by Janice Lynn
“It’s not that easy, Ms. Perez. Some things take time and rest, not a pill. I’m sorry.”
She heaved her chest in frustration. “Me, too.”
“Sit here with ice for about twenty minutes with your foot elevated. Later, one of the guys will drive you on a gator to your tent. Is there someone we can call for you?”
Ms. Perez shook her head. “My daughter is out of town with work and my son lives in Chicago with his wife and kids. I’m by myself.”
He gestured to her leg. “You need to stay off that ankle.”
“I was looking forward to volunteering in the food tent. I’ve not missed a year there since CCPO started these events.”
“There’s no way I can okay for you to serve food.”
The woman perked up. “Maybe I could volunteer in a different way? One where I could still keep my foot up?”
Trace didn’t want to burst the woman’s bubble, but she was going to be in quite a bit of pain and wouldn’t be able to put any weight on her ankle for several days. Not with the amount she’d injured the tissue.
Stepping back into the exam area, Chrissie assisted the woman in propping up her foot and then put the woman’s ice pack back on her ankle. “Is there anything I can get you? We have a few magazines if you’d like, and I brought a stack of books I’ve finished if you want to take one.”
The woman shook her head and held up her cellular phone. “I have books on this thing to keep my mind occupied for times such as these.”
Patting the woman’s hand, Chrissie smiled. “That’s good.”
The medical tent had been slow most of the evening.
Trace liked being busy, and felt restless. He was used to having more to do than time to do it.
Alexis was seeing a gentleman who had come into the tent with some indigestion. The other volunteers were not quite twiddling their thumbs but none of them were busy, either.
Trace compared it to where he’d been not so long ago, in the midst of mayhem and a war-torn country where there had been more ill and injured than hands to care for them, with problems much worse than a sprained ankle.
He closed his eyes. There were other assignments he could take with Doctors Around the World. Less dangerous places. He didn’t have to go back to the places he’d gone before, but he chose to.
“You okay?”
He opened his eyes, surprised Chrissie had initiated a conversation with him that didn’t have something to do with a patient or the event. For the most part she’d ignored him or given him the cold shoulder when he’d attempted conversation.
“Fine.”
Appearing torn, she eyed him. “You didn’t look fine. You looked like you didn’t feel well.”
“Had a flashback,” he admitted, shocking himself that he’d said the words out loud. He hadn’t talked to anyone here about the things he’d seen or done. DAW had required he go through psychological evaluation. He’d passed with flying colors, but that wasn’t to say that the things he’d lived through and seen hadn’t affected him. He’d never be quite the same. “No big deal.”
It wasn’t a big deal. Nothing he couldn’t cope with.
“What kind of flashback?”
“Not one of you,” he teased, unwilling to tell her the nitty-gritty details, “so it wasn’t good.”
She smirked. “Ha-ha. Too funny. Seriously, you turned a bit green there for a few seconds.”
Maybe he’d been green at how stand-offish she was around him. He wanted to go back to the way she was four years ago.
He suddenly longed for at least a glimpse of more carefree times. Even if just a short one.
“You want to go play in the bubbles?”
Her jaw dropped at the same time her brow rose. “What?”
He gestured around the medical tent. “We’re not busy and might not get another chance to catch more of the events. The bubbles are new this year. Agnes was excited about them.”
The more he said, the more he wanted her to say yes. He wanted to play, to let loose and have fun. With Chrissie.
“But...we can’t leave. Ms. Perez,” she reminded him, looking a little panicked.
“You should go,” the woman called from a few feet away, obviously listening to their conversation. “Don’t mind me. I’m fine and can have one of these other folk help me out of here.”
First mouthing “thank you,” Trace grinned at the woman. “See, Ms. Perez wants us to go check out the bubbles. We’ll share a dance in her honor.”
“That would be absolutely lovely!” the woman exclaimed, clapping her hands together and obviously playing cupid. “I insist you go.”
Chrissie still looked hesitant.
“Hey, Gianakos?” he called to Alexis, who had just finished with the only other patient in the tent and sent him on his way with an antacid and instructions to cut back on spicy foods. “Will you check on Ms. Perez’s ankle in a few? She’s got about another ten minutes of icing, then have one of the guys take her to wherever she wants to go. Chrissie and I are going to the main area for a while.”
Alexis shot an envious glance toward Chrissie, then nodded. “No problem.”
“Perfect. See, I’ll be fine.” Ms. Perez shooed them away. “You two go have a little fun.”
Before she could find another excuse, Trace grabbed Chrissie’s hand and led her out of Medical. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“Not kicking and screaming the whole way. I needed to get out of there for a few.”
She looked as if she still might kick and scream, then her expression morphed into one of confusion. “Trace, what were you thinking about back there?”
He shook his head. “Nothing important now. Let’s go check out the bubbles.”
Her hand was still inside his. He didn’t want to let go so he held on tightly as he led them toward the bubbles. Her hand felt warm and comfortable in his.
As if it belonged there.
Without thought he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the top. Because that felt warm and comfortable, as if it belonged in that moment in time.
“Trace, I...” Chrissie’s voice trailed off as she came to an abrupt stop and stared up at him. “You shouldn’t.”
She was right. He shouldn’t, but he was glad he had. They stood behind the medical tent on the path leading toward the main event area. They were alone, but someone could come up the path at any time.
“Probably not.” He was only home for a short while, had nothing to offer her beyond the weekend. Which was too bad, because from the time he’d seen her he’d known what he wanted, what he needed. Chrissie.
“Yes.”
But her eyes said something different and that fueled him forward to say what had already been in the back of his mind, tempting his conscious thought and actions.
“We were good together. We could be good together again.”
Her expression tightened.
And then he’d take off for parts unknown, for who knew how long, before he’d be home for another few weeks’ hiatus from his reality? Maybe he should let the attraction go but, for whatever reason, he pushed. Whatever it was about Chrissie seemed to be dictating his every move from the moment he’d laid eyes on her that afternoon.
“I can tell you’re still attracted to me,” he pointed out, as if that were breaking news.
“Doesn’t matter.” Her exasperation was palpable, and yet she still didn’t pull her hand away from his, just kept staring at where their fingers intertwined.
“Sure, it does.” To prove his point, he bent and pressed his lips to hers. Gentle, to where she could push him away with ease if she wanted to.
He hoped she didn’t. Her lips were so sweet.
She didn’t stop him or push him away, but he felt the str
uggle within her and that gave him pause.
He pulled back, stared down into her wide eyes.
Her wide, slightly dazed eyes.
Her eyes that were filled with desire so sweet it punched him in the gut.
This was why he hadn’t been able to resist kissing her.
Because her kisses were addictive and powerful. He craved what being with her promised.
“You taste good, like the sweetest wine, making me want to drink until I’m intoxicated,” he admitted. “Let me, Chrissie. We both know you want to.”
CHAPTER FOUR
CHRISSIE STARED UP at the man who had haunted her dreams for four years. Who needed more? One kiss and she already felt drunk.
Because his kiss drugged her and made her forget reason.
She wanted to drag him back to her, to kiss him all over until they were both satiated, until the whole world subsided and it was just the two of them.
As it had felt four years ago.
“What a marvelous event,” a woman’s voice interrupted as she and a group of women rounded the path.
Tugging her hand free from his, Chrissie stepped back to the side of a tent.
“Absolutely. CCPO fund-raisers are always the best fun,” another chimed in.
“The first day and we’re already sneaking around in the shadows.”
“Which should tell you something.”
She sighed. “That I’m crazy?”
“That there’s something between us.”
More than he knew.
“That doesn’t mean we should act on that something,” she tried to reason, reminding herself that she had to think of Joss, not her crazy body’s reaction to him.
“Should I apologize that I want you still, Chrissie? Do you want me to pretend I don’t find you attractive?”
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. “If I said yes, would you?”
He studied her a moment, then took on a slight look of remorse. “If you said yes.”
Say no. Say no. Say no.
Chrissie wasn’t sure where the inner voice was coming from, but the phrase beat in perfect rhythm with her racing heart.
“I know you’re struggling with this, Chrissie. I see it in your eyes when you look at me. I felt it in your kiss. You wanted to let go and just feel, but wouldn’t allow yourself.”
He certainly had her pegged.
“My question is why?”
“Been there, done that,” she reminded him.
“Was our time together so bad?”
“No, but I’d like to think I’ve learned a thing or two over the last four years.”
“Such as?”
“Such as I shouldn’t get mixed up with sexy strangers.”
“I’m not a stranger.”
“Sure, you are.”
His brow inched upward. “You believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Then we should get to know each other this weekend.”
She narrowed her gaze suspiciously. “To what purpose?”
“To know each other. There doesn’t have to be a purpose beyond that.”
In the flickering light of the shadows, Chrissie stared at him. Get to know Trace? Why?
What about when Joss asked about his father years down the road?
Simple things like what was his favorite color and had he played sports or had any major childhood illnesses? Shouldn’t she know how to answer her son? Wouldn’t it be horrible to have to say she didn’t know anything beyond the fact that Trace had seemed a likable, good person, and had made her laugh and feel as if she was sexy?
He still made her feel sexy.
Every time his eyes lit on her, they shifted as if molten gold had been poured in their depths. Trace wanted her. Whatever the attraction between them was, it was powerful. The way he looked at her made her feel beautiful, desirable. It was a heady sensation.
“You’re talking get to know each other as in not biblically know each other, right?” she clarified.
He chuckled. “Make no mistake, my ultimate goal is to physically ‘know you’ again. But for the moment, I am talking get to know each other as in not biblically.”
She wanted to say yes, but knew she’d be toying with dynamite. “I’m not sure.”
“It’s obvious you’re attracted to me,” he pointed out.
“Okay, fine, you’re an attractive man and I’m not blind.” If not for Joss, would she even be hesitating?
“You’re saying any attractive man would do?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then that makes me special?”
More so than he knew.
His look of triumph made her nervous. “Are you fishing for compliments, Trace? Because, if so, you grabbed the wrong woman from the medical tent. Dr. Gianakos would be more than happy to be your fluffer.”
At her comment, he grinned and shook his head. “I got the right girl and want her complimenting me. Come on, no more serious talk. Let’s go have fun for a few minutes then we’ll get back to work.”
“Okay.” This time she met his hand halfway when he reached for hers and tried not to overanalyze how amazing it felt to simply hold his hand.
* * *
Chrissie had never seen such a huge area of bubbles before.
Agnes had set up a special non-slip floor and then had machines create mountains of bubbles. Currently, hundreds, maybe thousands, of children and adults alike danced and played in the bubbles to the directions of the emcee in a bubble-a-thon fund-raiser.
“Put your right hand in. Put your right hand out,” he instructed.
“You have extra clothes?”
Her head jerked toward Trace. “What?”
“Did you bring extra clothes?” he repeated, taking off his tennis shoes and raising her feet one at a time to do the same to hers.
“I’m a prepared kind of girl, but stop that,” she demanded, attempting to pull her foot free and instead just helping him accomplish his goal. “I’m not going into—”
But he wasn’t listening. He’d tugged her to the outskirts of the bubble floor and she was mid-chest-high in bubbles.
“Oh, my,” she exclaimed, unable to resist lifting a handful of the foamy white stuff to her mouth and blowing it.
Joss would love this, she couldn’t help but think.
“Put your left hand in. Put your left hand out,” the emcee continued.
She wiggled her toes, letting the bubbles tickle her feet and bare legs beneath her shorts. A giggle escaped. A happy giggle. Oh, my. She didn’t want to feel happy.
Chrissie frowned. What was she thinking? Of course, she wanted to feel happy. Besides, when was she going to have the opportunity to play in bubbles with hundreds of other people ever again?
Probably never.
This was fun. She was allowed to have fun.
“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right,” she informed Trace, holding her left hand out and shaking it.
“That was the plan.” His grin was lethal and gave her more giddiness than the bubbles.
“I know what your plan is,” she accused, trying to “splash” him, but the bubbles didn’t cooperate, sticking to her hand instead and plopping back onto the sea surrounding them.
He laughed. With a wicked gleam in his eyes, he scooped up an armful of bubbles. “I’m not denying it.”
“Which doesn’t make it any better.” Instinctively knowing what he was about to do, she took a few steps back, but only managed to plop down in the midst of the bubbles.
Laughing, he held out a hand and pulled her to her feet. She sputtered, clearing the bubbles from her face.
“You look good covered in bubbles.” H
is eyes glittered with all sorts of mischief.
“Trace.”
“What?” He gave her an innocent look. “You do. I like it.”
Truthfully, she liked how he looked waist deep in bubbles, too. There were too many people around for her mind to go to romantic bubble baths, but seeing Trace laughing out loud had cracked something inside her.
Something that had been vital in protecting her from how she felt about him. How dared he break down her defenses with bubbles and laughter and talk of getting to know each other? Who did that?
Then again, nothing about Trace had ever been typical, so of course he’d use bubbles to knock down the barriers she’d erected between them. Bubbles.
No one could be standoffish when surrounded by bubbles.
“Shake your leg and be quiet,” she ordered, but was unable to keep the smile from her face.
Maybe it was her inner child coming out. Maybe it was all the happy laughter around her. Maybe it was the happy gleam in Trace’s eyes as he stood in bubbles. Maybe it was feeling alive and desirable and amazing because she was his focus. Maybe it was all of the above.
Regardless, she laughed and played along with whatever the emcee had going. They hokey-pokeyed through the rest of the song, then participated in a couple of the other bubble games.
When the emcee announced a bubble-snowman-building contest for kids ten and under, they made their way out.
“Admit it, you had fun.”
“I had fun.” No point in denying it. She was still smiling.
A teenaged boy came up and handed Trace two towels. Chrissie glanced around, amazed by the boy’s appearance since towels weren’t provided and they should have brought their own.
“Why did he bring us these?”
He waggled his brows. “I’m a resourceful man.”
“Apparently,” she agreed, taking the towel from him, and wiping off the bubbles clinging to her skin and clothes. “We weren’t dressed for this.”
“We were fine,” he countered. “Most everyone is wearing T-shirts and shorts, except for the kids.”
“Thank you.”
His smile was amazing. Brilliant. Beautiful.