At 6:00 p.m. she’d expected him to be headed home to bed after pulling the twelve-hour ER shift the previous day, then staying on to help out through most of the afternoon.
He reached into his truck for a file folder, then flashed her a brief smile. “Mitzy stopped me on the way out of the hospital. She wants us to fill out some questionnaires on what we’re looking for in adoptive parents for Ava.”
“You didn’t have to bring it all the way out here.”
“She wants us in agreement on the answers before she sees them. I figured it would be easier to do it in person than on the phone.”
Violet wasn’t sure she understood his logic. Except that doing it in person would allow them the opportunity to gage the expressions on each other’s face to more effectively read their mood.
Not that Gavin was helping her out right now with that. His handsome face was poker-inscrutable. As always.
She sighed, not sure why the fact he was such a mystery was so frustrating to her.
Pushing aside her pique, she asked, “Do you have to work tonight?”
He shook his head. “I don’t go in until midnight tomorrow. But if this is a bad time...”
Truth be told she had nothing ahead of her that evening but finishing her current chore and trying to restore order to the mess she’d made of her Conestoga wagon bedroom that morning. “It’s not. I just need to finish what I’m doing here. You can come on up, if you want. The front door is open.”
She backed out of the window and by the time she had it shut and locked, he was standing in the room, looking like a dark angel in the fading sunlight pouring in through the glass.
As he strode closer, she drank him in from head to toe. Up close, she could see how tired he looked around the eyes. Her heart went out to him. She knew how it felt to come off a long shift. She also knew what it took to keep going and to do what had to be done, regardless of bone-deep fatigue. It was something they’d learned in med school and never forgot.
He inclined his head at the camera in her hand. “What are you filming?”
“The interior of the house, pre-renovation. My sister Callie—”
“The marketing and social media whiz?”
Violet nodded, impressed he could keep all five of her sisters straight. Not everyone could. “She’s going to put together a short film about my late grandparents. Show how they started the hospital as physician and nurse and helped build it into the state-of-the-art county medical facility it is today.”
He fell into step beside her. “I know they were active on the board of directors, even after they retired.”
Proudly, Violet admitted, “John and Lilah helped raise a lot of money to add oncology, neonatal intensive care and cardio-pulmonary care, as well as the medical residency programs for all three. Turning this ranch into living quarters for families dealing with medical crises was their last wish.” She took a breath. “And although they left enough money in their estate to redo the house, and eventually the stable-house, where I’m currently staying—which will eventually house the new director—we’ll need to raise more money if we’re to expand and keep it going as a nonprofit.”
He folded his arms in front of him, the action delineating the strong musculature of his chest. “And that is where the video comes in.”
“We’ll use it to show exactly where the money is going and how much good any donation does.” Violet moved along the hall, filming the empty rooms with the faded paint and wallpaper.
He gave her enough room to work unencumbered. “So when does the construction start?”
Determined not to let him see how much his nearness affected her, Violet raised a blind to let more light into the last room. “They’re bringing the Dumpster tomorrow morning. Once it’s set up, the teardown of the interior will begin.”
“Sounds noisy.” Finished, she turned off the camera and led the way downstairs. “That’s why they make noise-canceling headphones. Luckily—” she winked as she locked up and led the way across the yard to the stable-house “—I brought along a pair. And extra batteries, too.”
Chuckling at her sassy tone, he followed her into the stable-house.
His brow lifted at what he found. “Wow. You’ve been busy.”
* * *
ALTHOUGH WHY, GAVIN THOUGHT, she wanted to be stranded out here, away from all her family and friends, still puzzled him. Was she running away from something? Trying to get her thoughts together? Or fulfilling some cockeyed notion of the McCabe clan’s famous Texas Pioneer spirit?
Hard to say.
But whatever was going on with Violet, she was clearly determined to make it work, at least for the next few months. “It’s a big improvement over the way it looked two days ago,” he continued, impressed.
All the moving boxes had been pushed to the rear of the former stable and were neatly lined up behind the Conestoga wagon that functioned as her bedroom.
On the right side of the large space she had rolled a rug out over the painted concrete floor and arranged a sofa, armchair and two end tables to make a nice conversation area. A big packing trunk served as a coffee table.
On the other side of the room a wooden trestle table provided additional kitchen counter space. It held a microwave, toaster oven and what looked like an electric skillet. The small refrigerator stood next to that. A white wrought-iron patio set now served as the dining room table and chairs.
There were no shades or drapes on the tall casement windows that lined either side of the room, which was where she had placed the Conestoga wagon. Its rounded, white-canvas top would come in handy, he realized, since the flaps could be tied shut on either end, allowing her complete privacy. For changing and—
He didn’t need to be thinking about that.
What she wore—or didn’t wear—to sleep in was none of his business.
Violet looked at the dusky light outside and switched on the overhead lights. Mounted close to the ceiling, they let off the kind of bright fluorescence the hospital corridors afforded. A bonus, given the fact he was a little too interested in the way her thigh-length shorts, faded college T-shirt and sneakers cloaked her spectacular body.
“Do you have the questionnaires?” she asked brusquely, bringing his attention back to where it needed to be once again.
He lifted the manila file amiably. “Right here.”
A faint blush highlighted the elegant contours of her cheeks. She looked around until she found something to write with. “A pen?”
Gavin patted his pocket. Found his cell phone but nothing else. “Ah, no.”
“No problem. I think I have some extra in my bedside drawer. I’ll be right back.” She headed up the stairs and disappeared into the covered wagon.
While Gavin waited, he checked out the ventilation in the room, which seemed comfortably cool despite the warmth of the summer day. Further investigation showed why. Long-handled cranks opened the tall, abundant windows along the very top quarter of the glass. The ceiling fan whirred overhead, cooling and dispersing the fresh air. As a result, the room smelled like the sunny autumn day it had been. Fresh and clean, like the great Texas outdoors.
He could see why she liked it out here, although it had to be lonely, too, he thought. Especially at night.
Almost too quiet.
In the wagon, however, it was anything but.
He could hear things being shifted, occasional muttering and...was that swearing? There was a small crash, a shift of bedsprings and then an even bigger crash.
Followed only by silence.
Gavin waited.
Still nothing.
He began to get a little worried. “Violet? You okay in there?”
The bedsprings creaked.
There was a muffled cry.
“Violet?” he called out again.<
br />
And then he heard what sounded like a small, furious scream. What the...?
Gavin took the steps up to the wagon two at a time. He threw back the flap that hid the interior from view.
Violet lay facedown on the bed, her head burrowed in the pillow, one arm tucked awkwardly between the mattress and the end table next to it.
“What the heck are you doing?”
She moaned and lifted her head slightly. “I’m stuck.”
* * *
“STUCK,” GAVIN REPEATED STUPIDLY.
“I had a box of pens and pencils and I knocked them behind the nightstand. I was trying to reach it without moving all my suitcases, storage boxes and garment bags.”
Of which, Gavin noted, there were many. All crammed together in the available space between the mattress and the high wooden sides of the wagon.
He tracked the silky dark mane over her face and shoulders. “You’re really stuck?”
She groaned again and pounded her forehead lightly against the mattress beneath her. “No. I’m just lying here for the fun of it.”
He grinned. A sensually indisposed Violet was a sight to behold. Her temper only added to the allure. “Hang on.” He sprang into action. “I’ll move some of these suitcases.”
A feat that was easier said than done, he quickly discovered. Some boxes were wedged in there pretty tight. Plus, the stack was two and three high on all sides. “What did you pack in these, anyway?” He succeeded in freeing a storage box from the stack, only to have the snapped lid fly off in the process and a whole array of sexy undies come spilling out. About half of which landed on her shoulders and head.
Another string of muffled, surprisingly unladylike profanities filled the silence. She turned her face to his. “Did you do that on purpose?”
“Ah, no.” The last thing he needed to see was what kind of undergarments she wore. Now he’d be imagining how she looked in all that sexy satin and lace. “Sorry.” He rescued the rest of her undies and stuffed them all back in the box, snapping the lid on.
“Are these all clothes?”
“Yes. It’s everything I might need for the next three months and then some.”
“Sounds like a woman.” His sisters were notorious clothes-hounds, too.
“And spoken like a man. Are you hurrying?”
Gavin lifted another box of undies and a half-open suitcase of what appeared to be silk pajamas and nightgowns. Who knew she dressed so sexily when she wasn’t at the hospital? Except, in the past five years, she had almost always been at the hospital.
“Gavin?”
“Almost there.”
She moaned.
He shifted the suitcase wedged against the side of the queen-size mattress and the wagon.
She tried to pull free. Groaned again, in what seemed to be real pain this time. “Still stuck...”
No kidding. Her arm remained clamped tight between the nightstand and the bed.
Deftly, Gavin slid one arm between her and the mattress, simultaneously pushing down on the bed while supporting the weight of her chest. Then, still supporting her weight and keeping her trapped arm in place, he used his free hand to shove the mattress several inches away from the nightstand, toward the other side of the wagon.
That gave her just enough wiggle room.
Her breasts pearling tautly against his forearm, she pulled her trapped limb free and rolled onto her back. Rubbing from shoulder to elbow to wrist, she tested the flexibility of her fingers with a beleaguered sigh. “Wow, that hurt!”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
She sat up, still rubbing the affected limb. Beneath her shirt, he couldn’t help but note her breasts were still taut.
Oblivious to his wicked thoughts, she scoffed playfully. “You mean aside from my wounded pride?”
Glad she hadn’t lost her sense of humor, he grinned and sank down on the bed. He felt the drumbeat of arousal as he faced her. “I kind of like you as a damsel in distress.”
She crossed her arms over her breasts, her delicate hands resting on opposite shoulders, at the nape of her neck. “You are so funny.”
Suddenly sensing she needed more comforting than her self-imposed hug could give, he shifted closer. “I’m serious, Violet,” he said softly.
And then he did what he’d been wanting to do since forever. He took her into his arms, tilted her face up to his and kissed her.
Chapter Four
Violet wanted to say she was surprised. That she hadn’t expected Gavin to ever kiss her. But that would not be true.
She could tell by the way he had been looking at her the past day or so that he had been considering doing just that.
What was worse, she had been feeling the exact same urge.
She didn’t know whether it was the fact they suddenly both found themselves responsible for baby Ava’s future, or the fact that Gavin was just so damn sexy. All she knew for sure was that when he’d come to her rescue and slid his brawny arm beneath her, her body had responded with a lightning bolt of desire that had started in her breasts and exploded like a thundercloud inside her. And now that he was kissing her, a second, even more powerful wave had started to surge. Driven, this time, by the hot, ardent press of his lips and the evocative sweep of his tongue.
He tasted so incredibly good, she realized as her eyes fluttered shut. Like mint and man, desire and determination. And it wasn’t just physical need he was conjuring up. There was a sudden riptide of long-suppressed feelings, too. The fact she had been alone, too long. An aching awareness of just how lost she had been and a deep, bolstering need for more...
And still Gavin kissed her, tangling her tongue with his, arousing even more passion and need. With a sound that was half whimper of protest, half sigh of submission, she allowed him to unwind her hands from her shoulders and drape them over the broad width of his. She let him fit his chest to hers and then, the next thing she knew, he altered her center of balance. She was sliding sideways on the bed. He was shifting her onto her back, moving over her, his hands cupping her breasts, his thumbs moving erotically across the crests. And, dear heaven, that felt so...darn...good, too.
Violet groaned again.
If they kept this up, they would make love.
And she knew—for so many reasons, baby Ava among the most important of them—she could not let that happen.
The situation was confused enough as it was.
With a soft whimper she put both hands on his shoulders, broke the kiss and pushed him away.
* * *
GAVIN OPENED HIS EYES and shifted onto his side, unsure whether Violet looked relieved or disappointed he had stopped.
He knew he was both.
For as much as he wanted to make love to her right here and now, the more pragmatic part of him knew that doing so would have been a colossal mistake.
Violet was the most idealistic woman he had ever met.
She believed in love with all her heart and soul.
Not hookups.
Not tawdry one-night stands.
When she made love with a man again—and he was determined now, after kissing her, that it would be with him—she would want it to mean something.
The surprise was that he wanted their coming together to mean something, too.
She took a conciliatory breath. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Gavin grinned, aware he was enjoying spending time with her more than he had enjoyed anything in a long time. “For what? Kissing me back?”
Violet shook her head as if that would get her back on track and locked eyes with him. “No. For doing whatever it was I did to lead you on.”
Ah. So this is the way she’s going to play it.
She straightened, her face still flushed with desire, a
nd scooted her hips to the foot of the bed.
“You didn’t lead me on,” he said, testing her, too.
She glanced back at him, her tousled hair enticingly spilling over her shoulders.
Resisting the urge to run his hands through the silky strands, he concentrated on the just-kissed softness of her lips before returning his attention to her eyes. “You’ve always made it clear you’re still in love with Sterling.”
There was a long, thoughtful pause that seemed to indicate he had guessed wrong about that.
Finally, she tilted her head. “Then you do understand.”
He had the distinct impression they were talking about two different things.
“Frankly, I’m envious.” Gavin was prodding, trying to figure out what exactly was holding her back if not her love for her late fiancé. “He was a lucky guy.”
Violet slid off the edge of the bed. “Until he died when he was twenty-five.”
Gavin swore silently. He had a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time in these kinds of situations. He stood, too. “You know what I mean.”
“I just don’t like it when people tell me how great we had it. Or how lucky we were to have found each other. Because nothing about it feels lucky, Gavin.” She paused, her lower lip quivering.
“I’m sorry,” he said, quietly pulling her into his arms and giving her the hug she seemed to need.
For an instant she sank into him. When she pulled back, there were tears shimmering in her eyes. “Forget all the books and movies, Gavin,” she whispered. “There’s nothing romantic about having a terminal illness. For the patient, or his or her loved ones.” She swallowed, pressing a palm to her forehead. “It just...”
“Sucks. I know. And I am sorry. For wanting to understand and not being able to because I haven’t walked a mile in your shoes.”
Again their eyes met. This time she accepted his acknowledgment of her pain.
After a moment her expression changed and she took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Moving on...” She brushed past him, to the narrow aisle he had created. “I still forgot to get pens!” This time when she reached down between the mattress and nightstand, there was just enough room. She bounded back up, plastic box filled with writing utensils clasped in hand. “Now, on to what we should be doing. Filling out those questionnaires...”
Lone Star Baby (McCabe Multiples Book 5) Page 4