The Surgeon's One Night to Forever Read online

  “It’s a girl, Wach,” she heard the other officer say, as she took off down the corridor, chased by the sound of back-slapping and relieved laughter. “We need to get some cigars.”

  Although she searched for him, there was no sign of Cort so, still fuming, Liz went back to work. No doubt he’d avoided her and then gone home, his shift over for the day.

  * * *

  Three hours later, when her shift too came to a close, Liz changed into her street clothes and, unable to resist, made her way up to the sixth-floor neonatal unit.

  She’d always been superstitious about certain things, including checking on patients after they’d left the ER and been admitted. More than once another doctor or a nurse had said, “Why didn’t you just call for an update, instead of coming all this way?” but that didn’t feel right. If she wanted to know how a patient was doing she either checked the system, knowing it might not be up to date, or physically went to check on them. Having not been able to get the tiny baby off her mind, she definitely had to go up and look in on her.

  And there, in the NICU, was Cort.

  Liz came to a halt, watching through the glass as, the infant held securely in the crook of his arm, he used his foot to move the rocking chair back and forth. Completely focused on the little girl, he was looking down into her face, and the infant seemed to be just as focused on him, her eyes open, unwavering.

  His lips moved and, although she couldn’t hear him, Liz knew he said, “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

  Taking a shaky breath, feeling exposed, stripped bare, Liz backed away, not wanting him to see her; afraid of what was written on her face.

  Afraid of the shocking desire rushing through her veins to go in there and hold them both.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “JUST CHECKING IN with you.” Robbie’s voice, annoyingly cheerful, boomed through the phone into her ear. Liz could hear a babble of conversation and peals of laughter behind him. It was early afternoon in London, but it sounded as though a party was already in full swing. “You remember the luncheon, right?”

  “Yes. I’m on my way there now.”

  Not quite accurate, since she’d mislaid her invitation and was actually on her way to the hospital, hoping it was in her locker. While looking for things in her handbag, she had a tendency to pull out whatever was in her way, leaving them where they lay. She’d searched her entire house without finding it, and was trying to convince herself it must be in her work locker. If it wasn’t, she was in trouble, since the organizer had specifically said the invitations were necessary for admission.

  “Well, have a good time.”

  Laughter was clear in Robbie’s voice. The brat knew how much she hated these types of events.

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  He snickered, then said, “While we’re on the subject of favors, I have another one to ask.”

  “Really? This isn’t enough for you?” she teased. “You want to impose on me further, after making me have to spend the morning at the hairdresser and get dressed up?”

  “Oh, you’re not wearing your scrubs? I’m shocked!”

  The over-the-top horror of her brother’s comment made her give a snort of laughter.

  “That’s right, go ahead and make fun of me, even though you want something. See how far that gets you.”

  When Robbie replied, he’d grown serious. “I want you to be my best woman.”

  “Your what?”

  “Um, best girl? I don’t know what to call it. Female best man? Damn it, I want you to stand up with me at my wedding.”

  Shocked, she said the first thing that came to mind. “But...what about Simon? Didn’t you already ask him to be your best man?”

  “We’ve known each other so long he knows how I feel about you, and he won’t mind. Besides, he’s already stressing about being in charge of the rings. You know how he is.”

  She did indeed, since Robbie and Simon had been friends from grade school. “He is a little scatterbrained,” she remarked, grimacing at saying so when on her way to try to find her lost invitation.

  Misplaced, not lost. Just misplaced.

  “And,” her brother said quickly, as though sensing he was winning, “I’m a groomsman short, so it would be perfect.”

  She wasn’t surprised to hear that, really. Although Robbie knew lots of people, and had the kind of personality that attracted others to him, when it came to true friends he was highly selective. Liz and he were very different in many ways, but identical in that one.

  “Robbie, I don’t think—”

  Robbie interrupted to say, “Giovanna has already picked out a dress for you to wear and everything.”

  Liz suppressed a groan. Her mother had sent pictures of not only the wedding dress but the bridesmaids’ dress too. They were beautiful. Artistically sublime.

  And she would look like hell in one, with far too many curves to do justice to a dress like that.

  She was scrambling to figure out the best way to get out of it without hurting her beloved brother’s feelings when there was a muffled conversation on the other end of the phone, and then Giovanna came on the line.

  “Liz, you must do this. It would mean the world to us. I understood when you said you didn’t want to be a bridesmaid, really I did, but this is Robbie asking, not me.”

  “Giovanna—”

  “Liz, we love you. It wouldn’t be the same if you’re not involved.”

  There was the sensation of being run over by a steamroller, and Liz chuckled, knowing her mother had definitely met her match in her future daughter-in-law.

  “I could just wear a morning suit, I guess. To match the men.”

  “Are you nuts?” The outrage was almost palpable. “Not on my watch. Never. But there’s a designer in New York who does menswear-inspired formal gowns, and I know I can get her to kit you out. I’ll send you a link to her website. When she’s done with you, you’ll outshine me, with your glorious figure and perfect shoulders.”

  Liz snorted. “Yeah, sure, Giovanna.”

  “Trust me, okay? It’ll be perfect.”

  “All right, all right. I see I have one more person in my life I’m not going to be able to say no to. I’ll do it. For you. And Robbie.”

  “Yes!”

  Luckily she liked Giovanna too much to be put out by that triumphant crow.

  The town car was pulling into the hospital parking lot so she said, “I’ve got to run. Love to you both, and keep Robbie out of trouble, okay?”

  After hanging up, she directed the driver to the staff entrance and, once he’d pulled up, she didn’t wait for him to come around and open her door but jumped out.

  “I shouldn’t be long,” she leaned in to say as she pulled her badge out of her handbag. “If they come by and tell you to move, just drive around and meet me back here, please.”

  Thank goodness the maintenance people had been out and the path to the door had been shoveled and salted. Winter was behaving like a petulant child who was overtired and fighting sleep. Every time she thought it might be dozing off, it awoke again and had a snow-and-ice tantrum.

  Cursing the high-heeled boots she was wearing, Liz held her coat closed and made her way as briskly as possible into the building, then set out at a trot for the changing area. She barreled through the door just in time to be treated to the sight of Cort Smith pulling off a bloodstained scrub top.

  It brought her to a screeching halt.

  There was the long, strong back she remembered all too well, muscles flexing and rippling the way they had under her grasping, greedy hands. His scrubs bottom hung low on his hips and clung to his perfectly shaped backside. As she stood, frozen in place, watching him, he stretched and yawned, then twisted his head from side to side, as though working out muscle kinks.

  She had a few kinks she wouldn’t mind having him
work out, she thought through the lust fogging her brain.

  He reached into his locker for a clean shirt, thankfully still turned away so he wouldn’t see her gawping. She tried to get her feet to move, even as her gaze devoured the sheer gorgeousness of him.

  The door clicked shut behind her and he looked over his shoulder. For one long moment, which seemed set to stretch into infinity, their gazes locked, and an electric current filled the room, making all the hair on her body rise in a prickling wave.

  Mortified to be caught staring, as aroused as all get-out, she sprang into action, aware of her racing heart and the incredible heat rampaging through her body. Willfully keeping her face averted from him, she made it to her locker without falling, although her legs were trembling.

  “Hey,” he said from behind her. “I thought you were off today.”

  “I am.” Her voice sounded strained, even to her, so she swallowed before she continued. “Just stopped by to try and find an invitation I’ve mislaid.”

  “You look...spiffy.”

  She snorted as she got the locker open and stared at the mess of papers and detritus on the shelf, frustrated at herself for letting it get so bad. “Spiffy? Who on earth uses a word like spiffy? Besides geriatrics and a few nerdy history buffs.”

  “I do,” he said. “Are you calling me old? Because I sucked at history in school.”

  Her heart was still beating too fast, but the banter, so unexpectedly easy, helped to calm her overexcited system. “If the shoe fits...”

  “Really?” Outrage and disgruntlement battled for supremacy in his tone. “It’s a perfectly viable word. Perfectly politically correct. Better than saying something inappropriate to your coworker.”

  “Inappropriate? Like what?” she asked, glancing at him for an instant over her shoulder. His hair was adorably rumpled from pulling the shirt on over his head, and her fingers tingled with the urge to smooth it, or mess it up even more.

  “Like saying she looks delicious enough to eat.”

  And there went her heart rate again.

  Unable to come up with a suitable reply, she desperately shuffled through the teetering stack of bills, notes and other detritus. Where the heck was the darn invitation? He was standing close enough that the subtle scent of him, warm and delicious, wafted over her, all but making her mouth water.

  “Where you off to anyway, looking so spiffy?”

  Normally she wouldn’t answer such an intrusive question, but she was still flustered and the words just popped out.

  “A luncheon for donors and trustees of philanthropic trusts to meet and network with each other. There’s a trust my family administers, and normally my brother would have gone but he’s in London with his fiancée for Fashion Week, so it’s all on me this time.”

  “Okay...” It was said slowly, almost hesitantly. “Sounds good.”

  “Boring as hell,” she replied, trying to get back onto the brisk, no-nonsense footing she was used to. “All investment potential, capital growth, and talking about ‘beneficial partnerships,’ none of which interest me in the slightest. To be honest, I’d rather be lancing a boil than facing this do.”

  He chuckled, and it seeped into her bones, made her fingers suddenly clumsy, so she pulled too hard on the stack of papers she was riffling through, causing a mini-avalanche. “Dammit.”

  “So the medical mission to Mexico the HR guy mentioned was arranged by this family trust of yours?”

  He sounded merely curious, but the mention of Mexico brought a fresh wave of heat washing through her.

  She’d tried so hard not to think about what had happened on that trip, hoping the after-effects would fade, but now had to admit to herself they hadn’t, and probably wouldn’t. Perhaps talking about it with Cort would help take the edge off her obsession with it.

  And him.

  Taking a steadying breath, she turned to face him.

  “No. Mexico is outside the trust’s purview. It was set up to help organizations here in New York City, where my grand-aunts lived. Do you remember the group of women I was with in Mexico?”

  He nodded, a little smile coming and going across those beautifully shaped lips.

  “Vaguely.”

  “We’ve all been friends from when we were teenagers and don’t get that much of a chance to see each other. About six years ago we decided we’d take trips together but make them useful, not just fun. So we take turns picking a place, usually somewhere that has some meaning to us, and the first part of the trip is spent working with locals to do whatever will be of the most help to them. Then we spend the last few days at a resort, relaxing and enjoying ourselves.”

  His eyebrows quirked upward slightly, and he asked, “You’re all doctors?”

  Liz chuckled. She couldn’t help it, thinking of her friend Jojo, who fainted if she got a paper cut. “No. I’m the only one, so I helped out at the local pediatric clinic while the others did some building repairs and teaching.”

  “Ah, a pediatric clinic. Does that explain the aqua hair?”

  She’d forgotten about the colorful extensions she’d gotten on a whim for the trip, thinking it would be something fun for the kids. It felt strange to think he’d already gotten to know her so well he was able to figure that out.

  “It was an icebreaker,” she admitted.

  His eyelids drooped, concealing whatever thoughts might be given away in his gaze.

  “I liked it,” he said.

  A simple statement, but for some reason it packed a punch. Perhaps it was his expression, which took her right back to that gloriously decadent night they’d shared, or the way his voice dropped low. Whatever the reason, memories bombarded her—of his fingers fisted in her hair, his lips ravaging her throat, the ecstasy building and building until, at his growled demand, she’d imploded.

  Insides thrumming with rising want, Liz knew she’d been right not to want to talk about Mexico with him, but it was too late. The remnants of the night swirled between them, creating a sultry current, as warm and humid as the air on the Mayan Riviera. She knew Cort felt it too. He’d gone still, his face tightening to a mask of naked yearning.

  Liz shivered, trapped by his desire, and her own. In Mexico, in his arms, she’d felt more a woman than ever before in her life. And now, seeing him once more focused completely, intently on her, the same sensation flowered into being again.

  The urge to take the steps necessary to embrace him, pull his head down and kiss him, was so strong Liz wasn’t sure how she resisted.

  Then, just as suddenly as the expression of desire had appeared on his face, it was gone.

  Shaken, Liz tore her gaze away, turning back to her locker. Her hands were trembling, her insides churned with need. She had to get out of there. Now.

  Where on earth is that damned invitation?

  * * *

  Cort took a deep breath, but it did nothing to quell his libido. And it definitely needed to be quelled. Liz Prudhomme attracted him in a primal way but, even if he weren’t determined to stay away from entanglements of any kind, she’d already run out on him once. No doubt she’d do it again, should he give her a chance. Besides he knew, without a doubt, she was way out of his league socially.

  She spoke about philanthropic trusts and London Fashion Week as though they were everyday things that everyday people like him would know all about. Even the way she looked today screamed wealth of the highest order.

  In complete contrast to her usual ponytail or simple bob, her hair was upswept in an intricate yet subtly sexy style. And even he, who knew absolutely nothing about designer clothing, could tell there was something special about the long, luxurious-looking coat and knee-high boots she was wearing. The coat fit perfectly over her curves and swung with casual elegance as she moved. Beneath it he glimpsed a teal dress that again, to his eye, looked to have been made just for her.

/>   Liz was all class, and nothing but trouble, and he was kicking himself for wanting her so badly.

  She’d gone back to searching her locker, and it felt like a subtle dismissal, yet not even that dulled his desire, or made him leave, the way he knew he should.

  What had happened in Mexico hung between them. He couldn’t help thinking they would never have a truly easy working relationship until they had talked it out. Clearly the attraction between them hadn’t abated, and he wasn’t sure what that would mean. All he knew was that he was compelled to let her know where he stood, no matter where it eventually led.

  “I know you don’t want to talk about Mexico.”

  “You’re right,” she replied briskly, as another little cascade of papers fell from her locker. “So let’s not.”

  “Too late,” he retorted, and saw her shoulders stiffen slightly. “Listen, we’re both adults, and it’s best we deal with what happened between us. It was an amazing night. One I’ll never forget. I was angry, and lonely, and you helped me forget the pain and embarrassment, even if just for one night. But, although I’m still extremely attracted to you, I’m not going to try to get back into your bed, because...”

  Why not?

  He took a breath, considering what he needed to say next. Liz’s fingers stilled, her hunt paused as she waited for him to continue. His brain scrambled for the reasons, knowing they were many, trying to move past the attraction and get to the reality.

  “Not only do we work together, but I don’t want to lead you on. I’ve come to realize I’m not cut out for long-term relationships. Couldn’t offer you anything more than the chance to keep scratching the itch, the way we did in Mexico.”

  She looked at him over her shoulder, eyebrows raised, her gaze searching his. “But you were about to get married. I’d think that would have been a long-term relationship, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “Sure, but I realized having the wedding called off was a good thing. There were...extenuating circumstances that caused me to sort of drift into a situation I really shouldn’t have.”