Her Hometown Hero(28)

"Yes, it's been a slow season, too, so imagine what you'll learn when things start heating up."                       
       
           



       

"Is it awful to hope for disasters?"

"It is if you want people hurt, yes, but not if you want to learn how to save more lives."

"Well then, I shouldn't be in too much trouble. I do want to learn how to be the best doctor I can."

"You're off work tomorrow, right?"

Of course he knew her schedule. He was asking, but she knew he was planning something. She waited, not bothering to answer.

"It's time I get my tree, and if I do recall, you offered to help me."

"If I remember correctly, you pretended I offered to help," she informed him.

"That's not what Grace said."

There goes my lazy day off, she thought. And still she couldn't feel a  hint of regret. Spending the day with him and picking out the perfect  tree sounded pretty darn great.

"Why don't we go get some coffee and discuss our strategy? Better yet, let's get some dinner. You're off the clock, right?"

"Yes, my shift is over, but it's been a really long day. I was planning  on heading home, sinking into a deep, hot bath, and not emerging from  the apartment until I have to work again," she said, though she knew he  wasn't going to be discouraged that easily.

"Then it's my mission to make sure you are well fed, and that you get  out to see the sunshine. Being cooped up either in the hospital or in  your apartment for too long will turn your skin white and endanger your  health. Doctor's orders."

"Oh, I see. You're just a concerned doctor?"

"Of course I am. As the head of the ER, I have to make sure all my patients are well taken care of."

"You're now my doctor?" she asked, and was greeted with the instant  image of the two of them playing doctor. Bad move, but she was having  trouble feeling disgusted.

"I'll be your doctor anytime you like. I have all the tools I need-right  on me," he said with a wink. When he saw her eyes straying  involuntarily down his body-however convenient in general, scrubs  weren't good for voyeurism-he had to ask, "Like what you see?"

Her head snapped up to meet the devilish smile on his face and the small  box in his hand. "What's that?" She wanted to reach out and grab the  package. But though she knew it was for her, she also knew she should  refuse it so she wouldn't encourage his behavior. That wasn't going to  happen, though, because she loved presents too dang much.

He held out his hand. "Just a little gift."

"You've got to quit getting me things," she said, but, after looking  around to make sure that they were alone, she reached for the box.

"I like getting you gifts, Sage. Open it."

"It's not even Christmas and you've already left several packages at my  place and at work. People are going to talk." Damn. Even the packaging  was beautiful.

"Let them talk. I have nothing to hide."

"The other staff will hate me if they think you're playing favorites, you know."

"Everyone in this hospital knows already. As a matter of fact, if you  want to earn a few extra dollars, you can sign up on the big office  betting pool. People are laying down wagers on the date they think we'll  get married."

Sage's mouth almost hit the floor. Marriage? Ridiculous. No way. She was  so not ready for that. She hadn't even gone out on a real date with  this man. Yes, there'd been a lot of flirting, and then, of course,  their night in his hot tub . . . Add the fact that they kept running  into each other-it was a small town, after all-and she was with him more  than anyone else she knew. But still, they weren't a couple, and  certainly weren't anywhere near having him proposing marriage.

"You have to stop saying things like that," she whispered as they reached the locker room.

"I like shocking you. I love the way your mouth opens into a perfect  circle, love the way your skin flushes. I love watching you, love  waiting on you. I don't think there is anything about this unusual  relationship we have that I don't love." He leaned in even closer as he  spoke.

Sage's heart fluttered again. The word love was sure coming from his  mouth a lot. They weren't in love. She knew that. But, oh man, was she  falling for this guy-falling hard.

Lifting the lid on the box, she sighed as she looked inside at the jewel-encrusted comb.

"Every princess needs a special comb," he said into her ear, making her heart beat faster.

Unfortunately, she had no doubt the gems on the handle were real. "I  can't take this, Spence. It's far too expensive," she told him, though  she wasn't putting much effort into handing the gift back to him.                       
       
           



       

He closed her fingers around the comb. "You will take it, use it, love it, and . . . think of me."

And he was right-she would.

"How do you know what to get? How did you know how much I love princesses?"

"A lot of determination and research on the perfect gifts. I'll have you  know that I had a Disney movie marathon and watched Cinderella, Beauty  and the Beast, Mulan, Sleeping Beauty, Tangled, Frozen, and a few  others. I wanted to make sure you were fully enchanted."

She looked at him and knew he was speaking the truth. How could he be  wrong for her when he was doing all the right things? Why had she  decided dating him was a bad idea? The reason was beyond her right now,  because at least in this moment, he seemed more perfect than humanly  possible.

She was in a fog as she gazed up into his eyes.

"Why? Why me?" she asked him, letting the walls tumble down and opening herself up.

"I like you," he said as he got even closer, his body brushing against  hers in the most sinful of ways, his lips grazing her ear before he  continued speaking. "I want you. You're all I think about. Right now, I  plan to take you for a nice meal, and then I'll take you back to my  place, where I'm going to make love to you all night long, sleep with  you in my arms, wake up to a nice brunch, and then go Christmas tree  shopping."

He ended his little speech by connecting their lips, kissing her gently,  and wiping away the last of her defenses. One night wouldn't do any  harm. One night-that was all he was asking for.

"I can't seem to think around you . . . breathe around you."

"Good. Don't think; don't breathe. I'll provide the oxygen for both of  us," he said, his hand wrapped around her, pulling her tightly against  him. "All you need to do is say yes."

But he didn't give her time to say yes. He just devoured her mouth and  claimed her body with his hands. Just when she was ready to give him her  full surrender, her pager went off, making her jump as the blood  continued rushing straight to her core.

"I need to check this," she whispered, barely able to get a word out.

"You're off the clock."

"We're never off the clock, Spence, and I can't believe you of all  people would say such a thing." It was quite amusing, really, that her  boss was the one trying to talk her out of work.

He pulled back, the glaze over his eyes starting to clear up when he  noticed that his own pager was going off. "Crap! I need to check on  this."

Overhead, they heard "Trauma alert, ER" come over the hospital speakers. Both of them headed straight there.

"Dr. Whitman, we have a six-year-old female, auto versus pedestrian. ETA, one minute."

Sage tensed instantly. She hated cases involving children. She knew it  was a reality of her job, but she hated it. All traces of passion were  long gone as she stood side by side with Spence and waited for the huge  bay doors to open. It would be any second. The sirens had been blaring  and now were silent.

"Let's go," Spence called as the doors opened and the paramedics rushed  in with a small girl on the gurney. Sage moved to one side, listening as  they shouted out important information. Spence was on the other side of  the gurney, doing his own assessment of the child as the paramedics  spoke.

"Female, age six, run over by mom's half-ton pickup. Found unresponsive  and apneic, with unstable pelvis. Abdomen tight and distended. Placed  two eighteen-gauge IVs to bilateral ACs with IV fluid wide-open, but  girl's blood pressure keeps dropping. Has been intubated, and we needle  decompressed her left lung. In full C-spine precautions. Vital signs are  BP sixty over thirty, HR one forties, no spontaneous respirations,  oxygen saturation eighty-two percent."

"We can save her," Sage said beneath her breath, determination shining in her eyes.

"My daughter!" a woman screamed as she rushed into the room. Sage took  only a second to glance up at the hyperventilating woman. The poor  mother was held upright by her husband; her face was red, and her body  looking almost lifeless in her despair. "Please! My baby girl!"