The Surgeon's Christmas Wish

by Annie O'Neil

  “Oh, Fraser! I am so sorry!” She scanned the room for medical supplies in an effort to regain control. A little body contact shouldn’t be jangling her nerves to this extent.

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” he intoned drily.

  “Wait there, I’ll get some ice.”

  “No. No. It’s all right.” Fraser rolled to his side, pressing one bloodied hand to the floor. She heard him contain a small moan as he pushed himself up into a seated position.

  Tara dropped to the floor beside him, gently pulling his fingers away from his face. “Let me see if I can help.” She couldn’t stop a panicked giggle from escaping her lips. “I’m a doctor.”

  “I’m glad you think this is funny.”

  It must have been her nerves, but now Tara really started to cackle. “I’m sorry...” She unsuccessfully choked back her laughter. “It’s just that I was feeling really sorry for myself because it was Thanksgiving and I was all alone and so I thought I’d have a little dance and the last thing I expected was to find you in the waiting room.” Too much information, Tara.

  Fraser looked at her through heavy-lidded eyes. “I’m glad I helped cheer you up.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Tara gently touched his nose.

  He pulled away with a poorly disguised grimace of pain. “I think you’ve done enough, Doctor. I’m fairly certain my own medical training could confirm a broken septum.”

  Tara’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, no! I couldn’t have hit you that hard!”

  “I’m pretty sure you did.”

  Was that crankiness or humor she heard in his voice? It was hard to tell with his hands half-covering his mouth as he pinched the bridge of his swelling nose.

  “C’mon.” She stood up, reaching out to help him. “Let’s go into the exam room and I can clean you up and get something cold on that. Hopefully, there won’t be a septal hematoma and we can just ice you up for a bit.”

  Refusing her hand, Fraser pushed himself up from the floor. “That’s pretty rare. Some ice should do it.”

  “Look, Dr. MacKenzie.” Tara felt her frustration rising the more Fraser refused her help. Not to mention questioning her medical knowledge. She clenched her fists as he turned his back on her and made his own way into the exam room. “I know it’s rare,” she called to his receding back, “but we don’t want any blood getting trapped in your schnozz if we don’t have to.”

  “Schnozz?” He turned around, an eyebrow cocked in amusement.

  “Yeah, schnozz. Don’t they say that where you come from?”

  Fraser took in Tara’s apologetic wince and attempt to form a hopeful smile as he hoisted himself up onto the exam table.

  She looks very pretty when she’s not trying to micromanage everything. It was nice to see her smiling.

  “’Fraid not,” he countered. “Beak, neb, hooter, pointy end...but not schnozz.”

  “Here, put these up your nostrils.” Tara laughed a full throaty trill, handing him two gauze rolls covered in antiseptic cream.

  “You do it,” he said, wanting to see more of this less guarded Tara. He handed back the gauze, his fingers lingering just a little bit longer than necessary on hers. “I’m just the patient today.”

  Fraser opened his legs a bit wider in order to allow Tara to step in more closely to him. She took a handful of disinfectant wipes from the table beside him and began to carefully dab away the blood. Even through the disaster zone that was now his nose he could tell she smelled nice. Like Christmas. In her green scrubs, she was like a cinnamon-scented Christmas fairy.

  For crying out loud.

  Maybe he had a concussion, as well.

  He looked at Tara again. Her face a picture of concentration.

  Nope. It was all real. She smelled wonderful and certainly ranked up there in the beautiful-woman department. Way up there.

  If he weren’t so busy trying not to flinch with pain as Tara wiped away the blood, Fraser realized how incredibly easy it would be to just slip his hands onto her hips and around her waist. He wouldn’t have to draw her in too much further. Only a few inches separated them. A few vital inches.

  Despite having been cracked on the face with a door, Fraser hadn’t been oblivious to the perfect symmetry their two bodies had created when Tara had fallen on top of him. Sure, it had been fleeting, but her body had seemed to pour perfectly into his...that sort of communion was hard to come by. Her slender hips perfectly aligning inside his, the softness of her breasts on his chest. Her lips just millimeters away from his neck as she’d drawn in a sharp breath and then pulled away... It was a feeling he was unlikely to forget. Especially now with her standing those few all-important inches away from him. If he could just focus on counting those darling little freckles dappled across that nose of hers, he might stop thinking about what was happening below his waistline.

  “How does it look, Doc?”

  “Well, your nose is swelling up nicely, but we seem to have stemmed the bleeding.” She pulled up her shoulders apologetically. “I’m afraid you’re going to have one, if not two mighty fine shiners for a couple of days. I hope there isn’t anyone you were hoping to impress over the weekend.”

  If there were, it would only be one and she is standing right here between my legs, biting her lower lip just a little too alluringly for comfort.

  “Nope. No one.” His voice came out huskier than he’d expected. This was not good.

  “Phew! No holiday plans ruined?”

  “I didn’t have any plans, don’t worry.”

  He wondered if Tara had noticed the gingerbread latte going cold on the reception counter. Or the bag of pumpkin muffins he’d sweet-talked out of Marian last night. That was about as close to “plans” as he had come in a long time. Perhaps the busted nose was a reminder that even the slightest attempt at anything more than a professional relationship was a certified no-go area.

  “What about your ski bunny?” Tara’s tone was light. Or was there just the tiniest bit of crispness about it?

  “What?”

  “I thought you were going to seduce some rich ski bunny off the slopes and into your...” She let the sentence hang unfinished between them.

  “No one said she had to be rich.”

  Tara turned away abruptly, busying herself with clearing up the bloody swabs and gauze littering the exam table. She snapped off the disposable gloves she’d worn to clean away the blood and let the lid of the waste-disposal bin slap down with a sharp clang.

  “Tara, stop.”

  “Stop what?” She continued clearing up, fastidiously avoiding his gaze.

  Fraser reached out, taking one of her hands in his. The heat of their connection crackled like a high-speed zip wire up Tara’s arm, reverberating expressively down her spine. None of this is very professional!

  Unable to extract herself from his grip, she felt herself being pulled towards him, back to that danger zone where she was close enough to breathe him in, to smell that all-male scent that made her a bit more light-headed than she could ever admit. Too close. Standing between his knees, face to face...the proximity was overwhelming. Fraser’s eyes connected with hers. They asked so many questions. Questions she couldn’t begin to answer for herself let alone for him. How was it possible someone she’d known for so little time could make the whole world around her disappear, leaving only the two of them?

  She wasn’t ready for this. Didn’t want this. Lowering her eyes, she couldn’t resist pausing to take in the dark stubble on his cheeks, his chin. Those lips of his, lips far too near her own. They looked full and incredibly male. She wondered... No. She didn’t.

  She hadn’t even thought of kissing anyone, let alone wanted to kiss anyone, in well over two years.

  Thanks for nothing, Fraser MacKenzie. That track record was now officially over.

  “Tara, listen to me.” Fraser’s voice was low, a ragged murmur sending shivers through to her very core. “There are no ski bunnies. Rich or otherwise.”

  “It’s none of
my business. I had no right to comment on how you lead your life.”

  “How I lead my life is off limits for judgment.”

  Her brow crinkled with confusion. Their proximity to each other screamed of intimacy yet his words were the polar opposite. Alarm bells rang inside her head. She steeled herself and dared to raise her eyes to his. “What do you mean?”

  “I come into a town. If I do anything other than my work, I make a mess of things. So I do my job. Then I leave a town. Plain and simple.”

  She tried to take a step back but his hands held her firmly in place between his thighs. She was finding it harder to breathe. “Thanks for letting me know what to expect.”

  He’d signed a five-month contract so she’d known from the get-go he wouldn’t be around forever. Even so, she had hardly expected him to up stakes in the first forty-eight hours.

  “Tara, look at me,” Fraser demanded, a finger tipping her chin upwards to meet his eyes, now a storm of emotion. “What day is it?”

  “Thanksgiving.”

  “And what is Thanksgiving about to you?”

  She felt a catch in her throat. Why was he doing this? She thought she had steadied her voice but was immediately mortified to hear the amount of hope laced within her words. “It’s about being with people you care about.”

  “Tara, I...” Fraser faltered, wanting to get his words right. For some reason, clearly expressing himself to her was important to him. Tara was important to him. Without a second thought he chose the only option available. He wrapped his hands firmly around her hips, pulled her in tight and began to kiss her as if his life depended on it. Perhaps it did, what did he know?

  Fraser was no longer thinking. Just tasting, experiencing, enjoying kissing her. He felt encouraged as he sensed Tara’s cherry-red lips respond to his. Tentatively at first, and now with the same hunger he felt. He had no idea how he was going to follow through on this, whatever “this” was. Neither did he know how he would see out the season with her. Perhaps he wouldn’t. But being with her, tasting her, holding her close to him? For this exact moment it was all he wanted. She was all he wanted. How to get out of it? He’d figure it out later.

  *

  Tara felt her knees actually go weak. If she’d had any sort of grip on her senses she would’ve pulled away, but the way Fraser moved his lips across hers, teased his tongue between them, nibbling, taunting—it was everything in a kiss she had imagined possible but had never experienced until now. Her arms reached impulsively around Fraser’s neck. The movement drew her in even closer to him and the proximity could not have felt more natural. She felt his knees grip her hips, her breasts brush against his chest, sending a deep physical ache wending through to the tips of her toes and shooting back up through her like flames. Everything about how her body was responding to him was new. Intoxicating. Absolutely not on the agenda.

  She felt powerless to do the sensible thing—to push away. Her senses were overwhelmed with the incredible maleness of him. Time took on an added dimension as she took in Fraser’s scent, the movement of the well-defined muscles in his neck. Sensations flew through her in heated rushes as he slid a finger along her jaw, cupped her chin in his hand and drew from her the deepest, most life-affirming kisses she’d ever experienced.

  If this hadn’t been the last thing in the world she should be doing, Tara would have quite happily stayed in Fraser’s arms forever. As the thought flitted through her head, her stomach constricted and then froze as her emergency response radio crackled to life. She pulled away from Fraser’s embrace, fingers flying to her lips, now swollen with his kisses. Her body already felt cold where his arms had held her.

  Why, why, why? Why had she let this happen? Tara found herself staring into Fraser’s eyes, desperate for an answer, as she tried to focus on the static-laced voice coming from her radio.

  “Tara, this is Ski Patrol One calling in from the Crystal Falls Run. We’ve got a broken right leg coming your way. Compound fracture. Sixteen-year-old female with parents in tow. Do you read me? Over.”

  Tara grabbed the radio, willing herself to speak with at least an ounce of decorum. “Ski Patrol One, this is Tara, ready and waiting. Will call ambulance. Over.”

  “Tara, I’m—”

  “Sorry, Fraser. I can’t do this now.” Cheeks burning she quickly crossed the room and pulled open the exam-room door. “I’ve got to get your blood cleaned up out of the reception area and call Valley Hospital for an ambulance before they get here. I’ve only got a couple of minutes.”

  “Right, of course. Is there anything I can do?”

  “Not now. You’d best go back to your condo and put some ice on that nose of yours. You should be all right for work on Monday.”

  “Absolutely not. I’m staying right here.” He stepped off of the exam table and in two quick strides caught her fingers with his own. She bristled at his touch. “Tara, don’t be silly.”

  She couldn’t do this. Not now. Not ever. She stood rigidly, unable to answer him.

  Physically turning her to face him, Fraser gave her shoulders a quick up-and-down rub, as though he were priming someone to run onto a sports field. Not a good move.

  “I’ll clean up the reception area. It’s my blood after all.” He gave a half-smile before continuing, “You get the X-ray room ready.”

  “Look, Fraser. I run this clinic and what I say goes.”

  “Not when there’s an emergency and you’re understaffed.”

  Tara felt herself shake her head, willing the riot of sensations running through her to cease and desist. Of course what he said made sense, but why did everything he say make her feel as if she was losing control? She’d come here to regain control over her life, not to let it slip away. Just focus on the patient, Tara, not on Dr. Luscious and his delicious lips. She clenched her jaw before meeting his gaze evenly. “Clean yourself up and once I assess the patient I will determine if I need your help.”

  “Fine,” he replied, beginning to gather up used cleaning supplies. “What sort of facilities do you have in place for compounds?”

  “Everything we need for an immediate response. Our only big concern is if an aneurysm or infection occurs. As you know, blood clots aren’t uncommon and can be lethal. If the wound gets infected, septicemia is a problem as well.”

  “Right. So calling an ambulance is standard?”

  “It’s procedure as we don’t have the best overnight facilities here at the clinic, particularly for someone with a compound fracture. The patient will need twenty-four-hour nursing care for at least a couple of days, if not more.” Tara slipped through the door into the X-ray room, all business now.

  Fraser heard switches being flicked into position and the machines powering up. He scanned the reception room, quickly locating the mop and bucket in a broom closet. He sterilized the floor and gave himself a quick scrub up. One quick glimpse in the bathroom mirror and he could see he wasn’t exactly going to be a pretty sight for a patient in pain. Come to think of it, he didn’t feel so great after his run-in with the door. Funny how he hadn’t felt a thing when he’d been kissing Tara. Holding her in his arms had been the most natural thing he’d experienced in years. It had been like... He barely wanted to let the thought register.

  Blocking it all out would have to work right now. He grinned to himself. Denial. A man’s best friend!

  Tara appeared in the reception room a few moments later, fluidly pulling on a fleece over her scrubs as the buzz of the approaching skidoo became audible. Her demeanor was efficient, charged with readiness for her patient. Fraser couldn’t help but admire her. She clearly lived and breathed preparation. In a world where everything that came in her clinic door was an unknown, there was little doubt she had the strength to take it on. Her tenacity for life and for medicine seemed ready made to enable her to face anything. And anything was what you got up here in a place like this.

  It was one of the reasons he’d chosen ski clinics after the military. Every single moment of eve
ry single day was different. He loved learning, helping, changing and being challenged. The challenges of conflict zones had charged him intellectually, but living on that sort of adrenaline and coping with the high doses of the cruelty of war weren’t sustainable. The closest he came to replicating the thrill of the unknown was up here in places like this. Mother Nature was boss and you had no choice but to follow her lead.

  “Fraser, I really think you ought to go—”

  “I’ll just help you see in the patient.” He cut her off, aware he was almost visibly raising her hackles. “I want to make sure you don’t need a second pair of hands.”

  *

  Tara glared at Fraser, furious he wouldn’t just leave her alone and angry with herself for feeling relieved he was staying. Compound fractures were tricky things to reset. Immediate surgery was often required, particularly if the break at the skin had any debris in it. There had been another fresh snowfall last night, meaning the slopes were pretty clean. The patient could be lucky. But if an infection got into the bone, multiple surgeries, lengthy spells on antibiotics and long-term health problems faced the teen. At the very least they would have to soft-set the break for the ambulance trip down the mountain to the Valley Hospital, where she would most likely require surgery. Worst-case scenario—she’d need a medevac immediately.

  “Here, you had better put this on.” She handed Fraser a clean surgical gown from a cupboard and pointed to his blackening eyes. “You sure you’re going to be all right?”

  “Can’t feel a thing.”

  At the very least Fraser knew he could pat himself on the back for his ability to pass off white lies. In reality, he could feel a myriad of sensations. Tara had set off an emotional turbulence within him he’d have to quash for the sake of the patient. Never mind. He pressed his lips together tightly. Repressing emotions was his personal forte.

  “They’re here.”

  Tara pushed out of the door, Fraser following her lead into the biting cold to greet the team on the skidoo. A middle-aged couple skied up behind the rescue team, faces laced with anxiety.