Читать книгу The ER's Newest Dad - Janice Lynn, Janice Lynn - Страница 8

HIS HEART POUNDING, Ross put his hand on Brielle’s forehead. Red stained her cheeks, but otherwise her face was devoid of color. Although it wasn’t overly warm, dampness clung to her pale skin.

“Honey, are you all right?” He shook her shoulder lightly, trying to get her to snap out of whatever had hold of her. Not once when he’d imagined finally feeling her skin against his again had he imagined it like this.

Face pinched with pain, she shook her head in denial.

What the hell was wrong with her? Why wouldn’t she look at him?

“Brielle?”

Her body trembled within his grasp, making him want to take her into his arms and make whatever was wrong better.

Fine hairs along his neck prickled. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on so I can help you.”

She closed her eyes, swallowed then took a ragged breath.

“I need to get out of here,” she mumbled, so low he barely made out what she said. “I don’t feel well.”

“Sir, is everything okay?” the hostess asked, the young girl’s wide eyes glued to where Brielle dropped her head to between her knees.

“My friend isn’t feeling well. Which unfortunately means we won’t be staying.” He pulled out his wallet, handed the girl a twenty. “Please give that to our waitress to cover my drink and her trouble.”

His gaze went back to Brielle. She still leaned forward, rocked slightly back and forth.

“Let’s go, honey.” He helped her sit up, but one glance at her ashen face was more than enough to prompt him to make a quick decision.

He scooped her into his arms, waited while the hostess opened the restaurant door, and then carried her to his car, with her protesting the entire time that she could walk.

“Can you stand long enough for me to open the door?”

Still trembling, she nodded against his chest. “Put me down. I’m so embarrassed.”

She felt good in his arms. What kind of cad was he anyway to notice how good she felt against him when she was ill? Still, he wanted nothing more than to keep holding her, to keep breathing in the scent that was uniquely hers. To keep feeling her warm body against his.

He’d missed her so much.

More than he’d admitted even to himself until that very moment.

“I said put me down,” she said, with more gusto than he would have thought possible based on how pale she’d looked inside the restaurant. “You should never have picked me up like that!”

He didn’t point out that she’d looked too weak to stand. Now didn’t seem the time to start an argument. Instead, he gently put her on her feet, keeping his hand on her, ready to steady her if she swayed, ready to sweep her back into his arms if she stumbled.

He unlocked his door, helped her into his passenger seat, then got into the driver’s side of the car. Rather than start the engine, he turned to her, watched her stare straight ahead, wishing he could know what was running through her head.

“You okay?” Crazy question when she obviously wasn’t, but he didn’t know what else to say to break the silence stretching between them.

“Fine. Couldn’t be better.” Sarcasm didn’t become her, but her color was beginning to look a little brighter, not so ghostly.

“What’s going on? You coming down with something?”

“I’m not ill, just embarrassed at the spectacle we just made.”

She attempted to make light of his question, but he’d have to be a fool not to realize her laugh was forced.

“Nothing contagious, at any rate,” she continued, still staring straight out the window.

He stared at her miserable profile, at how her shoulders sagged, at how her hand rested on her abdomen, and a possible explanation of her symptoms, of her rejection of him, hit so hard that he thought he might be ill, too.

Acid burned the back of his throat, searing him straight through.

“You’re pregnant?” He hated the words, hated asking, but he had to know. Had to know if he was too late. If he’d stayed in denial of his feelings for too long, let someone else move in and steal Brielle’s heart. Claim her body.

Her jaw fell. She turned to him, her eyes round and her expression aghast. “No,” she denied so forcefully he couldn’t doubt her. “I’m not pregnant. Why would you think that?”

“Because you were nauseated and looked like you were going to pass out.” Relief washed through Ross but didn’t fully ease his suspicions. “You’re holding your stomach.” He grimaced, wanting to hold his own nauseated stomach. “You’re sure you aren’t pregnant?”

Her hand fell to her side. She closed her eyes and laughed, though it sounded bitter-sweet. “I’m not pregnant.”

Something about her answer struck him as odd, as not quite the whole story. “How can you be positive?”

“I’m not pregnant. Let’s leave it at that.” Sarcasm bit into her words.

“Maybe you are and don’t know it.” Why he persisted he wasn’t sure. Maybe because the thought that she might be bothered him so greatly that he wanted to be one hundred per cent certain that she wasn’t.

“I am not pregnant. End of story.” She blew out an exasperated breath, dropped her head against his dashboard and rolled it back and forth slowly, before sitting back up to stare blankly ahead. “Men are so dense.”

Wondering at her actions, he frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you were oblivious when you should have …” She trailed off, closed her eyes and put her hand to her head, wincing as if in pain again.

“Headache?” he guessed, wondering why breathing suddenly felt easier at her assurance she wasn’t pregnant, wondering at her comment and wishing she’d finished it.

She nodded. “I think one is coming on. If you’ll take me somewhere to where I can lie down for a minute, I’m sure it’ll pass.”

She was looking pale again and as if she’d like to bring up anything in her stomach. “You need a bag or something to barf in?”

“Very technical term there, Dr. Lane, and, no, I don’t need a barf bag. I haven’t eaten anything since early this morning.”

Why hadn’t she eaten? Sure, they had been busy at the hospital, but she was supposed to have had a lunch-break. How had he not noticed that she hadn’t taken one?

“That’s probably why you feel so poorly and is likely what triggered your headache. Hypoglycemia is serious business, Brielle. You shouldn’t play around with your health. You know better.”

Eyes closed, face squished, she shook her head and pointed towards the road. “It’s not hypoglycemia. My blood sugar is fine. I’m fine. Just drive.”

Ross wasn’t sure where he was supposed to take her, but a place to lie down was a requirement he didn’t have a lot of choices on. He took her to the furnished apartment he’d leased for the three months he’d be in Bean’s Creek.

Despite her protests that she was fine to walk, he carried her inside, laid her on his sofa, pulled her tennis shoes off and propped her feet on one of the throw pillows that had come with the apartment.

“I’ll be back in just a minute,” he promised. “Don’t move.”

Eyes closed, she grunted in acknowledgement of his comment. He fetched a glass of orange juice and a couple of tablets to knock out her pain.

“I don’t recall you having issues with headaches. How often do you get these?” he asked when she’d settled back on the sofa. He placed a cold, damp cloth on her forehead and stroked loose hairs away from her face.

“Almost never.” Hating that his touch felt so good, Brielle closed her eyes, willed her body not to respond to the gentle strokes of his fingers brushing over her face, her hair.

“Sometimes hormonal changes can trigger headaches.”

“Stop it, Ross. I am not pregnant,” she repeated, enunciating each word with emphasis.

Really, could the situation be any more ironic? When she’d been pregnant with his child, he’d failed to notice the changes to her routine, to her body. Tonight, when she’d merely felt ill, he’d immediately jumped to that conclusion. Men.

“Are you dating anyone, Brielle?”

Grateful that her eyes were closed and he couldn’t read the truth in her eyes, she held her tongue in check.

“I suppose you’re not answering because you think the answer isn’t any of my business. Maybe you’re right that it’s not. But what you do feels as if it’s my business.” He sighed and it sounded so weary that she opened her eyes, her gaze instantly colliding with his intense blue one.

“I want what you do to be my business, Brielle.”

His admission surprised her.

“Tell me how to make that happen.”

Oh, how sweetly seductive his words were to her heart and yet… “Because you’re here, I’m here, and you have three months to kill?”

“I’m here because of you,” he owned up, his gaze not wavering from hers. “You have to know you’re why I’m here. The only reason I’m here.”

She knew that. On some level she had known. Yet her heart did a jiggly dance in her chest all the same.

“I sought you out, took this job just to be near you, and my sole purpose for being in Bean’s Creek is you.”

Thud. Thud. Thud. Her heart pounded against her ribs. “Why?”

“You know why.”

He was wrong. She didn’t know.

“Sex?” she guessed. Their chemistry seemed to zap as strongly as ever, promising just as volcanic a ride. They’d had a great sex life. A great life period, but physically they’d have won Olympic gold once upon a time. If she were honest with herself, she’d admit that she couldn’t be near him without wanting to rip his clothes off, without wanting to touch him and re-familiarize herself with every aspect of his body.

“If all I wanted was sex, I wouldn’t have had to leave Boston.”

That she didn’t doubt. Of course a gorgeous successful doctor with his looks, charm, and sex appeal would have women falling at his feet. No doubt he’d had many women during the time they’d been apart. Her heart clenched into a tight, painful ball.

“I want you.”

“You want sex with me?”

“Not just sex.” He paused, looked torn. “At least, I don’t think so.” He ran his fingers through his hair then squatted down next to the sofa, met her gaze with his usual confidence. “I want you, Brielle. I want you to look at me the way you used to look at me. I want you to beg me to make love to you over and over until we both collapse in exhaustion and then I want you to tell me you want me again.”

Barely breathing, she shook her head. “Impossible. You can’t have that. Those feelings are gone.”

Yet even as she said the words the urge to beg him to do all those things drummed louder and louder through her head. Lord help her, she wanted that sweet exhaustion he spoke of, that sweet exhaustion she knew he had the power to deliver.

“Are they?” He traced his finger over her lips as if to pound home his question. “I think the attraction is as strong as ever between us.”

That she couldn’t deny. Just his lightest touch had her entire body tingling as if every cell had suddenly woken up after a long hibernation.

“That’s just physical.” Please, let it just be physical. “I’m a grown woman now and know better than acting on just physical.”

Hadn’t she learned that lesson? He’d been a good teacher. So why did recalling all the other things he’d taught her seem so much easier at the moment?

“There was a lot more than just physical between us.”

“Was there?” she asked perversely. “I remember things differently.”

His gaze settled on her mouth. His finger toyed with her lower lip, barely grazing the inner moisture of her mouth. “Tell me what you remember, Brielle. Tell me you remember how your body came alive when I kissed you, how you responded to my slightest touch.” He lifted his finger to his mouth, supped off the taste of her lips. “Tell me you want me to kiss you right now because I see how your pulse is racing, how your breathing is ragged, and how your eyes are eating me up.”

“I don’t want you to kiss me.” She closed her eyes and held her breath, but she couldn’t do a thing about her crazy racing pulse. “Even if I did, all you’ve done is proved my point. Physical. Physical. Physical. Nothing more.”

Ross laughed. A sweet, relaxed, real laugh that sounded so familiar to her aching heart that everything in her went a little haywire.

Or maybe it was the light sweep of his mouth over hers that caused everything to go haywire.

“You taste of heaven, Brielle,” he whispered against her lips. “Sweet, sweet heaven.”

If she tasted of heaven, then he tasted of hell.

His lips were full, sure, full of temptation, hot.

Every cell in her body buzzed alive as if a direct connection had been made to where his lips met hers and he’d taken control of her nerve endings and demanded they deliver ultimate pleasure.

When he pushed his tongue into her mouth, for the briefest moment she considered biting him. But what purpose would that serve? If she wanted him to stop, she’d have stopped him. Instead, she’d parted her lips, let him have his blasted way.

He was right. She wanted this kiss. Had wanted his kiss from the first moment she’d spotted him in the emergency room on his first day at Bean’s Creek.

Who was she kidding?

She’d never stopped wanting him. Not from their very first kiss years ago.

It’s only curiosity, she assured herself as she opened her mouth to his exploration. She just wanted to know if his kisses still set her on fire, if he still pushed her body beyond pleasure and into ecstasy.

The sensual movement of his mouth over hers assured that he did. And more.

His hands threaded into her hair. His fingers caressed her scalp, holding her to him. His touch was gentle, not forcing the embrace, allowing her the freedom to stop him if she desired. He was probably gloating that she wasn’t, that she was so weak that the first time they were alone she was flat on her back, making love to him with her mouth.

Then again, one could argue that it was his mouth loving hers.

That it was his hands moving over her shoulders, down her arms, caressing her as if she were the most prized treasure.

His body that had leaned to hover just above hers.

Kissing her, he stared directly into her eyes. When his mouth lifted from hers, his breath came hard and fast against her lips. “I missed you, Brielle. So much.”

She didn’t answer, because what could she say? He’d been the one to leave, the one to be in the arms of another woman when she’d gone after him mere months later.

Memories of the last time she’d seen him, of his lips on the other woman’s, of how quickly he’d moved on, gave her the strength to push against his chest.

“Stop,” she ordered, wriggling to sit up on his sofa. “That wasn’t appropriate.”

He wiped his finger across his lips. Whether he was savoring their kiss or wiping it away, she wasn’t sure. “You were as curious as I was. Admit it.”

Curious? He had no idea.

“No.”

“Not admitting to the attraction between us doesn’t make it any less real,” he pointed out, with way too much logic when her head was spinning.

“Doesn’t matter.” Why could she still feel his kiss? Taste him? She didn’t want to remember. Didn’t want to have new memories of him. “None of this matters. There are others involved.”

His brows formed a V. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

Wondering if she’d said too much, she closed her eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

“There is someone in your life?”

She took a deep breath, knowing the truth was the best policy even if she’d rather not admit it. “There is.”

He swore under his breath, seemed to consider his options and make a decision all in under ten seconds. His face serious, his expression pure dominant male in warrior mode, he met her gaze. “Then he is in for the fight of his life because I want what’s mine.”

Taken aback, she gulped. “What’s yours?”

“You. You’re mine, Brielle. You always have been. You always will be.”

“No.” She shook her head in denial. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not yours.” Needing movement, distance between them, she rose from the sofa, straightened her uniform. “I haven’t been from the moment you left me for Boston. Take me home.”

Ross drove in silence, trying to decipher what had happened between him and Brielle. Had he taken her to his apartment in the hope of luring her into his bed?

He certainly wanted her enough that subconsciously perhaps he had hoped the evening would end with her realizing how right the chemistry between them was. Either way, he’d failed miserably. One hot, explosive kiss that had filled his head with fantasies and she’d pushed him away, demanding to be driven home.

“You wanted that kiss as much as I did.”

“Do we have to talk about that again?” At his nod, she sighed as if needing lots of patience. “Fine. If your ego needs to believe that, you go right ahead and believe that I’ve done nothing but pine away for your kisses since you walked out.”

His ego wasn’t what needed to believe that she wanted his kisses. He daren’t name what body part needed to believe.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t the one she’d probably guess.

“What happened between us was a long time ago, Brielle. We were younger, still had a lot to learn about life. I had a lot to learn about life, about who I was and what I wanted out of a relationship. Don’t you think you owe it to us to let go of your anger at me for leaving?”

“Fine.”

Was that her favorite word these days or what?

“You’re right. What happened between us was a long time ago, best forgotten. We’ll just be professional colleagues, nothing more.”

If their discussion wasn’t so serious, he could laugh at that. “You and I can never be just professional colleagues. Our kiss was proof enough of that.”

“That kiss was a mistake.”

“Why? Because of this man you’re involved with?” His fingers gripped the steering-wheel tighter at the thought of another man touching Brielle, of another man kissing her lips or holding her affections. “Whatever is between you can’t be serious because no one at the hospital is aware he exists. I asked your friend Cindy if you were dating anyone. She said no. I asked Samantha, too, and she also denied that you were involved with anyone.” He paused, thinking of Vann’s girlfriend, whom he and Brielle had often double dated with during their heyday. “After she told me where I could go, of course.”

Brielle’s face pinched and she opened her mouth as if to say something then clamped her lips closed. “This is crazy. Why are you here? Why are you doing this after all this time? Just tell me and be done with it.”

He didn’t understand the strain to her voice. Yes, he’d ended their relationship, but it wasn’t as if he’d done her wrong. He hadn’t cheated or bad-mouthed her or abused her in any way that he knew of. When he’d moved out, he’d even paid the rent on their apartment for three months to give her time to find a new roommate to help with expenses.

“I told you I want you in my life,” he reminded her. “I’ve missed you.”

She clenched her hands in her lap, shook her head as if to shake his words away. “Once upon a time I’d have given anything to hear you say that.”

He didn’t miss her use of past tense. “But not any more?”

The skin pulled tight over her pale face. She shook her head again. “Surely you didn’t believe I’ve spent the last five years waiting for you to grow up?”

“My growing up wasn’t the issue.” Wanting to expand his learning experiences hadn’t been childish or immature. He’d been a man given an amazing opportunity and he’d taken it. Their relationship had been strained with her sudden desire to walk down the aisle and him knowing he wasn’t ready for that, not at that point in his career and life. “I know you’ve gone on with your life, just as I have. That doesn’t mean what is between us is finished. It’s not.”

After kissing her tonight, being swamped with all the old feelings but also new stronger emotions too, he was beginning to believe what was between Brielle and himself would never be finished.

“Don’t bring up this man you’re involved with,” he warned, before she could toss that in his face. “Because you don’t love him.”

Twisting in her car seat to stare more fully at him, her gaze narrowed to tiny slits. “How could you possibly know that I don’t love him?”

He pulled to a stop at a red traffic light then faced her, daring her to deny the truth of what he was about to say. “Because if you were in love with him you wouldn’t have kissed me. Not at all and certainly not with that passion.”

“You’re wrong,” she countered, her smile scaring him. “I love him more than I’ve ever loved any man, anyone. He’s my whole world.”

Truth echoed from each word she spoke.

Ross stared at her, unable to label the crushing sensation in his chest. Denial shot through him. Strong denial. “No, you don’t. Maybe you think you do, but you don’t. You’ve not changed that much. You wouldn’t kiss me if you were in love with another man. You aren’t the type of woman to do that.”

A need as potent as any as he’d ever felt hit him. A need to feel her lips against his, to reassure himself of exactly what he’d felt when he’d kissed her. No way had he imagined the emotion zapping back and forth between them when their bodies had touched.

That hadn’t been just physical. He’d felt … more.

He leaned forward, intent on reminding her of those emotions, but she put her hand up, shook her head.

“Don’t.”

“Scared?”

“Of you?” She laughed but without any humor. “You won’t hurt me, Ross. Not ever again, because I won’t let you.”

Was that what she thought he wanted?

“I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I doubt you meant to hurt me last time either.”

Her barb stuck deep. “But I did hurt you.”

It wasn’t really a question, but she answered anyway, her expression holding steady except for the slightest quiver of her lower lip. He hated that he’d caused the pain that lay behind that quiver.

“What do you think?”

That he’d been an idiot to leave this woman when she’d loved him with all her heart and had made him happier than he recalled being at any other time during his life.

“I loved you, Ross.” Her voice was loaded with emotion. “And I believed you felt the same about me, that we would be spending the rest of our lives together. Of course it hurt when you left.”

She’d loved him. His ribcage clamped down around his lungs at her heartfelt admission. He’d known she had, had heard her say the words in the past, but that had been in the past. He hadn’t heard those words from her lips in five long years. She’d thought they were going to spend the rest of their lives together? She’d been ready for that then? In the midst of whatever relationship crisis they’d been going through she’d thought wedding bells would fix everything?

“Is that why you went crazy with bridal magazines and talking about getting married all the time?” he mused.

Shock dawned into realization in her golden-brown gaze. “That’s why you left? Because I started talking about getting married and you had cold feet because you weren’t in love with me and didn’t want to marry me?”

“Regardless of how we felt about each other, we weren’t ready for marriage.”

“You never said you loved me,” she reminded him, her voice catching. “Not a single time during the two years we were together did you ever say you loved me.”

She had him there. He hadn’t ever told any woman that he loved her, not even Brielle.