The crankiest of all the doctors in the hospital was displeased.
“Dr. Valentine, lovely day, don’t you agree?” Hudson said in pleasant tones, giving the overly large, very intimidating man a pat on the arm as though they were old friends.
He frowned at Hudson, his lips thinning in his broad face. “Clearly it’s pleasant enough to be consorting with the staff.” He drawled the word as though it were dirty. As though she were dirty because she worked for housekeeping and she wasn’t some fancy doctor.
But instead of retorting, Rocky bit her tongue and blanched, her palms growing sweaty again. She couldn’t afford to be fired from this job or she’d have no way to keep track of Marty.
But Hudson didn’t blanch or even bat a yummy eye, and he definitely didn’t bite his tongue. Nay. He smiled brighter, the harsh lights of the hallway accenting the angular lines of his face, making his dark hair darker against the white of his coat.
Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he bumped shoulders with Dr. Valentine. “Aw, c’mon, Dr. V. You know what they say about morale. It begins from the ground up. Rocky’s a valued member of our staff. If not for her, we’d be in a real mess. Literally and figuratively. I’m just giving credit where credit is due, along with some friendly conversation. It makes the day go faster.”
Dr. Valentine sucked in his cheeks, raised one graying, bushy eyebrow, and gave them both a look of haughty disdain. “And all the while, patients need attending, rooms need cleaning. I suggest you attend to your duties and skip the frivolity. Oh, and do have a pleasant day,” he said curtly before pivoting on the heel of his shiny shoe, hands clasped behind his back as he sauntered down the hallway as though he were the king and the ICU unit his kingdom.
Still, Hudson remained unfazed as he looked down at her and comically rolled his eyes. “He’s such a drag, huh? Imagine working for all that happy-go-lucky.”
Rocky couldn’t help but giggle-snort. Dr. Valentine had certainly earned the name Dr. Doomsday. But he also got the job done, and he was one of the top surgeons in the field of paranormal cardiology. She guessed that had earned him the right to be as stodgy as he liked.
“He’s definitely not winning any awards for his sparkling personality, but you have to admit, he’s brilliant. Not to mention, he’s well respected in his field.”
Nodding, Hudson agreed with amicable tones. “You can get the job done and still be kind, but word on the street is, Dr. Valentine’s not feeling up to par these days. Some sort of gargoyle disease I’m unfamiliar with. Not that it’s made him appreciate life more. If anything, it’s made him grumpier. So I try and give him a break when a break’s needed.”
God. Did he have to be so stupid-dreamy? “Fair point. I’ll try and do the same.”
Now, he backed away, still grinning. “Anyway, thanks for taking care of Mr. Ferris’s room. If Dr. Valentine doesn’t appreciate it, I definitely do.”
Rocky nodded curtly and turned back to her cart, the sounds of the ICU unit swirling around her, bringing her back to the real world. “You bet, Dr. Khalil.”
“Hudson,” he called after her in cheerful reminder as he swept down the long tiled hall, his footsteps light.
Yeah, yeah. Hudson. As if she could ever forget his name.
As if she hadn’t tried with every fiber of her being.
As she exited the ICU unit to get a broom for Mr. Ferris’s room, leaving the sounds of beeping machinery and the faint smell of Hudson Khalil’s cologne behind, she inhaled deeply, her hands shaking.
This was the first time she’d run into him completely by accident, with no nefarious machinations involved, and she’d managed to get out almost unscathed. “Almost” as in her heart would probably beat irregularly for the next week, but she’d survived the encounter.
Now she just had to keep doing that while she figured out how to keep an eye on Marty’s soul and keep herself out of hot water for the doing.
And the second this was all wrapped up, she was going on vacation.
An extended, sunny, sand-filled, fruity-umbrella-drink vacation with a bunch of humans who didn’t live to be five hundred and look like Hudson Khalil.
Chapter 3
“You want me to what?” Hudson asked the very pregnant, soft-spoken friend of his patient, Marty Flaherty.
As he sat staring at the two women and their husbands from behind his desk, he was torn between their request and a daydream about the gorgeous creature he couldn’t help but feel as though he knew.
He’d thought about her all day long, fighting to pull a possible lost snapshot from his memory.
Her shapely curves and long limbs refused to get out of his head. All that chestnut-brown hair pulled into a messy ponytail that trailed over her shoulder in gleaming red-brown strands and freshly scrubbed peachy skin he wanted to reach out and caress, felt familiar—comfortable, even.
It felt as though, if he reached out and ran a finger over her rounded cheek, she’d welcome his touch, but that made absolutely no sense. Never mind the fact that it was surely a good way to get himself slapped if he tried to test the theory about her claim that they didn’t know each other.
If he’d met her in the years since his last incarnation, he’d certainly remember a woman who had that kind of affect on him, wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t he remember someone who made him want to wrap his arms around her and kiss her until she couldn’t see straight?
Readjusting the chain around his neck, the one he always had when he reincarnated buck naked, he fought to focus on the women and their husbands, but Rocky’s face taunted him from his mind’s eye.
She was so damn familiar.
And speaking of familiar. The name Rocky McNally… That sounded familiar, too. So why did her name sound familiar? Why did she feel so familiar? Why did she smell so good and why was her raspberries-and-pear scent one he was certain he’d encountered before?
And Rocky wasn’t the only person he’d seen lately who looked familiar, who’s identity felt like it was on the tip of his tongue, yet he couldn’t place them. In the bar where he’d first met these women, he’d casually bumped into a much older guy that he’d swear he knew as he’d elbowed his way to grab a drink.
Maybe his lives were beginning to overlap, and he was just running into souls who had also reincarnated, who he’d known in a previous life?
How the hell could he know if he couldn’t remember his previous lives?
“Um, hello, Birdman?” Nina crowed, slapping her palm against the top of his desk. “You with us here?”
“Nina!” her friend Wanda chastised with a hand to Nina’s arm. “If we were hoping to entice the good Dr. Khalil into helping us, yelling surely isn’t the way.” Then she leaned in
, her teeth clenched. “Now, knock it the heck off and play nice. Oh, and quit swearing, you troglodyte.”
Hudson fought an inappropriate chuckle. Nina was a full-on beast, an amusing one, but a beast nonetheless. He’d already heard the nicknames they’d given him—like Birdman, because he was a phoenix, and Dr. Sexypants—both of which privately cracked him up.
Even though they’d met under difficult circumstances, and they were pushy and demanding, he’d never regret meeting them.
Karaoke wasn’t usually his thing, but he hadn’t been responsible for choosing the bar. His colleague, Dr. Harris from Neurology, suggested it, and he’d been more than happy to grab a night out, away from the hospital. It didn’t matter where they landed as long as there was a whiskey neat and some cheese sticks involved.
He’d like to kiss the guy who’d invented cheese sticks.
His first introduction to these women hadn’t been when Marty had her heart attack, it had been when Wanda, swollen with child, had taken the mic and sung a pretty hysterical rendition of “Rappers Delight” along with Nina, and while there was no way he’d do it himself, he’d laughed and clapped the entire time they’d been onstage.
But it was the moment Marty had fallen to the floor during “Push It” when Nina’s true nature was revealed.
When he’d been in the height of compressions on Marty, she’d hovered over him like fried on chicken. Nothing was going to happen to her friend if she had anything to say about the matter, and when she’d scooped up Marty and bolted off to the hospital, he’d been more than a little impressed.
Color him surprised when he’d found out they were the infamous women of OOPS he’d heard so much about over the years.
These women were really something else, and each day he bore witness to the wave in which they descended upon the hospital, his admiration grew. He not only admired but maybe even envied their fierce dedication to Marty.
They never wavered. No matter how tired they were. No matter how frustrated, Marty had never spent a single moment alone since she’d been in his team’s care.
Marty's Horrible, Terrible, Very Bad Day Page 3