“Shut up, smartass.” Jake focused on the distant hazy peaks of Denali, doing his best to shake off his melancholy. He and Wendy had known each other since grade school. “You have a rare day off too, Clutch?”
“Don’t call me that. I hate it,” she said.
Half-Inupiat and all attitude, Wendy looked like a swimsuit model, swore like a drunken drill sergeant, and had grown up fast after her mother had passed away when she was only twelve.
Living with three older brothers and having a mechanic for a father had made her into quite a tomboy, and Jake often found her tinkering with cars when she wasn’t saving lives in his ER. They’d gone out once, but the romantic sparks hadn’t been there. They’d remained good friends ever since.
“And I could ask the same of you,” she said.
“What?” He scowled. “I take plenty of time off.”
“Right.”
“I can’t help it if my patients need me.”
She gave him an exasperated look. “Whatever gets you through the night.”
He squirmed a bit. Her comment had hit too close to home. Trouble was, his time-honored excuse wasn’t getting him through the night anymore. Especially since a certain prickly and disturbingly pretty media star had arrived.
They were totally unsuited. Polar opposites on so many levels it wasn’t even funny. His best bet would be to put her out of his mind and concentrate on Bobby’s recovery. Except all it seemed to take was one thought of her and his blood burned like lit gasoline, sparking a primal rush of need he didn’t expect or want.
Jake peered up toward the summit, waiting for the signal to start his ascent. Finally their new field commander waved, giving the all clear, and he started the slow pull-stop-readjust-pull-stop-readjust that would hoist them back to civilization. His muscles strained and the excess adrenaline clawing through his system began to burn off with the effort.
Undeterred by the fact that she was supposed to be comatose, Wendy continued to chatter. “I hear you’re working with a celebrity.”
“Excuse me?” Jake muttered a curse as a particularly stiff carabiner gave him issues.
“That fancy doctor from the television show. Hot stuff, from what the orderlies say.”
Frowning, Jake maneuvered them around a rock ledge. For some reason the thought of other men talking about Dr. Flynn made him want to punch something. “Which ones?”
“Pretty much every straight single male working at Anchorage Mercy.”
Wendy shrugged, causing the body board to sway precariously. Jake gave her a warning glare.
“The ones I talked to said they wouldn’t mind showing her some Alaskan hospitality...”
Between the strong breeze and Wendy’s observations, this ascent was becoming more treacherous by the second. The fact that Jake had stayed up far later than he should have researching Molly Flynn’s credentials last night probably didn’t help either. Nor did the fact that Dr. Dave had been right, dammit. Dr. Flynn was brilliant—but such overachievement came at a price.
In his experience, high intelligence like hers meant spending all your time with your nose stuck in a book, not connecting with people. One more difference between them—which only made his ever-growing attraction to her that much more baffling.
“Dr. Flynn’s only interested in her case and her show—that’s it.”
“Real workaholic, huh?” Wendy shoved her hand in the pocket of her jumpsuit. “Sounds like someone else I know.”
“I’m not a workaholic. I have other interests, hobbies. Look at me now.”
“Yes. Dancing on a knife’s edge is so relaxing, eh? Here.”
Jake stared at the oblong ivory-colored object she held out to him. “What’s that?”
“A carved walrus tooth—brings the owner luck.”
He tucked it safely in his jumpsuit pocket, then worked the carabiners again. “Thanks.”
“Any time. My brother Mike’s got a whole tent full of them at the State Fair this year. Tourists love them.” Wendy winked. “So, you going to ask this woman out or not?”
“Not,” Jake said.
As they neared the summit the voices of the ART team grew louder—pretend orders were barked, pretend conversations with the hospital were called in by 911.
From this height, the valley below was even more breathtaking—golden fields, a few mountain goats foraging, the modern skyscrapers of Anchorage shining like golden monoliths in the sunshine, and the sparkling waters of the lagoon and Cook Inlet beyond deep blue and clear. The air zinged with the mossy scent of dead leaves and the cry of a red-tail hawk pierced the sky.
Multiple hands reached down to help Jake get Wendy over the edge of the summit, then assisted him in the last few steps to the top. Once they were both safely on solid ground Jake unhooked the ropes from his harness and felt the last of his pent-up tension dissipate.
Maybe Wendy was right. Not about asking out Dr. Flynn, but at least about getting to know her. After all, they would be stuck working with each other for the next few weeks. Better to be on friendly terms than at one another’s throats the whole time. And perhaps the spark of rivalry between them would drive them both to solve Bobby’s case.
Sparks...
In an instant his traitorous mind flashed images of he and Dr. Flynn creating an entirely different kind of fire, reaching new heights of passion between the sheets, their limbs tangled, his hands in her hair, his mouth on her skin, his name on her lips as he brought her to the brink of ecstasy...
Jake cursed under his breath and ran a hand through his wind-tousled hair. He had to stop thinking about Dr. Flynn that way. They were working on a case together. She’d be gone in a few weeks. He’d be stuck here alone. Again. It was too complicated.
Dr. Flynn was here for Bobby. He couldn’t allow himself to go down that path again, to be vulnerable. He couldn’t. Jake took a deep breath and scanned the area, spotting the ART vehicles, a burgundy-colored Range Rover, and a cameraman with his lens pointed directly at...
Oh. Hell. No.
He stalked over to where the woman foremost in his thoughts stood with her crew. “What’s going on?” Jake demanded. “Why are you here?”
“Good to see you again, Dr. Ryder.” Dr. Flynn’s producer, Neal, extended his hand. “We’ve been out all morning getting exterior shots. One of your nurses gave us a tip about this practice drill today. We figured we’d take advantage of the beautiful scenery and the excitement.”
“Must be fun...cavorting around while Bobby’s in his hospital bed.” Jake’s gaze never left Dr. Flynn.
Color slowly flushed her cheeks. “I do not cavort and I’m on call with the staff twenty-four-seven.” She gave him a cursory glance. “What’s your excuse, Dr. Ryder?”
“This is my day off—not that it’s any of your business.” Jake had intended to be brusque, except the nearer he got, the more he caught Dr. Flynn’s scent—light, floral, like sunshine and happiness. He clenched his fists at his sides.
This was ridiculous. He shouldn’t want to touch her. And yet he did. So much it hurt. His fingertips itched with the crazy urge to stroke her skin, to see if it felt as velvety as it looked. His lips tingled with the insane need to taste her. His heart thudded, drowning out every other sound in the area but her voice.
Summoning every ounce of willpower he possessed, Jake stepped back, turning to Neal once more. “You said one of my nurses gave you a tip that we’d be out here today. Who?”
“Her.” The cameraman, Rob, pointed. “Over there.”
Wendy waved innocently as the ART crew trundled her off to the MediVac unit.
Jake stared at the departing chopper, perplexed. Wendy, of all people, knew of his aversion to the limelight—knew what had happened with Kellie and how he didn’t want to get involved like that again. Why would she push him?
Scowling, he refocus
ed on Neal. “If you have any shots of me your footage is useless. No releases, remember?”
“Don’t worry,” Rob said. “I shot around you.”
“We don’t want to get sued any more than you want your privacy invaded, Dr. Ryder,” Neal said.
“There are worse things than having people want to get to know you better,” Dr. Molly Flynn said, still not looking at him.
“Really?” Jake kept his distance and jammed his hands into his pockets, in case he got the overwhelming urge to touch her again. “And what might they be?”
For a brief second pain flickered through her gaze, so fast he would’ve missed it if he hadn’t been watching her so intently. The edges of Dr. Flynn’s lips tightened, causing his well-guarded heart to tug.
“No one knowing the real you at all.”
Her tone held such sadness that Jake had to force himself not to ask more. Whatever the woman’s issues were, he’d do best to steer clear of them. No good could come from forming an attachment to her. He had a busy life—no time for a relationship, and no time for what would surely be nothing but heartbreak in the end.
With a curt nod, Jake re-joined the rest of the ART team to help them pack up the gear, reminding himself for the umpteenth time of his goals for the next few weeks. He’d work with Dr. Flynn to consult on Bobby’s case—always off-camera—and monitor his best buddy’s progress.
Forget this awareness that flared brighter than a supernova. Forget this wayward attraction. Forget his raging pulse and the way the world came alive whenever she was around.
That was the best option. The safe option. The smart option.
Now, if Jake could remember those things whenever they were together, he’d be all set.
CHAPTER FOUR
TWO DAYS PASSED with no further sign of Dr. Jake Ryder, though Gladys had let Molly know he’d stopped by each day to see Bobby. True to his word, he’d avoided both her and her crew like the plague. And, given all the weird reactions he evoked inside her whenever he was around, that was fine. Also, considering the fact she hadn’t made any real progress on the Templeton file, Molly didn’t need any distractions.
All Bobby’s tests had been negative. Even the chest CT had showed no vascular problems, so no Churg-Strauss. Good for the patient, bad for Molly—since she had nothing else to go on at present.
She slumped in the hard plastic chair in her tiny interim office and sighed. Cases had stumped her before, but never one like this.
Stretching her aching neck and back, Molly stared up at the ceiling. She hadn’t slept much since she’d been here, which wasn’t uncommon. New hotel, new bed, new noises to wake her every hour or so... About the time she got used to her surroundings it would be time to leave again and head home. But at least she hadn’t received any more surprise phone calls from her mother. Or hurtful texts from Brian.
Molly yawned, then winced at the stiffness in her muscles. Maybe she should’ve taken Gladys up on the second cup of coffee she’d offered earlier.
The familiar voices of her crew filtered in through the open office door. Today Neal and Rob were shooting filler scenes and staff interviews for the show, in between documenting the patient’s many tests and visitors. All in all, the whole trip thus far had been a lesson in patience and persistence instead of the rousing ratings booster the network had envisioned.
Pushing to her feet and stretching, Molly was just about to head out and grab some lunch in the cafeteria when the overhead PA system crackled to life.
“Dr. Flynn to ICU Room 407, stat. Paging Dr. Flynn to ICU 407, stat.”
That was Bobby’s room.
She raced for the door. Nurses were pushing trays of equipment in the same direction and Molly broke into a jog. Rob and Neal were already waiting by the door when she arrived. She elbowed her way through the small crowd, concerned. Bobby had been doing fine when she’d checked on him an hour earlier.
“Stand back, please.”
Molly shoved the privacy curtain aside. Bobby sat on his bed, arms crossed and face contorted with fear, huddled in a corner of the mattress, staring up at the ceiling in horror. She checked the monitors—his vitals appeared normal.
“He’s delirious,” Gladys said, shooing the other people out of the room. “Keeps mumbling about the enemy on the roof and people creeping through the walls.”
Leaning closer to her patient, Molly put her hand on his arm—only to feel his whole body stiffen.
Bobby collapsed onto the bed, convulsing. “He’s seizing!”
“What’s going on?” Dr. Ryder yelled as he burst into the room. “I got here as fast as I could.”
Molly waved him over to the bed. “Help me get him on his side.”
He rushed over and helped turn his friend. “Whoa. That rash is new.”
“What rash?” She frowned down at the red blisters covering the patient’s left lower leg. “Gladys, is this his first seizure?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
The patient’s body relaxed and Molly released Bobby’s weight onto the mattress. “Any signs of fever prior?”
“No, Doctor.”
Bobby blinked open his eyes and seemed genuinely shocked to find them all staring at him. “Why’s everybody watching me?”
“Everything will be fine, Mr. Templeton. Don’t panic.” Molly gave him her best reassuring smile. “You had a seizure. Do you remember anything about what happened?”
“No. All I recall is speaking to the nurse, then things got fuzzy.”
“Okay.” She took his file from Gladys. “I’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise. Let the nurse finish checking your vitals, then we’ll talk again.”
Dr. Ryder swore and looked away, but not before Molly caught the deep worry in his eyes. It was the same concern burrowing deep inside her.
“I’m going to speak with Dr. Flynn for a moment and I’ll be back,” he told Bobby.
“Sure.” Bobby tucked the robe tightly around himself again. “Just please someone find out what’s wrong with me.”
Molly exited the room, Dr. Ryder hot on her heels. Her mind raced with new information, quickening her steps.
“He was delirious right before you arrived. Talked about people being up on the roof and men creeping through the walls. Do you know anything about that?”
They entered her office seconds later and Dr. Ryder closed the door behind them. “I still think it could be encephalitis. Did you get a lumbar puncture?”
“I did. This morning. Waiting on results.”
Molly took a seat behind her desk and opened the folder, not missing the fact that he’d avoided her question. But she had bigger problems to solve first.
“Those vesicles on his leg look like herpes.”
“If it is herpetic encephalitis, then his immune system is severely compromised.”
Dr. Ryder leaned over her shoulder, unlooping the stethoscope from around his neck and placing it on Molly’s desk as he stared at his friend’s chart. His warmth surrounded her again, carrying along with it a hint of the crisp outdoors, reminding her of their last meeting on top of O’Malley’s Peak. He’d been angry with her for being there, but there’d also been a lingering spark of want in his eyes. Just like that first night at the accident scene. An answering need coiled tight inside her before Molly tamped it down.
“Steroids suppress the immune system, but not to this degree, so it can’t be the medication.” She called the nurses’ station. “Gladys, start Mr. Templeton on IV acyclovir: twelve hundred milligrams every eight hours for the next ten days.”
Molly hung up, then peered at Jake over her shoulder, resisting the urge to snuggle against him.
“The drug is relatively non-toxic. Empirical treatment is recommended by the ADA.”
“No argument here.”
“That’s a first.”
“Don�
��t worry. I’m sure we’ll find something to disagree on momentarily.”
He winked, and her stomach fluttered despite her solemn intent to steer clear of him.
Dr. Ryder held Molly’s gaze for a long moment, his lips so close that if she leaned in an inch more they’d kiss...
Dr. Ryder cleared his throat and stepped back, returning his attention to the file, a hint of color flushing his high cheekbones. His words emerged a bit huskier than before—another sign that she wasn’t the only one affected by this powerful connection between them.
“The herpes diagnosis still bothers me, though,” he said, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “Seems too easy. What about Lupus? Bobby said he felt better on the steroids. That could explain why.”
“Except the treatment for Lupus would be more steroids, which we can’t use if it’s encephalitis.” Molly forced the words past her constricted throat. “I’ll...uh...make sure the network edits you out of those shots.”
“Oh, yeah.” His dark brows drew together, as if he’d only just now remembered her crew had been filming back in Bobby’s room.
He licked his lips and she wondered if his mouth tasted as good as it looked. Molly lowered her gaze and clasped her hands tight in her lap. She’d never felt so turned on, or so torn. Her father would have a field-day if he could see her, acting like a hormonal teenager. Good thing he was thousands of miles away in China.
Dr. Ryder headed for the door. “I’ll check in on Bobby later.”
Perhaps it was the adrenaline still pumping through her system, or her complete lack of common sense at that moment, but Molly didn’t want him to leave just yet.
“What did Bobby mean the other day when he said you felt like you had to watch out for him?”
“Huh?” Dr. Ryder swiveled to face her again, his expression guarded.
Dazed, Molly met his eyes and saw a deep loneliness and yearning to match her own. This crazy bond between them reminded her of a runaway train, rumbling headlong down the tracks toward what she feared was certain disaster. If she didn’t move, didn’t avoid it at all costs, it would sweep her right off the map...
One Night with the Army Doc Page 5