by Julie Rowe
His shoulders dropped and he seemed to fall in on himself. “Yeah. Me too.”
Tom was wrong. This was something only he could fix, but first she had to get him to admit he could. “Do me a favor? Check Stan’s vitals.”
“Handling me again, Em?”
She picked up the thermometer and held it out. “Would you expect any less?”
He stood and took it. “Nope.” He turned to Stan, then turned back and enveloped her in a hug. “Thanks.”
“Talk to him,” she whispered, hugging him back. “About anything, just talk. Let him hear your voice and know he’s safe.”
“Okay, I can do that.” Tom let her go, but not before kissing her temple. A soft, lingering press of lips that made her breathing speed up ridiculously fast.
He backed up a step then said to Stan, “Okay, big guy, time to check your temperature.”
She watched Tom talk to Stan quietly, checking his vitals, telling him about the merry search he’d led the crew on, how even Emilie tried to go look for him.
He rested one hand on Stan’s shoulder. That’s when she realized Tom’s face was wet with tears.
Watching him mop the moisture from his face, not trying to hide the tears, not ashamed of showing his feelings, Emilie understood something fundamental about Tom. He wasn’t afraid of showing vulnerability, something David would never have done. He’d been in competition with his friends for everything. Work or play, it didn’t matter. While her husband might have watched over a friend in hospital, he wouldn’t have done it with his emotions hanging out. Shedding tears was the wife, mother or sister’s job.
She’d thought the two men were the same, but now the differences seemed vast. A relief in some ways, in others…she wasn’t sure how to feel. She thought she had Tom all figured out—just another intelligent adventure addict with a side order of leadership skills to make the mix interesting.
But he was more than that. Much more.
As the hours passed, Emilie watched Tom’s face grow pale, his eyes sunken and almost black as he stood vigil over his friend. Steadily, Stan’s body temperature rose until it was once again within the normal range.
The blackening tips of his bandaged hands worried her. Would there be long-term consequences due to his mishap? Nerve damage, infection and amputation loomed large on her radar, but the effects of brain swelling also needed to be investigated.
She could only do so much with the equipment on hand.
Tom knew it. He stood next to Stan, rubbing the other man’s shoulder, when a weak, wavering voice broke the silence in the clinic.
“Hey, what’s with the frown?”
“Stan?” A huge grin spilled across Tom’s face, transforming him, giving him new life. For a moment, he just stared. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Looking at you for a few hours straight would be hard on anyone.”
Stan frowned. “A few hours?” He glanced around. “Why am I in Club Med?”
Emilie arrived on the other side of his gurney with her digital thermometer and stuck it into his ear. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
The question seemed to confuse Stan. “Breakfast?” He looked from Emilie to Tom. “Why? What happened? What am I doing here and why do I feel like crap?”
“You went outside with a team to fix some wires,” Tom told him, “and got lost. You were well on your way to becoming a permanent snowman before we found you.”
“I don’t remember,” Stan said, shaking his head.
“Don’t worry too much. Your memory should return.” She smiled at them both.
Tom patted Stan’s shoulder and grinned anew. “Damn, but it’s good to hear you talking.”
“Remember you said that the next time you complain about my singing.”
Tom laughed, his eyes sparkling, and something locked deep inside Emilie broke free.
Hope and joy, all wrapped up together. A bright bubbling mass of jubilation loosening the restraint, the hold she’d placed on her emotions.
She gasped, but both men were too distracted to notice, giving her a chance to try to stuff all those dangerous delighted feelings running rampant back inside that tiny dark corner of her heart.
They eluded her, slipping out of her grasp, and Tom’s unabashed laughter cemented their escape.
She panted, panic speeding her breathing and heart rate. She couldn’t deal with them now, not when she had patients to look after, not when the man who caused them to escape was standing right in front of her, so alive and happy.
She was alive and happy. Something she hadn’t felt in a very long time.
Guilt’s grasping hands grabbed hold of her neck and choked her.
Just keep moving, keep breathing, keep doing the job. That was all she had to do. All she could do. She was here to do a job and put the past behind her. Nothing more.
Emilie felt like she was balancing on the tip of a flagpole, blindfolded.
The drop to the ground was long, dark and lonely.
At 6:00 a.m. station time, Emilie pronounced Stan out of danger and they moved his gurney into a narrow space next to Jack’s hospital bed. By seven Stan was stable and sleeping.
“We both need to sleep,” she said to Tom in a no-nonsense tone. She was prepared to make it a medical issue if she had to, but the man was going to bed. Now.
“Things look quiet,” he said, staring at Stan and the other two injured men.
“Who do you suggest I ask to babysit?”
“You better not let them hear you call it that.” He angled a thumb at her three patients.
She glanced at the men. “I can take it.” She refocused on Tom, whose eyes were black again. Was he even aware how tired and stressed he appeared? “Can you?”
His smile twisted. “I’ve never not handled it before.”
“Fair enough.”
Tom turned to look at her. “Sharon has slept and she’s got advanced first aid.”
“Sounds ideal,” Emilie said, yawning.
A grin blossomed on Tom’s face as he headed for the phone. “Look who’s tired. I thought all you doctors were used to long hours.”
Emilie barked out a laugh. “Required to work long hours, yes. Used to it, no.” She rested one hip on her desk and waited for Tom to finish his call.
“Sharon will be here in a minute,” he said after he hung up, strolling over to stand close to Emilie. He glanced over his shoulder at Stan. “Are you sure we can leave him?”
“We’re not leaving him, Tom, he’ll be in good hands. He’s in pretty good shape, considering how cold he was when he came in.”
Tom met her gaze. “Will he keep his fingers?”
She looked away. “I’m not sure.”
“Uh-huh.” He let one eyebrow rise to express his disbelief. “Want to give me a real answer now?”
She sighed. “I think he’s going to lose a couple on his left hand, the pinkie for sure and probably his ring finger.”
Tom’s stance loosened. “That’s all?”
“I think so. We’ll see how his hand looks in a few hours. Then tomorrow, and the next day.”
Tom released a deep breath and nodded. “That’s good news.”
“You thought it would be worse?”
He swallowed, his mouth tightening. “I was afraid he’d lose the whole hand.”
“Is that the only thing you’re afraid of?”
“Isn’t it enough?”
Chapter Five
The doors to the medical center swung open and Sharon bounced in. “I’m ready to work.”
“Isn’t it against station rules for anyone to be so energetic this early in the morning?” Emilie asked Tom.
“No, but I can change that.”
“Yes, please,” she said with a yawn. “Quickly.”
She filled Sharon in on the center’s three patients, instructing her to call Emilie in three hours to change the saline on all three IVs, or sooner if their vitals took a nosedive.
“Let’s go, imperious leade
r,” Emilie said to Tom when she was done. “We need our beauty sleep.”
“Nah, I’m handsome enough as it is.”
“Come on then, handsome, it’s time to get some shut-eye.” She winked at Sharon. “See you later.”
“Sleep tight, don’t let Tom bite.”
Emilie snorted as she pushed the door open. “Like he’s ever going to get the chance.”
Tom followed her out into the hall, clutching his chest. “I’m crushed.”
“Sure, you are.” She headed toward her quarters.
Tom kept pace with her, a hot, slow smile spreading across his face. “But I am.”
“You couldn’t afford my price tag.” She wiggled her left hand, making sure to show off her wedding band.
He winked at her. “Never say never, that’s my motto.” His silliness sounded a little forced.
“I thought your motto was never say I do?”
“It is. The M word isn’t in my vocabulary.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“Yes, I do. Not a damn thing.”
“Did some woman damage you so badly you’ve sworn off our entire half of the species?”
“I like women.” He grinned and gave her a heated glance. “A lot. I just don’t want a permanent roommate or any little carbon copies.”
Emilie unlocked the door to her room and switched on the light.
Tom followed her in.
“Your place is down the hall,” she said, deliberately pulling off her sweater, leaving her in a bra and silk undershirt.
His gaze dropped to her breasts and the silk that curved over them like a second skin. “I wanted to talk to you without an audience.” His grin turned sheepish. “About Stan…I can’t thank you enough.”
“I didn’t do it alone.” She raised her brows. “In fact, you hardly needed me there at all.”
His smile disappeared. “That’s a load of bull.”
She pursed her lips, sat down on her narrow bed and leaned back. “There’s something I’m curious about though.”
“What?”
“Why you got so angry when I wanted to go outside to look for Stan. You looked mad enough to—” she shrugged, “—do something stupid.”
“Like what? Hit someone?”
“I don’t know, but it’s obvious Stan’s situation reminded you of something traumatic. Something that made you angry.”
He shook his head and let his gaze wander. “There’s nothing to tell.”
Emilie frowned. “I didn’t peg you for a coward.”
Tom’s head jerked around and he opened his mouth, but aborted whatever he planned to say before it got out. He regarded her with what she could only term as reluctant respect. “Your behavior wasn’t completely professional either,” he finally said. “Why did you want to go searching for Stan when you knew you had to stay here?”
She sighed. What could she say? That she was afraid of losing another life?
“I admit, my emotions got the best of me,” she began. “My objectivity, in the face of possible death, frequently goes bye-bye. During my interview for this position, I made it very clear that I was prepared to go to heroic measures to save lives.” She tried to smile. “It’s one of the reasons I got the job.”
“You’re willing to sacrifice the safety of the entire crew to save one life?”
“The only life I’m willing to sacrifice for another’s is my own. I wouldn’t put anyone else at risk.”
“But you’re the doctor, the only one we’ve got. We, all of us, need you.”
“I know, it’s why I stayed.” She speared him with a glance. “But you went out. You’re the station manager, an equally important position.”
“We could argue that about any job here.”
“We could, but we’re not. It’s your turn to talk, Tom. What happened?”
Tom walked to the door, then turned and walked back. He towered over her, his arms crossed over his chest. “Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“It’s got nothing to do with you. Can’t you just leave it alone?”
“It’s my duty to save lives, remember? What if this happens with someone else, will you go out there, alone, again?”
“How did you know I went alone? Checking up on me, Em?”
“Yes. One of the guys on the team who found Stan stopped by the clinic to see how he was doing. He told me you were out by yourself.”
Tom shook his head and paced away again. “I took the proper safety precautions. If I hadn’t gone out, we might not have found Stan.”
“That’s a bunch of crap.” She stood, stomped over to within an inch of his chest. “What happened?”
“I lost a man,” Tom burst out, then stopped and ran a hand through his hair. “Two years ago, a young guy on my crew, Cam, went outside and got himself lost.” All the energy seeped out of Tom, his hands and head hanging lifeless. “By the time we found him he was dead.”
“Hypothermia?”
“Yeah. We tried to warm him, even got his temp up a bit, but he went into cardiac arrest and we couldn’t resuscitate him.”
“Heart attacks are common in severely hypothermic patients.” She took one of Tom’s hands in her own, cradling it, rubbing his palm with gentle fingers. “There was nothing you could have done.”
“I know. That’s the problem. I couldn’t save him and I wasn’t about to lose another friend the same way today.”
“As much as I hate to admit it, we can’t save everyone. Sometimes people die. It’s not easy to accept, but unless we learn how, the pain will eat at us from the inside out. Like you, I would do anything, anything to save someone, but in the end it’s not always up to me. At that point I have to be able to let go, or a part of me dies too.”
His gaze found hers and held on. “Is that what happened when your husband died? You couldn’t let go?”
Emilie recoiled as if Tom had slapped her. She tried to suck in a breath, but her chest hurt too much. She stumbled back, the heartache radiating out, making her limbs tremble.
He caught her before she fell. “I’m sorry,” he said staring into her face and wincing. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No,” she managed to croak out. “You’re entitled. I accused you of the same thing.”
Her vision blurred. She wiped the back of her hand over her eyes and it came away wet. When had she started crying? A sob worked its way loose, then another and she was suddenly wrapped in Tom’s arms, his neck bent so he could murmur soothing sounds in her ear.
She clutched him around the waist and buried her nose in the soft fabric of his flannel shirt.
“Let it all out,” he whispered.
She cried for several minutes, wrenching sobs that seemed to come straight from her core, from where she hurt the most.
“I’m not just crying for me,” she said, her voice muffled by his shirt. “I’m crying for you too.”
“Getting rid of my ghosts?”
“Yes.” She pulled away from the warmth of his shoulder and let her gaze travel his face. He wore a sad smile. “All of them.”
“You could cry an ocean, but it still wouldn’t be enough to wash them all away.” Grief surged out of him from somewhere deep inside. His hands shook with it. It called to her on a level so elemental it compelled her to touch him, comfort him, love him.
God, he smelled good. She could stand for hours in the circle of his arms, surrounded by his warmth, his scent, his compassion. For over a year she’d clung to David’s memory. No more. This time she was going after what she wanted. Tom needed her and she needed him.
“Then I’ll have to find another way.” She pressed herself to him, rocking against his erection.
Tom’s eyes widened and he sucked in a breath. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“No, but I think I need this. I need you.”
His arms tightened around her and his head lowered agonizingly slow. “I’ve got too much crap stored up
to burden a woman like you.”
She pushed upward on tiptoe. “I’ve got plenty of my own. Yours doesn’t scare me.”
He cupped her face with one hand, his other cradled the small of her back, urging her closer. “It should.”
“It doesn’t.”
His breath feathered over her face, and she tilted her mouth so she lay ready and open to him.
He swallowed hard. “I want you.”
“Good. I want you too.”
“This is a bad idea.”
“It’s all I can think about,” Emilie said, stretching up to meet him.
“Oh, yeah,” he whispered as his lips met hers, the first touch gentle and searching. Then his mouth ravaged hers, laid claim to it, conquered it. One of his hands roamed her back down to her butt while the other cupped her breast, teasing the sensitive peak, drawing heavy moans from her throat.
Alive, he was so alive and warm and male.
She wanted him right now while she could still feel, while she could still accept the comfort his body could give. Comfort she never thought she’d find again.
“Tom?”
“Hmmm?” he asked, kissing his way down her neck.
“Do you have a condom?”
He stilled then lifted his head. “Not on me.”
“Neither do I.”
He kissed her again. “If I leave to get one, are you…” His voice trailed off.
“Better to do it now, with your clothes on, than later, buck naked.”
“Right.” He smiled and was gone.
“What am I doing?” she asked herself out loud, pressing her palms to her temples. She turned her left hand and looked at her wedding ring. David had been gone for a year. It was time to let him rest.
Biting her lip, she pulled the ring off and put it on the dresser.
A stir in the air behind her told her someone had entered the room. She turned. Tom watched her as he quietly closed the door behind him.
She glanced at his hands. “Did you find one?”
He dropped several foil packages on the floor next to the bed. “I wasn’t sure how many.”
Emilie stared at the little pile, and her breath caught in her throat. “Oh.”
Tom watched her like a tiger ready to pounce. “I want you so damn bad, my hands are shaking.”