Holy shit! How did such a soft, sultry voice coming out of such a tiny creature? It was smooth as silk and laced with a sexy southern drawl that made his cock instantly hard and upright. He remembered her plates—Georgia—which made her a sexy southern peach. That got him thinking in a whole other direction. Damn!
Clearing his throat, he tried to collect himself to speak intelligently. “You’re parked behind 2320. The main entrance is on the other side, along Brookside Drive.”
She whirled an about-face, her ponytail swirling around her shoulders, as she looked at the building in question, then back at the paper in her hand. At this distance, her movements sent a whisper of mouthwatering strawberry into the air. She hadn’t doused herself in fragrance as some women tended to do. This was soft, subtle, just a hint that tickled his nose, sending his libido into overdrive.
Damn it, man, get it together. It had been a long, dry spell, but he had more control than this.
“Hm, Brookside Drive isn’t even on this map.” Turning back to him, she shrugged. “Well, thanks a bunch. I have a really important appointment in the morning and just wanted to scope things out so I know exactly where I’m going.” Tilting her head to the side, she flashed him a bright smile. Her small hand came to rest on his forearm, where she gave it a small squeeze before stepping away. “Thanks again, sugar. I’ll let you go.”
She whipped around and walked away as his phone rang. His first glimpse of her ass staggered him. An ass man of the first order, he loved curvy and Miss Georgia filled out her little white shorts as if they had been made to order, hugging every contour that made up her glorious backside. Her hips rolled seductively as she moved across the lot. Once again, his phone rang. As he dug the annoyingly persistent noise box out of his suddenly tight nylon shorts, his eyes tracked her back to the red Jeep as she climbed in. With one bare shapely leg still out the door, she leaned over to grasp the door handle and paused briefly, her head angled sideways as she cast him a long, thoughtful look and flashed a brief smile. Then she was gone, driving out of his life, seemingly forever.
Adjusting his painful erection to a less binding position did little good when his thoughts were filled with ripe round tits, a full rounded ass, juicy strawberries and peaches. He wondered how perverse was fate to have created the most perfect walking wet dream, only to plant her on the earth over eight hundred miles away—might as well be fucking Timbuktu. He swore again softly, as his phone rang yet again, no longer to be ignored.
Thumbing the screen, he barked at the unlucky caller on the other end. “Dr. Trent is on call, so this better be good.”
Silence.
“Hello?” Jared asked.
“Rough day at the office, sweetheart?”
“Fuck you, Trent.”
The laughing voice on the other end belonged to his partner, Marcus Trent, and was annoyingly energetic considering Marc had already performed three surgeries that day.
“You want to meet for dinner? I’ve got two more consults but I’m starved.”
“I was just heading for the gym.”
“You gotta eat.”
“Yes, Mom,” he said with a long, drawn-out sigh. “It will have to be casual, though. I’ve already changed.”
“How about the deli on Telegraph and Square Lake?”
“I’ll be there in ten.”
“Everything okay, bud? You sound distracted.”
“I saw the most unbelievable woman just now.”
“Hot damn, did you get her number?”
“Yeah, but it was printed on Georgia plates.”
“Shit luck, bud. You can tell me all about it over dinner. Trent out.”
What a goofball, Jared thought, shaking his head as he thumbed off the phone and slammed the tailgate shut. At least he didn’t say ‘peace out’ anymore. His best friend since grade school, Marc was like a brother to him. They’d grown up together, gone through the trauma of puberty and high school together and played football; Jared’s tight end to Marc’s middle linebacker. After graduation, they headed off to Ann Arbor where they were roommates, chose the same major, and pledged at the same fraternity.
Afterward, it was off to New York and Columbia where they attended medical school and completed their residencies. Except for the year they’d done their orthopedic surgical fellowships on opposite ends of the country, they’d been inseparable. Now, they were back home in West Bloomfield Hills and living out their dream of a thriving private practice together. Life was good, he thought as an image of sapphire blue eyes and a belly ring flashed in his mind, but it could definitely be better.
* * *
Watching the traffic flowing briskly on busy Telegraph Rd., Marc didn’t notice the waitress refilling his coffee cup.
“Ready to order, hon?”
He looked up in surprise. Lillian’s peeling and battered nametag had seen better days, and by the look of the bearer, so had she. To tell the truth, the poor woman looked dead on her feet, the same way he felt after a twelve-hour day in surgery. They had that in common, the only difference about $500,000 per year. He smiled kindly at her, taking in her frazzled appearance, the hair that had long since slipped from the bun that had most likely been neat and together when she started her day and the stained and wrinkled uniform which had been clean and neatly pressed at one time, he was sure. Judging her to be in her early fifties, he could see she still had a nice figure and her thick auburn hair was sprinkled with only a few grays. Her sky blue eyes, probably clear and bright in her youth, were dull and sad. He could tell that she had once been stunning, but that life hadn’t been easy for her. He wondered what she was like when she wasn’t bogged down with the stress of serving a diner full of demanding customers.
“Long day?” Marc asked sympathetically.
“Pulling a double, but that’s par for the course around here. The tips are good and with the hospital right around the corner, we get a lot of handsome young doctors like you, so who’s complaining.”
Marc smiled graciously at the compliment.
“My daughter just hired on at St. Joe’s. She’s a registered nurse. You might know her.”
“Yeah? Is she as pretty as her mother? If so, I’ll need her name and number stat.”
Lillian blushed, smiling at the unexpected compliment. Smiling was something he knew instinctively she didn’t do often enough.
“Oh, you are a charmer. Her name is Jessica and she’s a redhead, a little shorter than I am and much more, uh… well, voluptuous is a good word for Jessie. She just started in surgery about a week ago.” Lillian eyed his name embroidered on his lab coat, which covered his scrubs. “She’s having dinner at the counter.”
His eyes followed the direction of her pencil as she pointed, but he didn’t see a redhead, only a large man on a corner stool, a hot blonde in killer white shorts, and a long line of interested men on stools watching as the blonde paid for her to-go order.
“I’ll tell her to watch out for Dr. Trent. You’re not married, are you?”
“Married?” Jared laughed as he slid into the opposite side of the booth. “No woman would put up with this putz.”
“Butt out, I’m getting fixed up.” Marc winked outrageously at the older woman who was staring at Jared contemplatively.
“You’re a doctor too, aren’t you? I’ve seen you here for lunch before wearing scrubs.”
“Guilty as charged. I’m the better, handsomer, more talented doctor. Who are you fixing him up with?”
“Her pretty, curvy, redheaded daughter,” Marc growled mockingly, “so once again, butt out, butthead.”
Lillian laughed, giving Jared a once-over. “Two handsome charmers… Jessie’s going to have to be on her toes. I’ll tell her to be on the lookout for both of you.”
As the bells on the diner door jangled, another customer called for Lillian’s attention and she held up a finger asking for patience. “The natives are getting restless. I had better get a move on. S
o what can I get you?”
A minute later, she was off with their order.
“So tell me about the Georgia peach.”
“I’ll see her long blond ponytail and painted-on white shorts in my dreams tonight. I think she had a belly ring, too.”
“Hm… Did she drive a red Jeep, by any chance?”
Jared stared at him in shock. “How did you know?”
“You just missed her, bud, but the eight gawking guys at the counter didn’t. Nine if you count me.”
“You are shittin’ me.”
“Nope, small world, huh?
“It doesn’t matter and there’s no point in dreaming. I’m sure I’ll never see her again, which is exactly my shitty luck with women.”
Jared had been through so many bad dates and hookups that he had pretty much taken himself off the market to concentrate on work, instead. An occasional date here and there, but if Marc’s memory was accurate, it had been well over a year since he’d had anything serious.
“Have you seen any new redheaded nurses at St. Joe’s?”
“Nope, but a pretty curvy redhead sounds to be right up my alley about now.”
“Bullshit. You like tall with a great ass, Jare. I know your type after seeing you in action all these years.”
“First, I was joking. Second, I didn’t know I had a particular type. And third, I’ve come to the conclusion recently, today as a matter of fact, that like they say, good things come in small packages.”
“If you use that line on women, no wonder you haven’t had a second date in a while. The words ‘small package’ is not something I’d figure they’d want to hear.”
Jared snorted and shook his head. “Good thing you have a day job, because as a comedian, your material sucks.”
Marc laughed. Jared was what women called the strong, silent type. Some women fell for that hard. He was a great guy, but more serious than Marc who was usually joking, laughing, and flirting. Marc loved the ladies, but he found that working sixteen-hour days between the OR and the clinic, severely limited his dating options. Cruising for chicks at the usual places was difficult enough, but when you had little time or energy, it became next to impossible.
With his options narrowed, he’d begun doing what he’d been warned not to do. That’s right; he’d dipped his pen in the company ink. At least that was the nicest euphemism he knew for dating co-workers and associates. There was a reason companies had a no-fraternization policy, Marc had only recently found out.
Over the course of the past year, there had been a nurse and another doctor. His latest fling with a cute nurse’s aide named Amanda had ended a few weeks ago. She had been on the rebound from her old boyfriend when Marc asked her out. She’d been open about it at the time, and although both had reservations, they’d gone out. After a few enjoyable dates, Amanda had ended it. Once her ex-boyfriend, Joe or was it John? Whichever… Once he’d found out she was moving on and had upgraded to a surgeon, he’d come crawling back. Amanda wanted that as well, because—big surprise—Joe or John was the father of her three-year-old daughter. She’d told Marc all of this over a friendly lunch in the hospital cafeteria, ending their brief fling without drama or incident, or so they thought—big mistake. By the next day, the gossip mill was churning out a rumor so highly steeped in bullshit that even reality TV wouldn’t have bought it. Something about a broken-hearted Amanda, begging him to change his mind, which had deteriorated into a shouting match. None of which had even remotely happened.
Marc had seen firsthand that the high-velocity hospital grapevine, although grossly inaccurate, was terrifyingly efficient, and gossip, especially dating and break-up gossip, spread like wildfire. Jared had warned him from the first. He could still hear him saying, ‘Don’t foul your own nest, man. Nothing good can come of it.’ To Marc, this had translated to the more vulgar but much more widely known, ‘don’t shit where you eat.’ Had he listened? No.
Jared’s father, who was also a surgeon on staff at the hospital, had run into him in the hallway after the Amanda incident and warned him. “Don’t get your honey where you get your money, son. I thought Jared would have warned you about that by now.” Of course he had, numerous times, but apparently, most everyone else took this to heart except him.
He had decided, after Amanda, that Jared and the old adages were right; no more dating anyone who worked at or was associated with St. Joseph’s Mercy Hospital. He was through.
A movement at the counter caught Marc’s eye and brought him back to the present. The large man at the counter was heading out, which meant Marc now had a clear view of the entire counter. At the far end sat a stunning redhead deep in conversation with their waitress, Lillian. This had to be the daughter. From what he could see of her—that wasn’t blocked by the counter—her mother hadn’t lied, except she was stunning, not merely pretty. He noticed right off that she talked with her hands. Her rounder parts bounced deliciously as she gestured, intent on making a point while she spoke animatedly with her mother. He couldn’t pull his eyes away. They dipped, taking in her spectacular behind when she stood abruptly. Leaning across the counter for a quick hug made her shirt ride up and the small of her back was displayed. Marc’s eyes widened next when she straightened and a band of smooth white belly was exposed below her tee. She was magnificent and those tits—double D in his expert opinion—made his mouth water. His dick stirred and awakened.
“What are you gawking at?” Jared asked, turning in his seat. His soft whistle told him he’d identified the gawkee. They both watched, catching no more than a glimpse of her walking away, but oh hell, what a glimpse it was. As she walked toward the door, the swing in her hips drew Marc’s avid gaze to her exceptional ass. Moving quickly, her short skirt flared and twitched provocatively. In seconds she was gone, exiting by the side door, but her memory lingered for Marc.
“Poor bastard,” Jared murmured in sympathy.
“Yeah, that’s the sad story of our lives, bud, beautiful women walking away.”
“At least yours doesn’t live 800 fucking miles away.”
* * *
Gray scrubs with a small band of pink at the v-neckline, ugh! Who had picked out this awful color combination? Jessica Swanson looked at herself as she tucked her mass of red hair under the blue scrub cap. Next came her shoe protectors—these were yellow. Oh well, surgical nursing had never promised to be fashionable.
She walked into the scrub room and began her thorough five-minute scrub. While she was scrubbing with the brush under and around her nails, Josie, the nurse who had been training her, walked in. Jessie, although always thorough, became a bit more diligent because Josie was also the clinical leader for the OR and her immediate supervisor.
“Are you ready for your solo, Jess?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“I assigned you to Dr. Trent this morning. He’s very patient. You should be fine. The total hip replacement is routine and you should be out in a little over an hour. After that, you have two scopes with Dr. Baker. All in all, it’s an easy day.”
“I hope so. Can I hope for an uneventful one too?” Finished, Jessie stepped off the foot pedal that operated the flow of water and headed for the swinging door, one of the few things not automated at this top-ranked hospital.
“We pray for uneventful every day around here. Break a leg.”
Jess laughed as she pressed her butt against the door and backed into OR-4 where she’d been assigned. “Don’t you mean, fix a leg? Mr. Archer already took care of the breaking part before coming in.”
Josie laughed as if she’d never heard that old joke before. Jessie, who appreciated her effort, shook her head and chuckled as she was greeted by one of the surgical techs who tied her mask in place. Once gowned, she immediately walked over and began setting up the instruments as Josie had shown her. About twenty minutes later, the patient arrived. Mr. Archer was a charming 70-year-old whom she’d met in the pre-op area. He was here for an electi
ve procedure, which if successful, would relieve the constant pain from his degenerating hip. After a few weeks of rehab and barring post-op complications, he would be more mobile than before with an improved quality of life. He was rolled in and transferred to the table by the technicians. She approached him, smiling with her eyes, eager to put him at ease.
“Are you ready to go bionic, Mr. Archer?”
“Oh, Jessie, it’s nice to see a familiar—” He paused as his nervous eyes swept over her mask and scrub cap. “I was going to say face, but I can only see your eyes, and yours are some of the bluest I’ve ever seen.”
“Such a flatterer, but I thank you. Just relax now while we finish up with the preparations.” Her eyes flicked to the nurse anesthetist who was getting ready near the head of the table. After a few seconds more, she was ready and nodded an okay. “Looks like Sherry is ready to make you sleepy as soon as the tardy Dr. Trent arrives.”
Looking down into his face, she saw the anxiety stamped in the tight lines around his mouth. She wanted to reach out and squeeze his shoulder in reassurance, but she couldn’t break the sterile field. She clenched her hands into tight fists in self-restraint. “Don’t worry, Mr. Archer. Dr. Trent has an excellent reputation and before you know it you’ll be kicking his ass on the links again at Forest Hills.”
Her patient laughed as she’d hoped, as did the other OR staff, then a new voice came from behind her. “Have you been dissing my handicap, Arthur? I’m crushed. In front of my new scrub nurse too.”
Jessie assumed it was Dr. Trent, but she didn’t turn to confirm it since he was standing too close. If she turned around and brushed against him, she could contaminate them both and they’d have to re-scrub. Wouldn’t that be a wonderful impression to make on her first day? She stood still, keeping her eyes on the older man’s face as his gaze lifted well over her head. Dr. Trent must be tall. Her curiosity was killing her, but she waited. In due time, they’d meet officially.
“Jessie says I’ll be kicking your ass again, Marc. I trust her, so you had better be saving your pennies for tournament time in September.”
Sweet Salvation Page 2