by Lyz Kelley
“I appreciate your encouraging diagnosis, Doctor, but it won’t work. My family has tried, my friends have tried, and even my mother’s therapist has tried. The harder I shove the memories and fears aside, the worse the nightmares get and the emptier I feel.” She was a shell, hollowed out by the pounding waves of monstrous memories and the villainous voices in her head.
His lips were an inch from hers when he said, “Let go. Let someone else take the lead for a while.” Feather-light, his lips touched hers, and then her cheek, and then her forehead, each physical connection sweeter than the last. He tasted of spearmint gum and smelled of fresh towels from the dryer.
Hands tunneled into her hair and massaged her scalp, sending soft excitement through her limbs. Her entire body sighed, and sensual warmth replaced the emotional chill. His lips again sought hers, coaxing, moving from side to side, nibbling until her mind knew nothing but him. His palm caressed her back while his feet moved back and forth and around. The music transported and drew them closer. He pressed his body against hers, and she longed to fold into every crevice. She could feel his arousal between them.
“Garrett?”
“Shhh, don’t think.”
He danced like he kissed, leisurely and thoroughly and unconditionally. Kissing she could get used to, but kissing led to more intimacy, and the more was what she couldn’t handle. She found the will to angle back and put a small space between them. “Someone has to think,” she said, knowing it would end this perfect waltz.
“I thought you were enjoying the dance.” He stopped and rested his cheek on her head.
“A tango is not just about the tango. I never thought it possible to get this close to a man again. You’ve given me hope, but I’m still not sure I’m ready for…”
Warm fingers touched her lips. “There you go again. There is no agenda here, no timeline. What happens or not doesn’t need to be decided today. You smell like fresh lemonade on a hot summer day. I want to dance with you and hold you in my arms. That’s all.”
“Citrus. I guess you like my new shampoo,” she said, for lack of anything better, and buried her nose in his shirt, breathing in his all-male scent and listening to his confident heartbeat. After a couple of beats, she forced herself back and away.
“I like a whole lot more than your shampoo,” he said with a passion that might have scared him, because he also took a step back and shoved his hands in his pockets.
The sounds of Billie Holiday’s, What Is This Thing Called Love? and the jingling of Garrett’s pocket change. Her heartbeat fell into time with the music, and her breathing slowed to match the churning coins.
“Mac, you may not think so today, but you have what it takes to get past this. But you have to want it. Fight for it.”
The temptation to put her hands over her ears and scream flared. She wasn’t strong enough. Why couldn’t he understand that?
“You’re an amazing woman. You are. And I want you to know I hear you. I see you. The beautiful and strong you. Don’t let that guy win.”
His words echoed in her mind—don’t let him win—over and over again, getting louder and louder until the phrase replaced the whispered heckles that had become part of her every waking thought and action.
“It’s not that easy.”
“No, and neither is replacing a heart, but with patience, determination and practice, it can be done.”
“Are you always this tenacious?”
“Some might even call me obstinate.”
The glint in his eye made her laugh and want things from him, but caution propelled her to the other side of the counter. “Don’t you have patients you need to check on, Doctor?”
“Your well-being is important to me. What happened last night, and leaving things unsettled, didn’t feel right.”
The way the night ended hadn’t felt right to her either, but she didn’t know how to recover from the embarrassment. She ran a hand down her hair. “I’m sure I look a mess. I was planning to come and find you, but…”
“But you didn’t know how to explain.” He reached across the counter for her hand. “When two people are friends, sometimes explanations aren’t needed. I respect you. You’re a colorful jar of jellybeans, and that’s sweet.”
The heat in her cheeks made her look away. His attempt at humor tickled her serious mood into relenting. How could she have thought this man self-centered and cold?
“You’re a good man, Garrett Branston.”
He released her hand, walked around the counter, breaching the barrier between them, and circled his arms around her. She rested her head on his broad shoulder as his arms crossed her back. “Everything will be all right. You have to dip into that inner strength and believe.”
Tears threatened, to her horror. If he’d only stop being so nice, stop feeling so good. He even let out a sigh, a sigh that revealed he enjoyed having her in his arms, which didn’t help one darn bit. Then he pressed his lips to her forehead. Oh my, she was doomed.
“Believe,” he repeated.
“And what if he gets out of jail, or he has one of his buddies find me?”
Her mind swirled with a thousand what-ifs.
“Stop dealing in maybes.”
“I hate living this way.” The constant gut-shredding fear was tearing apart her life.
He paused, and then released her to look into her eyes. “You hate feeling out of control. That’s what it is, and that’s normal. You need to give yourself a break. You have a lot of scars. Let them heal, and stop picking at the scab. You can get past this. I know you can.”
“Are you a psychologist as well?”
“I’m a friend, simple as that. I have no expectations, and there’s no judgment. If you let me, I can be your safe place. A person you can tell things to or be with and say nothing.”
“Why? Why would you do that for me?”
“Someday I’ll tell you about my sister, but not today.” Swirling emotions emanated from him as he stared out the window. “I promise I won’t push. I pushed my sister, and it was wrong. The mind takes time to heal, and I know that now.”
A crystal-pure relief spread through her every limb. Finally, someone who understood.
“I’ve got to go. Will you be all right?”
Her hand felt nice in his and she tried remembering all the reasons she’d struggled to push him away.
“I have several things I have to do today.” Since my brothers continue to find things to keep me occupied and get me out of my apartment. Curse them.
“I’m sure you do, Ms. Agenda.” His nothing-changes smile was comforting.
She touched the flowers. “These are lovely, and a nice gesture after what happened last night.”
“You’re welcome, and that other stuff is behind us,” he said, squatting to give George a scratch behind the ear. “And you, little buddy, need to take care of your mom.”
Amazing. No claws or bite marks in his hand.
“Will I see you at the hospital?” he asked without the expected pressure, only curiosity.
He stood, and she accompanied him to the door. “Maybe. Weston, my oldest brother, gave me a new project. It’ll keep me occupied for the next several weeks, but I’ll always take time to visit Ellie.” And you, she left unspoken. “Speaking of busy. You should rest. You look beat.”
“Ah, but the hospital never sleeps,” he said, giving her arm a squeeze. “Take care of yourself.”
True to his promise, he didn’t push or give her a list of shoulds. He slipped out the door and was gone.
Having someone in her life who didn’t want something from her felt refreshing. He didn’t ask for a dinner date or angle for more trust money. She’d been able to see the need in his eyes and feel it in his touch. He wanted her in a soft, pastel kind of way.
Believe popped into her thoughts, and she contemplated the timeliness and ironic meaning.
The gentle connection wouldn’t scare her.
Or, would it?
Chapter 10<
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Angry voices drifted down the hospital corridor. McKenzie turned the corner and walked straight into a combat zone.
Garrett and Beth stood stethoscope to stethoscope. Hostility ricocheted off the walls. Garrett’s intimidating height didn’t faze Beth one bit. Her animated hands in contrast to his motionless fury didn’t bode well either. She understood both of them well enough to know neither would back down until the confrontation ended and ended badly.
“May I suggest you two take this argument someplace else?” she shouted over their escalating voices.
Both heads turned in her direction. “Stay out of this, McKenzie,” Beth warned.
He bristled. “Don’t speak to her in that manner.”
McKenzie pressed fingers to her temples’ pressure points. Walking into a hornet’s nest had not been on her already tight agenda. “Could one of you please explain what this is about?”
Beth pointed at Garrett’s chest. “He accused one of my nurses of stealing drugs.”
Her words pushed his agitation button, and he shook his head in denial.
“That’s not what happened. I merely asked the nurse not to leave her cart unattended to prevent the possibility of someone stealing drugs. I didn’t accuse her of anything. But why am I having this discussion?”
Movement made Garrett glare over her shoulder. McKenzie turned. A nurse walking toward them pivoted and headed in the opposite direction. The paintbrush-thin girl must be the one who’d triggered the argument.
Burning acid pooled in McKenzie’s mouth. She pressed her lips together and swallowed. A searing heat flushed her face. “May I suggest both of you move this into the nursery prep room, and lower your voices?” she said in a polite, yet assertive manner. Her cheeks burned, hot with frustration. “This is no way to demonstrate good leadership. You need t—”
“Following procedure is demonstrating excellent leadership,” Garrett said with animosity dripping off each word.
She didn’t miss the emphasis on ‘is’ and met his challenging stare before he opened the prep room door. She followed Beth into the room. “What…what is this really about?” She focused on her long-time friend. “This argument seems about more than a manager protecting a staff member.”
Beth crossed her arms. “We’ve got an inventory problem. And we need to find where the process is breaking down. But Mr. Rhino can’t stampede through the ward making everyone feel like a thief, taking out anything in his way. Nurse retention is exceptionally difficult. I don’t need Rhino-man giving them a reason to find another job.”
“Unbelievable.” He extended each syllable to make a point. “I make a passing comment to a nurse, and now I’m plowing through the ward.”
McKenzie’s stomach churned and circled, like her vision. She pressed a tongue to the roof of her mouth.
Beth touched her arm. “You look pale. Are you all right?”
The room tilted and shifted.
Her knees gave way.
A strong arm circled her waist.
A razor-sharp pain in her head cut through the images of faces, lights, and machines. She didn’t dare breathe. She didn’t dare move. Someone carried her to a chair and pushed her head between her knees.
Time ticked by with a ta-dum ta-dum ta-dum in her ears.
Her breath slowly evened, and coherent thought returned.
She pushed at the hand holding her down. “Please stop. I’m fine.”
“Fainting is not fine.” His concern penetrated her thoughts.
Beth knelt in front of her. “When’s the last time you ate? Better yet, when’s the last time you slept?”
Excuse after excuse piled up. Scrolling through the options, she examined each explanation, but every one sounded more pathetic than the one before it. “I suppose an ‘I warned you’ or an ‘I told you so’ is coming next.”
“Nope. You’ll do an excellent job flogging yourself.” Beth’s words stung, but only because she spoke the truth.
Garrett lifted McKenzie’s hand and checked her pulse. “I bet you’re dehydrated. Maybe you should be admitted overnight for observation. I’ll have a sleep study ordered.” He circled a hand around her wrist. “Have you lost weight?”
“It doesn’t take a study or scale to tell you she’s not sleeping or eating,” Beth said. “Look at the sacks under her eyes and the baggy clothes.”
“When’s the last time she had her blood work done?”
“I think before her in vitro exam.”
“IVF?” His clearly unconscious sneer made a strong, silent statement.
“Beth!” McKenzie said, betrayal stiffening her tone. She yanked her hand away from Garrett to swat away a frustrated tear. “I would appreciate not being discussed as if I’m not in the room.”
Beth patted her hand like she would one of her adolescent patients. “I’ll go see if I can schedule an appointment to see a doctor.”
“What am I, chopped liver?” he demanded.
“Well, now, that depends. There’s chicken liver, and that’s a bit small. There’s buffalo liver, and that’s a bit thick. Then there’s calves’ liver. Now that’s mighty tasty. Seems you might fit one or all of those descriptions.”
McKenzie braced her head with the palm of her hand. “Haven’t you two had enough for one day?”
Moving to the door, Beth stopped. “I’ll get some acetaminophen. That is, unless the doctor here intends to write me up for stealing drugs.” She gave him a just-try-it glance before leaving.
He pressed the back of his hand to McKenzie’s forehead. Once a doctor, always a doctor.
“I’ll get something to eat. I promise.”
His serious gaze didn’t waver. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“My past and why I’m not sleeping are off-limits. I was in a hurry this morning and missed breakfast. That’s all.” No way would she explain triple-X-rated thoughts of him kept her from REM sleep.
“I was asking about your desire to go the in vitro route. Mac, why would you want to wreck your body chemistry and go through all that?”
She stared at him, amazed he’d had the balls to ask such an outrageous question. “For your information, Doctor, I decided not to wreck my body, as you so tactfully put it. At least not right now. The specialist says it may take several rounds—translated, that means years—before I can get pregnant, if at all—and I want to put my life in order before I commit to treatments. But it’s my body and my decision, and I have the right to change my mind.”
He could have swallowed a grapefruit, his face got so puckered. “Maybe you should seek a second opinion. Or try to have a baby naturally. That sounds like a lot more fun.” His sensual grin didn’t need translation.
“Naturally? Right. I can’t see a guy signing up for procreation duty without wanting custody, or child support, or some slice of the Carver pie. There are always strings, and I don’t wish to be a puppet in someone else’s play.”
“We talked about Ellie. I can still put in a good word.”
“I wish you would stop pushing.”
“Don’t ask me to stop fighting for the kids. Someone has to.” He picked up a few strands of her hair and let them flow through his fingers. “You’re a smart and nurturing woman, and would make a great mom for that little girl.”
“Doctor, aren’t you being a bit inappropriate?”
“About Ellie, maybe. About us, maybe not. We’ve been dancing around this weird, push-pull attraction for weeks. I would like to find out where this tango will go. If you don’t feel the same level of connection, then just say so.” He guided her into his arms. His face hovered millimeters above hers. “I know you’re scared, and intimacy is difficult, but I won’t hurt you.”
Her lips parted slightly. She could imagine his warm, caressing mouth on hers. For a second she thought she might be able to take the next step. The desire, the longing was there. The need, too. An anxious fear made her step back, put space between them, and she turned her head. “I told you I don’t want yo
ur sympathy.”
“This has nothing to do with your past. It’s about two people, and concentrating on the now.”
“I’m not ready. Not yet.”
“Not yet? Or never?” Disappointment threaded through his words like a suture closing an open wound. He released her and moved back until there was a foot between them. It could have been a mile from the look on his face.
“Garrett—”
“It’s okay,” he held up his hands, palms up in surrender. “I’ll back off. I won’t bring it up again. But know this: When you’re ready, you’ll have to say when.”
Pushing him away felt wrong. Not starting something she couldn’t finish felt right. Today, there might be a disappointment. Tomorrow, there might be hurt and regret. “Garrett, I don’t want you to worry about me, and don’t you have someplace more important to be? Right now, I need you focused on making the robotic unit the best it can be.”
“I’m making a mess out of expressing how I feel.” He rubbed his neck. “I want you to know you’re not alone. I would hope you’d at least consider me a friend.”
“You are a friend. A good friend.” She tried to swallow, but her tongue suddenly felt like sandpaper and wouldn’t allow her to swallow the guilt of not telling him the truth—that she wished he could be more.
With a twist of a wrist, he checked his watch. “I’ll see what’s keeping Beth.” He walked to the door.
“Garrett?” she called in quiet desperation.
He turned.
She considered telling him how much it meant that he cared, but that the real potential of a relationship had come at a very inopportune time. She wanted to get her life on track and wasn’t ready to deal with romantic possibilities. “Thanks for not letting me hit the floor.”
Only a half-smile made it to his face. “Glad I was there. Do you—”
An overhead page froze his response. Code Silver Pediatrics.
Someone had a gun. Not good.
He moved to peer through the door’s peephole, and then turned back to her. “Stay here.”