by Pamela Toth
The sight of him in tight jeans and worn boots sent a sizzle of reaction through her that all the reasoning in the world couldn’t have resisted.
“Hi,” he said, his grin a little crooked. “How was your day?”
The flash of uncertainty that crossed his face nearly melted Zoe’s heart. “Had its ups and downs,” she replied, recalling Dr. Chester’s comments.
“Yeah,” he replied. “I heard, and I’m sorry as hell for my part in the downside.” He held out the flowers. “I wanted you to have these.”
Zoe couldn’t very well refuse to take them. Before she did, she glanced around, half expecting to see a cluster of paparazzi with telephoto lenses trained on the two of them. Realizing how paranoid her thoughts had become, she accepted the roses with a smile. Their color ranged from deep orange to pale apricot, their ruffled petals just beginning to unfurl.
“Thank you,” she said. “They’re lovely.”
“We should talk.” His hands hung at his sides as though he, too, was concerned about prying eyes. “Would it be okay for me to come in for a minute?”
Zoe bit her lip, struggling with temptation. He was right—they couldn’t very well carry on a conversation out here on the street. It was all the justification she needed to put aside her recent resolution.
“Okay. I need to put these in water and I’ve got a bag of groceries in the car.”
She waited while he retrieved her packages. Neither of them spoke again until they were safely inside her apartment. Setting aside the flowers, she dealt with their jackets. Dressed in a thin black sweater that hugged his shoulders, he seemed to fill up the room.
After she shut the door to the tiny coat closet, he cupped her shoulders gently with his hands while he peered into her face. He must have seen what he was looking for in her expression, because he leaned down slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull away.
“I missed you more than I wanted to,” he muttered.
Zoe’s defenses crumbled when he gathered her in his arms and kissed her with surprising tenderness. As soon as she opened her mouth to him, he turned up the heat. When he finally released her, she was having trouble breathing and his cheekbones were stained with color.
“That’s not why I came here,” he said, scrubbing one hand over his face. “Well, not the only reason.” His smile flashed and then disappeared. “As soon as I heard the buzz at work, I wanted to warn you, to make sure you were okay. But as usual the E.R. was slammed with patients. I didn’t get a minute to breathe until lunch, and by then you’d already left Maternity. My afternoon just got crazier.”
“I thought about you,” she admitted.
His eyes darkened. “I’ve hardly thought of anything but you since I left here the last time.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond to such an open declaration, so different from the dating games she was used to.
“Have a seat while I deal with these.” She carried the flowers to the sink and then unloaded the odd mix of groceries she had grabbed off the shelves. “Turn on some music if you like,” she suggested.
While she got a vase from the cupboard—a tower of sparkling crystal that her mother had insisted she might need—and filled it with water, he looked through her CDs. In a moment, an old Sarah McLachlan song called “Sweet Surrender” began to play.
“Would you like coffee?” Zoe asked, swaying to the music as she arranged the long stems.
When he didn’t immediately reply, she glanced over her shoulder to see him watching her. His thumbs were hooked into his wide leather belt and he had a bemused expression on his face.
“Coffee?” she repeated, her throat suddenly tight. Probably better not to know what he was thinking since she was having so much trouble keeping her own thoughts in line.
“I should have asked right away—have you eaten?” he asked. “Do you want to go and get something?”
Now was the time to give the speech about her career coming first and her intention to not get involved with anyone while she was here in Thunder Canyon.
She opened her mouth to say the words at the same time that he reached out his hand and traced a line down her cheek with his fingertip.
“You put the roses to shame.” His voice was husky.
The words should have come across as unbearably cheesy, a pickup line worthy of a low-class singles’ bar. Spoken by anyone else, her reaction might have been to double over with derisive laughter.
All Zoe could do now was swallow hard as she stared, knowing beyond a doubt that she was in big trouble.
She held on to the little bit of sanity she had left. “We could order in a pizza,” she suggested helplessly. “I’ve got salad makings and there’s soda in the fridge.”
Chapter Ten
When Zoe suggested they order a pizza, Chris’s muscular shoulders seemed to relax. “That would be great,” he replied.
She wondered what he would have said if she’d asked him to leave her alone. Would he have complied with a flash of that trademark grin and let her go without a protest or would he have tried to change her mind?
“Why don’t you call for the pizza while I make the salad,” she suggested. “The directory’s in the second drawer down.”
He took out his cell phone. “That’s okay. Pizza delivery is on my speed dial. What’s your pleasure?”
Zoe was getting the lettuce out of the refrigerator. “Excuse me?” As she leaned past the open door, possible replies danced through her head like an X-rated conga line of Chippendales studs. Despite the blast of cool air, her face grew warm.
Chris looked so rugged, so male and so damned appealing as he stood there that she wanted to run her hands over his lean muscles as she had the other night. The memory brought a wave of heat to her cheeks.
The direction of her thoughts must have shown on her face, because he stuck up his hands as though she had pulled a gun.
“Hey, sweetie,” he said with a lecherous grin, his blue eyes sparkling, “I was asking about pizza toppings, but I’m game for whatever you’ve got in mind.”
It was impossible for Zoe to be embarrassed by his teasing. “Stick to the game plan, stud,” she drawled. “I knew what you meant.” She yanked open the produce drawer and poked through the plastic bags, looking for salad makings.
“I’ll eat anything with sun-dried tomatoes and Feta cheese,” she continued. “Do you like pesto?”
In addition to the lettuce she’d just purchased, she found part of a bell pepper, a couple of limp green onions and two celery stalks. Shutting the door of the fridge, she glanced at him expectantly.
“I’m sort of a ham-and-pineapple man myself,” he drawled as she got out a knife and a small cutting board. “But I’m open to experimentation.”
They compromised on a combo called the “Gold Nugget” that was topped with ham, pineapple, olives and four cheeses. While they waited for its arrival, he set the table and she made the salad. Neither of them brought up the gossip. Instead Zoe described her visit with Anna while she rinsed the lettuce and he sliced a ripe tomato.
“She’s actually going to leave the abusive boyfriend?” Chris exclaimed with the knife poised over the cutting board. “Wow, that’s great. She really did a one-eighty. So what turned her around, do you have any idea?”
A fresh burst of emotion filled Zoe. “I think I did.”
With a lump in her throat, she repeated what Anna had told her. Chris listened intently. When she was done, he laid down the knife and wiped his hands on the front of his jeans.
“Honey, I am so proud of you.” His voice brimmed with sincerity and approval as he opened his arms.
Zoe was blinded by unexpected tears. For a moment she allowed herself to lean against him, listening to the solid bump of his heart as he hugged her close.
“It feels good to connect with a patient like her and to know you made a difference, doesn’t it?” he asked with his lips against her hair.
“This connection feels pretty good, too,” she mumble
d.
Briefly his arms tightened, but then he let her go. “Back to the salad,” he said gruffly. “Someone has to be dressed in order to pay for the pizza when it gets here.”
Zoe wasn’t sure how to respond, so she began tearing the lettuce in the colander.
“How was your dinner with Faith and Cam?” she asked. What she really wanted to know was whether Chris had invited her as a last-minute replacement for a date who had canceled. Or, when Zoe had turned him down, had he asked someone else? She doubted he had trouble finding dates.
“For me to tag along with a newly engaged couple as crazy about each other as those two is like putting nipples on a bull,” he said drily.
Zoe blinked up at him. “I beg your pardon?” Did bulls even have nipples? She supposed they must.
“Totally unnecessary. I could have left before the food arrived and they wouldn’t have noticed.”
“That’s too bad.” She was pleased to hear that he hadn’t taken someone else with him after all.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he added hastily. “I couldn’t be happier that my sister has found a guy like Cam. I know they didn’t mean to ignore me or anything like that. They were just too busy oogling and cuddling to pay much attention.”
“Oogling?” Zoe echoed as she dumped the lettuce into a bowl and added the sliced tomato.
“Shall I demonstrate?” Chris offered.
She held up her hands to ward him off. “I get the picture and I’d rather you cut up the celery.”
Looking disappointed, he complied. Working side by side with him in her kitchen made her feel pleasantly domesticated—as though they were a team.
“So not being the center of attention causes you to pout?” she teased when the salad was finished.
His brows shot up. “That’s why I invited you, sweetheart, to keep me entertained while they pawed each other.”
She was groping for a witty comeback when the doorbell rang. “That must be the pizza,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel.
After she looked through the peephole, she opened the door to a boy wearing a red cap and a matching jacket. She took the savory-smelling box and Chris pulled out his wallet. She noticed that he added a generous tip.
“Thanks, Doc,” the delivery boy said with a jaunty salute before he left.
“Does everyone in this town know who you are?” Zoe asked as she opened the box and inhaled the aroma, then transferred the pie to a serving plate.
“Pretty much. I can’t get away with anything.”
While she tossed the salad, he poured their soda.
“Why didn’t you tell me that before you left your truck sitting outside my apartment for half the night?” she muttered, reaching around him for the dressing. “Where did you park this time?”
“I drove my car today,” he said. “It’s down the street.”
Hands on her hips, Zoe studied him. “And that’s because you figured a black Beemer with doctor’s plates would blend in better than a pickup truck?” she asked. “This isn’t Beverly Hills.”
Back in a city that was obsessed with being known and being seen, there was still a blessed anonymity that a small town like Thunder Canyon would never have.
“Perhaps you’d like me to go out and throw a camouflage net over my car,” he suggested wryly.
“I have nothing to hide, but thanks for offering,” she retorted. Oh, hell, let people talk if they had nothing better to do!
He pulled out her chair. “I wasn’t making assumptions when I parked down the street.” There was a defensive edge to his tone. “I was just trying to be discreet, since it’s obvious that someone must have driven by the other night and recognized my truck.”
“It’s always wise not to assume,” she agreed mildly when he took his seat at the small table. “I hope you like light Italian dressing. It’s all I have on hand.”
“It’s perfect,” he replied. “This is great.”
“You paid for the pizza and helped make the salad,” she reminded him. Her father had never done anything around the house, but Zoe was always impressed by men who did.
“Sharing the chores cuts the time in half,” Chris replied. “My dad always helped out when he was home, so I guess he set a good example. Mom didn’t treat me any different from my sisters when it came to cooking and cleaning, so I grew up to be very self-sufficient.”
He put a piece of pizza on her plate while she dished up his salad. “How about you?” he asked. “Were you raised with servants?”
“We had a housekeeper,” Zoe admitted, “but she wasn’t there all the time and my parents both worked a lot, so I had to fend for myself, too.”
“Are you a good cook?” he asked.
“I get by,” she replied. “How about you? Can you make anything besides that delicious spaghetti sauce?”
“That’s Mom’s recipe.” He wiggled his brows expressively. “Come over sometime and find out.”
Zoe ignored the flutter of awareness. “The pizza’s getting cold,” she observed.
By implied consent, they didn’t discuss the rumors while they ate. They talked about his dog, Ringo, and her mother’s Persian cat, Heloise. They compared the movies they had rented and swapped horror stories about med school.
Between bites, they discussed the growing workload at the hospital.
“The board has hired an agency to recruit more RNs,” Chris said, helping himself to the last piece of pizza after Zoe shook her head. “The hospital director, Joe Bell, came from a small hospital in Oregon,” he continued. “He’s done a decent job, more or less, but he’s tightfisted as hell and he has no vision. We could use two additional E.R. doctors and we desperately need another half dozen trauma nurses.”
Zoe sipped her soda without comment. She had heard similar grumbling among the staff upstairs in Maternity.
Chris was about to take a bite when his eyes widened. “Well, that was imprudent of me,” he muttered. “Just forget that I said anything about Bell, okay?”
Zoe blotted her mouth and scooted back her chair. “As long as you never tell anyone that I passed out cold at my first autopsy,” she replied, stacking their dishes. “I wouldn’t be able to live it down if word got out.”
Wearing a solemn expression, Chris traced an X on his chest. “Cross my heart, your secret’s safe with me.” He got to his feet and carried their utensils to the counter. “You do realize that we’re bonded for life now, don’t you?”
Flustered by the intensity of his expression, Zoe began loading the dishwasher without commenting. After a moment he closed the empty pizza box.
“Where’s the Dumpster?” he asked, ignoring the sudden awkwardness that had sprung up between them. “I’ll take out the garbage.”
While he was gone, Zoe made fresh coffee. Then she ducked into the bathroom and stared at her reflection to make sure that nothing was stuck in her teeth.
The face looking back at her was full of confusion. Part of her wanted to pursue whatever might be growing between her and Chris while she ignored any possible consequences to either her heart or her career. The cautious little voice inside her head whispered a reminder that people who took foolish chances often got hurt.
When she heard the front door open and close, she went back out to the living room.
“Miss me?” he asked with a cocky grin.
She pressed her hand to her heart. “Of course,” she said brightly, even though she was determined to be cautious. If you stayed in control of your feelings, you could walk away without regrets.
She poured their coffee and led the way to the living room, ignoring her sudden nervousness. Settling on the couch, she kicked off her shoes and tucked one foot beneath her other thigh.
“This is a nice place.” Chris sat next to her, stretching his arm across the back of the couch. “I’ll bet it’s a lot quieter than hospital housing.”
“It’s not bad.” Zoe blew on her coffee. “I like the privacy here.”
Her comment caused h
im to frown as he set his mug on her coffee table.
“Once again I apologize for subjecting you to all the gossip.” His face had turned serious. “I really wish I had remembered to move the truck, but I wasn’t exactly using my brain at the time.”
“You’re really being too hard on yourself,” she protested, dismayed by his obvious remorse. “People like to talk, and we both know that hospitals are like little towns in themselves.”
He was still frowning, so she pressed on. “What happened was no big deal.” She waved her hand. “It was an impulse, that’s all. We need to put it past us and move on. Tomorrow they’ll be talking about something else.”
“That’s certainly one way of describing it,” he said slowly. “No big deal.”
Funny, but when he said the words, they made her feel awful. She held her breath, waiting to see if he would argue.
He reached for his coffee without saying anything more and took a long swallow. To her surprise, he got to his feet and carried his half-full mug over to the kitchen counter. When he turned, he was smiling, so she knew he wasn’t upset. He was probably relieved that she wasn’t overreacting.
“I’m sorry to eat and run,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m glad we talked and I appreciate the meal, but I just remembered that the guy who comes by to feed the animals had to go to Butte this afternoon for a dental appointment.” He shrugged. “I need to get home and do the chores before the stock mutinies on me.”
She wasn’t too sure just what horses did when they mutinied, but she wasn’t about to argue. Hiding her disappointment, she got up from the couch.
“I understand,” she said. She got his jacket from the closet and held it out. “Thanks again for the roses. They remind me of California sunsets.”
He glanced at the bouquet on her side table as he shrugged into the jacket. “That’s what I was aiming for, all right.”
With his hand on the doorknob, he hesitated. His gaze roamed her face. “There’s a nice steak place in town called Sebastian’s. Have you been there?”