The Nightshift Before Christmas. Annie O'Neil
* * *
Katie had to shake her head for a minute before she could think clearly. Having Josh here was like receiving a physical assault of emotions she hadn’t wanted to feel again.
Pain...
She unnecessarily scrubbed her hands through her super-short hair, having forgotten, just as her eyes connected with Josh’s, that she didn’t have a ponytail to curl her fingers through anymore. Yup. The pain she could certainly do without.
Fear.
That Josh would be safe. That he’d come home from his latest escapade unscathed. That he would come home at all. Bearing another loss in the wake of their stillborn baby girl...wondering if he’d well and truly be there for her if they decided to try and conceive again... No. She just hadn’t been able to do it.
Desire.
The desire felt good. Too good. And it was too much of a link to the pain and the fear. A trilogy of Josh, all wrapped up in a gorgeous sandy-haired, blue-eyed package she had never been able to resist. But she had to. For her sanity, first and foremost. For her heart.
“What do you think? You happy to let me go with the photocopy girl?”
“Beg your pardon?” Katie forced herself to focus on the words coming out of Josh’s mouth about a patient newly arrived from an office party gone wrong. Photocopies. Bottoms. Broken glass.
His front tooth was still crooked. She’d always liked that. The imperfection made him more...perfect. Hmm... Maybe she shouldn’t focus on his mouth. His eyes—definitely blue-gray in this light. Flinty? Steel-blue. Was there such a thing? And with little crinkles round the edges. Those were new. Sun, maybe? Or just the passage of the two years they’d put between them?
It might have felt like an eternity, but two years wasn’t really that long. Then again, they’d been through a lot. But Josh had always seemed impervious to it all. Definitely a glass half-full— That was it! Glasses. He probably just needed glasses. Typical Josh to put practical needs like getting his eyes checked on hold. She tilted her head to the side. They were kind of sexy. The crinkles...
Nope. Nope. Still not hearing words. Still not focusing. What about the little bridge between his eyes? That was just like anyone else’s. Just part of someone’s face. A plain old face just like any other doctor in any other hospital. With a nose and high cheekbones and two perfectly formed... Argh, no! And she was back to his lips.
“Apologies, Dr. West.” She put on her best interested face. “I didn’t quite catch that.”
A low laugh rumbled from his chest. Josh knew damn well she’d been ogling him and he was loving it. From the first day he’d draped a stethoscope round her neck, he’d known he had the power to cut straight through her prim-and-proper exterior and bring out the hidden tigress in her. The one she hadn’t known existed. Bookish only children who preferred the company of their elderly nannies weren’t obvious contenders for being horny minxes aching to see how it felt to be scooped up in a single swoop, her legs wrapped round his waist, his hands cupped on her—
“...derriere.”
“Beg pardon! What was that again?”
This time Josh didn’t even bother going for subtle.
“Katie, do you just wanna sneak off and make out for old times’ sake while the anesthetic gets to work?”
“What? No!” She shook her head, sending a horrified look over her shoulder to see if anyone had overheard him. “No!” she added, with a look. She didn’t make out with people. Let alone with the one man on the planet she needed statewide clearance from if her brain was ever going to work properly again.
She forced herself to play a quick game of catch-up.
“You say she broke her office’s copy machine by sitting on it? Why on earth was she doing that?”
“You never butt-copied—?” Josh stopped himself, his smile shifting from astounded to tender. “It’s something that happens when an office party gets out of hand. This gal clearly likes to get her cray-cray on.”
“I have no idea what crayfish have to do with it.”
“Crazy!” Josh laughed. “Cray-cray is crazy, if you’re down with the kids—know what I mean?” He struck a pose for added emphasis.
Katie sniffed. She could do zany. If she put her mind to it. But photocopying her butt? That was just ridiculous. The germs on one of those things should be off-putting enough!
“Well, you two sound perfect for each other.”
Katie saw the sting of hurt her words caused and wished she could yank them straight back. Josh might do wild but he also did wonderful. If only he hadn’t kept pushing the boundaries after their loss. If only he’d convinced her he could play things safe—even for a while—they might...
“I best get on, then.”
Katie watched as Josh turned and made his way toward the curtained cubicle where his patient was waiting. There was something...different about his gait. Something different about him. He’d changed. Really changed. Her teeth caught hold of her lip and gave it a contemplative scrape.
Changed enough to hear what she had to say?
A series of loud guffaws burst from the curtained area where Josh was de-sharding his patient’s booty.
No. Same ol’ Josh! Some stray Christmas spirit must have sneaked into her coffee that morning. No one changed that much. She would just see through the time they had to work together as professionally as she could. No point in reopening old wounds. She’d borne enough hurt for a lifetime.
She scanned the board and picked a good old-fashioned broken arm. Some enthusiastic decorative touches to a snowy rooftop, no doubt. Fixing. Setting. Repairing. That was what she did. It was how she survived.
Once again she shook on her bright smile and pulled open the curtain.
“Right! Mr. Dawsen, I understand you’ve broken your arm?”
“I’LL JUST BE in the residents’ room—cool?” Josh popped a finished chart onto the RNs’ central desk, flashing a smile to the two nurses trying to untangle a set of twinkling lights. A patient’s or some late decorating? They paid him no attention, so he hightailed it down the corridor, hoping for a few moments to regroup. It was time to pull up his socks and tell Katie the truth. The real reason he was there.
She’d yanked six of his safety-net days out from under him, unwittingly putting all his partridges in the one pear tree. It was do-or-die day now. For a man who didn’t plan much, he had definitely planned this out. A whole week to gauge her mood...time to maybe inject a bit of romance into snatched moments alone. But with this stupid twenty-four-hour thing she showed no sign of shifting from, he had to get a move on. They were just a few hours away from midnight, and once that clock pinged upon the Christmas star, his time would be well and truly running out. Josherella was going to have to get a move on.
He looked at his backpack, slung on the back of the lone chair parked across from the bunk he’d thrown himself on for a catnap. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the sheaf of official papers lurking in the side pocket had taken on a life of their own, unzipped the bag and come out and danced at him like an evil sugarplum fairy...or whoever the evil one was in The Nutcracker.
He cursed silently. He’d once loved Christmas and all the schmaltzy, cheesy, sentimental stuff that went along with it. When they’d lost their daughter just a few days before the holiday, it had sucked the season dry of any good feeling. He wanted that back—and the only way to get it was to woo his wife back into his arms. And if this was the season for miracles he was a first-rate candidate.
Otherwise...? Otherwise