a beautiful woman the next?
The answer was a simple five-letter word. Megan. Suddenly, he wanted to see another side of her, something besides the sensible, sarcastic smart aleck.
She pulled the thing out and read it. “Ninety-eight point six. What do you know? Right on the button. Completely normal.”
“Don’t I get points for that?”
“Let’s do the blood pressure and pulse before we start negotiating for pats on the back, hotshot.”
She wrapped the black cuff around his upper arm and pressed the Velcro together to hold it in place. Pumping on the bulb, she inflated the contraption, then put the stethoscope in her ears with the flat, circular part on the inside of his elbow. The feel of her small, delicate fingers burned into his arm. He heard the slow whoosh of air as she released the pressure, and he watched her study the gauge.
When it was completely deflated, she ripped off the cuff and met his gaze. “Hmm.”
“What is it?”
“One-twenty over eighty.”
“I’ve watched enough medical dramas to know that’s right on the money.”
And he was relieved that it hadn’t gone off the scale. The warmth of her body, the subtle scent of her perfume, the sight of her soft skin combined to make him feel that the reading might blow the hell out of the indicator gauge. Insanity was the only explanation for his sudden, powerful urge to pull her into his arms.
“Let’s not do the dance of joy just yet,” she cautioned. “There’s still your pulse.”
Uh-oh. If she took that, he wouldn’t be able to hide his reaction to her. His heart was pounding, and she’d know it, too, as soon as she put her fingers on his wrist to take the reading. This whole thing was a bad idea. What had he been thinking to ask for her? Answer: he obviously hadn’t been thinking. At least not with his head.
She took his forearm in her small hands and pressed two fingers to his wrist. He pulled back.
Meeting his gaze, she said, “You lose points for that.”
“I’ll chance it. As you can see, everything is in working order.” And then some, he thought ruefully.
Why now? Why did he feel something? He’d trained himself when, where and how to let loose his feelings—when he was on the edge. And she’d made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him, which was fine and dandy, because he didn’t want anything to do with her, either. His mistake had been not settling for another nurse. He had to get rid of her.
And he knew just how to do it.
Simon reached over and took her small, pointed chin in his hand. Leaning forward, he noted the startled look in her eyes, just before he lowered his mouth to hers. He tasted shock and surprise. Then, for several heart-stopping seconds, her full lips softened and he swore he heard the barest hint of a sigh. Obviously, he was wrong, because she broke the contact and jumped up.
She backed away several steps, as if he was fire and she was underbrush that hadn’t seen rain in months.
“What in the world are you doing?” she asked, brushing the back of her hand across her mouth.
“I think that was pretty obvious.”
“Why did you do that?”
“You’re a beautiful woman. I lost my head.”
“Not yet. But it can be arranged,” she said, breathing hard.
“Look, Megan—”
Accusingly she pointed a finger at him. “No, you look. I don’t know what your game is, but I’m not playing.”
“It was no big deal.”
“You’re right about that. But it was also completely inappropriate.”
“Nothing personal,” he said.
“Doggone right. And I was right about you, too. Big-time rule-breaker.”
“Don’t get your stethoscope in a twist. I was just trying to shake you up.”
“Is that so?” She glared at him. “It certainly confirms my assessment of you.”
“That I’m the saturated fat in the veins of your life?”
“Right on, buster. But in case I didn’t make myself clear, I don’t play games. I came here to do a job and you just made it impossible for me to do that. I don’t see signs of concussion—there’s an understatement,” she muttered.
“No, I’m pretty alert—”
“And your temp is normal,” she said, ignoring his comment. She gathered up her medical paraphernalia and stuffed it into her leather bag. “I don’t think there’s any infection. At least not in your most recent wounds. And if you’ve got one somewhere else, there’s not a darn thing I can do about it.”
“What are you saying?”
“I hope for your sake the abrasions are clean because I’m outta here. I’ll have the agency send someone else.”
She turned on her heel and walked out the door.
Chapter Four
Megan slammed the door and stomped the length of the town house walkway, hurrying to the sidewalk. Her stride was just shy of a full-on run. The sun was warm, but a fog enveloped her. A fog that had nothing to do with being a block from the beach and everything to do with…anger? Or worse—passion?
No way. She’d deftly and dispassionately fended off advances from male patients before. She’d certainly never worked herself into a fog about any of them. She wanted to believe she’d handled the Simon situation in a professional manner, but she didn’t buy the lie. Plain and simple: she’d lost it with Simon Reynolds. Everything: her temper, her composure, her objectivity, her professionalism—and that was the worst.
She’d gotten a late start in her career because of Bayleigh’s medical problems. She couldn’t afford mistakes now that she was on her way. What was it with Simon?
Oh, she knew he’d kissed her to scare her off. And it had worked. But not for the reason he thought. A come-on she could handle. It was herself she was worried about. She’d liked kissing him—far too much.
She didn’t have to touch a hot stove more than once to know it hurt. After a crash and burn in the romance department, she knew guys like Simon should be avoided. If it was just her, she might be tempted. But Bayleigh came first. Megan wanted to give her a father, but the wrong man could scar her daughter more deeply than the trauma of cornea transplant surgery.
Nothing could compel Megan to take care of Simon. No amount of money, calling in personal favors or fear of a lawsuit could convince her to go back inside. Simon Reynolds was too tempting and too dangerous.
In her peripheral vision, Megan registered a car parallel-parking at the curb.
“Megan? Is that you?”
She turned and instantly recognized the woman getting out of the car. “Janet.”
The older woman smiled, stepped onto the sidewalk then held her arms open for a hug. Megan easily slipped into the embrace and returned it. Janet Ward was the most loving, generous, courageous woman. When her daughter and grandson were mortally injured in a car accident, she’d made the decision to donate their organs for transplant. Thanks to her, Bayleigh had received the little boy’s corneas and the gift of sight. After the operation, Megan had asked to meet the family and thank them. But the boy’s father had refused.
Janet had graciously accepted Megan’s gratitude in spite of her profound grief. Because Janet’s loved ones were alive through the transplant recipients, she’d insisted on staying in touch with all of those who were open to the idea. Megan had a picture of her daughter with Janet in her