“Leila, I’ve been invited to Seth and Kylie’s wedding on New Year’s Eve. Would you like to come with me?”

Her brows rose in surprise. Quinn inviting her to go out with him again was the last thing she’d expected. And, as much as she would have loved to accept, going with him might be a bit obvious. “I’ve been invited to the wedding too,” she admitted. “So I’m sure I’ll see you there.”

He nodded. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Pasting a brave smile on her face, she opened the front door. “Goodbye, Quinn.”

“Bye, Leila.” He looked as if he wanted to kiss her again, but after a brief hesitation he turned and left.

She closed the door, dropping her forehead against the cool wood frame and closing her eyes in a wave of despair.

Maybe it would be best to avoid seeing Quinn again, since she was beginning to think she didn’t have the ability to indulge in an affair.

Not without opening herself up to a world of hurt.

Laura Iding loved reading as a child, and when she ran out of books she readily made up her own, completing a little detective mini-series when she was twelve. But, despite her aspirations for being an author, her parents insisted she look into a ‘real’ career. So the summer after she turned thirteen she volunteered as a Candy Striper, and fell in love with nursing. Now, after twenty years of experience in trauma/critical care, she’s thrilled to combine her career and her hobby into one—writing Medical™ Romances for Mills & Boon. Laura lives in the northern part of the United States, and spends all her spare time with her two teenage kids (help!)—a daughter and a son—and her husband.

The Surgeon’s
New-Year
Wedding Wish

by

Laura Iding

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is for you, Olga, because you’ve been such a wonderful friend.

Dear Reader

Welcome to Cedar Bluff Hospital, located in a small Wisconsin town overlooking the beautiful rocky shores of Lake Michigan. THE SURGEON’S NEW-YEAR WEDDING WISH is the third book in my new miniseries. I really hope you enjoy reading about Quinn and Leila as much as I enjoyed writing about them.

When Leila first meets Quinn in the trauma room, she thinks he’s nothing more than an arrogant jerk. But a hidden sorrow in his eyes convinces her there’s more to the Emergency Department physician than anyone realises. And when Leila meets Danny, Quinn’s mute son, she understands the physician’s aloofness is nothing more than a way to keep people from getting too close.

A terrible tragedy has robbed his son of the ability to talk, but Quinn is determined that the family-like atmosphere of Cedar Bluff is the best environment to help cure his son. Spending time with beautiful, exotic trauma surgeon Leila Ross isn’t part of his plan. But his fierce attraction for Leila is hard to dismiss. What starts out as a sexy fling quickly turns into something far more complex.

The last thing Quinn wants is a wife. Until both he and his son Danny fall head over heels in love with Leila. A new year means new beginnings. Can he convince beautiful Leila to become a part of his family for ever?

I hope you enjoy THE SURGEON’S NEW-YEAR WEDDING WISH. And if you’ve enjoyed my Cedar Bluff mini-series let me know, so I can convince my editor to let me write stories about more Cedar Bluff Hospital characters.

Happy Reading!

Laura

Chapter One

“WHAT do you have for me?” Leila Ross asked, entering the emergency department of Cedar Bluff’s hospital. As the trauma surgeon on call, she’d been summoned from her home late on Saturday night, Christmas Day night, in fact—not that she’d made any special plans, aside from a date with her bed, and the sound of her pager had jerked her from a restful sleep.

When she saw the tall, dark-haired ED attending physician standing in the center of the arena, her smile faded and her muscles knotted with tension, starting in her shoulders and moving all the way up her neck.

“Twenty-year-old male with acute abdominal pain in his right lower quadrant,” Dr. Quinn Torres said in his lyrical, East Coast voice. If he were any other man, his deep tone and sensual accent might have been attractive. “Elevated white count and acute nausea indicates appendicitis. He’s in room eleven.”

Despite his Boston accent, Quinn Torres looked Italian with his black hair and olive-toned skin, but his dark eyes made her think maybe his genes had come from Spain or Portugal. Her interest in his heritage was nothing more than pure curiosity, since his face was creased in its usual deep, perpetual scowl.

“Okay, I’ll take a look.” Leila swept her long straight hair back into a rubber band and quickly washed her hands before approaching the patient. She glanced at his chart. “Jimmy? My name is Dr. Leila Ross and I’m here to evaluate you for possible surgery.”

Jimmy Lawton glanced up at her, his green eyes full of pain and an unmistakable hint of fear. “Doc, you have to help me. My stomach hurts so bad I can hardly stand it.”

“I will,” she promised gently, placing a reassuring hand on his arm and scanning his vital signs before sending Quinn Torres a sharp glance. “Has he been given anything for pain recently?”

“Of course.” His haughty voice grated on her nerves. Torres was the newest ED physician on staff, having recently replaced Edward Cagney, who’d retired a few months ago. “He was given 8 milligrams of morphine forty minutes ago.”

“I think we’d better give him another dose,” she said, tempering her response with an effort. She didn’t like Quinn Torres. He was rude, arrogant, aloof and couldn’t have been more of an opposite from the rest of the staff at Cedar Bluff, who all radiated warmth and friendliness. He clearly didn’t belong here. Even now, the way he stood in the middle of the trauma room, like a king holding court over his subjects, made her want to poke his inflated arrogance with the tip of her scalpel. Why on earth was he here in Cedar Bluff, when a more prestigious hospital was obviously more his style?

She didn’t know and didn’t really care enough to ask. Liking or disliking Dr. Torres didn’t matter, as she was required to work with him regardless. So far, she couldn’t fault the quality of his medical care, even if he did have the personality of a toad. He was meticulous about everything he did, a trait she reluctantly admired since she was very much the same way.

Quinn gave the nurse a nod and she proceeded to give Jimmy another dose of pain medication. Leila tried to ignore Quinn’s dark, intense gaze as she continued to examine her patient.

“Have you performed any scans?” she asked, when she finished her physical exam.

“No, I thought I’d wait to see what you required.”

Giving an absent nod, she realized she could go either way. A CT scan would be nice, but given Jimmy’s young age and the elevated white count she was fairly certain Quinn’s diagnosis was correct. The CT scan could be a waste of time and she didn’t want a delay to cause his inflamed appendix to burst.

“I’ll take him to the OR to explore his abdomen,” she decided. “I’ll call the supervisor to get the OR crew in.”

“I’ve already ordered the OR crew to come in,” Quinn informed her. “They should be here soon, if they haven’t arrived already.”

His foresight shouldn’t have annoyed her, but it did. She told herself to get over it because, really, she was grateful. This way she could take Jimmy into surgery right away. “Thanks,” she said, trying to smile. “I appreciate it.”

Torres didn’t respond and his lack of congeniality only added to her ire. Would it hurt him to be cordial? She spent a few minutes explaining the procedure to Jimmy, ordered a dose of antibiotics and then asked Susan, the nurse, to get her patient prepped to go upstairs. She turned and reached for the chart at the same time Quinn did and as their fingers tangled, a jolt of heat sizzled all the way down her spine.

“Excuse me,” he said stiffly, turning away at the same moment she’d snatched her hand back. Struggling to calm her racing heart, she stared at his retreating back, stunned by her unexpected, and unwanted, visceral reaction to the man she intensely disliked.

“Do you need anything else, Dr. Ross?” Susan asked, handing over the antibiotic she’d requested.

Leila successfully pulled her attention firmly back to the patient. “No, thanks, Susan. Let’s go.” Leila placed the chart on the bed and helped push Jimmy’s gurney upstairs, still slightly shaken by that brief, electrifying touch. No doubt she’d totally imagined it. She’d been physically and emotionally exhausted this past week, the anniversary of her husband’s death hitting her harder than she’d expected. Even though George had died two years ago, she still missed him.

She’d loved her husband, even if their marriage had been too brief. George Ross had been a wonderful, kind and gentle man. There was no way she was even remotely attracted to a guy like Torres. Absolutely not.

As they reached the OR, she left Jimmy in very capable hands while she took time to scrub, resolutely pushing those irksome thoughts away and focusing every iota of her attention on the patient who needed her care.

Refusing to waste another second thinking about Quinn Torres.

Leila finished operating on Jimmy Lawton, thankfully catching his engorged appendix before it ruptured, only to receive another trauma call. Wryly preparing herself for a long night, minus any sleep, she hustled back down to the ED.

She was surprised to see Quinn was still there. Hadn’t his shift ended at eleven? Apparently not, since he was currently giving orders in a harsh tone that reminded her of a marine drill sergeant.

“What’s going on?” she asked, stepping into the trauma bay. There was a lot of blood surrounding the male patient lying on the gurney, and she could tell he was bleeding from his head, nose and mouth, not to mention the places she couldn’t see, like internally. Two nurses pumped blood and fluid on a level-one rapid infuser while another one scurried to get blood for additional lab work.

“He took a swan dive off the roof of his parents’ two-story house, leaving behind a suicide note. He hit the concrete driveway from an estimated distance of twenty feet.” The pertinent details didn’t come from Quinn, but from the charge nurse. “Took the brunt of the force on his legs, which might be the only reason he’s still alive.”

Oh, boy, she hated jumpers. They were the worst because the trauma was often so severe there wasn’t much chance of survival. Why couldn’t he have hit the snow-covered ground instead? At least then he’d have a better chance.

What a horrible Christmas memory for his parents.

“Leila, he needs to get to the OR, stat,” Quinn said when he saw her. The grimly fierce expression on his face surprised her, no sign of his cool arrogance now. “He’s losing blood faster than we can pump it in and I’m certain he’s bleeding internally.”

She was certain of that, too, but this patient’s status as a viable candidate for the OR wasn’t quite as clear. “What’s the extent of his head injury?” she asked.

“Pupils fixed and dilated. He wasn’t found right away, not until one of his friends kept trying to get in touch with him and called the parents,” Mary, the charge nurse, told her. “Their bedroom is on the other side of the house and they didn’t hear him hit the ground.”

“Fixed and dilated pupils are a bad sign. He needs a neurosurgical consult,” Leila told Quinn.

“I’ve called them and they’re on their way, but he has skull fractures, so there’s a chance he won’t suffer brain death. He needs to go to the OR immediately.” Quinn’s intense insistence was very unlike him. Where was his cool detachment?

Upon examining the patient closer, she realized his legs appeared firm and unnaturally taut. Compartment syndrome, bleeding into the tissue around the bone, was a serious, life-threatening complication of multiple trauma. “What is his tissue perfusion pressure?” she asked sharply.

Quinn shook his head, indicating he hadn’t checked it.

Leila glanced at the nurse. “Get me the Stryker STIC monitor, we need to know what his tissue perfusion levels are.”

“Draw a myoglobin level and a lactic acid level, too,” Quinn added, quickly realizing the danger.

She set up the monitor and then inserted a needle into the patient’s muscle. Quinn leaned over to see the reading for himself.

“We’re losing his blood pressure,” one of the nurses running the rapid infuser warned. “Do you want more blood or saline?”

“Both,” Leila and Quinn responded at the same time.

“Two more units of blood and one liter of fluid,” Quinn clarified. “Make sure you have his vasopressors turned up as high as possible.”

“Tissue perfusion pressures are elevated at 38 millimeters of mercury,” Leila said, glancing at Quinn. “I’ll take him to the OR for a stat fasciotomy in both legs and I’ll explore his belly, too. But it’s likely that this massive fluid resuscitation isn’t helping his brain injury at all, so you must realize his prognosis is poor.”

“I know.” Quinn’s dark eyes were grim, haunted, as if he was taking this young man’s fate directly to heart. “I’ll talk to his parents. Please do your best.”

“I will.” Leila turned and quickly gave orders for the patient to be moved up to the OR.

Her adrenaline was pumping, heightening her awareness as she prepared for surgery. The young man’s name was Anton Mayer and as she finished her scrub and entered the OR, she noticed his condition wasn’t any better. In fact, if anything, he looked worse.

Feeling slightly sick to her stomach, Leila reached for her scalpel. She was going to keep her promise to Quinn and do everything possible, but she had an awful feeling that Anton was going to die.

Not yet, she reminded herself grimly, doing the fasciotomy to both lower extremities first and then preparing to explore his abdomen. He wasn’t going to die yet.

But after working on his legs, she moved to his abdomen and when she saw he had a severely fractured kidney, she knew things were worse than she’d feared. She took the damaged kidney out but the bleeding was profuse. She could barely see where the source of the bleeding was coming from in the sea of blood.

“We’re losing him,” Dirk Greenfield, the anesthesiologist, warned. “I can’t sustain his blood pressure.”

“Keep trying,” Leila said, praying she could find the source of his bleeder. Although there was likely more than one source. Sweat dampened the back of her scrubs, running down the sides of her face. She tried to tackle one emergency at a time.

“Blood pressure is gone, he’s in PEA.”

PEA was pulseless electrical activity, which basically meant the kid was bleeding to death. Or he’d already herniated his brain from all the fluids they’d given during the trauma resuscitation.

“Bolus him with epi, I found the arterial bleed.” At least she’d found one of them, though she suspected there could be more.

“I already bolused him with epinephrine several times. Now he’s in a wide complex rhythm.”

“No!” Leila didn’t so much as glance at the heart monitor, keeping her gaze focused on what she was doing. One more stitch and she’d have the artery closed off. Then she could take a look at his spleen. Maybe that was the other major source of his bleeding.

Finishing with the artery, she quickly switched the focus of her exploration on the area of his spleen, cutting the splenic artery in an effort to minimize the blood loss. But once the artery was open, she realized the blood wasn’t pulsing at all, but simply oozing at a slow rate.

Horrified, she glanced up at the monitor, realizing it was too late.

“Didn’t you hear me, Leila?” Dirk asked. “I said he’s gone.”

She momentarily squeezed her eyes closed and dropped her chin to her chest. She hadn’t heard, hadn’t wanted to believe what her professional eyes were telling her. After taking a moment to compose herself, she lifted her head and glanced at the clock. “Time of death 1:32 a.m.”

There was nothing more they could have done. She knew it, yet that didn’t make the prospect of telling Anton’s parents that their seventeen-year-old son was dead any easier.

When she returned to the ED, Quinn immediately crossed over, although he stopped abruptly when he saw by her expression that the news wasn’t good.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a weary tone. “I did the bilateral fasciotomies, but he had a severely fractured kidney, a ruptured spleen and so much other internal damage along with his head injury that I just couldn’t save him.”

Quinn stood there for a long moment, his jaw clenched, his gaze dark and resigned as he gave a brief nod. “I’ll talk to his parents.”

She wasn’t sure why, maybe because he seemed to be taking the news so hard, but she reached out to touch him. “I’m the surgeon of record. I should do it.”

As still as a statue, he stared at her hand on his arm as if it was something he’d never seen before and then finally raised tortured eyes to hers. “We’ll both go,” he said in a low, gruff voice.

Surprised by his acquiescence, she simply nodded and walked alongside him to the small private waiting room he’d given to the boy’s parents, not far from the larger public one.

His mother took one look at them and promptly burst into tears.

Quinn opened his mouth, but no sound emerged from his throat. He swallowed hard and sent Leila a silent plea for help.

Leila stepped up. “My name is Dr. Ross. I took Anton for emergency surgery, but he had too many injuries, to his spleen, his kidneys and his brain. I’m so sorry to tell you, he’s gone.”

“No-o-o,” wailed the mother, collapsing onto her husband for support. When Anton’s father broke into harsh sobs, his large shoulders shaking with grief, Leila felt her own eyes well up, too.

This part of her job never got any easier. Never.

“Why did he do this?” Anton’s mother asked. “Why?”

Again she had no answers. She glanced toward Quinn, whose face was drawn so tight he almost looked angry, but the agonized expression in his gaze reinforced his struggle to hide his own grief and helplessness.

“It’s not your fault,” Quinn finally said, taking a step forward to put a reassuring hand on the sobbing woman’s shoulder. “Please know, this isn’t your fault.”

“It has to be our fault!” The woman cried, nearly incoherent in her distress. “How could we not have known he was so unhappy? How could we have missed it?”

“It’s not your fault,” Quinn repeated.

“Teen suicide is very tragic,” Leila said in a soft tone, picking up a pamphlet from the rack of educational brochures on the wall. “It’s normal to feel responsible, but you need to know Dr. Torres is right. This isn’t your fault.” She slid the pamphlet toward Anton’s mother. “There’s a support group here for parents just like you. When things calm down after a few weeks, please consider giving them a call.”

Anton’s mother continued to cry and didn’t take the brochure. Anton’s father pulled himself together, the gut-wrenching sobs eventually quieting, and he reached for the information, folding the pamphlet before sliding it in his pocket. Leila sincerely hoped they’d get the help they needed.

After a few more minutes, she and Quinn left them alone. The ED nurses would keep an eye on the parents and for now their job was over.

“That was a rough one,” Leila murmured to Quinn. “He was so young.”

“Any suicide is rough, regardless of how young the patient is,” Quinn said in a harsh tone. “Suicide is a horrible thing to do to a family.”

Shocked by his outburst, she didn’t know what to say.

Instantly, his face changed, resuming the remote, cold mask he normally wore. “Excuse me, but I need to make rounds on the other patients in the arena.”

He left and Leila stared after him, the brief moment of camaraderie between them having vanished in a heartbeat.

Yet she wasn’t angry or upset. As she watched him move toward the arena and speak to the charge nurse, she found herself wondering about the enigmatic physician.

Because she was fairly certain Quinn Torres wasn’t nearly as arrogant and rude as she’d originally thought.

She was beginning to realize his outward aloofness might be a shield to hide the suffering he was feeling inside.

Chapter Two

QUINN tried not to dwell on Anton Mayer’s death as he finished the remainder of his work and prepared to head home. He’d split the night shift with Jadon Reichert who’d come in to relieve him at three in the morning to cover Simon Carter’s holiday. It was only fair, as Simon had worked the night shift on Christmas Eve.

Physically exhausted and emotionally drained, he crawled into bed, hoping to get at least four hours of sleep before he had to get up to face the day.

Yet as soon as he closed his eyes, the image of Anton’s bloody face bloomed in his mind. Squeezing his eyes tight and trying to push it away didn’t help because he could still hear the desperate sobs of Anton’s parents echoing through the room as Leila told them Anton was gone.

The young man’s death haunted him.

He didn’t need a psychiatrist to explain why. He knew full well the events of the night reminded him too much of his wife, Celeste. She hadn’t jumped off a two-story building onto concrete, but she’d died by her own hand just the same, abruptly ending her young life far too soon.

He’d resented reliving the grief and angst all over again while talking to Anton’s parents. Knowing you should have saved someone and hadn’t was an awful feeling. He’d known exactly what dark hopelessness they’d felt.

Thank heavens for Leila. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if she hadn’t come with him. She’d been the one who’d given them the bad news. And she’d also cried with them, while he’d stood and helplessly watched.

And then she’d tried to comfort him, and he’d snapped at her. He’d learned in the months since Celeste’s death that rudeness and arrogance kept people away.

So why did he regret the way he’d spoken to Leila?

Scrubbing his hands over his face, wishing he could erase the scars of the past as easily, he stared through the darkness up at the ceiling. He owed the beautiful, exotic surgeon a debt of gratitude. And an apology. She hadn’t deserved the harsh edge of his anger.

Thinking of Leila helped him to forget about Anton, at least temporarily. Those few moments when their fingers had tangled over the chart had sent his pulse skyrocketing into triple digits. The physical reaction, akin to being poked with a laser-tipped bovie, had startled him. He hadn’t felt anything remotely like it in the many months since Celeste’s death.

Leila was a good surgeon, he’d figured that out shortly after working with her the very first time. And she was the one who’d noticed Anton’s compartment syndrome in his legs. He didn’t blame her for not being able to save the young man. He’d known right from the first that Anton’s chances of surviving his severe injury had been slim.

Leila’s ability to be compassionate with her patients and their families, while maintaining her professionalism, was a trait he admired.

Yet admiring the woman was one thing, being interested in her on a personal level was completely out of the question. Certainly she was beautiful, her ethnicity portraying a hint of the Orient, with her slightly almondshaped eyes and straight black hair. But he’d been surrounded by beautiful women before and hadn’t once felt even a flicker of interest.

Testosterone, he thought as exhaustion weighted his eyelids. He was a man who’d been celibate for too long and she was a beautiful woman. His response to her had been nothing more than chemistry, plain and simple.

Nothing more.

A gentle, yet insistent patting on his chest caused Quinn to rouse from sleep. He swallowed a groan and groggily opened his eyes, realizing he was not alone.

His six-year old son, Danny, was patting his chest, silently asking him to wake up. He swiped the grit from his eyes and smiled at him. “Good morning, Danny,” he said, hoping but not expecting a response.

Danny grinned, showing a small gap between his two front baby teeth. His son signed the word breakfast and Quinn nodded.

“Yes, I’m hungry for breakfast, too.” He automatically signed the words, even though he knew perfectly well there was nothing wrong with Danny’s ability to hear. Still, if he didn’t practice his signing, he tended to get rusty. “Where’s Auntie D.?”

In the kitchen, making oatmeal, Danny signed in response. She wants to know if you want some, too.

“Sure.” He might have preferred eggs and bacon, but Celeste’s aunt, Delores Newkirk, had been on a major health food regimen lately, so he suspected fried eggs and bacon were not an option. He was so grateful that she’d stepped up to help him with Danny, agreeing not only to taking care of his son during whatever chaotic hours he had to work but also relocating with them from Boston to the tiny town of Cedar Bluff, that he’d decided long ago not to complain. He couldn’t imagine raising his son without the help of the plump, middle-aged godsend, the one member of his wife’s family who didn’t blame him for Celeste’s death, although he certainly understood their feelings. “Just give me a few minutes to shower and I’ll be ready.”

Danny grinned again. Okay, but you’d better hurry ’cause oatmeal tastes bad when it’s cold.

“Right.” He nodded in agreement, swinging his legs out of bed and wishing there was an easy way to mainline caffeine. He needed to blow the cobwebs from his brain. The scent of coffee teased him mercilessly as he made his way to the shower.

Fifteen minutes later, he padded into the kitchen, where Delores was seated at the kitchen table across from Danny. “Good morning, Quinn. Did you have a rough night?”

“Not too bad,” he said with a shrug, making a beeline for the coffeemaker. “Thanks for making breakfast.”

“You came home pretty late,” she commented. Her tone was casual, but the glint in her eye betrayed her interest. “Did you go out after your shift?”

Quinn hid a sigh. Lately, Delores was becoming obsessed with his social life or lack thereof. He was growing weary of her not-so-subtle hints. “No, the night shift physician worked Christmas Eve night, so I split the shift with the day shift doctor to cover the night shift for Christmas night. I stayed until three in the morning and Jadon came in at three.”

“Oh.” She wrinkled her nose in disappointment. Then her expression brightened. “But you’re off the rest of the day, right?”

“Yes, and so are you.” He took a seat next to her at the table and helped himself to the large bowl of oatmeal she’d set out for him. “You’re going down to Chicago for a holiday visit with your sister today, and don’t pretend you’ve forgotten.”

“But I don’t have to go if you need me to stay here,” she said, rising to her feet to refill her coffee mug. “Cynthia would surely understand if Danny needs me to stay.”

“Hardly,” he muttered, unable to imagine his wife’s mother caring one way or the other about the grandson she hadn’t seen in well over a year. Her anger toward Quinn at causing her daughter’s death had unfortunately carried over to his and Celeste’s son. He felt bad for Danny, not himself. “In fact, if you don’t go, she’ll blame me for that, too.”

Delores sighed and nodded. “I guess you’re right. But what about next weekend? Surely you can make some plans to go out next weekend?”

“I’ll think about it,” Quinn said evasively. Next weekend was New Year so it was unlikely he’d make special plans for then, either. He turned toward his son, who was listening intently to their conversation. “So, Danny, what would you like to do today? Are you ready for another video game challenge?”

You didn’t forget about sledding, did you? Danny signed, his eyes widening in alarm.

“Sledding?” Quinn repeated in confusion. He glanced questioningly at Delores.

“The sledding party is later this afternoon,” Delores clarified, doing as Quinn did, signing and talking. She sent Quinn an apologetic glance. “Ah, do you have a sled for him to use?”

“No, but we can run to the store later,” Quinn said. He smiled at his son. “How about we play video games for a while first, then we’ll go buy a sled?”

Danny nodded vigorously. Okay. But you know I always beat you when we play.

Quinn laughed. “Not this time. I’ve been practicing when you’ve been asleep.”

Danny flashed him a pitying look that clearly indicated he didn’t believe him as he slid down from his seat and carried his empty oatmeal bowl over to the sink. Hurry up, he signed before darting into the living room.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to encourage those video games?” Delores asked once Danny had left. “After all, those games aren’t going to encourage him to talk.”

“He’ll talk when he’s ready,” he said, repeating what Dr. Nancy Adams had told him. Nancy was a semiretired speech pathologist who’d graciously agreed to take Danny’s case when Quinn had explained the circumstances around his son’s traumatic muteness. He’d relocated to Cedar Bluff just for the chance to have Danny work with her. Of course, the small-town feel of Cedar Bluff was pretty nice, too. At least so far the kids in Danny’s first-grade class hadn’t begun to ridicule him.

“I hope you’re right,” Delores said, before getting up from the table. “I guess I’ll get ready to go visit my sister, unless you’ve changed your mind?”

“Go on, you deserve some time away from here,” he urged.

Delores left him to finish his oatmeal in peace. As he enjoyed the maple and brown sugar flavor he thought about Danny. He trusted Nancy’s knowledge and skill, yet at the same time he’d begun to despair that his son would ever speak again. The kids his age welcomed him into their group now, but what would happen in a few years? Kids could be incredibly cruel, and generally those who were “different” took the brunt of the teasing.

He couldn’t bear the thought of Danny becoming ostracized by the other kids because of his self-imposed silence.

With a weary sigh, he shoved the troubling thoughts aside, finished his breakfast and stood, cleaning up the mess from their meal before going to join his son in the video game challenge.

All he could do for now was to wait and see. Hopefully, Dr. Adams would find the key to unlock Danny’s voice.

That afternoon was bright and sunny, perfect weather for sledding, and Quinn found himself standing awkwardly next to several other parents at the Cedar Bluff sledding hill. Since he was still relatively new to the area, and worked odd hours, he didn’t know most of them, not even by sight, especially because Delores was the one who picked up Danny from school. The only familiar face belonged to Seth Taylor, one of the emergency department attending physicians.

Quinn tended to avoid small talk, hating having to answer all the questions that invariably followed the moment people realized Danny was mute. He generally used his bluntness to keep people away, not wanting his personal life to become the source of small-town gossip.

Instead, he kept his eye on his son. Danny was having a great time, sledding down the hill in his new plastic bright blue sled. Quinn noticed that two of the boys, Ben Germaine, who was Seth’s fiancée’s son, and Charlie Atkins, another boy in their class, acted very friendly toward Danny, as if they didn’t care about his lack of speech.

“Come on, Danny. Let’s ride together!” Charlie said excitedly.

Danny eagerly nodded and climbed onto his blue sled, moving up to the front and indicating with gestures for Charlie to climb on the back. The sound of Charlie’s young, carefree laughter rang through the air as they started down the hill.

A slight smile tugged at the corners of Quinn’s mouth as he gazed after the boys. It was times like this that he was glad he’d made the move to Cedar Bluff. He was grateful that Danny had already found some friends. Maybe Cedar Bluff didn’t have the same lure for adults as Boston, but as far as he was concerned Danny’s wellbeing was all that mattered.

He frowned, though, when Danny’s blue sled veered off course, turning sharply to the right, heading directly toward a line of trees.

“Danny!” he shouted, through cupped hands, taking several steps forward. “Watch where you’re going!”

He couldn’t tell what happened. It seemed as if the boys were somehow tangled up on the sled and not steering at all because the lightweight plastic sled gathered speed as it shot down the slippery slope toward a large oak tree.

“Danny!” Quinn shouted again, running down the hill toward his son, feeling helpless when he realized he wasn’t going to make it in time. “Danny!”

Too late. The sled hit the tree with enough force to knock both boys sprawling into the snow.

Leila finished her lunch in the ED staff break room and leaned back against the sofa cushions, momentarily closing her eyes. Only another twenty-four hours and her long weekend call rotation would be over. At least today should be relatively quiet—it wasn’t exactly a party night of the week, compared to Friday and Saturday. The holiday weekend couldn’t end soon enough. She was exhausted, the steady stream of patients had been unusual considering it was Christmas.

She sighed, thinking she would just rest for a few more minutes. What seemed like a nanosecond later, a hand on her shoulder caused her to jerk upright, and she realized Jadon Reichert, the ED attending physician on duty, was trying to wake her up.

“What?” she asked groggily, trying to shake off her lethargy. Disoriented, she blinked away her blurred vision to focus on the large wall clock, noting with shock that she’d slept for more than an hour and a half.

“Leila? Sorry to bother you but we have two peds traumas on the way in,” Jadon said, his expression apologetic for needing to rouse her.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she muttered, pushing herself upright.

“Hey, no problem,” Jadon said with a wry grin. “I’d cover the rest of your shift for you, but I think hospital administration might frown on me for performing surgery without the proper credentials.”

She had to chuckle as she rose to her feet. “Yes, they probably would. Okay, I’m really awake now. What’s coming in? Did I hear you say we have two peds traumas?”

Jadon’s smile faded, his gaze turning serious. “Two young boys hit a tree while sledding at Cedar Bluff Park.”

Leila frowned, her stomach clenching in warning. This was one of the reasons she was glad she’d decided not to have kids. “Please tell me one of them isn’t Ben Germaine.”

“No, not this time,” Jadon assured her. “Although it sounds as if Seth Taylor was on the scene, along with Quinn.”

Quinn? How odd. But she didn’t give the coincidence more than a passing thought.

“Thank heavens Ben wasn’t involved.” Ben was Kylie and Seth’s son and the boy tended to be a bit accident prone. Earlier that month, he’d slipped on the rocks and tumbled into the icy water of Lake Michigan. Jadon’s new fiancée, Alyssa, had fallen in herself, when trying to save him. She’d been pregnant at the time, seven and a half months along with twins. Leila had been there when they’d been brought in and it was touch and go for a while. Thankfully, everyone was fine now, including Jadon and Alyssa’s twin girls, Grace and Gretchen, born several weeks early. The entire incident had been very scary, touching many of the Cedar Bluff staff members who’d been concerned when one of their own had been injured.

Technically, Ben was Kylie’s son, but it was clear from Seth’s actions that he already considered the boy to be his own. Seth and Kylie were getting married next weekend, on New Year’s Eve.

She envied their happiness, although reminded herself that she’d been lucky to have loved a wonderful man like George. George had understood and respected her hesitancy to have children, considering she didn’t know anything about her heritage. Heaven knew what genes she’d be passing on. She missed him, and tried to be grateful for the few months they’d shared together.

Pushing the sorrows of the past aside, Leila was going to ask more details about their young patients, but in that moment both their pagers went off.

“They’re here,” he said, leaving the staff break room in a rush to get out to the trauma room. Leila followed close on his heels, her previous exhaustion quickly submerged beneath a fresh wave of adrenaline.

“Danny is the more seriously injured of the two,” Kylie Germaine was saying, as the gurneys were wheeled in. Leila was surprised to see Quinn Torres walking on the opposite side of the gurney from Kylie, hanging on to the boy’s hand. What on earth had he been doing on the sledding hill? “Danny is six years old, weighs an estimated thirty pounds and has sustained a head injury and possible fractured left tibia.”

“And what about the second victim?” Leila asked, not willing to take only the paramedic’s word about which patient was worse, no matter how much she liked and trusted Kylie. She needed to make her own judgment.

Quinn opened his mouth, but Kylie put a hand on his arm and continued, not giving him the chance to interrupt.

“Charlie Atkins is also six years old, also estimated to be about thirty pounds and he doesn’t seem to have any obvious signs of injury,” Kylie informed them. “Charlie’s vitals are stable. Danny Torres was in the front of the sled and took the brunt of the force when they hit the tree.”

Danny Torres? Leila suppressed a spurt of surprise in discovering Quinn had a son. She never would have guessed him to be a father. Did Quinn have a wife, too?

And why did she care?

Her gaze centered on the boy. Danny was crying, but not making much noise, his sobs choked as if he was afraid to make any sound. Her heart melted in empathy. She crossed over to him, trying to ignore Quinn’s sharp, penetrating gaze.

“Hi, Danny, my name is Dr. Leila and I’m here to help make you feel better.” She gave Danny her best reassuring smile and the boy struggled to stop crying, seemingly listening to her soft voice. “You’re being very brave, Danny. I know you’re hurt. The nurse is going to give you something to take away your pain, but first I need to ask you a few questions. Can you tell me exactly where it hurts the most? Which part of your body hurts the most?”

Danny pointed to his left leg and looked up at his father, tears continuing to trickle silently down his ruddy cheeks.

“No, Danny can’t tell you where it hurts,” Quinn said in a low, rough voice full of parental concern. “He doesn’t talk, but he does know sign language. I’ll translate for him.”

Chapter Three

“DANNY doesn’t talk?” Leila said with a frown. That didn’t make sense, since Danny seemed to hear her just fine. Unless he was extremely skilled at lip-reading? “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize he was deaf.”

“He’s not deaf,” Quinn said in a clipped, irritated tone. “He just doesn’t talk.” Quinn’s jaw was tense as if he didn’t like having to explain his son’s situation. He turned toward the boy and his voice became gentle. “Danny, Dr. Ross wants to know where you hurt. Tell us exactly what hurts you, okay?”

Danny pointed to his left leg and his forehead. He had the same jet-black hair as his father, and the same dark compelling eyes. The resemblance between father and son was striking.

“What about your stomach, Danny?” Leila persisted. “Does your stomach hurt? Or maybe your ribs?”

Danny shook his head, big, fat tears trickling down his cheeks. For some reason, those silent tears bothered her more than if he’d been wailing loudly. Kylie had stabilized his left lower leg, containing his possible fracture within an inflatable boot, but for the moment she was more concerned about the extent of his head injury. “Okay, Danny, I’m going to examine you for a minute here. I’m going to flash a small light into your eyes, okay? Can you look over my shoulder at the wall behind me?”

Danny nodded and complied with her request. His pupils were unequal but did react to light. “Any blurred vision, Danny? Or ringing in your ears? Do you feel sick to your stomach?”

Quinn’s son shook his head to all her questions.

She could feel Quinn’s intense gaze and couldn’t help wondering if he didn’t trust her judgment. At least, not when it came to his son.

“Danny, can you tell me where you are?” To this point, she’d given him all yes or no questions, but now she needed to really assess his brain function. “What is this place?”

“Hospital,” Quinn said when Danny made a few graceful gestures with his small hands. “The hospital where my dad works.”

“Good. Now, tell me which holiday we just had?”

For a moment the boy’s forehead furrowed, as if he had to think about her question.

She glanced at Quinn. “Do you celebrate the holiday?”

Quinn nodded. “Which holiday did we just have, Danny?” he asked, signing the question at the same time.

“Christmas,” Quinn said when Danny responded by signing again. “He says he received a games console for Christmas.”

“Ah, I bet that’s fun. I heard Ben Germaine got one, too. Do you let your dad play with it or is it only for kids?” she asked.

For the first time, a smile broke through on Danny’s young face. He nodded, his fingers flew again and she found herself wishing she knew sign language herself, so she could communicate better with the boy directly, without needing Quinn.

“Yes, he lets me play so that he can win,” Quinn translated.

She laughed. “Good for you, Danny. I’d love to watch you beat your dad. Now, is it okay if I listen to your heart and lungs?”

Danny nodded, and she quickly auscultated his heart, lungs and stomach before straightening to glance at Quinn.

“He certainly seems stable, but with his pupils being slightly unequal in size, I’d like to get a CT scan of his head, just to make sure we’re not missing anything more serious. We can also get the X-rays of his leg at the same time. I’d like to have the films ready before I call the orthopedic surgeon on call to take a look at his leg.”

“All right,” Quinn said, giving his consent. “I’d like to go with him to the radiology department.”

“Of course. And we’ll give him something for pain, too, since I’m sure his leg will be hurting once they take that boot off.” For an awkward moment she hesitated, wondering if she should ask about Danny’s mother or not. Quinn wasn’t exactly forthcoming about his personal life. He was dressed casually, in a pair of black jeans and a black sweater, and she’d noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, which didn’t necessarily mean a whole lot these days. “Is there…anyone else you’d like us to notify?”

“No.” Quinn’s response was blunt.

Danny was frowning and he tugged on his father’s arm to get his attention. The boy signed a question. She watched with a puzzled frown, wondering what was wrong.

“If I call Auntie D., she’ll cut her visit short,” Quinn said to Danny’s silent question. She noticed Quinn signed and spoke to Danny at the same time, regardless of the fact that Danny could hear. “I’ll call her later on to let her know what happened, okay?”

“Auntie D.?” Leila repeated, knowing full well she was poking her nose into his personal business yet unable to help herself.

Quinn hesitated, as if he might not answer, but then said, “Danny’s caregiver. She’s really Danny’s greataunt, she helps look after Danny while I’m at work.”

“I see.” So there was an Auntie D. in the picture, but no mother. She wanted to ask more, but this wasn’t the time as she still needed to call Radiology to get the CT scan and X-rays, and check out her other patient. “Give me a few minutes to get the radiology exams ordered.”

When she’d finished making all the arrangements, she crossed over to where Jadon was examining Charlie. “How is he?”

“Fine. I can’t find any major signs of injury other than maybe a sprained wrist.”

“Great.” She smiled at Charlie. “Guess you’re pretty lucky, huh? At least you won’t be stuck in a cast, like Danny will be.”

Charlie frowned at the news. “I think my wrist needs a cast, too,” he said in a serious tone, holding up his injured wrist. “It hurts really, really bad.”

“Hmm.” She hid a smile and pretended to consider his words as she gently manipulated his wrist. “We could put an immobilizer on for a few days, it’s not as bulky as a cast but it should work to keep the pain and swelling down. But that means you won’t be able to play any video games.”

“No video games?” Charlie’s eyes widened comically as he realized the impact of his request.

“Nope.” She took a small wrist immobilizer from the cart even though they generally didn’t like to use them because some exercise was good for mildly injured joints, but she wasn’t worried because she suspected this particular immobilizer wouldn’t last on Charlie’s wrist for very long anyway. She placed it over his sore wrist. “Now, you should wear this during the day, but once your wrist starts to feel better, you can take it off.”

“Okay.” Charlie seemed satisfied with the compromise. His mother rushed in and he proudly held up his wrist. “Mom, I got a sprain!”

“A sprain? Let me see.” The woman examined his wrist, then put a hand on her son’s head, checking for other signs of the sledding crash. She gave Leila a harried glance. “Does he have any other injuries? Is he really all right?”

“Yes, he’s fine.” Leila gave her a reassuring smile. “And he can take off the immobilizer once his wrist begins to feel better or once he’s tired of wearing it. You’re just in time as he’s all ready to be discharged home.”

“Thank heavens,” Charlie’s mother muttered, giving him a quick hug. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, do you hear me?” she said to her son.

“I won’t. But can I see Danny before I go?”

Leila glanced over to where Quinn and Danny were still waiting to head over to the radiology department. “Yes, I’m sure Danny wouldn’t mind if you went over to say goodbye.”

Charlie scrambled down from the gurney with a guiding hand from his mother and went over to his friend. Danny didn’t speak and Charlie didn’t know sign language, but it was clear to her that the boys still managed to communicate with each other just fine between Charlie’s words and Danny’s gestures.

Moments later, the transport team came to pick up Danny for his tests.

“Let’s get this place cleared up. We’ll put Danny in a regular room in the arena when he gets back,” Leila said to Amy, the nurse in charge for the day.

“Okay. What do you think is wrong with Danny that he won’t talk?” Amy asked, as she began to clear the area.

“I don’t know and it’s not any of our business one way or the other,” Leila said in a tone meant to squash the rumor mill. She headed over to the nearest workstation to finish documenting Danny’s assessment.

Although as she completed the necessary paperwork, she couldn’t help wondering the same thing. Why on earth didn’t Danny talk? Especially if he could hear and understand perfectly well?

Since Quinn had purposefully kept quiet about Danny’s situation, she figured he wasn’t going to tell her just to satisfy her idle curiosity.

It was an hour and a half later before Danny’s leg was put in a cast, the X-rays having revealed a clean break in his left tibia. The bright lights had started to bother him, though, so as soon as the boy’s cast had been applied, Quinn had shut down the lights.

Leila entered the room, holding the report containing Danny’s CT scan results. “Danny’s CT scan is clear, Quinn, but I have to tell you, I’d feel better if we kept an eye on him here overnight. Jadon agrees with me on this.”

Quinn read the results and then glanced down at Danny. “I don’t know if that’s necessary. I can keep an eye on him at home just as well.”

He was right. As a medical professional he knew exactly what changes to look for. Still, he was also Danny’s father and if she sent Danny home, Quinn would get little if any sleep.

“Yes, you could,” she admitted, “but Danny does have a concussion and rather than put the burden on you, I’d prefer to keep him here so that we can keep a close eye out for any subtle neurologic changes. Besides, with that cast he’s going to need some decent pain management during the night, too.”

When Quinn still hesitated, his expression torn, she put a reassuring hand on his arm. “Stay for one night. By the morning he should be feeling better.”

He stared at her hand and then slowly lifted his gaze to her face. Just as before, a strange undercurrent of awareness tingled between them and she saw a flash of desire in his eyes before it vanished so quickly she might have imagined it.

“All right. We’ll stay.”

“Great.” She dropped her hand from his arm, and tried not to cover her confusion. She didn’t understand why she reacted this way to a man who was nothing more than a colleague. She turned toward the door. “I’ll tell Jadon to arrange for a bed.”

“Leila?” His deep husky voice saying her name stopped her in her tracks.

Her mouth went dry. She nervously licked her lips as she turned to face him. “Yes?”

“Thanks.” His serious gaze bored into hers. “You were wonderful with Danny.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled and then went out to the arena to ask Amy to arrange for Danny’s transfer upstairs.

Once the task was finished, she went to relax in the lounge, letting Jadon take over the management of the ED. As she let her eyes drift closed, she tried to figure out why loathing Quinn Torres had been so much easier than liking him.

Quinn’s forearm tingled from Leila’s innocent touch long after she’d left. He took several deep breaths, trying to ignore the sensation, but to no avail. Of course, it didn’t help that a hint of her jasmine scent lingered in the air.

Admit it, he told himself harshly, you’re sexually attracted to her, no matter how much you wish you weren’t. Quinn took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He would have preferred his hormones to stay in their deep freeze rather than flowing hotly, urgently through his bloodstream like heat-seeking missiles aiming for the closest female within touching distance.

He closed his eyes, trying to slow his racing heart, knowing that Delores was probably right. He’d been alone for too long. Thank heavens she wasn’t here as he didn’t think he’d hidden his reaction to Leila very well and she would have pounced on the attraction with a barely restrained glee.

He wasn’t interested in a relationship. Would never again open himself up to the pain and agony of marriage. But he wasn’t a monk either. Apparently his body was letting him know that he needed sex.

Leila’s image bloomed in his mind, instantly causing his groin to tighten with need.

No. Not Leila. Not anyone here in Cedar Bluff. Small-town secrets were an oxymoron because there simply weren’t any. Everyone always knew everyone else’s business. He’d been amazed that he’d been able to hide the truth regarding Danny’s muteness for as long as he had. Although he suspected it was just a matter of time before someone became curious enough to search through back newspaper articles to discover the truth.

Not Leila. As much as he didn’t particularly like the idea, he’d be better off going to Chicago, losing himself in the anonymity of the big-city bar scene. Normally, he wouldn’t even entertain the idea, but what choice did he have? Long-term relationships were out of the question, so he’d have to make do with a quick fling, where no one would get hurt. Women seemed attracted to him and he knew he wouldn’t have to go home alone if he didn’t want to.

“Dr. Torres? Danny’s room is ready now.” Amy, the cheerful nurse who’d helped minister to Danny’s needs, smiled at him. Annoying to realize he didn’t feel one iota of desire for her. So much for his theory about responding to any woman within touching distance. What was wrong with him? Why was he so acutely aware of Leila?

“Thanks.” He unfolded his lean frame and stood, stretching the kinks out of his neck. Danny didn’t like the bright lights, but tolerated the ride upstairs to the fourth-floor children’s wing well enough.

“Is there anything else you need before I go?” Amy asked, her smile a tad too bright. He had the sense she was way too curious about Danny.

Maybe she’d be the one to do the Internet search. The knowledge made him tense and scowl. He would do anything to protect his son.

“No,” he said bluntly, not caring if he sounded rude. Rudeness helped keep people’s curiosity at bay. When she left, he settled into a chair next to Danny’s bed. Seconds later, a young pediatric nurse named Elizabeth came in to perform an admission assessment on his son. He dreaded having to explain about Danny’s inability to speak all over again, but Amy must have done a good job of handing over care because Elizabeth didn’t pry for more information, but kept her questions to Danny easy so he could simply respond with a nod or headshake.

Danny didn’t want the television on, even with the cartoon channel playing his favorite movie, so Quinn sat in the quiet darkness, forcing himself to relax.

Which wouldn’t be so difficult if his thoughts wouldn’t persist in returning to Leila.

Chicago. Maybe Delores was right about him needing to get out there. He could use the New-Year weekend to go to Chicago. A night of mindless sex would certainly help erase Leila from his mind.

He must have fallen asleep for a while, because all too soon the nurses brought dinner in for Danny. He watched as they did a very comprehensive neuro check, asking him questions that he helped answer through interpreting Danny’s sign language.

“Dr. Torres, we have a parent kit here if you’re planning to spend the night,” Elizabeth offered.

“Thanks.” He took the kit containing toothbrush, toothpaste, a comb, etc., and set it aside. His jeans and sweater had been comfortable enough for sledding but now he found them too warm and constrictive in the confines of Danny’s room.

After Danny had eaten his dinner, not much but enough to satisfy the nurses, he stood. “I’ll be back in a little while, Danny. I’m going to go down to get a pair of scrubs to change into.”

Scrubs? Danny signed. Can I get some, too?

“Sorry, but they don’t have any kids’ sizes,” he said. “But your hospital pajamas are very similar to scrubs. I’ll show you when I get back how close they’ll match.”

Okay. Danny settled down onto the bed, not seeming to have too much energy.

“Does your head still hurt?” Quinn asked.

Yes, the light makes it worse.

He tried to squelch his concern, knowing the nurses were keeping a close eye on Danny’s concussion. Still, he bent over to give Danny a big hug anyway, grateful that the sledding accident hadn’t been worse.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised.

Quinn paused in the hallway outside Danny’s room to tell Elizabeth he’d be gone for a while, before heading down to the OR locker rooms. All the physician staff were given access, scrubs were provided for everyone free of charge. The physician lounge, located in the center space between the male and female locker rooms, was empty.

Finding his size wasn’t easy, the scrubs seemed to be either too big or too small. Finally he found what he needed. Feeling much better in the loose-fitting garments, Quinn bundled up his clothes and headed back into the lounge, stopping short when he found Leila sitting on the small sofa with one leg crossed over the other, her face betraying her exhaustion as she gingerly massaged the sole of one bare foot.

“Quinn.” She looked surprised and maybe a little embarrassed to see him. “How’s Danny?”

“He’s fine.” Instantly, her scent filled his head. Damn, since when had he been so tuned in to one woman? Then his gaze dropped to her small, dainty foot. He knew the two trauma surgeons took turns being on call, he’d bet she’d been on her feet all weekend. “You need someone to do that for you,” he said, indicating the way she’d continued to massage her foot.

A wry smile tugged at her mouth. “You offering?”

He hadn’t meant to, but surprised himself by nodding. “Sure.” He set his clothes on a nearby chair and knelt beside her chair.

“No. Really. I was just teasing.” With her eyes widening in alarm, Leila dropped her foot and frantically searched for her discarded sock and running shoe.

Ignoring her protests, he brushed aside her hands and took her small, bare foot in his hand. Her skin was satiny soft, just like he’d imagined. And her jasmine scent was driving him crazy. “Those weren’t the shoes you were wearing earlier,” he noted as he gently began to massage the graceful curve of her arch.

“No.” She stared at him, her eyes wide as if she didn’t find his massage at all comforting. “You’d think I’d learn not to give in to vanity when those heels are hardly comfortable to wear for hours on end.”

“You’re beautiful no matter what you wear,” he murmured. She’d changed from her blouse, skirt and heels into scrubs. He preferred the heels, too, as they did great things for her legs. But not if they made her feet hurt.

He propped her foot on his thigh and smoothed his hand up the muscles of her calf, extending his massage and enjoying the freedom of touching her. She let out a tiny moan, a look of pure bliss etched on her face.

His body responded instantly, growing hard with desire as he thought of other ways, far more pleasurable ways, to use his hands and eventually his mouth to make her moan. Unable to tear his gaze from her face, he reached for her other foot, intent on providing the same treatment there.

Her foot on his thigh moved sideways against his groin and suddenly her eyes flew open, her foot jerking away after it came into contact with the undeniable evidence of his hard arousal.

“I’m fine. Really. Thanks so much for helping me to get rid of that foot cramp. I really hate it when that happens, don’t you?” Leila babbled as she avoided his gaze, almost frantic as she felt around for her shoes and socks.

“Leila.” He put his hands over hers, forcing her to stop what she was doing to look at him. “You’re a beautiful woman, and I reacted like any normal man. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

She shook her head, but her breathing was erratic, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and her pupils were so dilated her eyes almost looked black. Her straight dark hair fell loosely around her shoulders and he wondered if the strands could possibly be as silky soft as her skin. She licked her lips, drawing his attention to her mouth. A mouth he was suddenly desperate to taste. Beneath her thin scrubs he could see her distended nipples.

She was aroused, too. This burning desire he felt was not at all one-sided.

The knowledge was like adding a stick of dynamite to his already smoldering libido.

Chapter Four

DEAR heaven, Quinn was going to kiss her. Leila read his intention in his dark gaze even before his head dipped toward her.

But she didn’t move, didn’t back away. Didn’t even try to stop him.

Because she wanted him to kiss her.

Eyes wide, she held her breath and watched him close the gap between them. He cupped the side of her face with one large brown hand, the rough calluses sending shivers of awareness dancing across her skin as he smoothly, oh, so smoothly covered her mouth with his.

There was no hesitancy, no gentle pressure in a let’s-get-to-know-each-other kind of way. Instead, his mouth was hot and demanding, overwhelming her with barely restrained desire. She was instantly swept away in a blaze of need, hanging on to his broad shoulders and kissing him back with a fierce urgency that was so foreign she didn’t recognize herself.

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