Baby Miracle in the ER

by Sue MacKay

  Five to nine. How was he going to fill in the hours till Stephanie got up? How long would she sleep? She’d told Zac she’d take him for another walk later in the day. She hadn’t told him anything more than that she’d change the dressings again when she got up. Oh, yeah, there’d been mention of a shopping trip before dinner.

  Dinner. Now, there was a challenge. What if he put a meal together? It wasn’t as though he didn’t know his way around the kitchen. He just never bothered for himself. But Steph should eat a proper meal before leaving for work. He only had one working hand at the moment, but surely it couldn’t be too difficult to create something.

  Shoving himself up off the couch, he felt pain shooting through his leg, and that had him questioning the ridiculous idea and reminding him why he was here and not at work in the ED. Tough. He’d give it his best. He had all day.

  Zac lumbered to his feet and followed, getting in the way in the kitchen, bumping into Michael’s injured leg. Gasping, Michael tripped, put weight on that leg, felt pain in the wound. The air turned blue.

  Zac sat on his haunches, his tongue lolling and his eyes fixed on Michael, oblivious to the problem he’d caused.

  Sinking onto a kitchen chair, Michael wiped the sweat off his brow and breathed deep, absorbing the pain, and worked to ease the tightness in his thigh muscles.

  Talk about being a geriatric. This was ridiculous. In his rugby days whenever he’d got knocked down he shrug the pain aside and get up to continue running around the paddock. He was not as fit as he’d been then, for sure. Using the gym and going for runs was not the same as the hours and hours he and his teammates had put in to keep their bodies in tip-top condition.

  ‘You all right?’ Stephanie swished into the kitchen, an empty glass in hand, thick bathrobe wrapped around her body, hiding all those superb curves he adored.

  ‘Sure.’

  As she filled the glass from the fridge water dispenser she studied him. ‘You’re very pale.’

  ‘Hard to get a tan in winter.’

  ‘Smart Aleck.’ There was a hint of a smile on those luscious lips.

  ‘You been asleep at all?’

  ‘Not yet. I find it hard, being out of routine. It’s years since I did nights, and I was never good at sleeping during the day.’ She sat down beside him, with no sign of the funk that had been gripping her before. ‘Let me look at that leg.’

  ‘It’s fine.’

  ‘As any red-blooded, full-of-testosterone male would say.’

  ‘Sometimes I think you forget that I’m a doctor and quite capable of dealing with my own injuries.’

  But he was already tugging his track pants down to his knees. Oh, so sexy... Track pants were not a turn-on. Definitely more comfortable at the moment, though. That thigh did not need fitted trousers holding it tight, and nor did another part of his anatomy that had a tendency to get hyped up whenever Steph was close.

  Which was why he’d slipped a pair of boxers on when he’d got up. Having Stephanie noticing his apparatus while she changed dressings wouldn’t be good. Especially as said apparatus had a tendency to tighten, thicken, and show its feelings for her without any input from his brain. He leaned forward, arms folded low over his abdomen in case that particular reaction got carried away now.

  ‘Since we’re looking at it, I’ll change the dressing and save the discomfort later.’

  She was so gentle removing the gauze pad he didn’t feel a thing. But then he was concentrating on not noticing how her thick hair fell over her cheek, and on not breathing in that honey scent. He cursed silently. Reaction happening.

  ‘Do you think you could make me a cup of tea?’ Now. Immediately.

  ‘Give me a minute and I’ll put the kettle on.’

  A minute? That was a lifetime in this condition.

  ‘Great.’ Not.

  In a minute he was going to be tied up with need. Need that overrode everything else his body was feeling as those gentle fingers cleaned a smear of blood from the stitches holding him together. That was what he needed to stay strong and sane—stitches in his head. Talk about going stark raving mad...

  What could he talk about that was totally unrelated to skin and fingers and tightening muscles? ‘Do you eat pasta?’

  Ouch. Her finger had slipped, rubbed the top of some of the stitches. Served him right.

  ‘Love it.’

  Love what? Oh, pasta. Of course. ‘Then that’s what I’ll make.’

  ‘Pardon? Michael, are you all right?’ She laid her palm on his forehead. ‘No temperature,’ she quipped. ‘But it seems you’ve forgotten I’m here because you can’t get around easily. You sure can’t make pasta. Unless... I get it. Where’s the menu? I’ll pick what I want and you phone the order in later with yours.’

  That palm was soft, warm, soothing...not to mention downright sexy. Who knew his forehead could feel hot and intense and needy from Stephanie’s touch? Not him. But then around Steph he was learning about quite a few things he’d never have believed possible. Like how he wanted to make her a meal to show how much he appreciated having her here while he was incapacitated, how happy it made him to know she cared enough to be in his house when she clearly didn’t want to be.

  ‘Michael? Menu?’

  ‘There isn’t one.’

  He loved how her eyes widened, that brown shade looking soft and gooey, like caramel melting in a pan. Or was that his stomach feeling gooey? Like a besotted kid dealing with puppy love?

  ‘Now I know I can’t go back to bed. You’ll get up to something that’s not good for your wrist or your leg if I do.’

  A smile broke out, lifting her cheeks, lightening those eyes further. Warming his insides, sending his heart into some strange unknown rhythm, giving him hope. Hope? For what? A future different from the one he’d known since that promise to his dad? One where everything worked out? A future with Stephanie in it permanently?

  She did this to him. Rattled him, knocked his beliefs sideways so he rethought everything he lived by. She wasn’t good for him, pushing his boundaries wide.

  Stephanie was so close the corners of their chairs touched. He only had to lean forward a little, use his good hand to gently pull her nearer and then put a finger under her chin to lift her head and those full smiling lips were right there, under his mouth, startled into silence, into inaction.

  His mouth was on hers, kissing her as though this was his last kiss ever, giving everything he had, taking whatever she had to offer. As her lips softened under his he relaxed and gave up trying to remain in control of his manhood...of anything. No point. He was going with it for all it was worth—enjoying the moment, forgetting the consequences.

  Pain tore through his leg.

  Michael jerked back, gulped, bit down on the oath rolling across his tongue. What the—? This was the worst pain yet.

  ‘Zac, move away.’ Steph stood up fast, her chair rocking back as she reached for the dog’s collar and tugged him aside. ‘Keep away from Michael’s leg.’

  Her eyes glistened as she hovered next to Michael.

  ‘I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought him with me.’

  ‘What else were you supposed to do?’

  The dog was her pet—she couldn’t give him back for a few days even if there was someone to return him to.

  Deep breath, keep everything normal. ‘Don’t worry. These things happen. He doesn’t understand.’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  He reached for her free hand, threaded his fingers between hers. Hadn’t they just experienced the most amazing, heart-stopping kiss? Forget the blasted dog.

  ‘Yes, but nothing. I’m fine.’

  Physically he was in agony. Mentally he wasn’t any better.

  When Patricia had left him he’d known he’d never risk marriage again. Divorce was in the genes. So was taking responsibility ser
iously. While Carly had now gone offshore and seemed happy and content, wasn’t getting into major difficulties, he knew that could change any day. But it was Chantelle who gave him the most concern. She pushed herself too hard and the cracks were starting to appear. He had to be there for her, and more importantly for Aaron, if everything turned to custard again.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d got so far with sorting out her life and then gone off the rails. He had to admit that this time she did seem to have more control over her emotions. And if that was so he might be able to have some life for himself. But he still couldn’t risk hurting Stephanie and breaking his own heart as well.

  He was thinking all this while holding Stephanie’s hand. He looked at her, saw uncertainty, but couldn’t let go. He wanted her. Forget all the reasons he’d just put up for not doing this. He wanted her.

  ‘Stephanie?’ Her name slipped off his tongue as easily as melted chocolate.

  Her eyes widened and her fingers tightened briefly around his. Then she stepped away. ‘Not a good idea, Michael.’

  Her tongue slid across her lips, refuting her words. She wanted him. Fire glinted in her eyes.

  ‘I agree. Doesn’t mean we have to be sensible, though.’

  Her hands slapped onto her hips, her fingers white where they dug in. ‘I’m the most sensible woman you’ve ever met.’

  ‘I can change that.’

  Her lips twitched, but the intensity in her eyes didn’t lighten. ‘I know you can, Michael, but it’s not happening.’

  She turned and walked away, down to the bedroom.

  Before he heard the door click shut he’d swear she said, ‘Not today.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SLEEP WOULD BE impossible now. Steph shoved her legs into her jeans, jerked them up, tugged her jersey over her head and dragged a brush through her hair. Her skin was hot, her mouth soft where Michael’s lips had touched hers. Her body throbbed persistently.

  Why had she pulled away?

  Certainly not because she hadn’t wanted his kiss. Quite the opposite. She hadn’t been able to get enough.

  Her finger touched her mouth, circled slowly. The man only had to kiss her to turn her into a blithering wreck. But wasn’t that what she wanted? Yes. Definitely. And more.

  So why was she taking Zac for a walk instead? When she’d decided to make a play for Michael? To try and win him over?

  He’d been kissing her as if he meant to go through with the promise of hot, knee-melting, mind-blanking sex. But she didn’t want sex with Michael. She wanted to make love. Yes, he had been right there, on the same line, but he was aiming to have sex, not make love.

  Short-term for Michael. For ever for her.

  ‘Zac,’ she called as she made her way to the front door, avoiding the kitchen where she presumed Michael still sat. Or not.

  What did it matter? He didn’t need her fussing over his leg at the moment. Sometimes she’d swear he didn’t want her helping at all. But that could be because of what hung in the air between them, what had burst out into the open minutes ago. Did she affect him as he did her? He couldn’t have been thinking straight or he’d never have kissed her in the first place. Having sex or making love would be impossible with that leg.

  A gentle head-butt to her thigh brought her back to reality. A walk with the dog, not hanging out with Michael, was the order of the morning. Then maybe she’d actually go to bed—alone—and get some shut-eye. Otherwise the night ahead would be long and taxing.

  They headed out to the road. In her hurry to get away Steph had forgotten to grab her car keys, but no way was she going back inside to that kitchen for them. Because of her cowardice Zac would not be getting to run free this morning. A few laps of the block was his lot. Not that he looked unhappy. Did this dog even do unhappy? He whimpered in his sleep, yet never pined at the door for his previous owner, or tried to head towards his old home when they were out walking.

  Maybe there was a lesson for her in there somewhere.

  Steph upped her pace, stretching out her legs, puffing short breaths into the chilly air. She should’ve worn a jacket. Not going back for that either.

  Michael and his kisses were something else. Until now she’d thought she’d do anything to get more, to have the whole follow-up thing between the sheets, or in the shower, over the table.

  Seemed she didn’t know herself very well.

  Seemed she wasn’t prepared to sell her soul to get her man.

  No, apparently she was going to have to find another way to his heart.

  * * *

  Remember Stephanie mightn’t stay in Auckland very long, despite her protestations to the contrary.

  Michael stood up slowly, easing the kinks out of his body, but not the heat and tension from his groin. That was taking a while to die down, mocking him from below.

  He swore, reminding himself that he hadn’t been the one to pull away. Stephanie had. When her blood had been pounding through her veins and desire had gleamed in her eyes, softened her mouth, tightened that already firm body. He cursed her for being the wise one. Because, whichever way he looked at it, he shouldn’t have been kissing her—let alone thinking of heading to his bedroom with her.

  Blaming her made him feel like a heel when he wanted to feel better about himself. Gratitude should be filling his tense body—not unresolved need for Stephanie.

  More need than sex.

  Michael jerked, and swore again as his thigh complained in the only way it knew how. No, he did not want a relationship that he couldn’t walk away from at any time. Not with Stephanie. What about sex with friendship thrown in? Yeah. Right. Like that was going to happen. He couldn’t do that to either of them.

  Opening the pantry, he glared around at the shelves, banged the doors shut in frustration. The cupboards were bare except for toddler food. Likewise the fridge and freezer. When had he got so slack he didn’t do a proper grocery shop?

  Digging in a drawer, he found a pad and pen. Time to get his act together—turn this place into a home, not a dosshouse for toddlers, paramedics and out-of-order doctors.

  * * *

  ‘What are you doing?’

  Michael gritted his teeth as he knotted his shoelace tight. He hadn’t heard Stephanie return. Zac had let him down—no head-butting to warn him.

  ‘Getting ready to go shopping.’

  And he’d taken a bath—carefully, not wanting to end up sprawled across the floor and unable to get up on his own.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Annoyance tightened her mouth. ‘You’re meant to be resting that leg, remember?’

  ‘There’s the rest of the day for that. Right now I need some groceries.’ He nodded at the pad on the table. ‘Quite a few. I’ve ordered a taxi to take me to the supermarket and hang around until I’m done.’

  Which could take for ever if his leg didn’t play ball.

  ‘Cancel it. I’ll get these.’

  ‘You need sleep. I’ll manage. Anyway I like to do my own shopping.’

  I do? Since when?

  Since one stubborn woman had started shaking her head at him and picking up his list.

  ‘Which company did you call?’

  She dug her phone out of the backside-outlining pocket of her jeans.

  ‘If I can’t do it for you then I’m going with you. It will be a lot more comfortable in your car, and since this list is longer than your arm you might want to take a break—at which point I can finish the job while you wait outside.’

  ‘I hate it when you’re right.’ He picked up his phone and called the taxi company.

  You give in too easily, mate.

  Yeah, well, he was learning there was no other way with Stephanie. Especially when she made a load of sense—which she did too often for comfort.

  ‘What about your sleep? I don’t want you zoning out ov
er a patient tonight because of me.’

  ‘I’ll be fine. I can catch some zeds this afternoon. If it’s all right with you I’ll stop in at my house on the way back for a couple of things I need.’

  ‘No problem.’

  He liked it that she didn’t gloat when she’d won. He liked a lot of things about her. Including the backside he was following out to his car. Most of all he liked having her back in town, in his life. Though could he trust that to be anything more than temporary?

  When she’d left the department and Auckland he’d been bereft. Not to mention guilt-laden, believing he’d been instrumental in her decision to go. It had hurt despite it being his own fault. And that had been after only two weeks together.

  Would he do it again if their feelings escalated into another fling? Cut her off before they got too involved? Yes—without a doubt. That was how he protected himself. Last time Stephanie had done a runner. Never to be heard of again by him until now.

  Except that wasn’t true...

  His mind flashed to the card tucked in the back of a drawer in his desk down in the spare room he called an office when Aaron wasn’t sleeping in there. A card with a scrawled message of congratulations for qualifying as an emergency specialist last year, signed Steph followed by three ‘X’s. Not hot, take me kisses like those that sometimes followed him into sleep, but kisses that evoked memories he didn’t like to acknowledge.

  As he buckled his seatbelt his phone rang. Chantelle. Was she working tonight? Needing him to look after Aaron as per usual? He could give it a crack...

  Kidding yourself, mate. Being irresponsible. What if you fall and can’t get up? How’s that looking out for Aaron?

  Frustration made him groan. ‘Hey, Chantelle. How’s your day going?’

  ‘Great. Remember that exam I sat last week? I got top marks.’

  ‘Go, you! That’s fantastic.’ Pride filled his chest and he turned to Stephanie. ‘Chantelle got top marks in her law paper last week.’

  Stephanie leaned close and said loudly, ‘Congratulations, Chantelle. Brilliant result.’