Читать книгу Dr. Destiny - KRISTI GOLD - Страница 8

Adonis disguised as a doctor, and he was standing at Cassandra Allen’s office door.

Cassie gave all her attention to Brendan O’Connor as he strode into the room, pulled back a chair and collapsed onto it. His ruffled brown hair indicated he’d had a hectic day. So did his eyes, a rich green-blue to match his scrubs. They changed like a chameleon to suit his attire, and sometimes to suit his mood. He was a chameleon, although most would not believe that of the calm, collected miracle worker. But Cassie knew better.

Even though she considered Brendan a good friend and an expert neonatologist, Cassie couldn’t ignore her awareness of the man. Most women who came in contact with the doctor couldn’t help but fall a little bit in love with him. She was no exception.

Flipping the case file closed, Cassie tapped her pen on the desk and said with mock exasperation, ‘‘Okay, so what did I do that brought you all the way down here?’’

His slow grin caused Cassie’s heartbeat to accelerate. ‘‘Nothing wrong. Just wanted to tell you how well I thought you handled the Kinsey couple today.’’

Cassie shrugged off the compliment. ‘‘That’s what social work’s all about. Besides, they’re nice kids.’’

His smile faded. ‘‘Kids having kids. Give ’em a six-pack of beer and a case of hormones then look what happens. Premature twins.’’

She took a sip of too-cold, too-strong coffee and winced. Bad stuff, but the only thing she had available at the moment to wet her dry mouth. ‘‘At least the Kinseys have a good support system.’’ And at least the new babies had two parents who seemed to love them, something Cassie had never really known. ‘‘No money to speak of, but I’m working on that.’’

‘‘No high school diploma, either.’’ Scooting back the chair, Brendan propped his heels on the edge of the desk, crossed his ankles and laced his hands on his abdomen. ‘‘I make these sick babies well, then I send them home to God-only-knows-what.’’

Cassie had known Brendan on a personal level for over six months now, had worked with him on several cases as one of San Antonio Memorial’s staff social workers, yet she had rarely heard him criticize his patients’ parents.

Although he was incredibly hard to read at times, she had gotten good at sensing when something bothered him. And this evening, something was bothering him. Badly. ‘‘What’s really the problem, Brendan?’’

His gaze zipped from his folded hands to her. ‘‘What do you mean?’’

‘‘Come on. It’s me you’re talking to. Cassie the clairvoyant, remember?’’ She smiled at the label he had personally given her when she’d accurately assessed his frame of mind on more than one occasion. Lately he hadn’t even tried to hide his feelings, perhaps because he’d grown comfortable with her. Exactly what friendship was all about, and Cassie valued his friendship more each passing day.

She allowed him a few moments of silence. With Brendan, she had learned not to push. Eventually he would come clean without any persuasion on her part, if luck prevailed.

His sigh came out rough, frustrated. A hint of sadness passed over his expression, clouding his eyes. ‘‘I don’t think the Neely baby’s going to make it.’’

Cassie struggled for something consoling to say. Something that might lessen his pain. ‘‘Mrs. Neely delivered at what, twenty-nine weeks?’’

‘‘Twenty-seven. The baby’s a little over two pounds with too many problems.’’ He sat in silence for a few moments, his torment almost palpable. ‘‘Sometimes I wonder why I do this.’’

So did Cassie, but Brendan had never been forthcoming with that information. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him worried about one of his patients. In fact, it troubled Cassie that at times he seemed to worry too much. Not that he readily revealed his concern.

Despite the stress, something drove him. Something personal, she suspected. She had never asked, and he’d never even hinted at his reasons for subjecting himself to such a high-pressure field.

‘‘You do this because you’re wonderful at it,’’ she said in her optimistic voice. ‘‘You do it because you’re the best.’’

‘‘So you say.’’

‘‘So I know.’’

‘‘I do have some good news,’’ he said.

Cassie leaned forward with interest. ‘‘You found the girl of your dreams?’’

He hinted at another smile. ‘‘Matthew Granger’s going home with his parents tomorrow.’’

She wanted to shout with relief, not only because the Granger baby had survived his premature birth, but also because Brendan hadn’t found his life partner. That shouldn’t concern her in the least. From the moment they’d met six months ago, she’d known they were destined to be only friends, though at times she found herself wishing for more. But Brendan had made it more than clear he wasn’t looking for anything beyond friendship, and she certainly didn’t intend to complicate their relationship by making her feelings known.

‘‘Wow, Brendan, that’s great,’’ she said. ‘‘Dr. Granger and Brooke must be thrilled. You need to concentrate on that. You’re responsible for that little miracle, and so many others.’’

‘‘Losing even one isn’t good enough for me.’’ He dropped his feet from the table and stood. ‘‘I’m getting out of here. I’ve had about all of this place I can stand.’’

One thing Cassie knew for certain, he didn’t need to be alone tonight, considering his present state of mind. And what did she have to go home to? An empty house and a cocky cat. Not at all appealing at the moment. Not when compared to spending the evening with Brendan O’Connor in some friendly competition.

All she could do was make the offer and hope that he accepted. ‘‘So you’re through for the day?’’

Brendan paused at the door. ‘‘Yeah. My shift’s up. Segovia’s taking over.’’

‘‘Good. Meet me at the tennis courts in an hour.’’

He checked his watch. ‘‘It’s late.’’

‘‘We’ve played later than this before.’’

‘‘I’m not sure what kind of company I’d be.’’

Time to bring out the big guns. Brendan was as driven as Cassie when it came not only to work but also to sports. She would shamelessly use that to her advantage, or at least try. ‘‘Nothing like a friendly game to alleviate stress.’’

‘‘Thanks for the offer, but I’m not in the mood.’’

‘‘Come on, Brendan. Be fair. It’s my turn to kick your cute butt.’’

His expression softened and the familiar competitive gleam flashed in his eyes. ‘‘You think you can kick my butt, huh?’’

‘‘Yep.’’

‘‘So you say.’’

‘‘So I know.’’ She rose from her chair and smiled. ‘‘And your answer is?’’

He let go an exaggerated sigh. ‘‘I guess if you’re determined to kick some butt, it might as well be mine.’’

‘‘Great.’’ She sauntered over to him and patted his whisker-shaded jaw. ‘‘You might want to wear extra padding in order to protect your derriere.’’

‘‘That’s not necessary. You’re not going to win.’’

‘‘Whatever you say, Doctor.’’

His smile reappeared, deeper this time, revealing the prominent right-sided dimple creasing his cheek. She loved his smile. Loved it when he let down his guard and morphed from doctor to man. Loved it when he laughed, which didn’t happen too often lately.

That would be Cassie’s goal for the evening. To make Brendan O’Connor laugh—and, of course, to win.

‘‘I won! I won! I won!’’

Brendan stood at the net and chuckled as he eyed Cassie strutting around the court, racket held above her head as if it were a Wimbledon trophy. Her short white tennis skirt bobbed up and down with her revelry, revealing a nice glimpse of tanned thigh. A few strands of her shoulder-length silky blond hair escaped her ponytail and ruffled in the cool October breeze. That effervescent smile, those mischievous dark eyes, that prime athlete’s body, could disinte-grate any man’s resistance. Even Brendan’s.

But he wouldn’t spoil their relationship by considering anything other than friendship, no matter how tempting she could be. He also wouldn’t spoil her moment of victory by telling her that he had let her win. Okay, not exactly let her, but his heart hadn’t been in the game. Considering what the next day would bring—the anniversary of an event he would just as soon forget—he had his mind on little else. He hadn’t been able to forget, even after years of trying.

Cassie rushed to the net and taunted him some more. ‘‘I told you your butt was in trouble, didn’t I?’’

‘‘Would you just leave my butt out of this?’’ He tried to sound serious, but he couldn’t stifle more laughter or resist her joy.

She pointed and grinned. ‘‘Aha! You did it twice in one day.’’

‘‘What?’’

‘‘Laughed.’’

He shrugged. ‘‘So? Are you keeping score?’’

‘‘Yes, and as promised, I did what I set out to do.’’ She reached over the net and gave him a hefty slap on the part of his anatomy in question.

‘‘You’ve really done it now, Cassandra Allen.’’

Brendan scaled the net but Cassie was too quick. By the time they’d made it to the commons area near the club’s rear entrance, he’d caught up to her. He grabbed her around the waist and spun her several times, then turned her into his arms and held on fast.

‘‘Let me go, Brendan O’Connor.’’ She sounded winded, but not all that threatening.

‘‘Not until you apologize for taking advantage of my exhaustion, and my vulnerable buttocks.’’

She jutted out her chin in determination. ‘‘Bully.’’

He tightened his hold on her and grinned. ‘‘I’m the bully?’’

‘‘I mean it. Let me go.’’ Amusement flickered in her dark eyes as she wriggled against him.

He wished she would stop squirming. Parts of his body were finding it difficult to ignore her. Difficult to disregard her breasts pressed against his, her bare thighs touching his. All he had to do was release her, but for some reason he couldn’t. Or maybe he didn’t want to. ‘‘What are you going to do now?’’

She stared for a moment, then a devious grin appeared. ‘‘You really want to know?’’

‘‘Yeah.’’

‘‘Okay. You asked for it.’’

Working her arms from his grasp, she framed his jaws between her palms and kissed him square on the mouth.

Shocked, Brendan dropped his arms from around her.

She stepped back and smiled. ‘‘Works every time.’’

Brendan didn’t move, didn’t speak. He couldn’t. His feet were fettered to the grass by some immovable force created by Cassie’s lips. As far as kisses went, he’d rank it as harmless. But what it had done to him would qualify as anything but harmless.

Cassie pivoted on her tennis shoes and swayed toward the glass door. Brendan found his footing and followed.

She stopped with fingers poised on the handle and faced him. ‘‘I’m hitting the showers. Meet me in twenty minutes out front. You can buy me a beer.’’

Brendan needed to go home, get some shut-eye—5:00 a.m. would come all too soon. But considering Cassie’s impromptu kiss, he doubted he would immediately fall asleep. Might as well accept her offer. ‘‘Okay, you’re on. But hurry.’’

‘‘You hurry.’’ With that she was gone.

He headed into the locker room and stood in the shower longer than usual, all the while trying to stop thinking about Cassie’s kiss. All the while trying to figure out why something so innocent had him contemplating some not-so-innocent ideas.

After leaving the shower, he paused from drying off to tap his forehead against the cold locker door, attempting to dislodge the thoughts from his brain. It didn’t work. He couldn’t get the image of Cassie’s kiss out of his head. Why had she done it? If she’d really wanted him to let her go, she could’ve punched him. Actually, he’d reacted as if she had. Maybe she’d intended to shake him up. If that had been her goal, she had definitely succeeded.

But he liked Cassie a lot. Liked the fact she was a great listener, a compassionate friend. He didn’t intend to mess up a good thing by doing something stupid like kissing her back. Really kissing her.

He didn’t need any complications right now. His job was complicated enough. So was his life.

Brendan dressed in jeans and T-shirt then set out to find Cassie. He came upon her at the front doors impatiently tapping her foot. ‘‘You’re five minutes late,’’ she said.

‘‘The showers were crowded.’’ A blatant lie. Only one other guy was in the shower, and he’d finished long before Brendan had. Cassie’s spontaneous kiss had kept Brendan under the spray longer than planned, but he didn’t intend to make that admission. Best to just ignore it, if he could. Maybe a beer would help. Maybe a sudden bout of blindness might, too.

They walked to the small lounge down the street and took their favorite table in the corner. The place was practically deserted with only a couple of businessmen seated at the bar, nursing their drinks and talking about their latest ventures.

Brendan ordered him and Cassie a beer, a routine that had become as welcome and familiar as her smile. He liked import; she favored domestic. He usually drank two; she rarely finished one. He smiled to himself when he considered how he had memorized her habits—the way she always swept her hair back with one hand, her high-energy aura, the fact that she always toyed with whatever was in reach, be it a straw or paperclip. Tonight was no exception. Right then she was steadily shredding a cocktail napkin.

Brendan began the conversation with a belated apology. ‘‘I’m sorry I came down so hard on the Kinseys.’’

Cassie stopped her shredding and laid a palm on his hand where it rested on the table. ‘‘It’s okay, Brendan. Really.’’

‘‘No, it’s not okay. I don’t have any right to judge anyone.’’ His statement held more truth than Cassie would ever know.

Pulling his hand from beneath hers, he picked up his beer to thumb away a drop of condensation on the mug, wishing he could as easily discard his unexpected reaction to Cassie’s touch. Being so close to her had never bothered him before. But it bothered him now in a very elemental way.

He’d never required more from her than easy conversation. He sure as hell hadn’t needed to touch her, although many times he had wanted to. Right now it was all he could do to keep his hands to himself, resist the urge to trace the contours of her mouth with a fingertip, with his own mouth.

He tried to shake off the sudden urges, but they wouldn’t go away.

She took up the paper-mincing where she’d left off. ‘‘You’re frustrated and concerned about the pitfalls of teen pregnancy, Brendan. No one can fault you for that.’’

No, Cassie wouldn’t fault him now. But if she ever found out that his reaction to the young parents had to do with his own lack of judgment years ago, she might change her mind. ‘‘At least they’re trying, I guess.’’ More than he had ever done.

Cassie sipped at her near full beer and regarded him with concern. ‘‘True. They both seem committed to raising their babies. Heaven knows that’s not always the case.’’

Brendan imagined she had seen it all as a social worker. The good and the ugly. He admired her conviction, her strength. If only he had been so strong, then and now. For a moment he thought about confessing his sins to Cassie but reconsidered. She didn’t need to know about his lousy past mistakes. That could very well lower her opinion of him, and ruin the best friendship he’d ever had.

He glanced at the clock flashing an ad for premium scotch—11:00 p.m. Later than he’d realized. He definitely needed to head home. As bad as he hated to leave Cassie’s company, he had a responsibility to his patients to be at his best come morning. ‘‘Are you done?’’

Cassie seemed to have zoned out, carried off into some realm of consciousness that didn’t include him. Totally out of character for her. Normally she was always attentive. Maybe something was disturbing her, too.

He waved his hands in front of her eyes. ‘‘You in there?’’

Startled, she brought her attention back to him. ‘‘Sorry. Just daydreaming, I guess.’’ She smiled, a shaky one. Her dark eyes looked troubled. ‘‘Are you ready to leave?’’

‘‘Not until you tell me what’s wrong.’’

She gripped her near-full mug with both hands. ‘‘Nothing’s wrong. I was just thinking, that’s all.’’

‘‘About what?’’

‘‘About babies.’’

That definitely threw him mentally off-kilter. ‘‘Is there something you want to tell me?’’

‘‘Like what?’’

‘‘Are you pregnant?’’

Her eyes widened. ‘‘Are you crazy?’’

He shrugged. ‘‘You’re a beautiful woman, Cassie. Anything’s possible.’’

‘‘You’re so wrong, Dr. O’Connor. One would have to be—how should I say it—exposed in order to be expecting. And unless I slept through it, that hasn’t happened in a long time.’’

‘‘No prospects?’’

‘‘No way.’’

‘‘Why is that?’’ he asked, genuinely curious.

‘‘Why is what?’’

‘‘Why haven’t you settled down? As long as I’ve known you, I don’t remember you ever mentioning dating anyone.’’

She shrugged. ‘‘I don’t have time for that right now. My work is too hectic. Besides, I don’t intend to settle down or have children until I have all the time in the world to devote to them.’’

That relieved Brendan, especially the part about her not having any prospects to father her offspring. Although he had no say in what she did, or whom she did it with, he didn’t like the thought of Cassie carrying on with some guy that he knew nothing about. ‘‘Well, heck, Cassie, your lack of exposure is really a shame. Anything I can do about that?’’

She crumpled the napkin’s remains and tossed the wad at him. ‘‘You’re so funny.’’

Truth was, he wasn’t necessarily being funny. He didn’t want any kids, either, but practicing with Cassie wasn’t at all repulsive. In fact, it was a downright pleasant idea. One he had no business entertaining.

He yanked back his chair and stood. ‘‘Time for bed.’’ Man, oh, man, he hadn’t meant to say that.

If Cassie was at all shocked, she didn’t show it. Instead she grinned. ‘‘Brendan, as much as I’d love to go to bed with you, I’m thinking maybe we should pick a time when we’re not quite so tired from work and our tennis game.’’

Was she kidding? Did she really want to go to bed with him? Nah. As usual she was trying to get to him with her sassy sarcasm. Two could definitely play that particular game.

Leaning forward, he braced his hands on the arms of her chair. ‘‘You’re right, Cassie. If I’m going to show you all the O’Connor moves, that’s going to require all night. As it stands, I’ve got a NICU full of preemies that need my attention, and I need to be fully awake in the morning.’’

Cassie slipped her bag over her shoulder and gave a one-handed sweep of her hair. ‘‘All night, huh? It would take me all of ten minutes to bring you to your knees.’’

Blood rushed to Brendan’s ears, along with other places much lower. He took a step back and allowed her to stand. But her sensual challenge echoed in his brain. Ten minutes? No way. Then again, she could be right. At the moment, his knees felt like putty, and it wasn’t from the effects of the tennis game or the lone beer.

Brendan walked Cassie to her car thinking he should see her off and get out of there fast, before he made one huge mistake. Before he suggested that he had a few more minutes to spare. Ten minutes, to be exact. He chalked up his sudden desire to stress, his recent lack of sex. Maybe even the need for escape from life’s realities. The need to forget past mistakes. By virtue of her presence, Cassie happened to be on the receiving end of that need, or she would be if he didn’t get the hell out of there.

When they reached her faded red sedan, she turned to him once again. ‘‘Good game, O’Connor. And I promise I’ll go easier on you next time, in deference to your demanding profession and your poor tired bootie.’’

He didn’t want her to go easier on him. He didn’t want her to leave, either. Right now what he wanted and what he needed had little to do with competition and a whole lot to do with flawed judgment. ‘‘I had a great time, too, except for one thing.’’

‘‘My gloating?’’

Without regard to wisdom, he cupped her jaw in his palm and stroked a thumb down her silky cheek. ‘‘It has to do with something you started but didn’t finish.’’

‘‘Well my gosh, Brendan. I’ll pay you back for the beer. Besides, you’re the one who rushed me—’’

He cut off her words with a kiss. Not a simple innocuous peck. There was nothing innocent about it—not when her lips parted—or the way he took advantage of the moment and slipped his tongue inside the warm heat of her feisty mouth. Not with the way she tasted, like the peppermint she’d grabbed on the way out of the bar, cool and sweet and tempting. Definitely not the way she melted into him and fitted so perfectly against him.

But perfection had a price. Brendan’s body was paying it. He was just this side of losing control. He couldn’t allow that any more than he could allow the kiss to continue. Not at the expense of their friendship.

He moved away and issued another apology on a ragged breath. ‘‘I don’t know what made me do that.’’

She leaned back against the car and folded her arms beneath her breasts. Her cheeks were splotched with red, her eyes dark and dazed. ‘‘I’m not sure what good grace dictates at this particular moment, but all I have to say is let’s not make a big deal out of this.’’

Brendan grabbed his nape with both hands thinking he should probably wring his own neck for being so stupid. ‘‘It is a big deal.’’

She inclined her head and studied him straight on. ‘‘Does it really have to be? I mean, it’s not like you threw me to the ground and ravished me.’’

It’s not like he hadn’t considered that, either. ‘‘We have a great friendship going here. Or we did. Unless I’ve screwed that up now.’’

‘‘The only way you’ll do that is if you suddenly declare I’m a lousy kisser. Then I’ll have to beat you over the head with my racket.’’

She should have done that to him a few minutes ago, Brendan decided. Knocked some sense into him. ‘‘As far as your kissing ability is concerned, I’d say on a scale from one to ten you would rate…’’ He narrowed his eyes and studied her.

‘‘I’m waiting.’’

‘‘About a twenty.’’

Cassie’s spirited smile jump-started Brendan’s pulse back to life. ‘‘Lucky for you, you’ve saved yourself from a terrible fate. For now.’’

Brendan wondered what fate held in store for them the next time they met. If he didn’t get a grip, next time he might not be able to stop with only one kiss.