Navy Doc On Her Christmas List. Amy Ruttan
at her. For years and years. It was her own personal demon she had to fight. Zac had utterly humiliated her in that moment.
After that stolen kiss she’d wanted more from him, but he’d broken her heart. Still, his dismissal of her had caused an awakening.
That night she’d discarded the clothing her mother had picked for her and had done her hair and makeup to her liking and not her mother’s. She mostly preferred to go without makeup and forgo the hideous designer dresses. For the first time in her life she’d felt like the person she’d always been hiding.
The person she’d been afraid to show.
His dismissal of her had given her the drive to excel. To prove to him and the rest of the world she was more than a pampered society princess.
To be more than the world her parents moved in, expected of her. She hadn’t wanted to be a society wife and mother.
She was going to be the best surgeon she could be. She was going to be respected. Opening yourself up to people just put your emotions, your heart at risk. So she kept herself safe by putting others at a distance.
Under the blonde, curvy, short stature she was a force to be reckoned with when it came to her residents.
When Ella Lockwood told you to move out of the way, you moved out of the way.
Still, another part she’d buried long ago wanted to be a wife and a mother. To have a family, friends. She was lonely, even if she didn’t want to admit it. The problem was she just didn’t see that happening any time soon.
Now, with Zac’s return, there was a shift in her confidence and she didn’t like it much. She’d promised herself that she would keep him at a distance. Give him the cold shoulder and let him know that she didn’t give a damn about him.
Of course, that was rather hard to do when she’d seen him in an instant so vulnerable and broken.
When she’d seen that weaker side to him. When she’d seen the side of him she’d thought existed all those years ago, until he’d cruelly dismissed her.
They didn’t say anything, but she could see the exhaustion etched on his face. And as they sat there in the darkness, with only one dim emergency light in the room, Zac fell asleep. Then he shifted and laid his head in her lap.
Wake him up.
Only she couldn’t make herself do it. There had been so many times that summer when they’d connected where they’d been studying and he’d drifted off like this. Where they’d passed out together.
When they had been children, they had been nap buddies. Ella’s nanny would place them in the nursery, her in her bed and him on the floor in a trundle bed. In the darkness, while their parents had had parties downstairs, when the raucous laughter of the adults would wake her up and frighten her, Zac would always wake up and climb into her bed.
Suddenly, she was tired.
Her shift had started at five in the evening yesterday and now it was seven in the morning. She should be at home, sleeping, before she was forced to go to her mother’s that night.
Of course, the storm had stopped all that.
Since they were stuck, she shifted slightly and curled up beside Zac. Just like they had done so many times years ago.
It was comforting. She’d forgotten how comforting it was.
This is dangerous.
And that was her last logical thought before she drifted off into her own fitful slumber.
“GET OUT OF HERE, JERK!”
Zac woke with a start, disoriented, but he was painfully aware there was a soft body pressed against his. And as his eyes adjusted to the light he could see that it was Ella, curled up against him. She was lying half on her side and half on her back. Her wavy blonde hair was spread out on the pillow. Long eyelashes brushed against her pink, round cheeks and those pink lips moved as she murmured utter nonsense in her sleep.
And he couldn’t help but smile. He’d forgotten that she tended to be very vocal when she slept.
She’d talked in her sleep a lot. There had been one time, after studying for anatomy, when they had both fallen asleep on the couch and she’d shouted out something about dissecting elves with pizza. He’d cared about her so much back then.
What about now?
“Zac,” she whispered, his hands still on her face, their lips mere inches from each other’s. Her breathing was heavy, just as his was.
“Shh,” he whispered. “Just breathe.”
And he brought her lips to his again. It felt so right. It burned his soul and he wanted more.
His blood heated, because he remembered what it was like to kiss her.
Her body shifted and she tossed a leg over him and moaned sweetly in her sleep.
Oh, God.
He closed his eyes and tried to get control.
“You idiot,” she murmured.
He laughed quietly to himself and then gently shook her. “Ella, you’re dreaming. Wake up.”
She curled up closer to him.
He took a deep breath, because her curling up closer to him made his blood heat even more. He had to extract himself from this situation.
“Ella,” he whispered, leaning over her.
Her eyes opened. “Zac?”
“Yeah.”
She smiled at him dreamily.
Then before he could stop himself he reached out to touch her cheek, her silky cheek. And he kissed her, his lips locking with hers as he pulled her to him, and any kind of control that he had on resisting her crumbled away as he tasted those plump, pink lips again.
It had been so long. He ran his hand down her body, over her curves, recalling how it felt when he took her in his arms and how much he burned for her. How much he wanted her.
Even after all this time, he still wanted her. Any other women he’d known had failed to compare to Ella.
She was in his blood.
Suddenly she pushed him away and her blue eyes were wide. “I don’t think this is very smart, do you?”
“Sorry,” he said. “Sorry, I... Yeah, there was no excuse for that.”
“I’ll say! Still, I didn’t exactly discourage it. So I’m sorry too.”
“No, nothing to be sorry about.” He sat up and tried to hide evidence of his arousal by getting off the bed and grabbing his lab coat. “I don’t know what I was thinking but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry that happened. Exhaustion.”
“Or your post-traumatic stress disorder,” she said, trying to straighten her hair.
“What?” he snapped, taken off guard. “I don’t have post-traumatic stress disorder.”
“Oh, come on, Zac. You’re not sleeping, you’re jumpy...”
“I’m trying to get back into routine.” He sighed. “I was cleared by the Annapolis psychiatrists. I disclosed that I’d had PTSD to Charles in my interview, had being the operative word.”
“Okay,” she said, but didn’t sound very sure.
“I’m clear, Ella.”
Just as she opened her mouth to say something further, the door rattled and then opened. A maintenance man poked his head into the room.
“Sorry, Dr. Lockwood. We got here as