The Surgeon's One Night to Forever

by Ann Mcintosh

  Liz sighed. “I’m sorry Robbie’s wedding was the introduction you got to my family. It really wasn’t a proper first meeting. They’re all a lot more normal than that circus implied.”

  “You have to admit it was over the top, to put it mildly. It was like being in a movie.”

  “It was, but the only reason was because Robbie married Giovanna, and she’s a supermodel. If he’d married Jane Brown from down the road, no one would have cared, and there certainly wouldn’t be pictures all over the internet.”

  He leaned back slightly to look at her, his skepticism obvious, and she shrugged. “We can always avoid my family functions from now on. Or just run away somewhere where no one knows us. How about Mexico?”

  Shaking his head, Cort tightened his grip. “Oh, no. I’ve found my version of paradise right here, and I’m not leaving. Although we could go back to the scene of the crime for a visit, to see if the honeymoon suite still lives up to its billing.”

  “Can we leave now?” she asked, ravenous for him, inwardly cursing having to go to work in a few minutes. “I want a chance to make sure you’re convinced I’m the woman for you.”

  “I don’t need convincing.” He leaned in, so their lips were just a breath apart, teasing them both. “I’m yours, now and forever, and I’m not letting you go.”

  EPILOGUE

  Two years later

  IT WOULD HAVE been nice for it to be a quiet night for once.

  Liz snorted at the thought as she strode out of one ER cubicle and headed straight for another, stripping off her blood-splattered gloves and gown as she went. Unfortunately, there had been an incident at a street carnival a couple of blocks away from the hospital, and so far they’d had a couple of stabbing victims, a gunshot victim and three people who’d been hit by a car all come in at the same time.

  That was on top of the usual volume of emergency cases.

  “Trauma team’s on its way, Dr. Prudhomme,” a nurse called out, as Liz slipped past a couple of police officers standing guard just outside the gunshot victim’s cubicle.

  “Thirty-two-year-old male, Sylvester McKenzie, gunshot wounds to the upper thorax and upper left thigh,” the paramedic told her, as she started her examination, then listed the vitals and observations they’d made on the way to the hospital.

  “Sylvester, my name is Dr. Prudhomme. I’m going to be looking after you. Can you tell me where it hurts?”

  The reply was a profanity-laden rant from behind the oxygen mask, aimed at the police, the paramedics, and Liz herself.

  “Hey, enough of that.”

  How was it that after all this time her heart still leapt whenever Cort entered the room?

  Sylvester added Cort to his list of rant-worthy topics, but when Liz glanced at him, Cort just gave her a little wink before turning back to the patient.

  Before long Sylvester didn’t have enough breath left to rant about anything. His blood pressure started to fall too, and X-rays showed one bullet lodged in his lung. Yet it was the leg wound that worried Cort even more. Sylvester had been shot while driving his car, the bullets going through the door before striking him, and Cort suspected the lower one’s trajectory might have caused serious injury.

  “Here,” the radiologist said, pointing to the screen. “The bullet has done damage to the femur and pelvis.”

  “I was afraid of that,” Cort said. “We’re going to have to get him stabilized enough to get him up to Angiography. I need to see what veins and arteries have been damaged before I go in there.”

  Liz’s heart sank. Pelvic injuries were notoriously tricky.

  As they headed back to Sylvester’s cubicle, Cort muttered, “Can we move up our reservations if I get stuck in the OR?”

  It was the anniversary of the night they’d met in Mexico, and they’d decided to celebrate. After all, they’d agreed it had been one of the best nights of their lives, and the luckiest.

  “If that happens, I’ll call and ask them to prepare something for takeout.”

  Cort looked at her and shook his head. “Only you could call one of the hottest restaurants in town and ask for takeout.”

  Liz gave him a wink. “I sweet-talk all the chefs and staff, so that if such an occasion arises, I’m golden.”

  Then Cort the lover was gone, and Dr. Smith was back; focused, cool as ice.

  “Let’s get him stabilized, stat. I need to know how much damage was done by that bullet and get in there to repair it as soon as possible, or we’ll lose him.”

  After they got Sylvester stabilized, Cort headed off with him to Radiology and then from there to the OR.

  When Liz finished her shift, she went up to the surgical floor to see whether they were having a nice dinner out tonight or staying in.

  One of the nurses at the station said, “I think they’re just finishing up, Dr. Prudhomme. Dr. Smith should be out soon.”

  “Thank you.” She waved, going to one of the lounge areas and sitting down to wait. If they didn’t leave in an hour, it would be takeout for sure. Once Cort came out of surgery, he’d let her know whether he could leave or not.

  Liz stretched, suppressing a yawn. She actually wouldn’t mind takeout tonight, rather than having to go home and dress up. They’d had a busy couple of weeks, with Cort’s parents coming for a visit from Wyoming and his sister Misty flying in from Chicago too to celebrate Flo’s birthday in New York with Cort. Unfortunately his brother Connor couldn’t join them this time, since his wife was expecting their second child and, although her due date was still a few weeks away, she hadn’t been given the all clear by her ob-gyn. The nice thing was that Connor and his wife lived just down the road, so to speak, in Philadelphia. Cort and Liz had already visited them a number of times, and planned to go back as soon as the baby was born.

  It had been a busy time, but also a pleasure to have the Gallaghers come to stay. They were wonderful people; warm, caring, and so incredibly happy to have their son back.

  They’d never given up on him, even after all those years, and the hardest part for them was getting used to calling him “Cort” rather than “Sean.”

  “I’m too old to get used to a new name,” Cort had said. “Plus all my degrees are in this one. It would be a huge hassle to change them, even if it were possible.”

  She’d heard a hint of regret in his voice, but conceded the point.

  The back of Liz’s neck tingled, and she twisted in the chair to see Cort coming down the corridor toward her, still wearing his surgical cap, although he’d removed the gown. It was funny how she always knew when he was around, as though an invisible string stretched between them and vibrated whenever they were close to one another.

  Rising and picking up her bag, she went to meet him in the hallway.

  “Takeout tonight?” she asked, even though she suspected she already knew the answer.

  “Maybe just cancel altogether. He’s in pretty bad shape, and I have a suspicion I’ll be here quite a while longer. Chez Ramone’s food isn’t that great heated up at home.”

  She was used to it, of course she was. They both had days when plans had to be changed or abandoned, but it didn’t stop her feeling a little disappointed. From the sound of it, he wouldn’t be home before she had to go to bed, since she was working an early shift in the morning.

  “Well, in that case, let me give you your gift now,” she said.

  Cort gave her a lopsided smile. “You bought me a gift?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” she replied, digging the brochure out of her bag and handing it to him.

  He read it, a huge grin breaking across his face.

  “Greece?”

  “Yes. Cruising from island to island. I want to make sure we keep scratching those itchy feet of yours so you never get tempted to run away. Oh, and next year, when Connor’s baby is old enough to travel, I think we should plan a trip with both
families to Ireland.”

  Cort shook his head then bent to give her a chaste, if slightly lingering kiss, and it was enough to heat her blood, make her want to go in for a deeper, harder one.

  “There’s no chance of me taking off anywhere without you, babe. I’m home to stay, right here in your arms.”

  “Glad to hear it,” she said matter-of-factly, but she knew he could read her better than anyone, and he saw the love in her eyes. “That’s the way it should be.”

  * * *

  If you enjoyed this story, check out this other great read from Ann McIntosh

  The Nurse’s Pregnancy Miracle

  Available now!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Their Unexpected Babies by Louisa Heaton.

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  Their Unexpected Babies

  by Louisa Heaton

  CHAPTER ONE

  DANCING WAS AN art form. There were those who could do it well, who looked as if they’d been born to dance. And there were those who did it badly—and Leah was one of them. Dancing might even be a bit too fancy a word for the moves her body was able to perform. Fancy swaying might be more realistic.

  She felt awkward trying to do anything more complicated than that, being all angles and long limbs, like a newborn foal, trying to stay upright. It wasn’t her favourite thing to do and, quite frankly, she couldn’t wait for this to be over.

  Just keep smiling! Pretend you’re having a great time.

  Everyone else was having a great time. One or two had even paired off with a couple of guys who had bought them drinks. Thinking of which, she was beginning to get a little thirsty. She looked over at the bar, to see if there was much of a queue, and instead met a steady pair of beautiful blue eyes gazing back at her.

  He was at the bar—the man in question. Holding a tall glass with what looked like water in it, condensation dripping down its sides. Black shirt, open at the collar. Black trousers.

  She couldn’t look away. She wanted to, but he held her gaze, and somehow, before she knew it, he was standing in front of her.

  ‘May I have this dance?’

  The old-fashioned request was charming. If he’d said anything else, come out with a cheesy line, then she would have raised a sardonic eyebrow and turned away, but his question—polite, gallant, charming—hit all her buttons.

  She could feel her cheeks flushing and was thankful he wouldn’t be able to see that in the darkness. But the terrible thing about being in the dark was that it also made you throw a bit of caution to the wind. It created intimacy. And she couldn’t help but laugh.

  ‘You’ve seen me dance, right? The flailing?’

  He smiled. ‘It was utterly charming.’

  ‘Charming?’

  He leaned in. ‘Adorable.’

  And she liked him. He smelt great. She didn’t know what it was, but she just felt secure with this guy. What was one more flail? They were in a public place. Nothing was going to happen.

  ‘Sure. Okay.’

  She bit her lip as he led her to the centre of the dance floor, and just as she was about to begin the music changed. It was almost as if this man and the DJ were in cahoots, because the music switched from a frantic, heated rhythm to something slow and soulful. The kind of music that begged couples to dance in each other’s arms. Bodies pressed close. Intimate. Knowing.

  She smiled and stepped shyly into his embrace, draping her arms over his shoulders as he pulled her to him.

  He smelt delicious. Edible. A musky heat. And she closed her eyes as they swayed in tune together, sensing him inhale the scent of her shampoo as he lifted a tendril of her hair up to his nose. It was such an intimate gesture she felt shivers tremble down her spine, and her breath hitched in her throat as she wondered what he’d do next.

  But he was a perfect gentleman. His hands didn’t wander and she found herself wondering about this man in her arms. Who was he? Where had he come from? What was his name?

  Why was he so hot?

  She let him have the next dance. And then the next. And when she had to sit down, to give her feet and ankles a rest from the vertiginous heels she had unwittingly chosen for that evening, he walked her over to a place to sit and helped her slip them off. He massaged her feet for her whilst she squirmed in delight on the banquette and thanked the heavens that she’d had a pedicure two days ago.

  He looked at her and smiled. ‘Are you ticklish?’

  ‘A bit.’

  ‘Then I’ll be careful.’

  She liked the way he held her feet firmly, determined not to tickle her, but to give her the maximum benefit of his strong, capable hands.

  ‘You know your way around a woman’s foot.’ Leah cringed once the words were out.

  But he didn’t raise an eyebrow. ‘I know my way around many parts of the female anatomy.’

  She blushed. The foot massage already had her biting her lip, trying her hardest not to moan and groan in delight at what was happening to her flesh, and his words made her wonder what magic he could cause in other places, with other parts of his anatomy?

  But the thought was fleeting and quick. That wasn’t who she was, so she knew she didn’t have to worry about that. But somehow they got talking and chatting, and his name was Ben. So simple. So wonderful. It suited him.

  She discovered they liked a lot of the same things—old movies, reading and the exact same brand of salted caramel chocolates—and when he learnt how close she lived he offered to give her a piggyback home.

  ‘A piggyback?’ she asked in amused disbelief. They weren’t kids.

  ‘You can’t dance in those shoes and you certainly can’t walk in them. I’m amazed you didn’t break an ankle just getting here.’

  The idea of him walking her home thrilled her. She didn’t want to part company with him yet. But she didn’t want to do this alone. Just in case. He could be anyone.

  Hannah offered to accompany them for safety. Her friend lived in the block opposite her own. As good as his word, Ben carried her all the way back, telling them jokes and making them laugh, paying attention to both women fairly, though it was clear his interest was in her. And when he gently set her down on her feet, her soles pressed against the chilly pavement, she impulsively offered him a coffee or a nightcap, not yet willing to say goodbye.

  He’d smiled. ‘Coffee would be nice.’

  Hannah waved them both goodbye, giving Leah a big thumbs-up sign in secret, when Ben wasn’t looking.

  She smiled and fished her keys out of her bag.

  What am I doing? I don�
�t do this. I don’t invite random guys back!

  But another voice in her head said, Go for it! When are you going to get another chance?

  So she made him coffee. And they sat together on the couch, drinking it until it was gone, and the tension in the room was palpable.

  ‘I should go.’ His voice was loaded with regret. ‘It was lovely spending a few hours with you, but I have an early start in the morning.’

  She nodded. ‘Me, too.’

  She wasn’t kidding either. She started a new job tomorrow. Going to the club had been in celebration of that.

  He stood up and she stood with him. They were so close! Millimetres apart. Leah gazed up at his face, his mouth, and then he pulled her gently towards him and lowered his face to hers.

  The kiss was perfect. Gentle.

  Soft.

  And then...

  And then it wasn’t. And they couldn’t remove their clothes fast enough.

  * * *

  The touch of a finger trailing the length of her spine in a sinuous, serpentine stroke was enough to jerk her from the depths of a wonderful sleep to the stark, shocking reality that she was waking up with someone else in her bed.

  Dr Leah Hudson’s eyes blinked open in an instant as recollections of the previous night poured in, and in a panic she grabbed the duvet to her chest and leapt from the bed, dragging the quilt around her naked body, stumbling over it as she turned to see the man she’d left behind in the bedsheets.

  Ben. Handsome. Fit—even with bed hair and a shadow of early-morning stubble. The man who had known his way around the female anatomy very well indeed, as it turned out.

  Her naked male companion had woken at her sudden movement, and now lay propped up on an elbow, smiling at her in an irritatingly charming and attractive way, the curls that only last evening had been perfectly tamed now wild and tangled. In no way did that diminish his appeal. Somehow it increased it. And he didn’t make any move to cover himself up. Deliciously confident man that he was. And she couldn’t stop her gaze from travelling down...down...