Читать книгу The Doctor's Secret Son - Janice Lynn, Janice Lynn - Страница 8

CHAPTER ONE

IT WAS HER.

Her hair was longer and her body a bit curvier, but the wide smile on her full lips was the same, as was the sparkle in her bright green gaze.

Not for a single second did Dr. Trace Stevens doubt the perky little blonde nurse’s identity. How could he? No woman had ever caused such an intense sexual reaction in him as Chrissie Tomberlain.

Trace’s lips curved.

This weekend had definitely just taken a turn for the better. A big turn. Four years ago she’d made his last weekend in the States unforgettable. He still had a few weeks before leaving again, but he welcomed the distraction.

Chrissie had been the best distraction he’d ever known.

So much so that even now, from time to time, he’d awaken drenched in sweat, with an ache in his gut that hadn’t been satisfied in years.

Four years, to be exact.

Ironic to run into her because more than once he’d considered looking her up, seeing if she was single, seeing if she’d be interested in spending time with him while he was home.

Then again, this event was where they’d met, so maybe not so ironic. Still, this weekend was exactly what he needed in so many ways.

A few weeks from now, he’d go back to doing what he was meant to do in life. There were places in the world that needed him a lot more than he was needed in Atlanta, Georgia, even if his friends and family thought otherwise.

* * *

Chrissie Tomberlain hadn’t spent a night away from her three-year-old son since he’d been born. So why had she let her best friend convince her that staying away from him for a whole weekend would be a good idea?

Okay, Savannah was right that Chrissie never did anything but work and take care of Joss. But there wasn’t anything she’d rather do than spend time with her son, so she hadn’t seen it as a problem. Spending time with Joss was a blessing she cherished each and every time she looked into his precious face, heard his sweet voice, felt his little hands pat her cheek.

Prior to Joss’s birth, she had enjoyed volunteering at various charity fund-raisers around her hometown of Chattanooga. She’d done so at the huge children’s cancer prevention event in Atlanta several times in the past.

But not since she’d gotten pregnant with Joss.

At the event.

By a man she hadn’t seen since.

Until now.

Trace Stevens hadn’t changed much from four years ago.

He was still sexy as hell and made her body do crazy, previously unexperienced things.

Made her mind go back to the night of passion of four years ago that had led to her becoming a single mother by a man she’d just met.

A man who had no idea he’d fathered a son.

Her son. Her sweet, wonderful Joss.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and prepared herself for what she hadn’t really thought would ever happen.

She wasn’t supposed to see Trace again.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

Yet, if she was honest with herself, wouldn’t she admit that from the moment she’d gotten into her car in Chattanooga she’d had a nervous energy inside, wondering “what if’ the entire two-hour drive?

What if Trace was there?

What if their paths really did cross again?

What if he still lit her body on fire with a mere glance, something no one else had ever done before or since?

There he was, standing in a tent not so unlike the one they’d met in four years ago. For all she knew it might be the exact same one if Children’s Cancer Prevention Organization owned their commercial tents, rather than rented them.

A big sexy grin climbed up Trace’s face as his gaze collided with hers and recognition hit.

He remembered her.

Of course he remembered her.

They’d spent an entire weekend together. A lot of it together together. Four years wasn’t so long ago that he’d forget a weekend that hot and heavy.

Then again, maybe he had hot and heavy weekends like that routinely.

She knew nothing about the man except that he was amazing in bed and had been a fellow volunteer at the CCPO. That year, the event had done a three-day walk. This year, the organization was sponsoring a weekend of family fun. On Friday evening, they were having a welcome event and a bubble-a-thon dance party open to all participants and their families. On Saturday morning, they were having a marathon, with various levels of participation. Some committing to a five K, some to the full marathon. Others committing to various distances in between. Then, in the evening, they were having sponsored Olympic-style games for the kids.

Now, as then, Chrissie had signed up to work the medical tent all weekend. Full of nervous energy, she’d dropped Joss off to Savannah early that morning, then made the drive so she could help organize the medical station and volunteer to assist with anything else needed prior to the families and fund-raiser participants starting to arrive.

Imagine running into Trace within minutes of her arrival.

Imagine, she had.

For four years she’d imagined this moment, coming face to face with the man who’d haunted her dreams and her reality.

Yet it wasn’t really as intense as it should have been. The sun hadn’t stood still in the sky. The earth hadn’t quaked. Lightning hadn’t streaked its way to the ground. Nothing. They were just standing in a tent, looking at each other, a man and a woman with a past while the rest of the world went on as usual.

No big deal. But her heart pounded like crazy and her chest wanted to heave from lack of air.

Probably had something to do with the look in Trace’s eyes when he’d spotted her that said he’d figured out exactly what he’d be doing this weekend, other than working the medical tent.

Or more like who.

Why, oh, why was everything in her screaming yes?

Other than her brain, that was. Her brain warned she’d best stay far, far away because to have anything to do with him would be risking everything.

He wasn’t that good in bed.

She skimmed her gaze over his body, noting on closer inspection that he was slightly leaner than she remembered, more tan, too. His loose CCPO event T-shirt and khaki cargo shorts did little to hide his broad shoulders and narrow hips. His left hand was still bare of jewelry and had no telltale tan line to hint at deception. Lifting her gaze back to his face, she took in his sandy-colored hair, strong aquiline nose, cleft chin, and toffee-colored eyes that were staring straight into hers with obvious interest. His smile widened and her thighs clenched in immediate response.

He had been that good, but she still wasn’t risking it.

She had too much at stake to play sexual escapades with Trace all weekend.

But boy, oh, boy, did the man tempt everything in her.

* * *

“It’s been a while,” Trace said by way of greeting when he closed the distance between them.

“Four years.”

Four years. Four long years where he’d seen things he’d like to forget, and she was just the woman who might accomplish that for him, even if only for a short while.

A short while sounded like heaven after the hell he’d seen, that he’d no doubt see more of when he returned to wherever they sent him this time.

“How have you been?” he asked, studying her. Other than the change of hairstyle and the few extra pounds she carried, she looked the same as he recalled. Better even. He liked the fullness to her breasts and hips that hadn’t been there four years ago.

His groin tightened.

Yeah, he liked her curves a lot.

His body’s instant reaction to her nearness made him feel like a Neanderthal. It hadn’t been that long since he’d been with a woman. But when he tried to think back to the last time he’d had sex, he struggled to recall exactly how long it had been.

A problem he intended to rectify, assuming Chrissie still felt the strong attraction they’d shared. Time certainly hadn’t faded a thing for him.

Sex just hadn’t been a priority recently. Life—life had been the top priority where he’d been. Helping those who desperately needed help and doing what he could with significantly limited resources had been a priority. Surviving tragedy, and healing, had been a priority.

“I’m great,” she answered, shifting her weight as if she was nervous.

She had nothing to be nervous about. They’d ended on good terms, or so he’d thought, after their weekend. He’d thought about her often enough that had there been anything negative he would have remembered. He’d swear he recalled every detail of that weekend in vivid color.

“That’s good to hear. How’s life been treating you?”

Her gaze cut to beyond him, and, ignoring his question, she said, “Sorry, but if you’ll excuse me, I see someone I need to talk to.” She paused, briefly met his gaze with a steely expression in her green eyes. “Good to see you again, Travis.”

Travis? Ouch.

He watched her walk away, greet Agnes Coulson, a bear of a woman and the Children’s Cancer Prevention Organization founder. True to how he’d just thought of her, Agnes wrapped Chrissie into a big hug, causing her to laugh as she hugged the woman back, then wiggled free.

“It’s so good to see you,” she exclaimed to the woman, showing the excitement Trace would like to have seen when she’d greeted him. He wouldn’t have minded one of those hugs, either.

Instead, he’d effectively been put in his place.

Not that he was buying that she’d forgotten his name.

He wasn’t.

She hadn’t forgotten. But she wanted him to think she had. That was her way of letting him know she wasn’t interested.

Which wasn’t what her eyes had conveyed when she’d first seen him. He’d have bet anything she’d felt the same excitement he had.

He knew she had.

Maybe she’d taken that closer look, seen the harshness that almost suffocated him these days, and known the best thing she could do was stay away.

He wasn’t the same man he’d been four years ago. Not by far. In some ways, he was better. In some, not so much.

“You two had something a few years back, didn’t you? Right before you left for Sudan?”

Trace turned to Bud Coulson, Agnes’s husband. They headed up the event each year. They’d done so for the past twenty years. Their only child had been diagnosed with, and died from, a rare type of brain cancer, and they’d dedicated their lives to raising awareness and funds to fight pediatric cancers. Trace’s family regularly donated to their organization. Four years ago, before he’d left for his Doctors Around the World stint overseas, Trace had done more than pull out his hefty checkbook. He’d volunteered as an extra helper, something he’d done numerous times over the years in different capacities with CCPO.

Even before Doctors Around the World he’d wanted to do more to help others than just practice medicine. Thank goodness for Bud and Agnes’s influence over the years that had planted that seed that drove him to help others.

How could he not support the foundation when it was a way of keeping Kerry alive to the couple he loved so much?

“I was quite taken with her the weekend we met,” he admitted, not letting his mind go to little Kerry and the guilt he always felt when he thought of her.

Instead, he let memories of Chrissie flood through his mind. He’d always wondered if the intensity of that weekend had been because he’d known he was heading into the unknown. Which he’d wanted. He still wanted even if his parents had begged him to come home to stay. He understood their concern.

Especially after the incident at the Shiara MSF hospital in Yemen.

Automatically, he placed his hand over his right lower abdomen. That one had been a bit too close for comfort, but at least he’d walked away with his life, which he couldn’t say of all his colleagues.

Damn cowardly terrorists attacking a hospital. Damn that he’d walked away when so many good people had died.

“Your dad told me about what happened.” Bud gestured to where Trace touched. “You should have come home to let us take care of you.”

Trace rammed his hand into his pocket.

“There was nothing anyone could do.” There hadn’t been. He’d been one of the lucky ones. “Besides, I lived.”

“I was surprised you didn’t opt to come home after that,” Bud mused, then shook his head. “I take that back. That you opted to stay didn’t really surprise me.”

“Coming home wasn’t an option.” Not one that he’d ever considered at any rate. He planned to live his life doing mission work. Settling down wasn’t for him. A wife and kids wasn’t his lot in life and he never wanted it to be.

His gaze cut to the woman still smiling and chatting with Agnes. Her hands waved animatedly as she described something. Both women burst into laughter and a deep ache pierced Trace.

“Your father would move heaven and earth to convince you to come back,” Bud mused, watching Trace rather than his wife and Chrissie. “He’s hoping you’re home to stay.”

Trace frowned. “We both know I’ll be leaving as soon as I’m given my next assignment. My father doesn’t understand.”

Bud shook his head. “You’re right. He doesn’t. Not many do.”

Trace’s eyes shifted toward the older man. “You saying you don’t? Because I wouldn’t believe you. You of all people understand the need to do more than just accept things for the way they are. This organization is testament to that.”

“Agnes and CCPO are my life.” One side of Bud’s mouth tugged upward. “Then again, at one time the Marine Corps was my life, too. I served time overseas and wouldn’t trade those memories and the brothers I gained for anything. I think we accomplished a lot of good things, but that doesn’t mean I’d go back. Sometimes we have to let go of one thing we care about to make room for another.” He glanced lovingly at his wife.

Trace cocked his brow at the older man. “You trying to tell me you don’t think I should go?”

Bud shrugged. “Only you know the answer to whether or not you should go back.” He nodded toward where Chrissie and Agnes still talked, obviously catching up. “Maybe it’s time you find a reason to want to stay home rather than go as far away as possible.”

“Those people need help every bit as much as the kids you’re raising money for,” Trace pointed out, not acknowledging Bud’s claim that he might have been running from something when he’d signed on to Doctors Around the World. “They’re innocent victims of governments and wars they have no control over.”

“Civilians are always the innocent victims of war,” Bud agreed. “You do what you feel is right for you, son. All I’m saying is that there is a lot of good you can do here, too. I just think you need to keep that in mind, because I’m not convinced going back is the right choice for you.”

Trace eyed the older man suspiciously. “You’re sure Dad didn’t put you up to trying to talk me into staying?”

Bud laughed. “I won’t say he’s never mentioned hoping you’d stay to me, but I’m speaking for myself.”

Trace nodded. He’d figured as much. His successful businessman father would probably fund Bud’s charity for the next fifty years if he could convince Trace to stay in Atlanta.

Which would be a good reason to stay, if it didn’t mean having to deal with his father on a regular basis.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Blondie is looking your way.”

Trace had noticed. Hard not to notice those intense emerald eyes studying him. He could feel her interest, could feel her body’s reaction to him.

The same interest and reaction he was having to her.

Obviously, the chemistry they’d shared still burned hot.

So, why had she given him the cold shoulder?

* * *

Chrissie ordered her gaze to remove itself from Trace. Unfortunately, her eyes didn’t seem connected to her brain.

Why did he have to be so hot? Those amazing eyes just sucked her in. Rich, warm toffee that made her want to melt.

She was melting.

No wonder she’d lost her mind four years ago. Trace was hot. Scorching, melt-a-woman-all-the-way-to-her-toes hot.

Chrissie’s toes were ooey-gooey puddles in her shoes.

“It’s good to have Trace back with us, too, isn’t it?”

Oops. Obviously, Agnes noticed her distraction and had no compunction on commenting.

Chrissie dragged her gaze away from Trace and focused on the older woman, who was watching her curiously. Something told her the woman wouldn’t buy it if she pretended not to know what she referred to. After all, Chrissie and Trace had only had eyes for each other four years ago. No doubt every volunteer there had picked up on their attraction.

“Where’s he been?” she asked.

Agnes’s concerned gaze went to Trace. “For the past couple of years? Yemen.”

Surprise hit Chrissie. “Yemen?”

“He works with Doctors Around the World.” A troubled look came over Agnes’s face, making her appear every one of her sixty plus years. “He’ll be leaving again soon. Unfortunately. He’s home because his only cousin had a baby and the timing fell right at the end of his contract.”

Chrissie’s gaze went back to Trace. Yemen. She knew that was in the Middle East, but she wasn’t sure exactly where. She probably should have paid better attention in geography class.

“I wondered if you two had stayed in touch while he was there and that it wasn’t a coincidence you were both volunteering again at the same time.” Agnes looked disappointed. “Obviously not.”

Chrissie shook her head. “No, meeting Trace four years ago was nice.” Nice? Ha, that was so not the right word to describe that meeting. More like naughty. “But neither of us fooled each other that our meeting was anything more. I didn’t know he’d be here.”

“Too bad,” Agnes countered. “That boy needs someone in his life.”

“You sound as if you know him well,” Chrissie mused, trying not to look overly interested.

“All his life. His father and Bud go back a long way. Well,” she clarified with a low laugh, “all the way back to elementary school. They were best friends. Trace was a few months older than our daughter. We’d always hoped they’d grow up, fall in love, and connect our families in yet another way.” Pain momentarily aged her face. “Instead, Kerry died and Trace spends his time overseas.”

“Are you gossiping about me, Agnes?”

Agnes quickly recovered, her cheeks turning a rosy pink. “Every chance I get to extol your virtues.”

“My virtues don’t deserve extolling.”

There was more to what he was saying than what appeared. But Chrissie’s own cheeks were burning too much with embarrassment at getting caught discussing him for her to over-analyze his comment.

“That’s a matter of opinion,” Agnes countered. “So, where are we going to put our Chrissie to work this year?”

Chrissie frowned. She wasn’t their Chrissie. At least, not his Chrissie. But Agnes was smiling and chatting on about the medical tent and making sure everything was ready for the event kick-off.

“I’d like to do triage if that’s okay,” Chrissie spoke up. “It’s what I did last time.”

“You’ve been back?” Trace asked, studying her.

Agnes nodded. “Not for a few years, but our Chrissie is an angel from heaven, for sure.”

Yeah, Chrissie was pretty sure with the way her insides were burning that she was from somewhere way more south.

And Agnes knew that it had been four years. Why had she left the date a little vague?

“Maybe you could take her to the triage area and show her how things are set up this year?” Agnes’s question was directed at Trace.

“Yes, ma’am.” His gaze locked with Chrissie’s and he grinned as if she hadn’t cut him off earlier. “Follow me.”

His facial expression was so similar to one she often saw on her son’s face that her breath caught. Her feet refused to move. Her head spun.

“Chrissie?”

Shaking her head to stop the spinning, she stepped toward him.

Three days. Three days and then she’d change charities to volunteer at ones in Chattanooga so she’d never have to see Trace Stevens again.