On the way home, she called Marcy. Again, expressing regret for the f’d up interview. As sweet as ever, Marcy had brushed aside her apology and offered her wishes for a speedy recovery. She wouldn’t hear of her crazy idea of returning to work the next day and promptly told her she’d see her Monday and hung up.
A half hour later, knee throbbing painfully from working the gas pedal and clutch in her vehicle—much more difficult in metropolitan stop-and-go traffic than walking by far—she eased back onto her couch. She’d changed into shorts, grabbed a bottled water and a big pack of ice, popped four ibuprofen and a prescription antianxiety pill (the near-miss attack or flashback too close for comfort) and now was ready for some serious couch time. Her head hadn’t even hit the pillow before the doorbell rang. Dammit!
At first, she ignored it but then the persistent knocking started. Sighing in exasperation at her unwelcome and very tenacious visitor, she hauled her ass back off the couch. The bell rang again.
“I’m coming! Hold your horses, for crying out loud.” Unable to raise up on tiptoe to check the peephole, she recklessly mumbled ‘screw it’ and threw the locks. When she opened the door, her jaw dropped, because there in her doorway stood a very gorgeous and very pissed off Jared Baker. His jaw was clenched tight and his eyes flashed gray steel. Gray? She had thought his eyes were green.
He barged past her and slammed the door shut. “Do you have a hearing problem?”
“Uh, no.” What a strange question.
“Just checking, so that I’m clear on all points, because if your hearing is intact, I have to assume you are intentionally pissing me off by disregarding my orders.”
“Orders?” Taken aback, she frowned. “Wait just a doggone minute—”
He didn’t miss a beat as he spoke over her protest. “Yes, orders. I am not used to my patients or employees totally ignoring my orders. Twice I told you to stay put and twice you disobeyed me. Imagine my surprise—both times—when I returned expecting to find the woman I was responsible for injuring, gone. I wasted valuable time searching for you, by the way.”
His tone pissed her off. Seriously? He’d run into her. This was really all his fault and that remark about his valuable time really irked her. What was it with doctors and their egos? Just because he held an illustrious degree and had some initials behind his name made his time more valuable than anyone else’s? Ha! Here’s some initials for ya—KMA—kiss my ass! She’d missed a half day’s work already because of him and would be losing two more of her few paid days off recovering from his carelessness. What a jerk!
Of course, she wanted to tell him all that, but her manners and the fact that he was her boss made her stop short of telling him off and throwing him out.
“So sorry to have wasted your valuable time, Doctor; next time maybe you should plow into me after office hours.”
He glared at her smartass comment, but she didn’t care, although she toned it down a bit.
“Look. I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you, but the first time Marcy found me and lent a hand. Should I have told her to go on and sat alone in the hallway with my knee aching and swelling until you decided to come back for me? I was already late for my interview so excuse me for taking care of myself. This last time, I thought we were done. I had my prescription and encounter form already and you had left.”
“When I tell you to wait, I expect you to wait.”
“Do you treat all of your patients this way, Dr. Baker? If so, I’m amazed you have any at all.”
He ignored her, again although when he spoke again his tone was much more reasonable. “I expect my patients to follow doctor’s orders, Georgia.”
“Good to know what you expect, but I chose to leave. You were obviously busy and they were paging you.”
“That is a constant during clinic hours. I was making arrangements to see you home.”
Did he mean he was going to see her home personally? Surely, he was going to pass that off on a flunky, or call her a cab. Maybe it was because he felt responsible… or maybe he meant more. If so, did she want that? She needed to get a grip and stop projecting her feelings onto him. Just because she was attracted to the big overbearing jerk, didn’t mean he felt the same way. He was her boss anyway and getting personal was not a very good idea.
“Well, thank you for your concern, but as you can see I made it just fine on my own.” She started to open the door, a not-too-subtle signal that she was done putting up with his arrogant presence, but his long fingers wrapped around her wrist and he stopped her.
“I noticed your Jeep out front. How was changing gears on that sore knee?”
She grimaced but remained silent.
“That’s what I thought. I am most displeased with you, Georgia.” He slipped an arm around her waist as he said that and practically hauled her to the couch. “If you were my woman and acted so foolishly, you’d be over my knee right about now.”
Stacy gasped. His woman—was he serious? Who talked like that? Was he for real? A tingle shot up her spine and heat blazed intimately somewhat lower. Speechless, she let her boss prop up her leg and set the ice back in place. Then he stood frowning down at her.
“There is no way you had that prescription filled and got home in thirty minutes. Where did you put it?”
She pointed to her breakfast bar. Watching him grab it and her keys, she sat mute in shock as he headed toward the door. “I’ll be back.” After he’d opened the door and turned the mechanism so it would lock behind him, he pointed to where she sat slack-jawed, gaping like a fool. “If you move from that spot before I return, so help me, girlfriend or not, I’ll wear your bare backside out.” The door slammed then and he was gone.
What had just happened? She stared at the closed door for several moments puzzling over this latest in their growing list of bizarre encounters. Dr. Baker, a beautiful man that she barely knew and worked for unknowingly for two years who had technically become her doctor today, had plowed into her again, knocking her to the floor—yet again. That was all surprising, but then he had turned alpha-doctor-boss on her and proceeded to order her around, dug into her private information for her home address, stormed into her apartment, taken her keys and dared her to move by threat of a bare-bottomed spanking. Considering the professional, ethical, and potentially legal violations, Stacy found it all highly peculiar and stalker-esque, but for some strange reason also highly arousing.
Her mind retraced all the events of the day, mulling them around and before she knew it, having no clearer understanding of what was going on, a key sounded in the lock. He had returned, carrying a brown shopping bag and a set of crutches. Without a word, he walked to her kitchen and started unloading.
“That’s a mighty big bag for one little prescription bottle. What did you do?”
“I picked up a few necessities to get you through the next few days.”
“That was nice but you didn’t have to.”
His steely gaze seared into her, giving her an intense look of warning for several long moments before he returned to his task. Obviously, he felt that he had to. She watched him unload a loaf of bread, deli meat of some kind, some chips, bottled water, a small pack of cookies and Tylenol. Once it was all put away, he picked up the crutches and walked—well, more like stalked—to her side.
“You left before you could be fitted with these.”
“Are those necessary, I did fine—”
“Quiet. You are under doctor’s orders, which means until further notice, I am in charge here.”
“With all due respect, Dr. Baker, I think you’re overstepping your boundaries, not to mention violating your Hippocratic Oath, and to be quite honest, you’re scaring me a little bit.” It was true; she was alone and vulnerable in her apartment with an irritated man who was at least twice her size.
Giving her another scorching look, he went on, although in a much gentler tone. “I need you to stand so I can fit these to your height.” Without wa
iting for her to move, his large hands slid beneath her armpits and he lifted her off the couch.
Ticklish, she squirmed involuntarily. “You know, Doc, your bedside manner needs work.”
“Back at you, patient, your compliance sucks. Now stand still while I fit these. I’ve got a meeting in thirty minutes.”
She did as she was told, a first with him, but she was usually a cooperative person and patient. Instructing her not to bear weight on her injured side, he adjusted the aluminum crutches.
“Ever used these before?”
“No.”
“It’s not as easy as people think and they take a bit of getting used to.” He pushed back her coffee table and moved her heavy recliner easily. Standing at her side, he began his lesson. “First, lean forward slightly and place the crutches about a foot in front of you. Shift your weight to the crutches and sway forward. Swing your good leg forward until it’s between the crutches and can take your weight and repeat. Now give it a try.”
Awkward at first, she took a few tentative steps.
“Good, but you don’t have to hold your injured leg up though. Just touch your toes for balance, no pressure and don’t put the crutches so far ahead of you. Use small strides. Try again.”
A few more attempts had her getting the knack and soon she had circled her small living room.
“Very good.” Jared helped her back down on the couch, resituated her knee on the pillows and replaced the ice pack. He went to the kitchen next, returning with her prescription bottle, two bottles of water, a sandwich, and a bag of chips and cookies. He arranged everything on her coffee table and handed her the remote for her TV. Crouching by her side, he looked at her with a firm expression. “Take the pills with food or they will upset your stomach.”
“Yes, sir.”
He smiled at her, the first of the day.
“What?”
“Nothing important right now, I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll return around six o’clock to check on you and make you dinner. Other than going to the bathroom or refilling your ice pack, you have what you need and shouldn’t have to get up. I expect you to rest that knee and will be most disagreeable if I find that you haven’t.”
Unless I narc myself out. How on earth would he know?
He arched a brow and said softly, “I will be able to tell by the swelling if you don’t, Georgia. Don’t test me.”
She frowned, but nodded; it was like he could read her thoughts. This man was far too perceptive and way too bossy. He shocked her the next moment by leaning in and kissing her full on the lips. As kisses go, it was soft and sweet—no tongue or wetness, just a brushing of his warm lips. Still, it was wonderful.
Raising his head slightly, he looked at her, his eyes a soft laurel green. Green! Was she cracking up?
“Don’t be afraid of me, honey. I just want to see you taken care of.” His hand rose to her cheek and his thumb swept out, lightly grazing her jawline before he stood.
She found herself looking up at him, noting the softer expression on his face, and melted just a bit inside.
He ruined it all in the next instant by holding up her keys. “I’ll just hold onto these to eliminate temptation. Be good, Georgia.”
She made a strangled noise of protest. “My name is Stacy and this is going beyond the call of duty, Doctor, bordering on criminal. You can’t keep taking my keys.”
“Watch me.” He gave her a meaningful look, and just as quickly, he was gone. It seemed he was always riling her up, then walking away. Infuriating man.
An image from two years ago popped in her head. It was the day of her initial interview with Southeast Orthopedic and Sports Medicine, Inc. She’d been riled up that day as well, but for a different reason. As she’d sat in her car, recovering from the panic that had almost kept her from her interview, she had seen him, once again walking away.
She’d been people-watching, waiting for the clock to switch to 8:55, trying to get her mind off the bad memories and the upcoming interview. A bright flash of light off to the side had caught her attention as a sweet silver BMW convertible pulled into the lot. It had parked in the reserved spaces across from her, and as she watched, a tall man with dark brown hair got out. No, not boring brown. It gleamed in the mid-morning sun, picking up shades of dark gold and reds, more like mocha or mahogany. No… it was chestnut. He was wearing blue scrubs and appeared to be in a rush.
Then she had caught a glimpse of his face as he briefly turned her way—Wolverine. She caught her breath, this time for a completely different reason.
This was the third time she’d seen him. What were the odds? She had decided he must work there, and between the expensive vehicle and perfectly tailored suits, she had assumed he was a doctor, or maybe one of the therapists, or possibly one of those high paid pharmaceutical reps. The last option had made her wrinkle her nose—glorified salesmen.
No, scratch that. He was in scrubs, so he was definitely medical. She had watched as he locked his car and walked toward the far building. As he strode purposefully toward his destination, Stacy’s eyes eagerly gobbled up the sight of him. His shirt hugged him tightly across the shoulders, not bursting at the seams but tight enough so she could see that well-defined muscles—and lots of them—lay underneath. With his back to her, she also had a nice view of his tight butt in snug scrub pants. He was quite yummy, but before she could look her fill, he was gone. Her eyes flicked to the dash. It was 8:58, and she had two minutes to get inside.
Crap! Go figure. Gawking at Wolverine eye candy, not a dad-burned panic attack, was going to make her late.
Looking back, it seemed that in addition to using her for WWE takedown practice, the sexy young doctor had a bad habit of making her late.
* * *
The sun had set by the time Jared arrived back at Stacy’s apartment. As he pulled into her lot, he glanced around with an objective in mind—her safety. Not a bad neighborhood, but it got a lot of noise from the I-75/I-696 interchange. There was also no security, which for a woman living alone was far from ideal. He’d take care of making sure she was safe and secure, for her sake as well as his own peace of mind. They were involved now, although she didn’t know it yet, but he’d see to that soon as well. There was something, be it fate or happenstance, that kept throwing them together. Although she’d irritated him today with the risks she’d taken with her knee, there was so much about her that pleased him. Not just her looks, which held great appeal, but her wit and grace, the way she challenged him even though he was more than twice her size, and her southern twang, which was charming and sexy as hell.
Using her keys to let himself in, he paused, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness of the apartment. Although approaching dusk, it was still light outside but the heavy drapes made her place dark as a tomb. In the quiet, he heard her soft breathing from the couch. Something rubbed against his leg. Looking down, he was surprised to see a fluffy white Persian winding leisurely around his ankles. Where had it been before? Of course, he should have pegged her for a cat person straight off. Not only because she was cute, graceful, and dainty, but because she was subtle, a bit mysterious, and had an independent streak a mile wide. Shaking his head ruefully, he quietly made his way to the kitchen and started their supper. Twenty minutes later the pasta was almost done with the sauce set on simmer, the French bread was in the oven on warm, and he was ready to wake her up.
“Georgia.” His first attempt didn’t penetrate and he tried again, laying a hand softly on her shoulder. “Stacy?”
“Mm… five more minutes.”
He chuckled. She sounded just like a kid asking her mom to sleep in. “It’s time to wake up, honey, dinner is ready.”
She rolled to her back and stretched a moment before her eyes flew open and she tensed. Her eyes darted quickly around the room, obviously confirming her surroundings before she pushed to a seated position. A grimace passed over her face as the movement jarred her injury.
&n
bsp; “It’s going to hurt for a few days. I’m really very sorry.”
Her eyes flickered to his face and she frowned. “Who are you and what have you done with Jared Baker?”
She was referring to his surly behavior from earlier; not his best moment, he knew. “I’m sorry for being a grouch earlier too. I’m afraid I get that way when my patients don’t follow orders.”
“You mean you’re not usually bossy, autocratic and, oh yeah, a car thief?”
Although her message was clearly crabby, her tone was soft and husky from sleep, and the way she stretched like a contented kitten, warm and cuddly from a nap, was certainly not congruent with her sass. The confusing little cat had claws. When faced with his anger, she’d stood up to him and had given as good as she got. This he found amusing to a point, up until she’d placed her health at risk. He remembered the look on her face when he’d taken her keys. It was almost as priceless as the shocked look when he’d kissed her. Both were bold moves on his part, but he recognized a vulnerability in her that screamed for someone to take charge and take care of her. Not that she wasn’t doing all right on her own; she was a successful professional and showed the world a strong, capable exterior, but there was something underlying, an emotional frailty—maybe defenselessness was a better term—either way, it made the protective side of him emerge and he felt an instinctive need to care for and protect her. Still he planned to move cautiously.
“I brought the keys back and your Jeep was safe and sound in its space all day, so I’m only guilty on two of those counts.”
She snorted, evidently not awake enough to debate with him. Sitting up straight, she inhaled. “Something smells wonderful. You cooked?”
“Guilty of that as well. I hope you like Italian.”
“Doesn’t everyone?” She started to get up.
“Uh-uh! Where are your crutches?”
“I hate them. They hurt my arms and I’m about as graceful as a pup on a frozen pond.”
The image of a puppy scrambling for purchase on a slick icy surface made him chuckle. She had an interesting way of putting things.
Sweet Salvation Page 5