Resisting Her Army Doc Rival. Sue MacKay
I,’ Sam commented, still wondering if Madison had problems at home. There were no rings on her fingers. Her surname hadn’t changed. ‘You haven’t married or got into a full-time relationship?’ he asked, oh, so casually, so as not to wind her up.
‘Divorced and single,’ she muttered after a long minute contemplating the wall behind him.
He hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath until he heard those words. Would’ve been better if she was hooked up with someone. Then he’d be able to laugh at this annoying sense of wanting to get closer to her. He’d never step on another man’s patch. What did that matter when he had no intention of having a relationship at all? ‘I’m sorry to hear that. About the divorce, I mean,’ he added quickly, in case she misinterpreted his comment.
‘So was I. At the time.’ Then she winced. No doubt thinking she’d said far too much about herself. ‘Shall we go and see if we can help Jock?’
‘Sure.’ The boy did not need three doctors but Sam needed to get back on track with keeping away from Maddy, and she, he suspected, needed a diversion after revealing something so painful. The divorce must’ve been something she hadn’t wanted. Had she got over it? For her sake, he hoped so. Wasting life pining for what might’ve been would be a shame, thought the expert at it.
‘NEED SOME BLOOD HERE,’ Sam called from the other side of the treatment room six hours later.
At the sound of the deep voice that brought images of pebbles rolling up the beach on a wave Madison looked up to find Sam watching her. ‘You want me to get it?’ When she already had her hands full?
His headshake was abrupt. ‘You carry on extracting that bullet.’
‘I’m on to it.’ Literally. The forceps she held tapped against metal deep in her patient’s thigh right on cue. Maddy grimaced. Talk about being thrown in at the deep end. Removing a bullet from this man’s thigh wasn’t difficult, but it was different from anything she’d dealt with in emergency departments back home. Which could explain why Sam had given her this patient when they’d been called in from the barracks. Getting her up to speed ASAP. Bullets and the army went hand in hand, she just hadn’t thought she’d be facing any this soon. She’d wanted something outside her comfort zone, and now it looked like she’d got it.
He seemed to have to pull his gaze away from her to call out, ‘Cassy, a bag of O neg wouldn’t go amiss here.’
‘Coming right up,’ replied the nurse she’d met half an hour ago when she’d raced in dressed in a hurriedly pulled on long T and shorts.
One wide-eyed stare from Sam and she’d also hauled on scrubs quick smart. He had no idea of the hideous sight her garments covered, and the scrubs would make doubly sure neither he nor anyone else did find out. ‘What’s up?’ she’d asked at the time to nudge his attention away from her. Just in case Sam had X-ray vision and could see through her clothes.
He’d brought her up to speed fast. ‘Three locals were brought to the main entrance with injuries sustained when a man in the market went berserk with a gun. You’ve got the thigh wound.’
‘Not a problem,’ she’d replied, and had ignored his muttered comment that had gone something like ‘nor should it be’.
‘We have stocks of blood on hand?’ Maddy asked now. ‘Seriously?’ This wasn’t a fully equipped hospital with all the bells and whistles. Neither was there a blood bank to draw from.
‘We keep a small supply on hand. The troops donate as it’s required.’
‘I guess we’re lucky the gunman wasn’t a very good shot or there’d have been more casualties,’ she said, dropping the bullet into a stainless steel dish with a clang.
‘The hospital in town will be busy with other victims,’ Sam explained. ‘We get those who’re prepared to make the uncomfortable trip out here.’ He paused cleansing the gaping wound on his patient’s head and watched as she sutured her patient’s laceration. ‘Very tidy.’
Her hackles rose. Did he think she wouldn’t do a good job? Of course he wouldn’t know she was a perfectionist. Lifting her eyes, she drew a quick breath. The face looking at her was devoid of rancour, filled only with admiration. ‘Thank you,’ she muttered, bewildered, and waited for the axe to fall.
‘So sewing’s one of your talents.’ His smile was soft, not egotistic or antagonistic. Apparently genuine. Even friendly.
Which worried her more than an abrasive style would’ve. ‘It wasn’t until I went to med school.’
‘You wouldn’t have had to make your own clothes when you were growing up.’ Now he grinned in what was becoming a familiar way.
‘Nope. Does anyone these days?’ she asked. She was softening more and more towards him, and she hadn’t been here twenty-four hours yet. Hard not to when he was playing nice, when her arms still had memories of those strong hands keeping her from dropping to the ground earlier. So much for remaining aloof to safeguard herself from rejection. The first rejection had decimated her. She’d never get up from a second blow. Come on, Sam was only being friendly, nothing else.
‘Not me, for one. I let the army choose my clothes.’
She aimed for light. ‘Not Paris fashion, are they?’
‘Now, that’s something I know nothing about,’ he drawled.
‘Me either.’ But her mother dressed superbly from high end shops. Madison came from money and that had caused grief at school from some of the small-minded sorts. Shame none of those imbeciles had bothered to learn how hard she’d worked during out-of-school hours before mouthing off about her family. ‘But I admit to having an interesting wardrobe back home.’ A fantastic collection of outfits her mother had bought her and which were totally impractical in her day-to-day life. Something to do with getting back out amongst the city folk and finding a new man apparently.
Maddy shuddered. Not happening. This time because she’d learned how fickle love truly was. One glimpse of her scars and Jason had come up with every excuse in the book to bail on their marriage. Sure, he’d taken a few months—long, dark, lonely months—but in the end he’d gone. And he’d supposedly loved her. What she’d never got around to telling him was that her chances of having children had been severely compromised as well. What had been the point? She hadn’t wanted him staying because he’d felt sorry for her.
Focus, Maddy. That’s history.
Continuing to suture the wound in front of her, she stifled a yawn. So much for getting some sleep before her tour got fully under way. Who was she kidding? Her head had been full of Sam Lowe, dust and smoke, Sam, burns, and more Sam. Digging for a bullet had been a welcome reprieve.
Sam was staring at her, lifting goose bumps on her skin and unexpected, unneeded hope in her belly. ‘You okay?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ She stared right back, her breath hitched somewhere between her lungs and her nostrils. The deeper she looked into that well the harder it was to find the strength to ignore him. The same concern she’d seen in the midst of her meltdown over the smoke blinked at her. Which was plain scary. Could she manage to work alongside him without falling into the trap of wanting him? You don’t already? That’s why she had to keep him at arm’s length. This yearning for Sam was growing, not in great dollops but it was there, moving in under her skin, raising her temperature degree by agonising degree, shaking her need to remain immune to men until cracks were beginning to appear.
Cassy nudged Sam. ‘One bag of cells for your man.’
His gaze appeared to drag across Maddy’s face, a soft caress, as though loth to leave, then he flicked his head sideways to eyeball the nurse. The syringe in his left hand was in danger of snapping as he stepped back from the bed. ‘Get a line in,