The Doctor's Secret Son

by Janice Lynn

  “I don’t want anything more than this weekend.” For the second time in her life, she was going to let go and experience a no-strings weekend with Trace.

  “Chrissie.” His hands flat against the table, he leaned forward. “You make me want to forget this whole event and sweep you to a hotel where I can have you to myself all weekend.”

  “We can’t leave. Agnes and Bud need us.” Not that his words didn’t tempt. They did. But she wouldn’t walk away from pulling the load she’d committed to.

  “I know we can’t,” he agreed. “And I wouldn’t leave, but you make me wish we could be alone in a comfortable bed in a comfortable room, with room service available twenty-four-seven so we could take advantage of every single moment.”

  She closed her eyes and imagined being locked away for a weekend with Trace, a weekend where they had nothing more to do than to pleasure each other. A weekend that didn’t require more than throwing on a bathrobe to let room service in to deliver sustenance to keep up their energy. A weekend where she had Trace to herself and the rest of the world didn’t exist.

  Oh, my.

  “So, now what?” she asked, knowing she had to get her imagination under control or she’d be jerking him across the table and demanding some of that attention right this moment.

  He laughed. “I take you behind that barely private partition to my semi-comfortable cot and hopefully have my wicked way with you.”

  Chrissie swallowed. “Okay.”

  Okay. She couldn’t believe she was saying okay. That she was agreeing to going behind a partition with Trace so they could get naked. No, they wouldn’t get naked. They’d satisfy their needs as quietly and stealthily as possible.

  That hotel room sounded more and more tempting.

  “I know.” He didn’t clarify what he meant. He didn’t have to. He was thinking the same thing she was.

  Trace pushed away from the table, stood, and made his way to where she sat. He reached for her hand.

  Just as she slid her hand into his, felt the tingles of awareness only he seemed capable of eliciting from her nerve endings, a noise at the entrance of the tent as someone pushed the flap open had them both looking that way.

  “Hello?” a female voice called by way of greeting.

  “Hi,” Chrissie greeted the woman and little girl coming into the tent as she stood. Disappointment filled her that she and Trace had lost their privacy, but as she looked at the little girl her disappointment quickly turned into concern.

  Trace moved forward and stooped to the little girl’s level. “I’d ask what was going on, but I can tell. Does that rash itch as much as it looks like it does?”

  The child nodded and scratched at her neck to prove her point.

  “Sorry,” the girl’s mother said. “I know it’s late.” She gave her daughter a worried glance. “She didn’t break out until we lay down. I feel guilty for bothering you so late, but she keeps getting worse and I was afraid to wait until morning.”

  “It’s okay. That’s what we’re here for,” Trace assured. “Come to the exam area where I can get a better look.”

  He flipped a switch on a propane-gas-powered light, causing that area of the tent to brighten significantly so he would be able to examine his patient more efficiently.

  “It’s driving me crazy,” the little girl said, scratching her arms. “I itch and itch and itch.”

  “Don’t scratch,” her mother reminded her.

  “But it itches,” the girl said matter-of-factly.

  “It will only itch worse if you keep scratching it,” the mother told her as she lifted the child onto the table. “Let’s let the doctor take a look so he can make you feel better.”

  “Hi, I’m Chrissie,” she introduced herself. “I need you to fill out a couple of forms while Dr. Stevens checks your daughter and figures out what we need to do about this rash.”

  The woman nodded and took the clipboard Chrissie offered. After glancing over the papers, she began writing her responses to the standard questions.

  “What’s your name?” Trace asked the little girl, who was rubbing her arms up and down in an attempt not to scratch.

  “Chloe.”

  “That’s a pretty name. My cousin just had a little girl and she named her Chloe Jane.”

  “I’m Chloe Darlington.” The girl rubbed more briskly.

  “How old are you, Chloe?”

  “Four.”

  Trace did a quick ENT examination, glad to see all normal findings rather than swollen tissue that might block an airway. Then he checked the little girl’s rash more closely. Large, raised pruritic wheals with a pattern that only appeared on areas not covered by her clothing.

  “Chloe, have you ever had a rash like this before?”

  The little girl shook her head.

  “She hasn’t,” her mother confirmed, glancing up from the form.

  “Hmm. This is an allergic rash, something we call a contact dermatitis, meaning that Chloe is allergic to something that she’s come into contact with today.”

  “She didn’t start breaking out until we got to our tent tonight. She was fine until then.”

  “Have you used any new products today?”

  “Not that we know of.” The woman thought a moment. “Well, other than her sleeping bag. That’s new to her as she’s never camped before, but I’ve used it a few times in the past so it wasn’t brand-new.”

  Trace looked at the pattern of the rash again. “What was she wearing in the sleeping bag?”

  “She was in her T-shirt and panties.”

  Which matched the rash being on her legs, forearms, and not on her trunk.

  “She’s allergic to something in your sleeping bag.”

  “It’s just a thin sleeping bag, not a down-lined one or anything. I have one of those, but was afraid she’d burn up in this heat,” the woman rambled, thought a moment, and then got an aha! look on her face. “I treated all our bags with bug spray to repel mosquitoes and such. You hear about all these diseases and viruses and I wanted to try to prevent everything I could.” She winced. “I sprayed it heavy.”

  Trace nodded. “I’m going to give her some liquid diphenhydramine. I think that will help. If we don’t see any improvement fairly quickly, then I can administer some steroids intramuscularly, but I’d rather not do that if possible.”

  “So, we’ll need to stay here for a while?” the little girl asked. “’Cause I’m tired.” She yawned to emphasize her point.

  Trace laughed. “Tell you what, once your rash calms down a little, which I believe it will with the medication, I’ll let you and your mom take my cot because we can’t put you back in your tent, and I’m going to want to be close in case you have further problems.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” the girl’s mother assured him, looking embarrassed. “We don’t want to be a bother.”

  “It’s not a bother. I wasn’t planning to sleep other than catnaps, anyway.”

  While overseas, in war-torn countries, there had been way too many nights he’d not slept more than in short snatches, while keeping on alert for danger to him and his patients.

  Besides, he and Chrissie hadn’t been planning to sleep.

  Far, far from it.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “I’M GLAD SHE’S feeling better this morning,” Trace told Linda Darlington as Chloe ran around the medical tent meowing happily as she pretended to be a cat.

  “Me, too,” the woman agreed, laughing softly as she watched her daughter. “Too bad I don’t have her energy or resilience, because I sure didn’t sleep enough last night to prepare me for today’s activities.”

  The woman hadn’t slept more than a few hours at most. Probably about the same as Trace. Because he’d given them his cot, he’d stretche
d out in a chair and caught a few hours of zees during the early morning hours. But, unlike the tired mother, he felt refreshed, excited to face the day.

  Hopefully, Chrissie was the same. He’d insisted she return to her tent and rest. She was going to need it.

  He had plans for her.

  Plans he’d dreamed about during the short bit of shut-eye he’d gotten. Dreams in which it hadn’t mattered where they were. He’d ravished Chrissie.

  The way he’d wanted to ravish her last night.

  The way he would have ravished her had they not been interrupted.

  Would she feel the same about him, about them, this morning? Or would she have second thoughts in the light of day?

  “Youth is wasted on the young,” the mother continued, interrupting his meanderings. “What about you? Do you have children?”

  Trace shook his head. His life wasn’t conducive to having children. It never would be. “Kids aren’t my thing.”

  “Too bad. You’re really good with Chloe. She told me this morning that you were her new boyfriend.”

  Trace laughed. “She only likes me because I made the itching stop.”

  “Perhaps,” the woman said, smiling. “But I think it was more than that. You’re all she’s talked about since she woke up. That, and how she misses Freckles, her cat.”

  “Yeah, well, I’d see to it that she spends the night with Freckles and not in your tent tonight,” Trace offered, glancing up to see Chrissie enter the tent, two plastic cups of steaming coffee in her hands.

  “How’s Chloe this morning?” she asked Linda at the same time as she handed one of the cups to Trace.

  “All better.” The woman beamed. “I was just telling Dr. Stevens how much we appreciate him. You, too. Y’all were great with Chloe last night. Thank you.”

  “No problem. Dr. Stevens here did all the work.”

  “What work? The wash-down and diphenhydramine you gave her did the trick.” Trace glanced down at the coffee and noticed it was exactly the right color. Strong and black. Just the way he liked it. Did she recall that from before? “Thanks for this.”

  “You’re welcome. You should probably go to the food tent before it gets busy. Ms. Perez is there, foot propped up, and is handing out napkins to people as they trickle their way through line. She’s all smiles, despite the fact her ankle looks as if it was mauled.”

  He grinned. “I didn’t think she’d leave.”

  “I’m glad she didn’t. She was absolutely glowing as she greeted folks. She’s a burst of sunshine first thing this morning.”

  “A morning person, like my Chloe, eh?” Linda said, motioning for the little girl to join them. “Speaking of breakfast, I’m going to take this one and head that way, too. Her dad and sister are headed that way. Thank you both, again.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad to see she’s back to normal.”

  The little girl meowed, then smiled.

  Trace scratched his head. “Almost normal—I think her medicine transformed her into a cat.”

  Loving his comment, the little girl meowed a bunch more, making them all laugh.

  “Come on, kitty. Let’s go find you something to eat,” her mother said, taking her hand. “Thanks, again.”

  “Cute kid. Makes me think of...” Chrissie’s voice trailed off and rather than finish she took another sip of her coffee.

  “Of?” he prompted, curious about her family. Did she have nieces and nephews? Cousins? He really knew nothing about her other than that she was a CVICU nurse who worked in Chattanooga. Did she come from a big family? A little family?

  But rather than elaborate, she smiled and asked, “Were you able to get any sleep?”

  “Some.”

  “But not much?”

  “More than enough. Do I look that bad this morning?”

  She ran her gaze over him and Trace fought the urge to straighten his shoulders and suck in his non-existent gut.

  He was wearing what he’d put on after his shower the night before: a clean CCPO T-shirt and a pair of khaki cargo shorts. Although he’d shaved the previous night, he didn’t need to run his hand over his jaw to know he’d find a light growth of stubble there.

  “Not that bad,” she finally said, lifting her gaze to his, mischief dancing in the green depths. “But I’ve seen you better.”

  The corners of his mouth tugged upward. If she had regrets about what she’d said the night before, she wasn’t showing them. Instead, she was outright flirting with him and he wanted to puff out his chest like a prized rooster.

  “Maybe later we can talk about you seeing me better again.”

  She smiled a little smile that spoke volumes. “Who needs to talk?”

  Oh, Chrissie, he thought as his body responded to her flirty grin and comment.

  “Who indeed?”

  Talking certainly wasn’t what was on his mind while he took in the petite blonde woman in her mid-thigh-length shorts and CCPO medical staff T-shirt that fit her curves just right.

  The rest of the medical crew had joined them in the tent and two of the members were rolling up the sides to the tent so they could see out, while another had flipped on a large commercial-grade fan to circulate air through the tent.

  Outside, the event campgrounds were coming to life as volunteers and participants made their way toward the main tents. Everything would officially kick off for the day at seven. Once things got rolling, so would minor injuries.

  “Do you want to come with me to grab a bite?” he asked, despite the fact that she’d already been to the food tent.

  She shook her head and held out her coffee cup. “I’ve eaten and this will hold me over until later. I’m going to go man my triage station. I’ll see you when you get back.”

  “Definitely,” he promised. She’d be seeing him as much as he could arrange this weekend.

  Beyond that, who knew? Maybe he’d suggest spending as much time together as possible before he headed back overseas.

  * * *

  Flirting with Trace was fun. And easier than it should be, Chrissie thought later that afternoon.

  Had someone told her just twenty-four hours ago that she’d be catching Trace’s eye and winking at him, she’d have told them they were certifiable. But she and Trace had some serious sparks flying back and forth between them.

  Sparks that were bubbly and exciting and made her feel gloriously feminine.

  Not just feminine...sexy.

  Sexy.

  Something she’d not felt in far too long.

  Her days and nights were filled with being a good nurse and a great mother. She was content with her life. Better than content. She was happy and felt blessed.

  But Savannah was right. There had been something missing. That feeling one got when an attractive man looked at you and his want was so palpable that desire itself caressed you.

  That feeling one got when in the new bud of a relationship, when everything was exciting and new.

  Only none of this was new. She wasn’t in the bud of a relationship with Trace. Whatever happened this weekend was it. They both knew that.

  So, why did she still feel so giddy?

  She wasn’t the kind of woman to have random affairs. Or to have affairs, period.

  She was giddy. Giggly giddy, even.

  And not just because Trace couldn’t seem to go more than a few minutes without stealing a glance her way or finding some reason to come talk to her in between the fairly steady stream of patients who came to the tent.

  “He’s a good man.”

  Chrissie blinked up at Alexis. Somehow the doctor still managed to look exotically glamorous in her dark shorts and CCPO medical staff T-shirt. How was that even possible? “Pardon?”

  “Trace. He’s a good man.�
�

  “You know him well?” she couldn’t keep from asking despite the fact Trace had already said he hadn’t slept with the woman. Was she seeking confirmation of what he’d told her?

  No, she believed him. As he’d said, he had no reason to lie to her and he hadn’t made any false promises.

  “Not as well as I’d have once liked, as I suspect you know.”

  Chrissie couldn’t prevent her blush.

  “I’ll admit that when I heard he was going to be here, I’d hoped to kindle a spark. The moment I saw the way he looked at you I knew that wasn’t going to happen.” She didn’t bother to hide her disappointment. “So, despite a momentary surge of jealousy, I find myself happy for him, because he really is a good guy.”

  With the woman’s blunt honesty, it was difficult not to like her.

  “How does he look at me?”

  Sliding into the chair across from the triage table, Alexis laughed.

  “Like he wants to gobble you up and lick the crumbs from his fingers.” She air-kissed her fingertips with great show. “The way I wished he looked at me.”

  There went the heat in Chrissie’s cheeks again.

  “So, are you going to tell me about you two?”

  More heated cheeks.

  “I like him, if that’s what you mean.”

  Alexis rolled her dark, heavily fringed eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  Although she owed Alexis no explanation, she found herself wanting to talk to the woman. Probably because Alexis had worked with Trace outside this sheltered tented event world and knew a side of him that Chrissie had never seen.

  “We met four years ago at this event,” she said. “I haven’t seen or heard from him since. If anything, he’s only gotten sexier with age, and I’m not blind.”

  “Neither is he. I’ve never known him to be so taken with someone.”

  “He didn’t date when y’all worked together?”

  “Oh, he dated, but I never saw him look at any of them, or me, the way he looks at you.”

  “That’s...” she searched for the right word “...nice.”

  Alexis laughed again. “Nice? Honey, nice has nothing to do with it. Hot. Now, there’s a better description. You’re a lucky girl.”