Better Than Me (A Remington Medical Contemporary Romance)
Page 15
Make that his aching feet. Still, he didn’t regret spending the better part of his Saturday administering a metric ton of flu shots and basic healthcare for two reasons. One, the people who received the shots had a far lower chance of becoming sick with an illness that could be potentially serious—always a win. Secondly, getting to work side by side with Natalie and watch her in her element, caring for people and making silly faces at all of the little kids as she handed out stickers and calmed their tears, was quickly becoming one of Jonah’s favorite pastimes.
Something neighboring on tenderness unfolded in his rib cage, and he ran a hand over the front of his scrubs in an effort to snuff it out. Of course he felt affection for Natalie. They were best goddamned friends. Feelings like that were normal, just like the way his gut had twisted when she’d fessed up about her guilt over having cancer as a kid was to be expected, especially since she was always so cheerful that it had never occurred to him that she had vulnerabilities, let alone hid them.
Jonah’s pulse pushed faster in his veins. He couldn’t tell what he hated more—that Natalie felt guilty over something she hadn’t chosen and couldn’t have controlled, or that he’d never realized it before.
That he’d felt an impulsive, unexpected urge to be the one to care for her? Yeah, that had only added to the pile of emotions he had no business feeling about her, let alone showing her.
How had he not recognized her remorse?
Not like you don’t know a thing or two about covering your shit up, his sneaky little inner voice reminded him, and okay, point taken. He hadn’t realized it because Natalie had kept it close to the vest and covered it with genuine kindness, and his concern over who cared for her when she needed it was a perfectly natural, perfectly best-friendly reaction.
The way he’d wanted to kiss her all morning, then again all afternoon? Was not a best-friendly reaction. But that was just attraction. Physical. Sexual. Jonah would get it out of his system soon enough.
And then she’d move on and find someone who could give her what he couldn’t, just as she deserved.
“Dr. Jonah!” A familiar, little-girl voice dropped him back to the clinic, sending a wide, warm smile past his tumbling thoughts.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite patient,” he said, Annabelle’s ensuing giggle taking his mood a little further into happy territory. He dosed his hands with a quick shot of anti-bacterial foam before leaning over the counter to give her a fist-bump, then smiled a hello at Rachel. “Let me get you two into an exam room. We don’t want to risk exposure to any nasty germs. Once you’re settled in, I can go track down Dr. Kendrick.”
Rachel’s smile was all gratitude, the worry lines that had bracketed her eyes last week mostly a memory. “Thank you.”
“No problem at all.” Using his ID badge for access, Jonah ushered them past the set of automatic doors separating the lobby from the rest of the clinic, then walked the pair back to one of the clinic’s six private exam rooms.
“I see you brought Mr. Flufferkins,” he said, pointing to her stuffed fox.
Annabelle nodded seriously. “Of course. I can’t leave him at home alone. I’m his person.”
“His person, huh?” Jonah helped her (and Mr. Flufferkins) up to the exam table, taking a plastic bag holding a crisply laundered hospital gown from one of the cabinet drawers and placing it next to her.
“Well, I can’t be his mommy. I’m not a fox.” Her tone tacked on the word obviously, and Jonah bit back a laugh. “But he needs someone to help take care of him, and he makes me feel better when I have to get IVs and stuff. So, I’m his person, and he’s mine. Even though he’s a fox.”
More obviously, and this time, Jonah did laugh. “You asked for it,” Rachel murmured from the corner of her mouth, and okay, yeah. He supposed he had.
“Smart thinking to have a person,” Jonah told her. “Tell me, does Mr. Flufferkins like Jell-O?”
“He likes green Jell-O,” Annabelle said, breaking into a gap-toothed grin. “Very much.”
God, she was full of hustle, this kid. “Lucky for Mr. Flufferkins, I know a guy who can make that happen. Go ahead and put on your gown, and I’ll find Dr. Kendrick. After she checks you out, we’ll have ourselves a Jell-O party. Okay?”
“Okay!”
Turning on the heels of his cross-trainers, he headed back to the main room in the clinic, swiveling his gaze from curtain area to curtain area until he caught sight of Natalie. She stood a few beds away, chatting animatedly with a pregnant woman as she finished up an ultrasound. Jonah stepped toward her quietly, but stood on the periphery, not wanting to interrupt.
“Well, Marta, I know this isn’t a fancy 3D machine, but your baby still looks fantastic,” she said, capturing a grainy photo image from the ultrasound screen and sending it to the printer at the bottom of the machine. “He’s perfectly healthy and snug as a bug. And you are one smart momma for coming in for your prenatal well check.”
“Thanks, Dr. Kendrick.”
“I’m sorry you had to wait so long,” Natalie said, trying on a bright smile. “But the management here is still figuring out the best way to schedule well visits and handle all the patients who need more immediate care for illnesses and injuries.”
She looked up from the patient, and even though her eyes locked with Jonah’s for the briefest of beats, she seemed to know what he’d come to tell her. “I’m going to let our physicians’ assistant, Sara, finish things up here. She can answer any questions you’ve got and let you know when to come in for your next checkup, okay? In the meantime, keep up the great work.”
Passing the woman’s chart over to the PA, Natalie excused herself and took a few steps toward Jonah, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.
“Let me guess. You’ve already given Annabelle and Rachel the star treatment.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny that there will be an invite-only Jell-O party after the appointment,” he teased.
“You’re terrible.”
“There goes your VIP pass.”
Natalie laughed. “Not a chance. You might be a Disney prince, but I’m a goddess, remember?”
Did he fucking ever.
Seeming to remember the exact circumstances under which he’d made the reference, Natalie’s cheeks pinked, her spine going straight beneath her scrubs and doctor’s coat. “So, ah, let me pull Annabelle’s chart, here.”
She was all business as she went through the motions of grabbing a tablet from the nurses’ station and reviewed Annabelle’s chart. The clinic had closed its doors to incoming patients for the day, and even though a handful of people still lingered in triage, none were emergent. The staff nurses, ever-capable, had them well taken care of, so Jonah asked, “Is it okay if I tag along?”
“I think Annabelle would be disappointed if you didn’t,” Natalie said. “She’s not as immune to your charm as I am.”
Jonah smiled reflexively, but he also didn’t budge. “Maybe not, but you are her doctor. She’s no longer emergent, so if you’d rather take the re-check solo, I understand.”
Natalie looked up from the chart, her blond brows disappearing beneath the wisps of hair that had made a jailbreak from the knot at the crown of her head. “I appreciate the courtesy,” she said softly. “But you were there when I needed the help with her case, and you did help me treat her for this infection. Anyway, I’m not in the practice of disappointing my patients, so…are you ready?”
“Absolutely.”
They made their way to the exam room, all four of them talking easily as Natalie took point and examined Annabelle. The girl had recovered well, under the circumstances, and it lifted Jonah’s mood past the natural fatigue setting into his muscles after the long-ass day. He hung back as Natalie did all the honors, answering Rachel’s questions and checking Annabelle’s incision site and proclaiming her infection-free. Jonah delivered on the Jell-O party (hello, he was a man of his word), then promised to visit Annabelle when she returned to Remington M
em in a week for her next round of chemo. Natalie’s eyes sparkled, and even though he could see the weary shadows hinting beneath them, she looked purely happy. Her mood was infectious, and by the time they walked Rachel and Annabelle out to the waiting room for their goodbyes, Jonah was grinning right along with her.
His grin slipped, however, at the sound of an authoritative throat being cleared from behind him.
“Sheridan. Kendrick.” Dr. Keith Langston, a highly-regarded physician, the hospital’s chief of staff and, oh, by the way, their uber-conservative boss, regarded them from the spot where he’d been standing by the intake desk.
Jeez, the guy was stealthy. “Dr. Langston,” Jonah said, quickly realizing the man wasn’t alone. A tall, willowy woman in an expensively cut navy blue suit stood beside him. She reminded Jonah of Vanessa; or, at least, the Vanessa her parents had wanted her to be, pretty in a look-but-don’t-touch sort of way, with a heavy air of authority to go with her high cheekbones and fair, flawless skin. Her platinum-blond hair was pulled into a tidy twist, her ice-blue stare shrewd and assessing as she sent it first over the clinic’s now-quiet main space, then over Jonah and Natalie.
Langston nodded. “This is Harlow Davenport. She was recently appointed to Remington Memorial’s board. Her family has been very generous to the hospital over the past year and a half.”
“I’ll say. They funded the entire clinic,” Natalie murmured, extending her hand with a very Natalie-esque smile. “I’m Natalie Kendrick, peds attending. It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Davenport.”
“Pleasure,” the woman clipped out, her tone putting frost on the claim. She was equal opportunity with her all-business manner as she shook Jonah’s hand, too, although she did manage a polite smile as she gestured to the curtain areas with an impeccably manicured hand. “I wanted to come down and thank you both for volunteering your time today. We’ve been quite understaffed here in the clinic, of late. Your participation in today’s flu shot drive was rather helpful.”
“Oh.” Natalie blinked. “Well, thank you, but really, the preventive care will help to keep them out of the ED this season, so it’s kind of a win for everyone.”
“Well, it’s a win we certainly needed.” Harlow turned toward Langston. “I’d like to see the rest of the facility more closely. Then we can review some of the numbers. I want to be fully prepared for Monday’s budget meeting.”
“Of course.” Langston acknowledged him and Natalie with a lift of his chin. “Doctors,” he said, leading Harlow toward the exam rooms. When they were out of earshot, Natalie looked at Jonah, lips parted in surprise.
“What was that all about, do you suppose?” she asked as they moved to the small employee room where they’d stored their street clothes.
“I don’t know. I mean, the clinic is named after her mother, and she’s been on the board for, what? Four months or so?”
“Yeah. I overheard Don talking about it the other day. The details are kind of hazy—you know Don.” Natalie paused to grab her jeans and sweater from the locker where she’d left them, taking everything into one of the two curtained-off changing areas at the back of the room. “He’s got a master’s degree in gossiping. But I guess Harlow has taken some sort of new, hands-on interest in the clinic recently.”
“Most people who give the hospital a chunk of money big enough to have a clinic named after them have a vested interest in the facility,” Jonah agreed. He grabbed his own clothes, trying like mad to block out the rustle of fabric that said Natalie was less than dressed only a few feet and two flimsy curtains away from him.
“I guess,” she said. “Whatever her newfound motivation is, I’m glad for it. This place might be state-of-the-art in terms of the actual structure, but between the ancient equipment and the lack of good management, they sure can use the help.”
Jonah couldn’t disagree. The clinic had only been open for about six months, but it was rumored to have seen a whole lot more failures than successes. The demand for qualified staff to run the facility on both the medical side and the business end was overwhelming, and the mismanagement was really beginning to show.
“She certainly seems to have the steel for it, but more power to her,” Jonah said.
He made quick work of getting changed, running a hand through his hair a time or two before just deciding to give up and call it good. He and Natalie dodged a few snowflakes on the way to his Lexus, and her kid-in-a-candy-store grin made up for the cold weather in spades. The ride home was filled with an easy mix of laughter and quiet, during which she tried to convince him to let her decorate the apartment for the upcoming holiday (no), she renewed her argument that Die Hard wasn’t a Christmas movie (more no), and she tried once again to convince him that rom coms were at least plausible (big, fat fuck no). Jonah made his way into the apartment, tossing his keys onto the table in the foyer and slipping out of his jacket, hanging it on a nearby hook before turning to look at Natalie.
“Did you still want to watch the Rogues game?” she asked. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, the handful of snowflakes that had caught in her hair on the way upstairs now melted into glassy droplets. The effortless happiness that seemed to follow her everywhere rang through her smile, and God, how had Jonah never realized how truly beautiful she was?
His step toward her was more automatic than breathing. “Not really.”
“Oh.” Her smile faded, but only for a second. “Okay. If you’re tired, or you just want to relax on your own, we can totally call it a night.”
“I’m not tired, and I don’t want to relax on my own,” Jonah said. His pulse pounded in an equal mix of anticipation and desire, and he was done denying both. He closed the space between them—not that there was much of the stuff to begin with—his breath growing thicker and his cock twitching as Natalie’s pupils flared, her eyes glinting with unmistakable heat.
Reaching out, he pressed the pads of his index and middle fingers under her chin, tilting it gently upward until their gazes caught and held fast. “I made you a promise last night. And if having sex with me is still what you want, then I’d like to spend tonight making good on it. If you don’t, that’s okay, too,” he said. “But make no mistake, Natalie. The only thing I want tonight is you.”
15
“I want you, too.”
Somehow, Natalie managed to get the words past her thundering heartbeat, but she couldn’t deny the pure truth of them. The need she’d felt last night rushed through her like a tide, and she answered it the only way she knew how.
She moved closer.
A smile broke over Jonah’s impossibly handsome face. It wasn’t one of his usual smiles, designed to captivate or charm. No. This smile was something entirely different, wide open and wanting at the same time, and it sent a shot of wild heat directly between her thighs.
“Guess we should do something about that,” he said, lowering his mouth at the same time she lifted hers. The kiss started out simply enough, just a brush of their lips, then another. But all too quickly, Natalie’s need for more surfaced. She parted her mouth, pressing harder in search of more contact, and oh, Jonah gave it. Sliding his tongue over her bottom lip, he deepened the kiss in one unrelenting stroke. His hands lifted to frame her face, his palms firm as he held her exactly where she wanted to be, the blunt edges of his fingertips knotting in her hair.
Heat blazed through her body—how could desire feel so intense?—and she kissed him back, just as deeply. Their give and take didn’t feel like a back and forth so much as an equal meeting, each of them reading the other the way they always did, and the next thing Natalie knew, her arms had moved around Jonah’s shoulders, his around her rib cage, and he was lifting her off her feet to haul her in close.
An appreciative groan drifted up from his chest. With the way the move had brought their hips into perfect alignment, her legs wrapped around his waist and the seam of her body pressed against his fully erect cock, it was all Natalie had not to fly apart, right there in the foyer.
“Mmm.” As soon as Jonah lowered her to her feet, she reached for the hem of his shirt.
He caught her fingers just shy of contact. “No.”
Confusion wound a path through her lust in a chilly thread. “But—”
“I want you, Nat.” He kissed her hotly enough to prove it. “I want you. Please. Let me make this good for you.”
For a single beat, Natalie was tempted to argue. Not that she wasn’t dying for him to touch her and kiss her and make her come, because sweet God in heaven, she was. But Jonah had slid around letting her touch him last night, too, and the truth of it was, she wanted to.
But then his mouth was on her neck, kissing and testing and tasting her hypersensitive skin, and any argument—hell, any coherent thought that wasn’t please don’t stop—disappeared from her mind like snowflakes melting on the pavement. His tongue traced a long, delicate path from behind her ear to the base of her neck, where he switched to a pair of more purposeful open-mouthed kisses. When he ran into the blockade of her sweater, he pulled back with another sort of smile Natalie had never seen before.