Falling at the Surgeon's Feet

by Lucy Ryder

Oh, God. He’d caught her in the act of ogling him like he was a delicious pastry.

  “Are you going to be okay? I hate leaving you alone when you’re not such a great swimmer.”

  Holly’s blush turned to a grimace at the reminder of her graceless dive. She didn’t know what was worse—being caught leering at the goodies or…or having him witness her clumsiness. Again.

  “I’m fine, Dr. Alexander. I…uh, slipped, that’s all.” She rolled her eyes as he wound a huge towel around his waist, his arched brow probably questioning her sudden attack of professionalism. But it was either that or drown herself at the memory of the way she’d whimpered and clutched at him like she’d been starving and he’d been a chocolate fudge sundae. “Maybe I’m not in your league, but I can hold my own.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said, like he didn’t believe her, and shoved fingers through his wet hair. Droplets showered around his head and shoulders and Holly felt equal amounts of glee and astonishment when she noticed his hands were shaking.

  “I’m a great swimmer.”

  “If you say so.” His phone started ringing and he grunted, looking for a moment like he’d love to toss the thing in the pool. But surgeons on call didn’t have that luxury. “Look, I’ve gotta go. Promise me you’ll be okay.”

  She rolled her eyes again, secretly pleased by his obvious reluctance to leave—although that might have something to do with his inability to walk in his…uh, condition. She bit her lip and watched his eyes go dark.

  “I promise I’ll be okay,” she said hastily, and he finally sighed and gathered up his stuff.

  He paused to send her one last look from beneath heavy, aroused lids. “A rain-check on the…other thing.”

  Holly shivered and dropped lower into the water to hide her body’s reaction and stop her suit from melting beneath that laser-bright gaze. “The…thing?” One corner of his mouth curved and her breath caught in her chest. “Oh.” She swallowed hard and clenched her thighs together. “You mean…the, um…kiss?”

  His grin turned wicked and his eyes burned a molten blue-green as they slid over her exposed skin, setting fire to her hair and her thighs. Jeez. It was a good thing she was submerged in water or her swimsuit—along with her thighs—would be history. “Oh, yeah,” he rasped, his voice a dark slide of sin against her sensitized nerve endings as he turned and headed for the exit. “The kiss.”

  And just before he disappeared through the door she heard him say, “Definitely going to be another kiss.”

  And because he sounded so sure of himself—so arrogantly sure of her—she called out, “Don’t hold your breath, Dr. Alexander. That was simply a thank-you for saving me.” His response was deep laughter that floated across the pool and went straight to all her happy places that were feeling decidedly unhappy…and frustrated, darn it.

  “Keep telling yourself that, Dr. Buchanan,” rang in her ears, and Holly stared at the door for a few moments more before shaking her head as though to dispel the images lodged there. Sucking in a shuddery breath, she looked down to check that she was still clothed and wasn’t sporting singe marks on her skin.

  She was surprised to find that her suit hadn’t vaporized and that the water hadn’t boiled her like a lobster. Puffing out her cheeks, she blew out air in the hope that she could dispel the bubbles lodged in her brain. Because it was the only reason that would explain her wanton behavior. Especially with a man like Gabriel Alexander. A man who’d dedicated himself to the pursuit of perfection. A man who wasn’t blind enough to ignore just how imperfect she was.

  After a few moments getting her breathing under control, Holly squared her shoulders and sank beneath the water, ignoring the muscles trembling in her limbs like she’d just stepped off a carnival ride.

  It was time to douse the fire and get into her zone, she told herself firmly. A zone that didn’t include sexy Hollywood surgeons with hot eyes, hard bodies and big warm…hands.

  She had barely found her rhythm and was approaching the wall to turn when movement caught her attention. Stopping abruptly, she reared out of the water, her gaze automatically taking in a pair of battered sneakers at the edge of the pool.

  She followed the long line of jeans-clad legs, over the bulge of a button fly and up a wide expanse of black T-shirt-covered chest to a tanned neck and square jaw gleaming with gold-tinted stubble. Stubble, she recalled with a shudder; that had scraped against her skin with rough eroticism.

  She was surprised to see him. Dropping her head back, she quickly submerged then rose, lifting both hands to smooth her hair off her face. When she opened her eyes she found he’d dropped to his haunches and was looking hot and cool all at once. Their eyes met and a wild flush raced over her flesh at the memory of what he could do with his mouth.

  “I thought you left?”

  He shook his head. “I need you,” he said, and the flush became a shudder, along with tightening breasts and clenching belly. Momentarily stunned, she gaped up at him as though he’d suggested something hot and forbidden…and incredibly tempting.

  “I… You… What?”

  He must have correctly interpreted her confusion because his mouth curved and that darned dimple made an appearance in his tanned cheek. “That’ll have to wait for another time, Dr. Buchanan.” He laughed and held out a hand as though he expected her to take it. Holly looked at his big brown hand and got a little dizzy just thinking about how it made her feel.

  “Wha-at?”

  He chuckled. “Pay attention, Doctor. I need you to get out of the pool and get dressed. The hospital can’t reach Dr. Frankel and we urgently need another surgeon. You’re it.”

  “I’m not a maxillofacial surgeon.”

  “Close enough,” he said a little impatiently, and waggled his fingers.

  Without questioning him further, Holly took his hand and the next instant she was standing beside the pool, swaying a little on wobbly legs as water gushed down her body. He wrapped her towel around her shoulders and nudged her toward the exit.

  “You have five minutes to change while I call a cab.”

  Holly walked into the gym lobby with a minute to spare to find Gabriel propped casually against the wall, laughing and chatting up a couple of women dressed in gym wear that looked three sizes too small. Both women looked taut and toned enough to bounce a coin on their tight butts and abs. And because she would never be able to do that, Holly was grateful her designer trousers and jacket covered her from the neck down.

  The instant he saw her Gabe pushed away from the wall and wrapped his fingers around her elbow. The smile he aimed her way was warmly intimate as he called a quick “Night” over his shoulder. It also left her a little confused.

  “Thank you,” he murmured, steering her toward the automatic doors.

  “For what?”

  “For saving me from the barracudas.” Oh, well, that certainly explained that, she decided with a pang that wasn’t really disappointment. That smile hadn’t been for her at all. Curious, she looked back over her shoulder and decided they did kind of resemble a couple of barracudas trawling the reef for a quick snack.

  And to a woman who hadn’t eaten all day, Gabriel Alexander was kind of snack-worthy.

  “You looked like you were having a great time.”

  “Seriously?” He scowled at her as the doors swished closed behind them. “Did you see how ripped they were? I was worried the blonde would wrestle me to the floor and put me in a headlock.” Or a something lock. Holly hid a smirk. “It’s humiliating,” he muttered. “Besides, I don’t like women who are so obsessed with the way they look they can’t relax and have a good time.”

  The look he sent her made her hair smolder and her belly dip and quiver. “Women are supposed to be…soft,” he murmured wickedly, his hot gaze dropping to her breasts. “Not have muscles in places they shouldn’t. It makes a guy feel inferior.”

  He opened the cab door and stepped aside for Holly to get in. She couldn’t see him feeling intimidated by anyone, let alone a
couple of hot, sculpted gym bunnies. He’d have to care what people thought about him and he didn’t strike her as a guy who worried overly much about that.

  He got in behind her and she sneaked a peek out the corner of her eye when his thigh pressed against hers and their shoulders bumped. It sent warm little tingles of awareness pricking her skin.

  She shifted over a little.

  God, he was big, his wide shoulders taking up space she wasn’t used to sharing with anyone and dominating it with a kind of smoldering masculine aggression that made her feel small and fragile when she looked most men in the eye.

  By the time they arrived at the hospital Holly was wondering if she’d made a mistake by agreeing to accompany him after that kiss. She needed at least a week—okay, maybe a month…or three—to recover her equilibrium and stop wanting to either run for cover or…or jump his bones. Jumping his bones would be bad. Bad for the plan and bad for her heart.

  “Get suited up and meet me in room two,” he said briskly, with none of the misgivings or embarrassment she was experiencing. But, then, he was a guy. Kissing women and then going on to remodel a few breasts and thighs was all in a day’s work. For her…? She sucked in air and let it out slowly. Well, not so much.

  That kiss had been—

  “You okay?”

  Startled, she looked up into Gabriel’s handsome face. “Of course.” But instead of sounding coolly professional, she just sounded stunned and unsure. He must have thought so too because his eyebrow arched toward his hairline. “I’m fine, Dr. Alexander,” she said, this time managing cool and confident, although it cost her. “But you might want to order me a glass of fresh orange juice. I can’t remember the last time I ate.”

  One corner of his mouth curled. “I’ll see what I can do. I’d hate for you to fall at my feet.”

  Holly rolled her eyes and hurried into the women’s locker room. Falling at his feet was a habit she was determined to break.

  She grabbed a pair of light blue scrubs, wondering how soon she would be permitted to wear the dark blue scrubs worn by all senior surgeons. It would be the final sign that she had reached the goal she’d work for years to achieve.

  But there wasn’t time to think about that now.

  She quickly changed and headed for OR two, where the team would already be assembled. A ripple of anticipation tripped up her spine when she wondered what was waiting for her because she was fairly certain it would not be anything remotely cosmetic. Plastic surgeons didn’t get called out for boob jobs or tummy tucks. Not at eight o’clock at night.

  Maybe this would be her chance to show her real skills.

  Already scrubbed, Gabe stood patiently while an OR nurse tugged the surgical gown over his shoulders and fastened the rear ties. Holly drank from the bottle of orange juice he’d ordered for her and waited for her turn to scrub up. When she’d finished she dropped the empty bottle into the trash and moved toward the basins.

  He slid his gaze from the top of her dark head over the curvy body hidden beneath her scrubs, down her long legs to her surgical booties. Despite the outfit, she looked elegant and composed.

  His gaze returned to her face and he frowned at the sight of her swollen lips. Lips he’d practically eaten off her face in his eagerness to taste that wide, lush mouth. Heat crawled up the back of his neck at the memory of the way he’d kissed her—like a green untried adolescent with his first crush. Jeez. It was no wonder she’d been stunned speechless. He’d been about as smooth as the Sawtooth Mountains.

  “Is something wrong, Dr. Alexander?”

  Realizing the nurse was addressing him, Gabe said, “Huh?” and tore his gaze from Holly. Damn it. He was standing here staring at her like a lovesick teen stunned stupid by big blue eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

  “Is something wrong?” the nurse repeated, and Gabe dropped his gaze to her brown eyes for a moment before shaking off his odd mood. Yep. Something is wrong. I’m wondering if I’ve lost my mind.

  “Just mentally preparing myself,” he told her crisply, sliding one last hooded look at Holly and backing up to the swing doors. “Ready, Dr. Buchanan?”

  Holly turned toward him, her face composed and serene as though that searing kiss hadn’t happened. Then he caught a quick glimpse of her eyes before her lashes swept down and he realized she was fighting embarrassment and maybe apprehension. Whether for the upcoming procedure or the fact that he’d recently had his tongue in her mouth…he wasn’t certain. Only that she avoided any eye contact as she brushed passed him and stepped into the sterile environment.

  “Where do you want me?”

  Three hours later Gabe lifted his eyes from where Holly’s deft hands skillfully carried out his brisk instructions and recalled her last words.

  Where do you want me? He could have told her that he’d have her anywhere he could get her but everyone was listening with big ears and he didn’t want to provide fodder for gossip. He had a feeling Holly would do anything to avoid attention.

  Over the last couple of hours he’d watched her carefully and couldn’t suppress his admiration for her surgical skills. Watching from the observation room hadn’t quite given him a sense of her abilities despite the video footage of other procedures he’d watched. He preferred the up-close-and-personal approach…of observation, he hastily amended. Working side by side with surgical residents gave him a better idea of their knowledge, skill and their surgical temperament. Despite what people thought, Gabe believed the difference between a good surgeon and an excellent one lay in their ability to stay calm and motivate people without resorting to temper tantrums or abuse. And he was pleased to discover that Holly’s surgical temperament complemented his.

  She was also a quick study. Calm and steady in a crisis, she didn’t hesitate to follow his murmured instructions. In fact, she instinctively seemed to know what he would do next and was poised waiting for his cue or quickly moving in to assist when he’d appreciate another pair of hands attached to his brain.

  The patient had been through massive facial trauma and ended up in reconstruction to stabilize his facial bones before something shifted and ended up in his brain.

  Gabe had used a new technique he’d been developing to keep shattered bones stable while the swelling subsided enough for further reconstruction.

  By inserting an ultra-thin malleable mesh beneath the bones and over a specially made saline bag that would mold the cheekbone, he’d re-sculpted the facial bones to approximate the uninjured side. He’d explained that he was attempting to reduce the need for unnecessary additional reconstruction, especially in heart patients. He’d only used the procedure once before, on a teenager who’d fallen off his snowboard and shattered his nose and both cheekbones. He’d had to resort to pins and wires to reconstruct the lower jaw, but the cheekbones had healed nicely with the new procedure, which included experimental bone-generating injections.

  Once he was satisfied with the position and shape of the mesh-encased bone, he and Holly began the complex task of reattaching and re-forming the tendons in the jaw. It was tedious, painstaking work, requiring each connective bundle to be stretched and sewn onto its counterpart.

  When he finally ordered the area closed with acelluar mesh, he could see Holly was exhausted but wildly buzzed. She’d just assisted in a ground-breaking procedure that was a first at WMS and had done remarkably well with the unfamiliar procedure. The patient would still need ear, nose and lip reconstruction but that was for some time in the future when he’d healed from his other injuries and they could harvest skin and adipose cells.

  They were finally wrapping up when Gabe noticed a tiny tremor move through her hands. She’d been on her feet since early morning and this had been her third lengthy procedure for the day. His gaze snagged hers, recalling how she’d gulped down the orange juice. But that had been hours ago and even he was ravenous.

  “You okay there, Dr. Buchanan?”

  Startled by the personal question after hours of impersonal orders and direc
tions, she blinked a few times before nodding and dropping her gaze to where she was completing the wound closure.

  “Any special instructions?” Her voice was low and confident and Gabe relaxed, stepping back from the action. Rolling the two sets of latex gloves off his hands, he smiled behind his face mask.

  “You’re doing fine,” he murmured, dropping the latex into the medical waste bin. “I’ll leave you to finish things while I write up a report and send instructions to ICU.” And with a quick word of thanks and congratulations to each member of the surgical team, he left the room, stripping off his gown, mask and bandana.

  Leaving her to supervise the final stages was an unspoken vote of confidence that everyone in the room understood. It was well deserved. She might be an adorable klutz in her personal life but there was nothing clumsy about the way she handled herself in surgery. She just needed to believe in herself—go with her gut instinct. She knew what she was doing and she was good. He felt confident that with practice, expert guidance and encouragement she would become a highly skilled professional.

  A half-hour later he spotted her heading across the hospital lobby toward the huge glass entrance. It was almost two in the morning and he was tired but knew from experience that he wouldn’t sleep. He was still buzzing with adrenaline and though he usually preferred to be alone after a challenging procedure, he suddenly yearned for company.

  Holly Buchanan’s.

  The realization that he was actively seeking out the company of a woman who usually went out of her way to avoid him was a little disturbing. He shook off the unwelcomed thoughts. This was just a post-operative conversation between colleagues.

  That’s all.

  He quietly came up behind her, ignoring the fact that he didn’t quite believe it himself. “Wanna share a cab?”

  Startled, she jolted and flashed a look across her shoulder that could only be interpreted as guilty— especially when her gaze slid away from his and color seeped beneath her creamy skin.

  Gabe wondered what she’d been thinking and if it had been about him. It wasn’t ego that prompted the thought, he told himself, because he rarely obsessed about women or wondered if they obsessed about him. In Holly’s case it was only fair considering the number of times he’d been distracted by the scent of her, teasing his senses over the antiseptic smells of the OR.