he wasn’t.
He wasn’t a foggy piece of a memory. One that she only allowed herself to think of from time to time. The one perfect romantic moment she’d had in her life. That soldier hadn’t left her standing at an altar, hadn’t stolen her work, and the kiss he’d given her still made her blood heat. Even after all this time.
This was going to be bad.
She had no inclination to allow her heart to open again, especially to another surgeon.
Jennifer knew she’d have to avoid Dr. Nick Rousseau and that wasn’t going to be an easy thing. Especially now she was in charge of his department.
She was in serious trouble.
Nick put the chart back in the filing cabinet. He’d moved away from the charge desk when Dr. Ramsgate had stepped between them, breaking the connection between him and Jennifer. It had been the escape he’d needed.
He wasn’t sure if Jennifer remembered him, from the look on her face. Maybe he just looked familiar to her, someone she couldn’t place. Which was fine. It was good she didn’t remember him, but he certainly remembered her.
There was no way he could forget that night.
Not when it was burned into his brain.
Not when every time he’d closed his eyes for the last three years he’d been able to feel the silky softness of her skin under his fingertips, inhale the fruity scent of her hair and taste the sweetness of her lips.
Though that’s all that had happened.
Just a kiss.
Well, several kisses, but it had been all he’d needed to carry him through his long tour of duty. When he’d been working at the front line, patching up soldiers, saving lives and, yes, even when one thoughtless act of bravery had cost his own brother dearly.
Nick clenched his fist and shook those thoughts away.
No, he wouldn’t think about Marc and he wouldn’t think about his brother hating him right now, because he couldn’t let those emotions out to air. When he thought of that moment, he hated himself. He’d let his anger get the better of him.
There was already talk circulating around the hospital about him, about his rages and about how he’d put his fist through a window once.
He was doing better. Or he thought he was.
Maybe it was seeing her again—whatever it was, it shook him. He’d been surprised to learn she was a surgeon.
That night they’d spent on the beach, talking to each other, she’d never told him that she was a physician, in particular a trauma surgeon.
Then again, he’d never opened up about why he was going overseas on his tour of duty. He hadn’t told her that he was an army medic.
She’d changed, but not so much that he hadn’t recognized her. The long blond hair was gone. She sported a pixie cut, which still suited her. It gave him a better view of her long, slender neck and he knew that if he kissed that spot under her ear she sighed with pleasure.
Don’t think about that.
Nick stifled a groan and left the charting area and headed toward the doctors’ lounge to get a cup of coffee.
He didn’t have time to date and had no interest in it.
After all, he was too irresponsible for any kind of settled life.
At least, that’s what Marc had always said. And, frankly, Nick didn’t deserve to be happy. Solitude was his penance for what he’d done.
After the accident that had paralyzed his brother and left him unscathed, he’d finished his tour of duty with an honorable discharge. Though there was nothing honorable in his mind.
If he hadn’t tried to run out when the medic unit had been under fire to save his buddy, Marc never would’ve followed him.
And though he’d saved his friend and was deemed a hero, the IED had exploded, paralyzing Marc, leaving Nick without a brother.
Not that Marc had died, but he’d cut Nick out of his life. It was like Marc was dead. Nick was definitely dead to Marc.
He was a ghost.
So Nick had left him alone, like Marc wanted. He hadn’t returned home to Chicago. He’d settled in Nevada. In the place he’d last remembered being happy. With the vast, open desert plains and the mountains and foothills to the north, a man could get lost.
And he was lost. His parents didn’t speak with him and neither did his sister. Marc needed them more anyway.
Here in Las Vegas, a man could be forgotten and maybe he’d be able to shake the ghosts of his past.
He just hadn’t expected he’d run into one of them.
Jennifer had never told him she was a surgeon and he’d thought she was in Carson City, which was on the other side of the state, six hours away.
Then her name rang more bells.
Jennifer Mills.
She’d been at that state dinner thrown by Senator Mills. Was she his daughter? The one who’d been jilted? He didn’t know much about it because he didn’t really care about gossip columns. Heck, he didn’t even have cable. Jennifer had her own cross to bear and he wouldn’t pry.
Nick scrubbed his hand over his face. Dammit. She was off-limits for sure. Senator Mills had been the one to present him with his Medal of Honor for bravery. One that he kept hidden away under his socks because he didn’t deserve it; especially after what had happened to Marc.
He was no hero.
He was irresponsible. Always getting into scrapes, and Marc had always been there to bail him out.
Now Marc wasn’t there for him anymore.
Even though Nick’s wanderlust and sense of adventure still ate away at him, he didn’t feed the beast.
He just wanted to work. To be the best damn surgeon he could be. Maybe to show his brother he wasn’t reckless and irresponsible.
Jennifer’s appearance complicated things.
Nick poured himself a cup of coffee. The thought that she’d been involved with someone else made him feel a bit jealous.
Though he had no claim on her.
They’d only exchanged first names. They’d only shared a few passionate kisses under the stars.
He could work with her. Not that he had a choice, because in Las Vegas he was a nobody.
He wasn’t a hero, he wasn’t a soldier. He was just a face in the crowd and that’s the way he liked it.
Nick slouched down in a chair, leaning his head against the low back to close his eyes for just a moment.
The door slammed and he sat up. Jennifer had entered, and pink tinged her cheeks when she saw him sitting there. He liked the way she blushed; she’d blushed like that against the sand when he’d kissed her.
“Sorry, Dr. Rousseau. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“I wasn’t asleep, Dr. Mills. I thought you were with Dr. Ramsgate?”
“He had a quick cardio consult and he told me I could get a cup of coffee in here.” She nervously brushed at her hair, tucking the short strands behind her delicate ear, like she’d done when they’d first met. Only there were no more long strands.
She moved over to the coffeemaker and poured herself a cup, then proceeded to stand there, staring at the bulletin board, which was full of ads of stuff for sale and take-out menus. Just junk. She fidgeted with her hair again.
Nick could sense she felt uncomfortable. The tension was thick in the air. He knew the feeling of a standoff.