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But what if it was personal, Katie? a voice niggled. Face it, she was leaving town tomorrow. And three months from now, when she returned, she’d be transferred to Dr. Nelson’s team where her expertise was needed more. If Ford did happen to be interested in something personal…
“Hey there, Jesse,” she whispered, determined to discourage her unlikely fantasies. Her expression gentled as she stripped away the protective covering around the baby’s legs. “Let’s clean you up and make you presentable for your mama. She’s so proud of you. We all are. You did good, kid.”
Katie’s eyes stung as she gazed down at the baby. For the next while, no less than if she’d been Jesse’s mama, her whole world was taken up with the small, defenseless boy on the table who needed her—and the immensely satisfying knowledge that Ford Carrington had fixed things so he’d be just fine.
SECONDS AFTER FORD opened the front door, he’d realized Katie wanted to make love with him. He’d gotten home in time to change from scrubs into slacks and a lightweight knit shirt, and he’d dimmed the house lights and put on music before meeting Katie at the door with an uncorked bottle of burgundy and two full glasses.
“Welcome, Carrot Top,” he’d said.
Looking a little lost on the wide porch, she’d shoved both hands into the back pockets of the skin-tight jeans she wore with cowboy boots and a University of Texas T-shirt that hugged her breasts. “Hey, Dr. Carrington,” she’d returned, her deep, throaty drawl sounding as soft as velvet on the warm fall night.
Hungry, his eyes had dropped over the petite, curvy frame he rarely saw outside of scrubs. Because of where she stood, fireflies on the lawn appeared to alight in her short, tight, fiery red curls. A tiny diamond chip earring flashed from the top of her ear, where, he’d decided, the piercing had to hurt. Hospital greens definitely didn’t do her justice.
“Come on in,” he’d said.
Always the tease, she’d cocked her head, as if considering. “I’m unchaperoned tonight,” she’d warned.
He’d glanced at her beat-up car. “True. But you did drive all the way over from the hospital.”
A beatific smile had suddenly brightened her face, making the freckles scattered across her cheeks and small, straight nose jump and wiggle as she stepped across the threshold. “Don’t mind if I do.”
As they’d entered the dimly lit foyer, her uptilted emerald eyes had turned unmistakably smoky, and Ford suddenly realized the dark house, seductive music and heady wine had set the scene for seduction. Just as he saw stark desire spark in her eyes, the lights snapped on, illuminating a room decorated with balloons and streamers—and he found himself wishing he had invited Katie here to seduce her. Surprised that she might really be game for something outside the OR, Ford had mulled the possibility over as hospital staff jumped from behind furniture, shouting, “Surprise! We’ll miss you, Katie! Hurry back from Houston!”
Disappointment had filled her eyes, then relief, then something that looked like sadness—but hell if Ford understood any of it. He’d been sure his teasing in the OR meant nothing to her. After work, she always vanished, almost as if she was avoiding him. He’d figured she had a hot, heavy romance. Any woman with green eyes as striking as hers probably would.
Maybe not, though. Now that the party was over and the guests had gone home, Ford was glad Katie had stayed and he could have her to himself. He leaned casually against the kitchen counter, his gaze traveling from Katie, who’d insisted on loading the dishwasher, to the living room, where party horns and paper plates still littered the tabletops. She looked up from the dishwasher. “I like those pictures you showed me in the hallway.”
He glanced toward the sketches and daguerreotypes. His favorites were of Lance Carrington, who’d moved the Carrington family westward to Texas in a covered wagon, and of the Freeland branch of the family, who had gotten waylaid in what was now Kentucky. He shot her a smile. “And you thought we Carringtons were snobs.”
Katie quit sorting silverware long enough to snort derisively. “Everybody in your family, including the guys on the Mayflower, were doctors.”
“True.” Chuckling, Ford rested both elbows comfortably on the counter. “But two hundred years ago, that meant selling potions from the backs of wagons and accidentally leeching people to death. Doctoring wasn’t exactly a reputable profession.”
When she shook her head as if to say he was impossible, light from the overhead tracks caught in her hair, turning the curls a beautiful burnished orange. His lips parted, but before he could say she possessed the most gorgeous hair in Texas, she drawled, “Are you sure you don’t mind me staying to do this?”
Mind? The second Katie Topper had stepped into his foyer, he’d decided he wanted her to stay all night. “I always get post-party blues,” he assured her.
Reaching into the sink, she lifted out dessert plates. “Incorrect response, Doctor. You’re supposed to say you like my company.”
“What,” he teased. “Fishing for compliments?”
She mock-scowled. “Maybe. What are you grinning at, anyway?”
The corners of his lips twisted into a flirtatiously devious smile. Each time she leaned to load the dishes, he got an eyeful of the best-looking backside in Austin. “Just looking at you. Scrubs and hairnets don’t do you justice.”
“And they supposedly enhance your appearance?”
He looked hurt. “They don’t?”
“No. And if I’d known you were hosting a party in my honor,” she added, shooting him an arch glance, “I would have dressed better.”
“It doesn’t get any better than this.” His eyes drifted over the faded denim hugging her hips. “Personally, I like tight jeans on a woman.”
“If you said you liked them on men, I’d start to wonder.”
“Hmm. Want to turn around? Model for me?”
Smirking, she swatted her very tempting-looking rear end. “Oh, kiss my round Irish behind, Ford Carrington,” she said grumpily.
“What?” Laughing, he poured himself another glass of wine and swirled it in the globe. “Be honest now. Didn’t you think I asked you here to seduce you, Katie? Just for a second?”
A breathless moment passed. Recovering, she shot him a game look. “Oh, you know how we nurses are when it comes to doctors. We always hope.”
He lifted his gaze, pinning hers over the rim of the glass. “Are you hoping tonight?”
“Keep dreaming,” she lightly volleyed in reply.
“You’re asking me to dream? I’ll take that as encouragement,” Ford assured, knowing she had no idea how their banter was affecting him. “There’s plenty of time left for dreaming, isn’t there, since the night’s still young?”
Her green eyes were assessing. “Is it?”
It damn well was, and the silence that fell like a dropping curtain lasted full seconds too long. They saw each other almost daily and had teased each other mercilessly, but now they were alone in his big, empty house, with an open bottle of wine between them. After tonight she’d be gone for three months, too, plenty of time for a one-night stand to blow over.
She kept her tone deceptively conversational. “Not so young,” she said, nodding toward the picture window above the sink. “See? There’s already a full moon out there.”
Her slow, thick accent curled into his blood, making him smile once more. In comparison, his accent was gone, educated out of him by the swanky Northeastern prep schools where his parents had sent him, and which he’d hated. She’d been right in the OR, he thought, watching her. Her Texas and his were two different places. She was a farm girl, born and bred, and even now, she talked like one. Still toying with the wine in his glass, watching the red liquid splash the sides, he drawled, “Sometimes a full moon makes all the difference in the world to a woman. Is it that way with you, Katie?”
“Only because I’m afraid of what you’ll turn into.”
He chuckled. “Hard to tell. A werewolf or vampire.”
“Oh, no,” she said darkly. “Definitely something worse.”
“Definitely.” Further relaxing against the counter, he wished he shared this kind of easy repartee with his crowd, instead of long, drawn-out evenings at fund-raisers, talking about stock portfolios. Breathing in the wine, he then savored the taste and immediately wished he was tasting something warmer, headier…Katie. “I’ll miss you,” he found himself saying, his voice catching throatily, becoming unexpectedly hoarse. “You’re the best nurse we’ve got. And when you come back, Cecil Nelson’s going to get hold of you.”
As she tossed her head, her magical curls caught the light again. She laughed off the compliment. “No pun?”
Ford’s eyes lingered, roving over her hair, and he took another drink of the liquor to soothe the dryness of his throat. “Pun?”
“Nelson. Getting hold of. Nelson’s a wrestling hold.”
Leave it to Katie to get the best of him in conversation. “No pun.” And he was getting impatient with the fun and games. “When are you going to start calling me Ford, Katie?”
She grinned. “Never.”
“Damn, you can be irritating,” he countered with another playful smile. “C’mon, quit doing the dishes. I told you earlier, I’ve got a maid coming tomorrow. Have a glass of wine with me. I invited you over for your going-away party, not to clean.”
Giving in, Katie dusted her hands with a dishcloth, and when her eyes found his again, she sobered. “The party was nice. Thanks…Ford.”
He liked hearing her say his first name. He liked feeling those hot, searing emerald eyes on him, too. They were so sharp, so heartbreakingly green, and from working with Katie, he knew they never missed a detail. Usually, he didn’t, either. How had he overlooked the soft, female intent that she was trying so hard to hide?
“I read the recommendation letter you sent to Houston,” she added. “Thanks for that, too, Ford.”
He’d said she was the best nurse he’d ever worked with. “It’s the truth.” She was wonderful. Everybody loved her. “So many people wanted to give you a send-off that only my place was big enough for the party.”
She glanced around. “It is big.”
He couldn’t stop the low, suggestive and very ungentlemanly chuckle. “Size put you off?”
She sent him a droll glance. “Now, why would the size of a house put me off?”
Laughing, he shrugged. “I’ve got mixed feelings about the place myself. It was a family house, belonged to my grandfather.”
The previous innuendo had brushed color across her cheeks. “The one who started the Carrington Foundation?”
The one relative that Ford felt had truly loved him. “Yeah.”
Absently threading fingers through her hair, making him long to touch the springy, coiled strands, she shot another appraising look around the stainless steel kitchen. “Too big for one person,” she said decisively.
“I have a lot of servants,” he said defensively, though it wasn’t really true.
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you get scared at night?”
His eyes locked on hers again. “Offering your company?”
“I never need company,” she returned easily. “Too much Irish in my blood. I don’t scare.”
No, she didn’t. He’d never met a nurse who was able to take so much pressure. She always hung in with him, even when it seemed too late to save a patient. Other nurses might tell him to give up, but not Katie…never Katie.
Another awkward silence fell, and the clink of glass sounded overly loud as he lifted the bottle and poured her some wine. “You’ve been drinking sodas all night, and I want you to try this. It’s from a California vineyard owned by a friend of mine.” She looked impressed, and while he wanted to impress her, he didn’t like the distance it created or how put off she seemed by his money.
“Maybe too rich for my blood,” she joked, still nervously running fingers through her curls. “Sure you don’t have any Ripple? Night Train?”
“I’m getting no appreciation here. Most women think money’s my best quality, Katie.”
She surveyed him a long moment, a brief sadness touching her eyes as if she were sorry for that, then another quick smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. “Do I look like most women?”
He shook his head, his gaze slowly drifting from hair that was like curly red ribbons to her milky, angular freckled face. “No. You’re one of a kind.”
Chuckling softly, she nodded toward the wine. “Okay, Dr. Carrington. You talked me into it.”
“What?” he volleyed dryly. “Have you decided to stay and love me for something other than my money?”
She grinned. “Don’t push your luck.”
Her decision to stay awhile did crazy things to his pulse, and with blood dancing through his limbs, he said, “Care to take another walk down to the stables while you sip your wine?”
“No, but I enjoyed going earlier.”
She leaned beside him at the counter, he felt as if bands of steel were tightening around his chest. He could smell soap and skin, and beneath that, something that was pure Katie. He watched as she gazed through the picture window. Earlier, he’d let two mares and a gelding out of their stalls so she could watch them run, and now the gelding bucked, playing under the moonlight. Watching the horses, she seemed to be in rapture.
“That was the nicest walk I’ve had for a while, Katie.”
“Hard to mess up a moonlight stroll,” she said, glancing from the horses and sending him a sweet sideways smile. “Mostly we gossiped.”
Maitland Maternity’s latest scandals had made for plenty of talk. The place hadn’t been sane since the day the twenty-fifth anniversary bash was to be announced. Just before the Maitlands met the press, an unidentified baby boy, now called Cody, was found outside the hospital.
“I love gossip,” Ford confessed, sipping, then lightly licking wine from his lips.
“Me, too,” she said, the faint color on her face spreading downward to the smooth, unmarred skin of her neck, where he could tell her pulse was vying with his for beating too fast. Her breath suddenly caught, and the faint, involuntary sound made Ford’s groin tighten, then flex.
“I love your horses,” she murmured.
Love. Hearing the word on her lips, he flicked his gaze down the pale column of her neck again, remembering how she’d gently rubbed noses and scratched between ears until she’d found the special spot where each horse liked to be touched. There was something so genuine about Katie, so caring and unpretentious that she’d stolen his breath. He edged closer. “I can tell you like them.”
“They’re beautiful, Ford.”
When she glanced up, he could swear the clear emerald slits of her eyes held invitation. At least, Ford hoped he wasn’t misreading the situation. Risking it, he murmured, “You’re beautiful, Katie.” Very slowly, his eyes fixed intently on hers, he pushed aside his wineglass.
He could see her fingers tremble as she pushed her glass away, too. When her hand stilled, resting on the base, he knew she wasn’t steadying the glass but herself. Her voice held a tremor. “Maybe I’d better go home now, Dr. Carrington.”
“Ford,” he corrected huskily, catching her hand. “And I know you don’t want to leave, Katie.” With the words, his chest squeezed out the rest of his breath. “Stay. Let me give you the proper send-off.”
Seeing her gemstone eyes smolder with want, he threaded their fingers, bringing her hand to his chest. His response was amazing. He shuddered, and as his nipple beaded beneath her fingertips, he could barely process what was happening. Why hadn’t he guessed that, outside the OR, Katie Topper’s touch would shoot through him like wild volts of electricity? Why hadn’t he guessed she’d feel the same?
Katie sounded shaky. “Proper send-off?”
“Okay,” he admitted. “Not so proper.” No, what he had in mind wasn’t proper at all. Gently cupping her neck, he tilted back her head and glided his fingers into the flaming red curls he’d longed to touch all night. “Your hair’s soft as silk, Katie,” he murmured, rubbing strands between his fingertips. Bending, he released a shuddering sigh and pressed an unbroken strand of wet kisses from her ear to her collarbone, the sugar-salt flavor of her skin making his pulse fracture.
She melted. There was no other word for it. He felt the limbs of her petite body loosen and stretch and felt heat rise from her as if she were a burning taper. Groaning, he wrapped an arm tightly around her back, his groin thickening, becoming almost painful. “I’ve been fighting this all night,” he confessed, gasping as her hipbone ground against him. Ever so slowly, he stroked the space behind her ear with his tongue.
“We work together, Ford,” she whispered. “We’re two completely different people….”
“Did you hear me asking for a lifetime, Katie?” Ford half coaxed, half chided, his palms traveling down her back, molding the firm backside snuggled beneath tight jeans, while his five o’clock shadow roughened the creamy skin of her neck. “This is good old-fashioned lust,” he assured hoarsely, “nothing more.” Attempting to ignore how her denials prickled his male vanity, demanding he claim her, he kissed her velvet skin, deciding that days from now, when she was in Houston, she’d remember every minute of what he was about to do to her. “I’m too old for you, Katie,” he repeated, desire making the words sound strained. “And I’m someone you work with. I’ve got a whole other lifestyle. But I’m a confirmed bachelor, too. At thirty-six, I know exactly what I want.”
Breathless, Katie whispered, “You do, Ford?”
“Yeah.” Releasing a low moan, he kissed his way up her neck, along her jaw, around her chin. “Yeah. I know exactly what I want. You, Katie.” His mouth covered hers, and as he registered the soft pliancy of her wanting lips, an unforgettable aching claimed him. Her taste—all dark wine and mint toothpaste and pent-up longing—sent luscious shivers rippling through him. Harder, his hungry mouth swooped and crushed. No, he wouldn’t rest until Katie Topper was naked and beneath him.
Already, he was imagining lifting off her T-shirt, pushing back her bra, freeing her breasts. Already, as he deeply, silkily thrust his tongue between her lips, he was admitting this woman could probably make him lose his mind. Beneath her shirt, the tips of her breasts had pebbled. When he became aware of the roughened nubs brushing his chest, a streak of lightning shot to his groin. “One night.” Sharply, he pulled in a breath of her. “I don’t want anything more than that, Katie.”
“No,” she agreed raggedly. “I don’t, either.”
Leaning back just a fraction, he swept a ravenous gaze from her well-kissed, wine-red lips to the red mark he’d left on her perfect neck. Further down, seeing the tight buds he intended to taste showing through her top, he thought he’d explode. Tightening his fingers through hers, he hoarsely said, “Come with me.”
“Where?”
“To my bed, Katie.”
