Читать книгу Hot Single Docs: Giving In To Temptation - Lynne Marshall - Страница 14

CHAPTER FOUR

POLLY TAGGED ALONG behind John at a fast and challenging clip. They rushed through the hospital lobby towards the elevator, past the “welcome” clown pacing on stilts and the piano player, who was smack in the middle of “Old MacDonald”. Diverse entertainment for visiting hours. He moved like a man with a single thought on his mind—how to dump his dinner date. Yet he never let go of her hand.

Still not saying a word on the crowded elevator trip to the sixth floor, he tugged her down the hall and, having left his office door unlocked, whisked it open, practically dragging her inside. Only then did he release his grip. She went directly for her bags and personal items, assuming he wanted her gone. Now.

Why had she thought that offering John Griffin pizza was a good ice-breaker in order to bring up her question about whether or not to go out with an old boyfriend? All she’d done had been to tick him off.

He stood off to the side, staring out the window, hands crammed into the pockets of his slacks, looking like he was doing battle with a slew of demons in his head. Had she done that to him?

“I feel like you’re mad at me,” she said, stating the unmistakable.

He turned abruptly. “I’m not mad at you, I’m angry about how you try to please everyone else and overlook yourself.”

She bunched her hands into fists. “I’ve had a lifetime of practice. Old habits die hard, you know?”

He tugged his earlobe. “I know.”

Relieved that he wasn’t fuming at her but was more irritated at her situation, a wave of mismatched feelings swept deep, causing confusion in her mind and her eyes to water. She glanced away.

“If you don’t mind—” her voice sounded congested “—I’ll change out of these shoes for the subway first.”

He turned and watched as she sat on the edge of a chair. “I thought you were going to the movies.” The man had gone tighter than a stretched rubber band and the muscle at his jaw twitched as he blatantly ground his molars.

“It was a comedy, and I’m kind of not in the mood now.”

He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

“It isn’t because of you.” She slipped off one shoe. “I guess I just realized how tired I am. It’s been a long day.” She stretched out her foot and toes. “A long week.”

His gaze jumped all over her, from her face to her chest to her hips and legs and finally to her foot. His expression changed from indecision and caution to longing and oh-what-the-hell. Something had snapped in him, some decision Polly wasn’t privileged to know, yet his change was as plain as the sudden jangled nerves in her stomach. He made an abrupt move, came in front of her and dropped to his knees. Without a word he handed her his handkerchief for her teary eyes then removed her other shoe. His warm, strong hands caressed her foot, sending shockwaves through her.

Polly stiffened as the idea registered of John Griffin giving her a foot massage. She inhaled raggedly while he gently worked the ball of her foot and the arch with amazingly talented fingers. Soothing sensations tiptoed up her calf, causing tingles behind her knee.

Oh, my God, what do I do?

A crazy answer popped into her mind as she wiped away the tears from her eyes with his monogramed handkerchief. Enjoy it.

He splayed her toes and worked each joint right out to the tips of her nails. She tensed and sighed, and felt his touch all the way up the insides of her thighs, though his hands never left her foot.

“The problem with women these days,” he said, increasing the pressure on her heel, “is they mess up their feet with these super-sexy shoes. All men want to do is get them off.” She looked down at his short-cropped, silver-salted hair, discovering a small endearing cowlick in the middle. His voice sounded hoarse, strained, like maybe he really was mad at her. Yet his hands told a completely different story. Was he turned on? “I say that as an orthopedic surgeon.”

That made her smile, his rubbing her feet in such a sexy way yet trying to pull off a professional manner. He was looking out for her well-being, though, wasn’t he? His ministrations were so amazing she couldn’t help but sigh again, so he reached for her other foot. Call her easy, but her shoulders slumped and her head dropped back, savoring the heat of his hands on her totally susceptible skin.

“You’re too kind to me,” she whispered, shifting her gaze from the ceiling to his serious face as he concentrated on the task at hand—her foot. Her incredibly lucky foot. Her mind wandered to what it would be like if his hands touched her everywhere like that.

“This isn’t about being ‘kind’ and you know it.” He stopped his massage and delved into her eyes as if measuring the level of her understanding. She concentrated on his mouth and the hair-thin scar above his upper lip on the right. The growing warmth between her thighs weakened when he stopped touching her, but she’d read his message loud and clear.

He wanted her.

Just as much as she wanted him.

At some point, as he’d stood by that window, he’d made a decision. She’d sensed it then and felt it with every fiber now. Saw it in the serious dark eyes staring at her. Whatever he’d needed to overcome, he had, and now...he wanted her.

A deep desire to break out of her usual by-the-rules role and not to let this magical moment pass made her lean towards him, take his life-weary face between her hands and press a kiss to his irresistible mouth.

Surprisingly soft, his lips were warm and responsive, and he soon took over the advance, proving her hunch had been right. He needed her as much as she wanted him. His hands clamped around her waist, squeezing with urgency as he deepened their kiss.

She ran her fingers across his short, springy hair then down his powerful neck as she kissed him back. Solid. The man was solid. She smelled his lingering forest-scented cologne and enjoyed the end-of-day stubble of his beard. His tongue found hers and she let him have his will, matching exploration for exploration and tasting a hint of Chianti. The warmth pooling between her thighs quickly renewed as her pulse thrummed throughout her body.

A sharp knocking on the office door shocked her out of her dream about kissing her boss. Oh, wait, it was really happening.

“Environmental Services,” a loud voice called. “Dr. Griffin, are you still in there?”

“Just leaving, Constantine, give me a couple of minutes.” His voice sounded heavy and forced. Heat radiated from John’s darkened eyes as he stared at her. “I know a place we can go. Will you come with me?”

The question of the day—will you come with me?

Overcome with his no-nonsense sex appeal, his smoldering gaze, and their incredible kiss, there was only one answer she could think of.

“Yes, Johnny,” she whispered, banishing from her mind their age difference and concentrating on their total attraction to each other.

He hastily gathered her things as she used the back of her hand to wipe her already kiss-swollen lips, trying her best to recover from the mind-bending introduction to making out with Dr. John Griffin. She could barely wait for more as he grabbed his jacket and her hand and led the way out.

“Goodnight,” he said in a clipped voice to the janitor as they passed, as if he dragged a woman from his office every night of the week and Housekeeping should think nothing of it.

Was the fact that she was barefoot a dead giveaway to what they’d been doing?

The janitor had his back to them, concentrating on his cleaning cart, and she was grateful as John whisked her down the dark hall toward the stairs.

He led her through the back way and down a couple of flights to another deserted floor, then past half a dozen doors to an open on-call room. Rushing her inside, he hung up the “occupied” sign and closed the door behind them. Immediately, he dropped all of her bags and items into a chair and took her by the shoulders, walking her backwards against the wall.

“Where did we leave off?” he asked gruffly, digging his fingers into her hair before taking her mouth again.

His kisses were hot and wet and making her dizzy with desire. She bunched his shirt in tight fists, wanting him as much as he obviously wanted her. His hand wandered over her hip, skimming her waist and upwards until he found her breast. His other hand cupped her bottom and pulled her flush to his groin. She could already feel his arousal straining against her thigh. Knowing how she affected him excited her beyond any fantasy.

His kisses grew frantic and desperate, and his fingers found their way under her bra. Her breast was already tensed and peaked and he ran his thumb over the tip, which tightened her more. Tingles fanned across her chest, teasing her other breast. She angled the V of her thighs over his erection, and leaned hard into him, yearning for relief. He moaned and pulled her up, positioning her on top of his wedge. She slid over him, begging for more, hating the fact that they were still dressed.

Breaking apart only because she wanted to be without barriers, she raised her arms and he lifted her top over her head in record time. She reached behind and undid the catch on her bra as he unzipped his pants.

“Should we be doing this?” she asked, her eyes adjusting to the darkened room, seeing him stripping in front of her and realizing there was no turning back. Not for her, anyway.

“You started it.” He kicked off his loafers and dropped his pants. Thickly muscled legs, like those of a Grecian god, made her gasp inwardly.

“I didn’t think it would get this far.” Impatient to be skin to skin with him, she moved fast and jerkily while her clothes refused to co-operate.

“It has.” He helped her break free of the bra then moved her into a beam of slanting streetlight that had snuck into the room, and took the time to look at her topless and vulnerable, conveying with his eyes how much he liked what he saw.

Her nerves were quickly overcome by her desire, and after an eager glance at him she definitely liked what she saw, too. A combination of jitters and excitement flitted along her skin. He clamped his mouth on a breast, kissing and sucking, while he pushed on the waist of her pants.

On board with the total program, Polly understood this would be no-frills sex but long-overdue passion that could only be released in a flash and never fast enough. Ready for anything, everything, she squirmed out of her tight jeans and underpants while trying not to lose contact with his body.

Soon back to having her pressed to the wall, he sealed his lips tightly to hers and his heavy erection pressed into her belly. The rush and aroma of hot skin and stimulation made her squirm with need. His hand slid between her legs, fingers quickly discovering how ready she was. He positioned himself and she lifted her thigh and wrapped her calf around his waist so he could find her entrance.

Angling his full erection, he hesitated. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m on the Pill.”

Her answer seemed to satisfy him, and he launched into her, releasing a sizzling sensation that spread across her hips. A few more thrusts and she’d molded to his length and thickness, her moisture slickening him more with each move. The internal burning turned to smoldering and soon fire as he pushed into her over and over, setting off bells, whistles and alarms on every surface he touched.

It had been over a year since she’d made love with anyone, and her tightness intensified the sensations rolling through her pelvis and soon connecting with the shivers in her breasts. She ached for more as he drove into her again and again, thrilling her, making her beg he’d never stop.

Under the hold of his strong arms, her body banged against the wall. He emitted deep, throaty sounds as he continued to bury himself inside her hard and fast, seeming desperate to have all of her. As if humanly possible, he grew harder with each thrust. Though wanting to ride with him all the way to his climax, she couldn’t hold out. Her mounting thrill became too intense to control as crazy sensations spilled out and over her like demons storming through her body. She gasped and bit his shoulder as she came, helpless to stop the powerful release. His continued forceful rhythm extended her climax until she was as limp as a ragdoll against him.

With an “Ahh” he came and she felt his warmth spread inside. With spasm after spasm she adjusted her hips and drew him even deeper than he’d been as he crumpled against her. They stayed in that position, she limp, he holding her flush to the wall, locked tightly together until every last tingle and pulse from the top of her head to the tips of her breasts and all the way down to the soles of her feet completed their course.

Taking her chin in the V of his hand, he bussed her lightly on the lips. Near feral eyes burned into hers when he drew back. “I’m not through with you yet,” he whispered.

Too numb to speak, she stared at him mesmerized, completely willing to be with him again, however he wanted it.

Still bound together, he carried her just as they were against the wall towards the small bed, as if she were a feather. With her legs still wrapped securely around his hips, he slowly and gently placed her beneath him on the mattress, careful not to lose their point of contact. Amazingly, he was still firm.

With a serious-as-hell gaze he lifted her arms above her head and clamped one hand tightly around her wrists, binding her to the bed. He bent and took a breast into his mouth and cupped the other with his free hand. Minutes passed with his soft, sexy torture of kisses here and nips there, his intensifying touch drawing her nearer and nearer to frenzy. When she squirmed and tried to free her hands he held her firm, completely in charge. Already on overdrive, every touch, nibble and kiss sent her reeling. She wanted more and more.

After a few more minutes he grew harder inside her and slowly began to move in and out, each thrust building force. Still a prisoner to his hold, she moved the only part she could, her hips. She matched his pace, adjusting her position to bring him closer, being rewarded with amazing sensations gathering and tightening in her core. Within a few more minutes he was back to full strength, and as he drove faster and deeper, her thrills intensified, coiling so tight she neared another release.

As if he could feel her mounting climax around him, still clamping her hands over her head, he broke contact with her breast, accelerated his thrusts, and smiled devilishly at her. “There’s definitely an advantage to having sex with a people-pleaser,” he said, quickly finishing her off.

Embarrassed by how easy she’d been to conquer, again, she laughed while she came, a complete first for her. He let go of her wrists and rolled onto his back, bringing her along. She straddled his waist and held tight, soon taking him right where she wanted him, helpless to resist her and completely at her mercy, just as she’d been with him only moments before.

After he’d come, she smiled down at him, kissed and licked the crease of his curled lips. “I’m not through with you yet,” she said.

It was his turn to laugh. “So I have died and gone to heaven, huh?”

She rubbed her breasts across his chest and nestled into the crook of his neck, taking his earlobe between her teeth. “I haven’t even known you for a week, Johnny,” she whispered into his ear.

His hands cupped her bottom and squeezed tight, sparking new desire. “Crazy, isn’t it?”

“Crazy good?”

“Definitely.”

* * *

Before dawn, Polly woke up tangled up in John’s arms and legs. The word “crazy” occurred to her again as she disengaged, used the shower, dressed and snuck out before John woke up. As it was her weekend off, she couldn’t be seen sneaking out of the on-call room by any of her co-workers arriving on Saturday morning for the day shift without stirring questions. Fully dressed, hair damp and on her shoulders, she tiptoed outside, but not before glancing over her shoulder at John, who slept peacefully, then she quietly latched the door.

Lying there, listening to Polly shower and dress, John played possum when she left. Truth was he didn’t know what to say to her. They’d amazed each other with great sex half the night, finally collapsing from exhaustion in each other’s arms only a few short hours ago. He’d never let go so soon or so easily with anyone in his life until Polly the people-pleaser had arrived on his doorstep.

He scrubbed his face to help him wake up. What the hell should he do now? It was so out of character for him to screw an employee. The thought of running into her on the ward would be awkward as hell after everything they’d done to each other. How could he keep professional with her now?

He wasn’t looking for a relationship. She was too damn young for him. Too sweet for her own good. Too wild and crazy in bed for a man still pining for his wife. He would be just as bad for her as that jerk she’d come to talk to him about. Why did the thought of Polly being with another man make his blood boil again, especially now that he’d made love to her? What right did he have to feel possessive of her? Wasn’t he as bad as that guy after the way he’d brought her here to the on-call room for the sole purpose of making love until the burning she caused inside him finally stopped?

Thinking about her this morning, he realized the desire for her hadn’t come close to burning out. But it had to. John Griffin didn’t have gratuitous sex, especially with someone vulnerable like Polly. Or someone he worked with. He sat at the side of the bed, ran his fingers through his hair as he stood and headed for the shower. What about Lisa?

There were too many questions, but only one answer seemed to solve them all. He’d avoid Polly as much as possible, and once he worked out in his head just what the hell had happened last night and why, he’d explain to her that it was unethical and could never happen again. She’d have to understand.

That was his plan, and he’d have to stick to it, because he wasn’t about to change his just-getting-by personal life for a flighty young thing like Polly Seymour.

* * *

Polly got on the subway heading for the Lower East Side. Not knowing what to say to him, she hadn’t been able to get away from John fast enough. What had gotten into her? Granted, he’d taken her to the on-call room after giving her the most incredible foot massage of her life and, well, they’d taken the natural course from there. And wow. She hadn’t held back, and neither had he. Never in her life had she done such a thing, had sex with a man she hardly knew. A man she worked for!

Sitting on the hard seat of the subway train, she wondered if everyone in the car, which was thankfully only a handful, could see her flush until her ears burned. She rested her head against the cold window and stared out at the quickly passing darkness. She wasn’t about to act needy around Johnny Griffin. No. That would turn him off quicker than her kisses had turned him on. She’d have to ride out this awkward situation, see where John took it. As far as she was concerned, it was up to him to approach her. After the way she’d made love with him, the man at least owed her a thank you.

Allowing her mind to drift back to the night before and some of the amazing things that had occurred, she remembered that “thank you” swung both ways. Holy cow, did it ever.

* * *

On Monday morning Polly arrived at work with trepidation. Her palms tingled and her stomach clenched at the thought of facing the head of Orthopedics. Doubt upon doubt had cropped up over the weekend. Was having sex in the on-call room how Dr. Griffin initiated all the new nurses?

In her heart she knew that wasn’t true. He loathed interacting with his staff, and after a week on the job she hadn’t heard any rumors about his personal life...just that he was a loner who preferred the kids on the ortho ward to adult company.

Surprised to see that Annabelle had already been discharged, she took report on all new patients. Today she’d be nurse to four pre-teens in various sizes and shaped casts in a group ward.

In the middle of taking vital signs she heard John’s voice outside. Nerves unfurled through her center, making her hands shake. Still unprepared to face him, she prayed he’d stay out in the nurses’ station area and not come into her room.

The deep, masculine tone carried over the usual noise of the ward as he spoke to Brooke. “Tell your nurses to get their kids ready by nine.”

Polly was still getting used to the non-stop activities of Angel’s Children’s Hospital. They even had an on-site radio show in the lobby, and often the kids were the subjects of interviews. The play therapists didn’t allow the patients to zone out on video games or too much TV. They kept them interacting with other patients with games and challenges where everyone could participate. If a child was too sick to leave their room, they’d come to them.

Volunteer grandmothers and grandfatherly types regularly came for one-to-one bedside reading, and the children ate it up. Especially with the man who looked like Santa on his day off in a Hawaiian shirt and golf cap reading Harry Potter cover to cover.

Polly snuck a look outside her room just in time to see John turn and walk back toward his office on the far side of the hospital wing. Though not a tall man, his broad shoulders reminded her how strong he was. A quick flash of him naked and carrying her to the bed in the on-call room had her cheeks burning.

“Why’re you red?” the girl with waist-length black hair and a full leg cast asked. “Do you have a fever or something?”

“No. I’m fine. Don’t you ever blush?”

“Not unless I’m embarrassed. Are you embarrassed?” Her insightful, inquisitive eyes made Polly’s skin crawl.

“Maybe a little.”

“Why?”

Polly glanced around the brightly decorated four-bed ward, where stenciled sports equipment and swaths of primary colors made the white walls pop, as she searched for either a dodge or a believable answer. One thing she’d quickly learned working with kids was they could tell when someone wasn’t being straight with them.

“I just remembered something I did over the weekend.”

“Did you get hammered?” The young one’s bright black eyes suddenly seemed far too mature for twelve.

“No. And how do you even know what ‘hammered’ means?”

“My sister goes to college.” She tossed half of her hair over her shoulder, in a gesture that advertised she knew everything about being a grown up and drinking too much in college.

As if that explained and closed the topic, Polly let the subject drop, but not before she noticed John Griffin’s signature on the girl’s cast and she felt her cheeks flush again. Did the man sign every single cast on the ward?

As promised, at nine o’clock sharp a raucous brass quartet blustered onto the ward playing circus music, as if a parade would follow. Polly had gotten each of her patients into wheelchairs and rolled them to the center of the ward just in time. One of her girls wasn’t the least bit interested in the music, instead staring at her cell phone, until the trombone player swung by and hit a low note by extending the slide right under her chin. It shocked and delighted her and Polly laughed along with the patient, especially when the girl glanced up and saw a good-looking college guy, and her eyes brightened.

In mid-laugh, Polly glanced up and caught John’s gaze from across the room. It seemed a trapdoor had opened in her chest, and her heart skidded to her ankles. Maybe it was the circus music.

She couldn’t inhale.

Attempting and falling far short of the mark, she gave some semblance of a smile, and in return he gave that half grimace, half smile he was so adept at then quickly looked away.

Could things get any more awkward?

By Wednesday afternoon, having great sex with John Griffin had started to seem more like a figment of Polly’s imagination than fact. He’d drifted in and out of the hospital ward like a ghost leaving hints of things out of place, or the tell-tale scent of his woodsy aftershave, or an icy chill spiraling down her spine. Not once did he try to confront her, and she’d vowed to steer clear of his office no matter how much she wanted to chew him out for being so cold and inconsiderate for leaving her dangling and insecure since Friday night.

On Thursday morning the pet therapy Dalmatian made rounds, stopping beside Polly’s toddler patient, Eugenia. The child had fallen from a two-story window and broken both arms, and had been taken into protective services after being admitted to Angel’s. She was withdrawn and moody, and Polly didn’t know how to reach her or make her comfortable. But Dotty the Dalmatian brightened the child’s gray eyes with interest, and soon a smile crossed her lips as Dotty licked her fingertips.

Warmth washed through Polly’s down mood, and she grinned at her young charge, then was rewarded with Eugenia smiling back. Simple things. Small steps. This was the way to put a life back together, as Polly only knew too well from her own childhood.

“May I talk to you?” From behind, the familiar voice made her eyes go wide. It was John. Adrenaline sprayed like scattershot throughout her chest. She schooled her expression before she turned.

“Sure,” she said, acting as if nothing, especially her ego, had been flipped sideways since they’d had mind-blowing sex.

Leaving her patient with Dotty and the pet therapy lady, she followed his long and purposeful strides toward the supply room.

When they arrived, he took a deep breath. “I don’t want this to be offensive or anything,” he said in a nearly inaudible voice, “but I think you should take some STD tests.”

So this was all about medical business, about the messy little clean-up committee for being reckless with the new girl. He may not have wanted to offend her but pure insult made her send him a cutting glance. “Why, Doctor? Have you jeopardized me?”

“No!” he rasped. She could see the vein on the side of his neck pop out.

“But you worry I may have...”

“No,” he said, in a strained whisper. “I’m just being practical.”

She latched onto his eyes and stared him down. “For your information, I don’t sleep around. I don’t have any surprises to give you, so I’ll skip. Thanks.” She turned to walk away, trying her best to save what was left of her pride, but he caught her by the elbow and held her back.

“We were completely careless.” He spoke quietly, directly into her ear. Even now, under the worst possible circumstances, the touch of his breath on her neck made her skin prickle. She looked up at him. His dark eyes peered into hers in warning. “As a doctor, I can’t be negligent. I’ve ordered some tests for you.”

“What about you?” she said, hackles fully raised and ready to fight.

He looked thoughtfully at his OR clogs. “I checked out okay.”

“Then what’s the point of me—?”

His flat expression warned she wasn’t about to like his answer. “Because I’m not the one who can get pregnant, even if you’re on birth control pills.”

Stunned by reality, she swallowed around a dry knot. She’d already told him there wouldn’t be a problem—didn’t he believe her? Since he was being such a jerk about everything today, she wouldn’t argue.

Desperate to save face, she shrugged free of his hold. “I’ll handle the tests myself, thanks,” she said as she walked away, trying her best to stand straight and look confident, while feeling anything but.

That night, still fuming, she stopped at the corner ma and pa grocery store and found a pregnancy test purporting to identify a pregnancy within seven to ten days after the missed period. But Polly hadn’t missed her period, which wasn’t due for another three days. Would she be able to hold tight and wait for three days then buy the test? The blood test John had ordered could tell much sooner than the urine test, but her pride had tripped her up and kept her from consenting. She was sure that just because John Griffin had ordered the test and the results would be sent to him, he wasn’t going to be the first to know if, and that was a very big if, she was pregnant or not.

Of course she wasn’t pregnant. She took her pills every night as directed.

For some illogical reason, that night when she prepared her dinner she made sure it was well balanced and nutritious as one short phrase whispered in her mind—What if?—which was quickly followed by a heavy brick of panic landing in her stomach and replacing her appetite.

* * *

Monday morning, officially late for her period, Polly showed up at work withdrawn and anxious. Dread trickled down her spine as she remembered the antibiotics she’d taken a few weeks back for a sinus infection. It was a known fact that antibiotics could interfere with the potency of birth control pills for up to two weeks. It had been more than two weeks since she’d taken them, though, and that kept her hopeful all would be fine.

“Hey, Polly, how’s it shakin’?” the ward clerk Rafael asked as she passed the nurses’ station.

“Meh,” she said, and walked on.

“What? If you’re not in a good mood, how the heck am I supposed to be?”

She stopped in her tracks and saw honest surprise in his dark chocolate-colored eyes. “I guess you’ll just have to work extra hard at it today, Rafe ol’ buddy.”

“That’s cold, forcing a man to be in a good mood for no good reason all on his own.” He laughed. “See, even in a bad mood you make me smile.”

“What’s this I hear about little Miss Sunshine being in a foul mood?” Brooke said, approaching Polly and putting her hand on Polly’s shoulder. She rubbed back and forth. “You okay?”

Did her face have to be an open book?

“I’ve been better.” She should have gotten her period on Saturday, but so far there wasn’t even a hint that it was on the way. She had a question she wanted to ask Brooke, but didn’t want to be blatant about how a person went about getting a pregnancy test done at Angel’s, so she decided to wait for a better time under less obvious circumstances.

On Wednesday morning, Brooke assigned her once again to Eugenia, who was constantly being assessed and visited by social services, play therapists, speech therapists, and just about every doctor on staff. Polly looked forward to spending the day with a little girl who needed love as much as she did.

During Eugenia’s bed bath, Polly tickled and teased the child to get her to laugh, which she did more easily this week than last.

“Mornin’, peanut,” a woman with a heavy Texan drawl said. “How’s my girl today?”

Polly looked up to see the beautiful blonde Dr. Layla Woods. “Can you say good morning for Dr. Woods, Eugenia?”

“Mun.”

Dr. Woods smiled at Polly, then at Eugenia. “That’s very good.”

Polly loved her accent. As Dr. Woods warmed the child up with a game of peek-a-boo and then delicately did a quick physical assessment of Eugenia, Polly studied her flawless complexion and gorgeous Texas-bluebell-colored eyes. She’d seen her before on the orthopedic floor several times making general medicine rounds, always smiling and gracious. Always approachable.

Polly had heard rumblings about Dr. Woods and the head of Neurosurgery, Dr. Alejandro Rodriguez, the most gorgeous man on the planet. Bar none. But she didn’t want to get caught up in hospital gossip and had paid little attention to the stories.

She looked back at the doctor, who’d finished up her examination of Eugenia with a tap on the tip of the toddler’s nose. Dr. Woods could easily be a cover model or actress with her good looks, but there was an added ingredient, sort of like a secret sauce, that made the whole recipe of Layla Woods extra-special. Perhaps seasoned by her own life, the woman oozed compassion.

And that’s when it hit her. No risk, no gain, right?

Polly cleared her throat and worked up the fortitude to ask the question of the day. “Dr. Woods, um, may I ask you a favor?”

“Sure, whatcha’ need?”

“Could you order me a pregnancy test?” she mumbled, embarrassed.

“A pregnancy test?”

Polly wanted to shush her, but didn’t have the nerve, instead lowering her lashes and staring at the floor. The perceptive doctor quickly caught on.

“Oh,” she whispered, looking around. Thankfully no one else but the toddlers were in the two bed-ward. “Sorry. Certainly. I’ll order that right now. You want a blood test, right?”

Polly nodded. “Thanks so much.”

Dr. Woods winked, jotting down Polly’s last name from her name badge, then Polly gave her medical record number.

“Your secret’s safe with me. Good luck, whichever way you hope it turns out.” She smiled and after pinching Eugenia’s cheeks and kissing her forehead the lovely doctor left the room, heading for the nearby computer to input that order.

At the end of her shift Polly stopped at the lab to have her blood drawn. After a long day and a crowded subway ride home she was hot and exhausted and didn’t look forward to taking those five flights of stairs up to her room. A room that didn’t even have air-conditioning. If this was how it got in early July, how would she survive the rest of the summer?

While making a mental note to buy a big fan, she let herself into the apartment. Mrs. Goldman, her landlady, sat in the tiny, dim living room watching TV and didn’t even look up, which Polly was glad about. The last thing she wanted to do was get sucked into one of her landlady’s long and meandering stories tonight. After a snack she slipped into her room and took a nap.

A couple of hours later she decided to check her e-mails and saw the notice from Angel’s hospital about her test results. Quickly accessing the hospital patient medical records program, she went into her account, eager to end this chapter in her book of life’s mistakes. The sooner she knew all was clear, the faster she could close the door for good on John Griffin and move on. She’d sweep her regretful actions into a corner and forget about them, like she had so many other things in her life. Though forgetting her incredible night with John would take a lot of effort.

Opening up her lab test page, her hopeful attitude got hitched to gravity and plummeted into an abyss. Positive. The blood test was positive.

Prickles of fear stormed like a battalion across her skin as her entire body went hot.

She. Was. Pregnant.