They spent that night in the small apartment she shared with two other girls near the hospital, their bodies flush together in a tiny bed barely big enough for the two of them.
The next morning, they took a train to New York. He wanted to get her out of Boston, wanted the two of them away from any and all work. Thirty-six hours they’d have together, less than that now, and he’d make the most of every single second. He didn’t do enough of that. Didn’t send her flowers or call her and wax poetic words of love. He didn’t tell her how empty he felt when he crawled into bed without her every night or that a part of himself was missing, a chunk of his heart gone with her so far away.
He didn’t know how to say it or what good it would do. He didn’t want her to give up what she wanted or to make her feel guilty for wanting it. He could wait. He had no other choice. He would focus on Hannah and work, and he would breathe, and in a few more years she’d be with him again every night. He hoped. God, he hoped. Maybe that’s what hurt so much—the fear that she might never come back to him. So for now, for these next hours, he would keep her as close as possible, make her smile as brightly as he could, and dig deep to show her how he felt.
He got an expensive room in a small boutique hotel just a few blocks from Rockefeller Center and a short cab ride from Central Park. They walked and talked and slipped into an interesting little hole in the wall for dinner. She told him about the cases she’d had in the ER and the lives she’d saved.
“You love it.”
“Yes. I really do. I think I’ve found my niche with emergency surgery. The controlled chaos, the team calling out numbers and demands. Going from hopeless to hopeful in seconds.” When she paused and looked into her soup, he covered her hand, knowing her well enough to know that look in her eyes.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I know I can’t save them all.”
He was so damn proud of her. Had he told her that? “But all the ones that can be saved, you save them.”
Her grateful smile warmed her face even though he hadn’t said exactly what he meant to say. Why couldn’t he say what he meant to say? What he felt?
“Hannah told me you wouldn’t let her wear lip gloss to school.” Mia eyed him over her glass. “Really, Nick?”
“She’s twelve.”
“It’s lip gloss. Shiny ChapStick.”
“It’s not the gloss, it’s why she wants to wear the gloss.”
“Ah.” She rubbed her thumb over the frown between his brows. “Do you know how much I love you?”
“Because I won’t let her wear lip gloss?”
“No.” She leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Because you’re you.” She smiled. “Just maybe give on the little things.”
“Well, there’s one thing that’s not so little.”
“What’s that?”
He sighed. He hadn’t meant to bring it up during their time together, but he did want to talk to her about it. “Hannah’s teachers are suggesting that she skip a couple of grades.”
Mia listened intently. It wasn’t such a surprise. Hannah had tested at genius level in early elementary school, and it had been suggested then. When she could read at an eighth-grade level and work basic algebra problems at seven years old, the school counselor had brought it up. Nick had nixed that idea. He didn’t want her with older kids. She was in the enriched program and pulled out for certain classes; that would have to be enough. The school didn’t seem to think that was enough anymore.
“There’s one other kid her age that’s moved to the high school. He takes regular high school classes—biology, chemistry—and the school counselor says Hannah is miles ahead of him. She said I need to think about Hannah’s future, that she could be in college by the time she’s fifteen. Why the hell would I want her in college at fifteen?”
Mia listened, weighing it all like she did, and he waited. “What? Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking… that if I had gone to college when I was fifteen, I would already be done with med school. I’d be well on my way to doing the work I love before I’m thirty.”
He grinned. “If you’d been fifteen in college, I wouldn’t have made my moves on you.”
“There is that.” She smiled briefly. “But I could be married, maybe starting a family.”
“Is that what you want?”
Her eyes met his. “You know I do.”
“Well, you’re not thirty yet.” He brought her hand to his lips. “We’ll get there.”
She nodded then stunned him when her eyes filled with tears. Mia never cried. “I miss you,” she said, her voice breaking.
“Hey.” With his arm around her shoulder, he pulled her face to his chest. “You’re almost done.”
“I know, but…”
“Shh. I’ll come see you more.”
“No.” She wiped her cheeks, gave him a sad, forced smile. “I’m not asking you to do that. I’m sorry. We said no crying.”
“That was your visiting rule. I can cry if I want to.”
That got a real smile. “I love you,” she said.
“I know.”
She took a deep breath and let it out, brushing aside her sad mood. He hated it, one rare tear tore him up inside, but if he let her quit now, if he encouraged it…No. They’d made it this far.
“So, back to Hannah. It seems like something to think about. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. She wants to do it.”
“I guess you could try it for a little while. A semester? See how it goes.”
“Maybe.” It made his head hurt. He wanted Mia’s opinion, but he didn’t want to think about this right now. Right now was all about the two of them together for what was… he glanced at his watch. Twenty-eight hours.
They left the restaurant with her hand snug in his. The New York winter blew lightly against them.
“You need gloves,” he said after a few minutes. “I’m sure we can find some.”
“No.” She looked up at him, rubbing the pad of her thumb over the back of his hand. She didn’t want anything between them. He didn’t, either.
They stopped on the Plaza and watched the ice skaters below. Her face was flushed with cold, her cheeks rosy. And though her eyes were still tired, they were brighter. He pulled her in front of him at the rail, her back to his chest, and wrapped her up tight in his arms. “You looked cold,” he whispered at her ear.
“Really?” she teased, giving him a glance over his shoulder.
“Mmm.” He pressed his lips to her temple, and she sighed. He’d have to unwind the scarf to nibble on her throat. Later.
They walked a little farther then grabbed a cab to Central Park.
“Hey! Hey!” a vender called out. “Come see! Something for de lovebirds.” His long black braids hung over the red and green scarf wrapped around his neck. He held out the wares he was hocking. “Five dollars.”
Mia took the plastic globe he held out and turned it in her hands. Tiny white bits flew around the cheap depiction of Central Park. She turned it again, shook it. “I was sure it would snow tonight.”
“There’s your snow.” Nick handed the man a five and linked his fingers with Mia’s again. “Come on.”
They walked until they were alone, away from lights and people, and crossed a short bridge. “I wish it was snowing,” she said as they stopped midway.
“Not cold enough for you?”
“It is, but it’s so beautiful when it snows. I don’t like the cold, but I do like it when it’s coming down. Not the blustering flurry kind, but the big flakes. They fall so slowly, it’s like you can watch something coming straight down from heaven and landing at your feet.”
“I’d say it’s exactly like that.” He dipped his head and took her mouth in a long, drawn-out kiss. Then he pulled back and brushed a hand over her cheek. “You shouldn’t get cold. You’ll get sick.”
She pulled his head down for more. “I’m not cold.”
They kissed ag
ain, absorbing everything the moment could give them. It was always there, the heat, the want. The time apart had no effect.
He laid his palms over her cold ears. “You live in Boston. You should have a hat, for God’s sake.”
“I forgot it. I think I was distracted when I was packing.”
He remembered. He’d been doing some very creative distracting.
“Just another minute.” With her eyes squeezed tightly shut like a child making a wish, she shook the globe again, and he laughed. She grinned up at him, and he took the globe from her, held it above her head. “Just pretend.”
Before his lips touched hers, a heavy white flake fell right between them. Another landed on her shoulder, and another settled softly on her head.
“It’s snowing,” he said, not quite believing it.
“It’s magic,” she whispered, pulling him down for a magical kiss.
They kissed with the snow falling softly around them then watched the fat flakes land silently on the cold surface, disappearing without ripple or sound, merging with the water. He wrapped Mia up, merged with her, and thought of merging more fully when they got back to the hotel.
* * *
THEIR HOTEL ROOM OVERLOOKED a quiet New York street covered in a blanket of white. He undressed her slowly, peeling away the layers until all that remained were her delicate panties. He stood behind her, trailed his lips over the skin of her shoulder, felt her shudder when he grazed his teeth up the tender skin of her throat. The reflection of their bodies superimposed on the glass like they were part of the outside scene even as they stood in the dark warmth four stories above.
It never got old and always felt new. The feel of her soft flesh under his hands, sliding along his lips. Her sweet scent something he only ever associated with Mia. He kissed around the shell of her ear, then paused and spent some time on the sensitive spot just behind. Her soft sighs and quick inhales were his guide. They were like one heart, in sync. Fluidly she turned in his arms, and he kissed her cheeks, her forehead, then watched as she reached up to undo the buttons of his shirt.
He let her work the shirt off and sighed when her hands ran over him. Almost lost his plans of slow seduction when she laid a line of open-mouth kisses across his chest. He caught her face, tilted it up to his, and ravaged her mouth. Just shy of rough, he nipped at her bottom lip, plundered until he felt her sway.
He laid her on the bed, drank in the sight of her, from her toes to her eyes, then with his lips he tasted her the same way. Starting slowly at her feet and working his way up, laying small kisses behind her knees then taking some time at her thighs and higher until she was squirming, lifting her hips, begging him to focus on that center where she needed him. But he was going to make this last. He was going to love her all night. He had no need for sleep.
She reached for him, trying to pull him up, trying to rush him.
“Shh… be patient.”
“No. I’m not patient.”
He brushed his lips back over her abdomen, nipped at her hip. “My Mia, so hungry for more.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Please.”
When he skimmed his thumbs over her nipples, her breath hitched. He lifted his head to watch her face as he cupped her breast, molded it in his rough palm. Felt her tremble and arch into him when he drew her into his mouth. Her skin was hot now, damp with sweat, as he drew that need to the surface.
He kissed her parted lips. “I love the way you look at me when I touch you.”
“I’m not looking… I’m… I can’t think.”
“Exactly. Your eyes glaze over. You lose focus until I know there’s nothing going on in that head of yours but me. Just us and this bed and my hands on you.”
He traced down her stomach and over her hips. He was patient in his exploration, even more determined every time she quivered in response to his touch. He ran his palms up the insides of her thighs, his thumbs going closer and closer with every pass.
“Nick.”
“I’m right here.”
“I know but… I want—”
“I know what you want. I know what you need.” He hooked his fingers in the elastic on either side of her waist, slid the last silken barrier away— and now he was the one quivering. Even in the darkness of the room he could clearly see her outline, the curves of her pale skin, the shadow between her legs.
He made himself at home there and drove her to the edge again and again before finally taking her over.
She lay limp and loose, and he pressed his hammering heart to her chest, skin to skin. He needed to cover himself with her, her scent and voice, and fill himself up for however long it would be before he was with her again.
This is what he dreamed of every night when they were apart. She was real, and he was here with her.
The storm gathered, and the heat rose as he pushed inside. “I love you. I love you, Mia. You’re everything. Everything.” He didn’t hold back now, as if being inside her broke down any barriers he might have had, and the words flowed. He whispered them as he moved. She was all. His life. His heart.
Then he pressed a kiss to the arched column of her throat, held his lips there as she cried out her release, and he followed.
* * *
HE’D BEEN BACK IN Virginia exactly one month, dreaming every night of a New York hotel room, when he answered the door. His heart took a leap. Mia stood on his front porch, suitcase beside her, a huge smile lighting her eyes.
He yanked her into his arms, kissed her hard, then pulled back. “You came for Hannah’s birthday. God, she’s going to be so happy, and I’m going to love you even more than I already do if you say you’ll stay long enough to go out to eat with nine thirteen-year-olds.”
“I’ll stay longer than that. I’m coming back, Nick. I’m coming home.”
Chapter 10
Present day…
NICK’S EYES WERE LOCKED on Mia’s before her receptionist closed the office door behind him. He hadn’t known what to say to her earlier at the hospital. He still didn’t. What did you say to someone who’d owned your heart?
She faced him, her wide brown desk between them. They stood there a long minute, just staring at each other, several feet separating them. Maybe she wanted to look at him as much as he wanted to look at her. He wondered what she was remembering. He remembered everything.
Mia and her big brown eyes that seemed to take up her whole face. The feathered brow he’d traced all the times he watched her sleep, the full lips he always had to kiss once more before they parted.
But those dark, sultry eyes had taken his breath away the first time he’d seen her. The same way they did now. For a second, his gut twisted over what had been. What was gone. Her once-long black hair that had also captured him barely touched her shoulders now and contrasted with the white blouse she wore. The classic black pencil skirt showcased her slim legs he knew well. She looked… not really older, but more mature. Just as beautiful, her face more sculpted, cheekbones even more pronounced.
No other woman had ever meant anything, couldn’t even remember another woman’s a face. Because he’d never even considered moving on, never considered having a future with someone else.
“You cut your hair,” he said. An idiotic thing to say when he wanted to tell her that, how beautiful she was and how even though things had gone wrong between them, it was still good to see her. That he still cared. But he didn’t say any of that.
“Yes.” She touched the ends absently like she’d forgotten it was there.
“It looks good.”
“Thanks.” She lifted her chin slightly, her shoulders stiff as if bracing for a hit. “You look good, too. The same.”
He could barely breathe past the lump in his throat and the knot in his belly. This day had been his perfect storm, an emotional tidal wave. His fragile sister spending time with a man he couldn’t control, seeing her back in the hospital, and then Mia…
For a man who survived by being in control, he was drowning. Even wi
th everything swirling around him, he couldn’t take his eyes off the woman looking at him like he’d broken her heart and had now come to finish her off.
His gaze fell to a photo on her desk—a baby with a toothless smile. “You have a child?” The pain that sliced through him was sharp and swift. They’d talked a lot about the children they would have together.
“No.” She flicked a glance up at him, then away, her long lashes shielding her eyes. “I don’t.” She angled the picture away from him, not willing to share something so obviously painful and personal. That hurt, even after all this time.
It was the defeat in her voice that softened him. The pain in her eyes was like ice water on his anger, and he had to fight the urge to soothe her.
He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, glancing around her office. A photo of her parents sat on a shelf next to her framed medical board certification. “How are your parents?”
She followed his gaze to another photo. “They died a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded. “My mom died first, a sudden heart attack. My father followed soon after.”
An only child to older parents, that meant Mia was alone. And he hadn’t been there for her like she had been for him. Or maybe she wasn’t alone. Even though he’d automatically looked for a ring and not seen one. “You’re not married.”
She clasped her hands together, right over left. “No.” Her dark eyes met his, and the force of it almost knocked him back a step. “No. I never married.”
Never married. He wondered if Hannah had told her he’d never married either. His sister, which is why he was here. “I wanted to talk about Hannah.”
“I didn’t think you’d come to talk about my hair.” Her shoulders dropped, and she sank into the leather chair behind her desk as if a chance had just been lost.
She made him ache for her, making him crazy, and he couldn’t even explain to himself the anger that she could still do both. Mia would have been expecting him at the hospital. He was the one who’d been blindsided.
Worth the Wait (McKinney/Walker #1) Page 8