The Surgeon's One Night to Forever Read online

  “How does one drift into an engagement?” she asked, not derisively but obviously curious.

  His first urge was to deflect the question, but something about the way she looked at him drew the words from his lips.

  “Mimi, my ex, was there for me during a bad time in my life, and gave me the support I needed. It was only after she ended our relationship that I realized we’d mistaken our friendship for something more than it was.”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly, but her gaze was level as she said, “When we met, you were pretty upset about the break-up. How can you be so casual about it now?”

  Cort sighed. He must sound like the kind of guy who shrugged things off when he didn’t get what he wanted, and somehow the thought of her pegging him like that was abhorrent.

  “I’ve had some time to think it through, to realize that, while her rejection hurt like hell, we really wouldn’t have been happy together. I have itchy feet, Liz. Being in the army alleviated some of that, even though the coveted posting to Hawaii never materialized.”

  That made the corners of her lips twitch, but when she didn’t say anything he continued. “I stayed in Denver too long, and now I’m determined not to settle in any one place for any length of time again. I’ve never spent any time in New York, and there’s a lot to explore, but once my contract is up next year, I’ll more than likely move on.”

  Liz seemed to be considering what he’d said, her gaze searching his face. He’d come to realize she was a thinker, one of those people who liked to mull things over and rarely acted impulsively. It was obvious in how she handled patients and their families, as well as the people she worked with, although in an emergency she was absolutely decisive.

  So it came as no surprise when she just made a noncommittal sound in the back of her throat before diving back into her locker.

  Taking that as a clear dismissal, he was about to leave then remembered there was something more he wanted to tell her.

  “On a totally different subject, I thought you’d want to know. The police cleared Kaitlin of wrongdoing. From the forensic evidence, she shot her boyfriend in self-defense.”

  “Good to know,” she replied, emerging triumphantly with an embossed card in her hand. When she bent to pick up the bits of paper that had spilled out onto the floor, he stooped to help her and was surprised by the obvious anger in her expression.

  “You’re angry that it was self-defense?”

  “What? No! Why would you ask such a question?”

  “Oh, maybe the way your brows are scrunched together, the slight snarl on your lips.”

  Cort thought that would, at least, merit a snort or the Liz Prudhomme version of a smile, which consisted of a twitch of the lips, but her frown just deepened.

  “He beat and stabbed her, almost to death, and all she was worried about was that she’d shot him to save herself. Even when I went to ICU to see her, she was asking about him. I don’t get it. I really don’t.”

  Getting up, she shoved the papers back into her locker and slammed the door. Cort shook his head. He didn’t get it either, but he’d seen it too many times not to know the answer. “She’d say she loves him.”

  Liz snorted then, but not with anything close to amusement, as she picked up her handbag and headed for the door. “Makes no sense to me. Never has. Never will. That’s not love. That’s some kind of terminal disease that weakens the brain.”

  Yanking the door open, she turned back and said, “Wait, that sounds like an accurate definition, doesn’t it? At least, from everything I’ve seen.”

  Then she was gone, leaving Cort stunned at the emotion in her voice, which had turned the decadent tones into something rougher. Raw.

  It was not the kind of response he expected from the no-nonsense Dr. Liz Prudhomme.

  CHAPTER SIX

  DR. HAMMOND’S SECRETARY looked up as Cort opened the door and, without pausing in her telephone conversation, jerked her head toward the inner office. Taking the gesture from the stern, gray-haired lady as an indication he should continue straight through, Cort thanked her with a wave. He knocked on Gregory’s door and, when the chief of surgery called out, entered the sunny, cluttered office.

  “There you are.” The smile on Gregory’s face had the tension in Cort’s shoulders easing fractionally. “And right on time too. Come. Sit.”

  Making his way to the stiffly stuffed chair across the desk from his boss, Cort did as bade, still unsure about the reason for the summons. There was no way to get comfortable in the visitor’s seat, probably by design, but he forced himself not to search for one. Instead, he simply propped one ankle up on the opposite knee and resigned himself to the ache he’d no doubt develop in his back if the interview went on too long.

  He also figured it best to cut right to the chase.

  “Is there a problem, Gregory?”

  “No, not at all.” The older man leaned back, linking his fingers behind his neck, the picture of ease. “I thought, since you’ve been with us for a little over a month now, it was time to check in with you and see how you’re getting along.”

  That was surprising. Cort had been almost completely sure Liz had complained about his takeover of the infant emergency case, had been prepared to apologize and reassure everyone it would never happen again. Even though that really wasn’t a promise he could truthfully make.

  “Everything is fine so far.” There really was nothing he could complain about to Gregory. All his issues with being at the hospital revolved around one strong, sexy doctor, who was never far from his thoughts.

  “Glad to hear it.” Gregory rocked back and forth. “I know things are a bit slower than you’re used to in the trauma department, but the board has said the construction should be finished in another few months. Things will definitely pick up soon thereafter.”

  “I’m sure they will,” he agreed.

  “And how are things otherwise? Did you get your house in Denver sold, and have you found something appropriate here?”

  “Finally got an offer on the house last week, and hopefully it’ll close in thirty days,” Cort replied, giving the older man a rueful smile. “But as for here? To be honest, I haven’t really been looking very hard.”

  He didn’t feel the need to house-hunt. He’d only bought the house in Denver because he and Mimi had been getting married and it had seemed appropriate. His New York apartment, while small, was perfectly suitable for the year. Of course, he wasn’t planning to say that to Dr. Hammond, who no doubt hoped Cort would be a permanent member of his surgical team.

  Gregory shook his head, and sat forward with a thump of feet hitting the floor. “No, no, Cort. If you want to stay anywhere within the vicinity of the hospital, with the gentrification now is the time to buy. Even if you eventually leave Hepplewhite General, and I hope that won’t be for many years, by then the property should have appreciated nicely.” The telephone on his desk buzzed, and Gregory put his hand on it but didn’t pick it up right away. “Well, unless there’s anything you want to discuss...”

  Cort levered himself from the chair. “No, thank you, Gregory.”

  “Excellent.” Gregory smiled, but he was already looking at his phone, and Cort strode to the door and let himself out, just as he heard the other man say, “Yes, Brenda?”

  Brenda, the secretary, was speaking in a discreetly low tone into the phone when Cort walked through her office and didn’t look up from her computer screen, so missed his goodbye wave.

  That annoyed him a little. No matter what your position in life, there was no need to be ill-mannered. No doubt, as Gregory’s secretary, she had to be firm with some of the doctors, perhaps even patients too, but there were ways to do that without being rude.

  Like the way Liz handled things, straight up but never impolite.

  He mentally kicked himself for thinking about her again, yet she continually invaded
his consciousness like a super-bug, impervious to every course of treatment he came up with to oust her.

  As he’d told her the day before, there were at least two really good reasons for them not to be together again, but unfortunately neither stopped him wanting her. The way she’d run out on him in Mexico still stung too, especially now he’d gotten to know her day-to-day persona better. Had that night never happened, he’d have sworn Liz Prudhomme wasn’t the kind of woman who’d sneak away without saying a word or even leaving a note. She was too no-nonsense and polite, too straightforward. The anomaly of what he thought of her and the reality of that night should be a warning and have tempered the longing, but hadn’t.

  There was something about her that called to him and that draw of hers was a source of constant distraction and annoyance.

  He forewent the elevator, opting for the stairs, hoping to work off some of his frustration.

  Avoiding entanglements was the right thing to do, he reminded himself as he pounded down the stairs. Getting too involved with people just caused pain, and he was tired of being hurt.

  So many good reasons to avoid Liz and squelch the attraction still dogging him. In time to the slap of his feet on the steps, he listed them in his head one more time, hoping they’d finally take root in his stubborn brain.

  She was a colleague, and he had to work with her almost every day.

  He had a life plan all worked out, which didn’t include sticking around in New York City for very long. There were new places to discover, new worlds to explore, and he who travelled fastest travelled alone.

  Best of all, he already had proof she was the kind of woman who had no compunction about leaving a person high and dry, without explanation.

  Like his parents had, when they’d abandoned him as a baby.

  Like Brody had, without giving Cort a chance to help him through his pain.

  Pushing open the door to the on-call room, he was glad to see there was no one there. Letting out a relieved sigh, he moved to the coffee station and poured himself a cup. Thankfully the meeting with Gregory hadn’t taken as long as he’d thought it would, so he had time to gather his thoughts before his shift started.

  He’d been sure there would have been a complaint regarding his conduct when Baby Jane, as the unidentified infant was being called, had come in. Even now, the memory of hearing the nurse call out about the baby being found in a dumpster raised goose bumps down his spine.

  It was like being present at his own finding, the instinct to help another foundling so strong it had completely blocked all thoughts of protocol.

  Why hadn’t Liz complained? He’d been certain that she would.

  The woman was a mass of contradictions.

  Some of the nurses called her “Dr. Grim,” yet it was said with a certain amused fondness that told him they actually liked her. Many of the doctors grumbled about her stoic demeanor, but not one touted her as being anything but a superb practitioner. Everyone knew she was a stickler for protocol, and it was clear Cort had overstepped his bounds by a mile. Not reporting him to Hammond was totally out of character for her.

  And he didn’t like it that he was beginning to know her so well.

  Getting to understand her on a personal level wouldn’t help him at all. Easier to get past his attraction if he could keep his interest in her purely professional. He had no interest in getting close to Liz Prudhomme in any way other than they already had been.

  Carnally, erotically, sexually.

  He drew in a sharp breath at the memory of her arching beneath his caresses, shuddering with release. Trying to push aside the images just made them somehow sharper, and it was as though he could feel her legs around his waist again, the slick pulses of her body gripping his, the swift, sweet ache of her biting his shoulder as she’d come.

  Taking a too-hot gulp of coffee, he cursed. Yet he welcomed the burn of tongue and throat. It forced some modicum of control, allowing him the opportunity to settle his breathing and will away the unwanted erection pushing at the front of his scrubs.

  That was in the past, never to happen again, he forcefully reminded himself. The sooner he took that fully on board, and stopped obsessing over one night in Mexico, the better it would be for his peace of mind.

  The door behind him opened and he turned, a polite expression firmly in place, to see who it was.

  And, just like that, he had to marshal his willpower all over again as he stared into Liz’s gleaming green eyes.

  He would have greeted her, but something about her expression kept him frozen in watchful silence. She was leaning on the door, as though to stop anyone else from entering, both palms pressed against the wood, fingers slightly curled, and something about the position of her hands stirred that ever-present desire again.

  The silence seemed to stretch on forever as she looked around the room before she quietly said, “I want you to know, I’m not interested in a relationship.”

  Surprise was too mild a word for what he felt, and a harsh bark of laughter came from his throat. Her eyebrows dipped together as he replied, “I told you, I’m not either.”

  “But I want you, physically. If you’re interested, can you deal with that? Sex without any kind of commitment?”

  His heart was pounding, and his impulse was to agree quickly, before she changed her mind, but he turned what she said over in his mind first, strangely prudent in the face of what looked like her impulsiveness.

  “I can do that,” he said slowly, inwardly cursing himself for what he was going to say next. Knowing it would probably make her change her mind. “But you should know, I actually like you. What happens if we become friends?”

  She tilted her head slightly, as though this was an eventuality she hadn’t considered, her gaze searching his intently. Whatever she saw there seemed to satisfy her because she nodded and asked, “Do you know where the old isolation ward is?”

  “Yes.” Gregory Hammond had shown it to him on the first day, while they’d toured the construction zone. Cort was pretty sure he remembered how to get to it.

  “Meet me there in five minutes.”

  Then, without another word, she spun on her heel and pulled open the door.

  It wasn’t until the door closed completely that Cort could exhale, and there definitely was nothing he could do about the need tearing through his system.

  Slapping his coffee cup down onto the table, he glanced at his watch.

  He was sure it would be the longest five minutes of his life.

  * * *

  If Liz knew one thing about herself it was that she tried to face things head on and didn’t back away from the truth, even if she was the only one who knew what that truth was. That facet of her personality made her come to accept the fact she had to do something about Dr. Cort Smith, something to exorcise the hold he had on her imagination and libido.

  He’d taken over her mind in a way she’d never experienced before, filling her with yearnings she didn’t know how to control.

  It was, she told herself, simply that he’d given her the most memorable night of sex she’d ever had, and then, to add insult to injury, had touched her emotionally too. Seeing him so tenderly holding the baby in the NICU had been like having the wall around the feelings she so fiercely guarded severely dented.

  On the one hand, she hated him for it. On the other, it made her want him ten times, a hundred times more than she already did. The conversation in the changing room had just cemented the longing that had shimmered beneath her skin from the first night they’d met.

  Striding down the corridor past the heavy plastic sheeting, from beyond which came the noise of the construction workers, she once more reassured herself she was taking the right course in dealing with Cort.

  He had taken her to new heights with his dominant style in bed, giving her more pleasure than she’d even suspected was possible. A shi
ver worked its way along her spine and heat blossomed low in her belly as she remembered it once again. That pleasure that had lingered in her system, rather like a bad case of the flu or Lyme disease, she thought rather sourly. She needed an antidote, and perhaps familiarity would provide it.

  After all, their encounter in Mexico had happened before he’d known her, before he’d seen her at work or worked alongside her.

  Now he’d had a chance to see her the way others had and did. To her family, and to Andrew, she was a tough, cool, unemotional woman, used to taking charge, unwilling to relinquish her control.

  Would he still feel comfortable taking command of her body the way he had before?

  She doubted it. And if he didn’t, she was quite sure she’d lose interest in him very, very quickly.

  And if he did, then at least she’d have the chance at the physical satisfaction she craved.

  His stated aversion to a relationship made it all the better. Unlike Andrew, Cort at least was honest about that, and about his wanderlust. She could go into this knowing there wouldn’t be complications. That she wouldn’t be blindsided by unreasonable expectations or a sudden abandonment when those expectations weren’t met.

  Reaching the end of the corridor and leaving the main construction zone behind, she turned down another hallway, then made a quick left into the isolation ward. It had been packed with some of the equipment they’d had to store during the expansion, so that on entering the room she was presented with what looked a bit like a maze. And, as she stood a couple of steps from the door, she was suddenly assailed with something akin to fear. It held her where she was, her back toward the door, heart pounding, lust like quicksilver in her veins. Her legs trembled as the need in her core spread outwards and her nipples ached in anticipation.

  Not fear, she reassured herself. Desire, and the overwhelming need to know whether Cort would assuage it or be found lacking this time around.

  She wasn’t sure which she’d prefer...