The Nurse Who Saved Christmas
The Nurse Who Saved Christmas
Janice Lynn
The Nurse Who Saved Christmas
Janice Lynn
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#ua8e585ac-02f2-5ec4-a8f7-60ca5e6c07ad)
Title Page (#u09c03ddf-6d60-54a8-84ea-280ea0c911fe)
Dear Reader (#u16d2a440-7cab-5f61-b882-9f9d2168f157)
About the Author (#u9356f5fb-b711-53aa-b818-386df4eb7594)
Chapter One (#ue2a7752b-bea8-529e-a498-741b294fdd05)
Chapter Two (#ufad3440a-def6-5b8f-b76d-d32304990d4a)
Chapter Three (#ue809a572-01ca-5b47-9b54-0a53de5dcbc8)
Chapter Four (#ub8dbf618-6695-5d9a-83b3-292e11bd3bd6)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader
Some of my favourite memories are of my children waking up on Christmas morning—of seeing their faces as they first catch sight of the goodies beneath the tree, of their laughter as they tear into packages, of watching the excitement in their eyes. Other wonderful memories are of going to my parents’, sampling my mom’s homemade goodies, enjoying time with my rather large extended family, looking around and seeing people treat others with love and generosity, making an extra effort to make the world a better place for others. All those things are what make up Christmas, but other not so happy memories can hit hard at the holidays as well. Memories of loved ones who are no longer with us, in particular.
In THE NURSE WHO SAVED CHRISTMAS I wanted to capture the warmth of the holidays, but also the pain of when your heart’s not whole. Abby and Dirk have to learn the true meaning of the holidays, and of love. I hope you enjoy their story, and that you have a wonderful Christmas filled with all the magic of the season.
I love to hear from readers. Please e-mail me at Janice@janicelynn.net, write to me care of Harlequin Mills & Boon, or visit me at my website: www.janicelynn.net
Janice Lynn
About the Author
JANICE LYNN has a Masters in Nursing from Vanderbilt University, and works as a nurse practitioner in a family practice. She lives in the southern United States with her husband, their four children, their Jack Russell—appropriately named Trouble—and a lot of unnamed dust bunnies that have moved in since she started her writing career. To find out more about Janice and her writing, visit www.janicelynn.com
Chapter One
NURSE ABBY ARNOLD hid her smile behind her hand as Santa Claus grimaced at the squirming kid sitting in his lap at the children’s advocacy Christmas community outreach in downtown Philadelphia.
“Smile for the picture,” she said sweetly, standing a few feet from the elaborate thronelike chair and Christmas tree being used for “Pictures with Santa.”
Santa Claus’s deep blue eyes narrowed behind his gold-rimmed glasses, but his lips curved in a smile hopefully only she could tell was forced.
How had she talked Dr. Dirk Kelley into helping when the Santa she’d arranged for the event canceled at the last minute, leaving her desperate for a replacement? So desperate she’d asked a man she’d treated as if they were just friendly colleagues for the past two months and not more, all the while walking on eggshells at the sharp undercurrents between them.
“Ho, ho, ho, what do you want for Christmas this year, little boy?” Santa asked, sounding more like the Abominable Snowman than a jolly old man full of Christmas spirit.
Despite her awkward physical awareness of the man beneath the suit, it was all Abby could do not to snort. Did Dirk really believe that voice sounded Santa-ish? Hadn’t he sat on Santa’s knee as a kid? Watched Christmas television shows about jolly Saint Nick? Anything that would clue him in that Christmas was the most magical time of the year and that for these kids he was part of that magic? Something they’d always remember?
For all she knew, he hadn’t.
Although they’d started out with a bang the night they’d first worked together, she really didn’t know much about the handsome doctor who’d knocked her socks off from the moment she’d met him.
She knew very little about him or his past. Although, thanks to that morning, she spent way too much of her present thinking about him and how much she’d like to feature in his future.
The kid on Dirk’s lap, around five, wiped the back of his pudgy hand across his runny nose. “An Xbox, and a cellphone, and a digital voice enhancer, and a…”
The list went on. And on. Even Abby’s eyes widened at some of the items the kid listed. What had happened to a baseball glove or a bicycle?
Santa’s bushy white brow rose as he regarded the kid. “Have you been that good this year?”
Another wipe of the face, then a nod. “I have. Extra-good.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” At the mother’s frantic look, Santa diplomatically added, “But Santa’s on a budget. To be fair to the other good little boys and girls, I’ll have to prioritize and just bring one or two of your list items.”
The mother heaved a relieved sigh.
Santa set the boy off his lap but, rather than walk away, the kid wrapped his arms around Dirk’s neck and planted a noisy kiss on a high cheekbone Abby had doctored earlier with rosy rouge. “I love you, Santa.”
Abby’s insides melted. How sweet! This was why she’d volunteered to organize this event. Why she volunteered with so many Christmas events. To help bring holiday magic alive for others.
Only Dirk looked more like he was being cooked alive than feeling the magic.
“I…uh…” His eyes cut to her with a distressed plea for rescue. He didn’t have to say anything aloud. Abby got the message loud and clear.
Not in a million years could she deny him. Not when his gaze held hers and she had a resurgence of the connection she’d instantaneously felt with him, had a resurgence of the connection they’d shared that morning. One so real, so tangible, she’d felt in sync with him, had comforted and been comforted.
No, she couldn’t deny Dirk much of anything within her power to give. Obviously. Besides, she was good at helping others, giving to others. It’s what she did. What she’d always done. What was expected of her by all who knew her, especially this time of year.
Wondering at Dirk’s evident rising unease, she put her hand on the boy’s back and gave him a gentle pat. “Santa loves you, too. Don’t forget to keep being extra-good between now and Christmas. He’ll be watching.”
At the last, the kid shot a wary glance toward Santa, his face contorting in shock. “Even when I’m in the bathtub?”
“No, not then. Just when you’re being good or bad.” Sending an apologetic smile, the boy’s mother took his hand and led him away. Several times he glanced over his shoulder, waving goodbye.
Standing to tower above her five feet, six inches, Dirk bent to whisper in her ear. “Santa needs a break. Stat.”
His rush of warm breath tickling her ear filled her with Christmas magic, from her head to the tippy-tips of her toes. This so wasn’t the place to be getting hot and bothered by Dirk and his overabundant male magnetism.
In a Santa costume, for goodness’ sake.
How could she possibly be turned on by a man dressed in her deceased father’s treasured Santa suit? Although she loved Christmas, she wasn’t prone to Christmas fetishes. Then again, it wasn’t the suit but the man inside it lighting up her world like the most overdecorated house in the neighborhood.
He was playing Santa as a favor to her—she had no choice but to get her feelings under control and not attack the man’s lips with hers in front of all these children.
She gave a calm nod and told the waiting crowd, “Sorry, kids, but Santa needs to check in with his elves to make sure all the toys are being made just right.” She smiled brilliantly at the children and their parents. “We’ll be back in ten minutes.”
As expected, moans and groans greeted them from the families in the long line. Despite Dirk’s obvious need for a reprieve, she sensed his hesitation, liked him all the more for it. Still, he’d said he needed a break and she’d seen in his eyes that he really did.
“Come on, Santa.” Smiling brightly, Abby looped her arm in a red-velvet-covered one and spoke loudly. “Follow me, and I’ll take you to where you can use your special Santa phone to call the North Pole and put in the requests for presents you’ve heard so far. There’s only two more weeks until Christmas, so they need to get started filling the orders right away.”
Gratitude shining in his eyes, Dirk nodded, pasted on a fake smile, and waved at the crowd.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” he mumbled under his breath while allowing her to lead him away from the masses gathered at the community center just to meet him. “This is madness. Pure commercialized madness.”
She still couldn’t believe he’d said yes, either. Sure, he was the one man capable of delivering her Christmas wish, but long and lean Dr. Dirk Kelley playing the role of Santa to dozens of children was another matter altogether. They’d worked together long enough for her to realize kids made him uncomfortable, that he was quiet and kept to himself. Her friend and fellow nurse Danielle called him Dr. Dreamboat. Abby called him what she most wanted for Christmas, but had never said the words out loud, not even to her tabby cat, Mistletoe.
Regardless, Dirk was doing her a huge favor and she was grateful. Smiling, she quirked a brow in his direction. “Ah, Santa, where’s your Christmas spirit?”
He snorted. “I lost it somewhere between demands for a new computer and the kid who wanted a Mercedes-Benz.” He shook his red and white hat and white wig topped head in dismay. “What happened to kids wanting Tinkertoys and tricycles?”
Although he pretty much echoed her earlier thoughts, Abby just shrugged. “Now, Santa, stay with the times. It’s high tech and electronics these days. You’ll have to get your elves with the program.”
“Apparently,” he said wryly. The moment they stepped out of the main walkway of the community center and into the privacy of the employee break room where they’d left their things earlier, his broad shoulders sagged. “I’m not sure I’m going to last another hour. Christmas just isn’t my thing, Abs.”
“Bah, humbug, Mr. Scrooge.” While trying to decide if he was serious about the Christmas comment, she gave an internal sigh at his use of his pet name for her. Did he have any idea how that sent shivers through her? That every time she heard it she was instantly taken back to being in his arms, to the first time he’d whispered the name when they’d been tangled together beneath her bedsheets? “Surely you can make it another hour.” She sighed theatrically. “Guess men of endurance are a thing of the past, too.”
“Don’t you believe it,” he warned, grinning for real for the first time in over an hour, his eyes taking on a dangerous gleam despite his costume and obvious dislike of his role. “My endurance is just fine. Better than fine.”
She raked her gaze over his red fur-covered body. The padding beneath the suit didn’t begin to hide the wide shoulders and abundant male charisma. Not really. Abby had caught more than one mom in line eyeing Santa as if they’d like to sit on his knee and ask for him in their Christmas stockings…If they knew Santa was none other than scrumptious Dr. Dirk Kelley, Santa would have had to beat the women off with a giant candy cane.
Besides, thanks to the particularly rough night they’d first worked together, Abby did know all about Dirk’s endurance. If only she could forget what amazing stamina the man wielded at the tips of those magical fingers. What stamina the rest of him had delivered. Twice.
Dirk Kelley didn’t need a sleigh and flying reindeer to take a woman to soaring heights.
Maybe somebody should thwack her with a giant candy cane for even letting memories of that morning creep into her thoughts. Hadn’t they agreed they’d made a mistake? Memories like those could only cause her to want to sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what she’d like to find under her tree on Christmas morning.
And that was a family.
Kids anxiously waiting to rip into brightly colored packages.
Aunts, uncles, cousins, parents and grandparents to fuss and carry on about everything from setting the table for Christmas morning breakfast to who was the most surprised by their gift.
A man to share her life with, to love her, and surprise her with something special just for her. Not necessarily something expensive, just something with meaning, something from his heart.
Like the beloved Christmas village pieces her father used to give to her mother before they’d been killed in a house fire when Abby had been seven. She wanted to experience what her parents had shared, to open a package and glance up with excitement, not at the physical gift but with the love with which it had been chosen. She wanted to see that love reflected back at her in the glow of twinkling Christmas morning lights.
But on top of all that, she wanted Dirk.
Abby sighed.
Other than her very busy volunteer schedule and long work hours, Abby led a lonely life. Oh, she had friends, lots of friends, amazing friends like Danielle, but she didn’t have someone to come home to, someone to whom she was the most important person in their life, someone to love and be loved by. Only her tabby cat Mistletoe cared whether or not she came home in the mornings after working the emergency department night shift.
Oblivious to her onset of melancholy, Dirk adjusted his belly padding, scratched at his glued-on beard. “I’ll never complain about a monkey suit again. After this getup, wearing a tuxedo will feel like a real treat.”
Pulling herself from her unwanted self-pitying thoughts and trying not to think about how handsome Dirk would look in a tux, out of a tux, Abby focused on the here and now. She had a great life, a great job and great friends. She was a needed, productive member of society. At the moment she was needed to give downtown Philadelphia children a magical visit with Santa.
Abby wasn’t the kind of woman to disappoint. Not when she had any say in the matter and never when it came to children and Christmas.
“Better let me adjust your beard there, Santa.” She tugged on Dirk’s fake white beard, soothing down the coarse lifelike hair he’d ruffled with his scratching.
Just touching him prickled her skin with goose bumps.
Glancing everywhere but at her, he fanned his face. “Man, this thing is hot.”
He was what was hot. Hot as a roaring fire she’d like to warm herself next to. Oh, my! Abby turned away before she had to fan her face, too.
“You think that’s why Santa’s cheeks stay red?” She reached into the break room’s refrigerator and pulled out a cold bottle of water.
“I thought it was from kissing all the mommies under the mistletoe,” he surprised her by saying.
Abby blinked at him, at how the corners of his mouth hitched upward ever so slightly. Was he flirting with her?
Laughing a bit nervously, she handed him the water. “Well, there is that.”
Twisting off the top and taking a long swig, Dirk sagged into a chair, his blue gaze lifting to hers. “Tell me I don’t really have to go back out there.”
“You don’t have to, but you will, anyway.”
He would, too. In the short time since he’d arrived in Philadelphia, just a couple of weeks prior to Halloween, Dirk had proved himself the type of man who didn’t shirk a commitment. Even one he so obviously regretted having made. Why had he? Guilt at what had happened between them? At his hasty retreat into “This never should have happened” immediately afterward? She’d hid her hurt. She knew she had. And she’d told herself she should be relieved—workplace romances never seemed to end well.
“You’re right.” Even for a guy dressed like Santa Claus his sigh was a bit too melodramatic. “I will, but you owe me, Abs. Big-time. Any time. Any place. Any thing. You owe me. Take note.”
Despite how her heart tattooed a funky beat at his unexpected words, wondering if maybe that morning haunted him, too, Abby placed her hands on her hips. Or maybe it was because of his words she felt the need to stand her ground. “I think ‘any’ is a bit too general.”
“Nope.” He shook his Santafied head. “Any it is.”
She sighed. How bad could owing him be? They’d both agreed falling into bed together had been a mistake, the result of a particularly bad night in the E.R. where three people had died due to trauma received in a multicar accident. Although they’d done everything medically possible, the internal injuries had been too extensive. An elderly man had suffered a heart attack and hit another car head-on. He’d died instantly, but a two-year-old girl and her mother had been alive, barely, when paramedics had rushed them into the emergency room. The mother had died within minutes, the child soon thereafter. Abby’s heart had felt ripped out by shift change. Surprisingly, Dirk had been just as devastated. It had been the only time she’d seen his E.R. physician armor crack.
They’d ended up at her house, clinging to each other for comfort. That’s all that morning had been. Comfort sex between two normal, healthy adults who found each other attractive.
Not that comfort sex with Dirk had been a bad thing. She supposed sex with any man of his probable experience would be fabulous. Definitely, Dirk had been fabulous. Practice made perfect, right?
Which meant there was no way his any thing, any time, any place would have anything to do with a repeat performance. He might have been well on his way to the perfect lover, but she’d been sorely lacking in practice.
As in a couple of not-so-perfect boyfriends.
So why had she asked Dirk in when he’d dropped her by her house when he’d caught her crying in the elevator and insisted on driving her home? How had him walking her to her front door ended with him carrying her to her bedroom, stripping her naked, and initiating her to the joys shared between a man and a woman that up to that point she’d only believed happened in romance novels?
“Abs?” He pulled her back to the present.
She blinked again, hoping more fervently than every kid on Christmas Eve that he couldn’t read her thoughts.
He pushed the gold-rimmed glasses back against the straight slant of his nose. “Do we have a deal?”
She may as well agree. It wasn’t as if Dirk would ever really need anything from her. He was gorgeous, and despite his grumblings about having to play the role of Santa, Dirk was good-hearted, an honorable man and an excellent doctor. The physical chemistry between them kept her from being a hundred percent comfortable in his presence—how could she be comfortable when she looked at him and remembered how delicious his kisses tasted, how his naked body felt gliding against hers?
Just thinking about him made her feel a little giddy. There was always a little extra bounce to her step on the nights her shift overlapped his emergency room duties.
“Fine.” She met his gaze and wondered what he was up to. The man was brilliant. He was also the only Santa she had. She needed him. “For the kids. I owe you.”
“Good,” he said, standing. “Let’s get this over with.”
Dirk’s smile scared her. Which felt wrong. How could a smiling Santa be intimidating? Yet, as his gloved hand clasped hers, her nervous system lit up like a twinkling Christmas tree.
Chapter Two
FROM the moment his precious two-year-old daughter and his wife had been killed in a car accident on their way to an early-morning Christmas bargain sale, Dirk Kelley had hated Christmas.
He’d avoided anything to do with the holiday year after year. To the point that his family had held a well-intended but unnecessary intervention at last year’s not-so-joyous festivities.
After their unwelcome confrontation, telling him he needed to deal with Sandra and Shelby’s deaths, they’d continued to hound him, to try to set him up on dates, to beg him to live life. By early summer, he’d known he had to move away from Oak Park, where his family resided, before the next holiday season. Much to their disappointment, he’d accepted the job in Philadelphia, knowing he was far enough away to avoid holiday get-togethers and their piteous look, but not so far away that he couldn’t make it home if there was an emergency. He loved them, just couldn’t deal with the pity in their eyes, their interference in what was left of his life.
They were wrong. He hadn’t needed the intervention. What he’d needed was for his wife and daughter to be alive, but that was impossible. He’d accepted that inevitability years ago, accepted that he had to move on with his life, and he had. But that didn’t mean he’d ever want to be involved with another woman or would welcome the month of December and all the holiday hoopla that arrived with it.
If he could fast-forward December, he’d gladly do so. The lights, the smells, the sales, the noises, everything about the month ripped open his never-healing chest wound.
Abby’s initial shocked expression must have mirrored his own when he’d agreed to be her Santa.
Mortification and panic had struggled for top seat. Yet he hadn’t been able to take back his ill-fated yes. Not when the wariness she’d eyed him with since the morning after they’d met had finally disappeared, replaced with surprise and soft hazel-eyed gratitude. That look had done something to his insides. Something strange and foreign and despite knowing how difficult today was going to be, he hadn’t retracted his agreement.
Not when doing so would disappoint Abby.
Thank God the deed was behind him and he could put Christmas nonsense behind him, where it belonged.
Thankfully de-Santafied, he wandered around Abby’s living room. The room had been taken hostage by Christmas Past since the last time he’d been here, two months ago. He’d swear he’d stepped into a nostalgic Christmas movie scene from a couple of decades ago.
An ancient wreath hung over Abby’s fireplace, a slightly thinning silver garland was draped over a doorway with faded red ribbons marking each corner. A small Christmas village complete with fake glittery snow and dozens of tiny trees and villagers was set up on a white cloth-covered table, clearly set up in a place of honor beside the tree. The nine main pieces of the village looked old, expensive.
Her live Christmas tree towered almost to the ceiling, a ceramic-faced angel’s tinsel halo mere inches from it. What a crazy tradition. Trees indoors. The entire room smelt like the pine tree—like Christmas. Smells he didn’t like. Smells that haunted him and took him to hellish places he didn’t want to go.
There had been a Christmas tree in the waiting room of the emergency department the morning Sandra and Shelby had died. Amazing how the smell could take him back to sitting in that room, a broken man, a doctor who hadn’t been able to do a damned thing to save his baby girl and her mother.
He walked over to the fireplace, eyeing the giant painted toy soldiers to each side, picking up a slightly worn wooden nutcracker. He shook his head, waiting for the nausea to hit him, waiting for the cold sweat to cover his skin, the grief to bring him to his knees.
Christmas did that to him. Sure, he’d learned to bury his pain beneath what most labeled as cynicism, but that didn’t mean in private moments the past didn’t sneak up to take a stab through his armor, to chip away another piece of what was left of him.
And yet, for the first time since Sandra and Shelby’s deaths, he’d agreed to do something that fed into the whole commercialism of Christmas. All because pretty little nurse Abby Arnold had asked him. She’d lit up so brilliantly someone could stick a halo on her head and place her on top of a tree.
He’d definitely found a piece of heaven on earth in her arms. Had found solace he hadn’t expected in the heat of her kisses.
Solace? After the first sweep of his mouth over her lush lips, he hadn’t been seeking comfort but acting on the attraction he’d instantly felt for the pretty brunette nurse. He’d been on fire. With lust. With need. With the desire to be inside her curvy body.
He hadn’t been remembering or forgetting. He’d been in the moment. With Abby.
He’d wanted her the second he’d laid eyes on her, but never had he experienced such all-consuming sex as that morning. So all-consuming he’d known they couldn’t repeat it. Quite easily he could see himself getting obsessed with having her body wrapped around him, getting serious when he had no intention of ever having another serious relationship. Just look at how often he thought of Abby and they’d only had the one morning where they’d made love, twice, and collapsed into exhausted sleep.
Letting out a slow, controlled breath, Dirk placed the nutcracker back on her mantel. Any time, any place, any thing. Why had he teased her into making such an outlandish promise? Better yet, why had he asked for what he had?
He turned, planning to go and find Abby, to tell her he’d changed his mind and needed to go.
A fat tabby cat in a wicker basket at the end of the sofa caught his eye. They’d been formally introduced when the cat had jumped onto the bed, waking both Dirk and Abby in the middle of the afternoon that mid-October day. The cat had been observing his perusal of the room but other than watch him with boredom the cat never moved except to close its eyes.
Realizing another smell, one that was making his stomach grumble, was taking precedence over the pine and was coming through an open doorway, he followed his nose.
When he stepped into the kitchen, he stopped still at the sight that met him, wondering if he’d had one too many kids call him Santa. Because he certainly had the feeling that he’d stepped into an old Christmas movie again.
Singing to the soft Christmas music playing on the mounted under-the-counter player, Abby had on an apron that had Mr. and Mrs. Claus kissing under a sprig of mistletoe on the front. She’d pulled her thick hair back with a red ribbon and had kicked off her shoes for a pair of worn, fuzzy Rudolph slippers.
Stirring a mixture in a glass bowl, a whimsical smile played on her lips as she swayed to the beat of “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree.” She looked happy. Like she belonged in this house with its hand-me-down decorations and cozy holiday atmosphere.
Not that he found any of this cozy.
Only there was something about Abby that made him feel warmth where only coldness had resided for so long. There was also something about her that made him want to hold mistletoe over her head and kiss her.
He’d need a thatched hut with a mistletoe roof over her head to justify all the places he wanted to kiss Abby Arnold.
He wanted to do more than kiss her. Lots more. Like take some of that fudge and smear it across her…
Her gaze lifting from the glass bowl she held, she smiled, knocking the breath from his lungs with her beauty and sincerity. “I can’t believe you wanted homemade fudge as your any time, any place, any thing.”
Her smile said he’d pleased her with his ravings about the goodies she’d brought to the break room at the hospital and how he wanted another bite.
He wanted another bite all right.
Her dimples dug a little deeper into her lovely face. “Some men are so easy.”
Smiling at him like that, she made him feel easy. Like he was cookie dough in her hands, waiting for her to mold him into whatever shape she wanted. So why was he still there? Why hadn’t he told her he was leaving as he’d come in here to do?
Why was he smiling back at her? Why was he eyeing the pan of chocolate-chip cookies she’d taken out of the oven and feeling a pang of hunger in his belly? A pang that didn’t begin to compare to the one below his belt caused by eyeing Abby.
“If they’ve tasted your homemade goodies, I understand why. Especially the peanut-butter fudge.”
“Thank you.” Her eyes sparkled like the silver tinsel draping her tree. “It was my mother’s recipe.”
“Was?”
A flicker of pain crossed her face. “She died.”
“I’m sorry.” He was. Death was never easy. If anyone knew that, he did. In spades. No, death wasn’t easy. Not even when you were a highly trained doctor who’d been dealing with life and death on a daily basis for years.
Just look at how stupidly he’d behaved that first night he and Abby had worked together. Even now, his reaction to the motor vehicle accident victims bothered him, but he understood why, understood that when he’d been battling to save the mother and daughter, he’d been trying to save his wife, trying to save Shelby.
Only to fail.
But he’d held up fine, wearing the mask he’d perfected in those months following their deaths. Pretending he was okay when inside all he’d felt was cold.
Until he’d run into Abby.
He’d been on his way out of the hospital, had caught the elevator just as the door had started closing, and been startled to see a red-eyed Abby eyeing him in surprise.
After shift change, she’d obviously slipped into the bathroom and had a good cry, was still fighting tears. She’d looked vulnerable, needy, way too distraught to be getting behind the wheel of a car.
Way too distraught for him to let her.
He’d insisted on driving her home.
Which was all fine and dandy.
Walking her to the door, going inside, staying, was where he’d messed up.
He didn’t date hospital employees, wouldn’t date hospital employees.
He hadn’t really dated Abby. He’d just not been able to stand the sadness in her eyes, to stand the thought of her driving upset and possibly something happening to her. They’d ended up naked, in her bed, making love until they’d both collapsed in each other’s arms and slept the day away.
He shouldn’t have done that.
Shouldn’t have agreed to be her Santa.
Shouldn’t be here now.
So why was he pulling up a chair, willingly staying somewhere Christmas tunes played, instead of beating a path to the door?
Was her imagination running wild or was Dirk looking at her like he’d rather take a bite out of her instead of the peanut-butter fudge?
Abby turned away from his intense blue eyes and took a deep breath. Needing to do something with her hands, she twisted on the faucet and filled the sink with sudsy water to wash the dishes she’d used to make the cookies and two batches of fudge—one chocolate, one peanut butter.
“This is really great.”
There was no doubting the sincerity in his voice. She’d swear she heard him moan a moment ago.
Without turning toward him, Abby began stacking the dishes into the hot water to let them soak a few minutes.
“My mother had tons of great recipes, but…” But most of them had been lost in the fire. Only her mother’s Christmas recipes packed away in the crates in the basement had survived. The items stored in the basement had been the only items that had survived, period. Almost every box had contained precious Christmas items. “I always bring several big platters full of goodies to the hospital every Christmas.”
“Like the fudge you brought the other day?”
“That, and more.” She grabbed a dish towel, turned toward him and leaned against the sink. “I like to bake. I like how the house smells when I have cookies in the oven and candies going on the stovetop and…”
Realizing she was probably boring him, heat flushed her face. She wiped her hands more with the dish towel, wondering if the moisture was from the dishwater or from nervous clamminess. Dirk made her edgy.
“Sorry.” She smiled wryly. “Christmas is my favorite holiday and I get carried away at times.”
“Obviously.”
Despite the amusement in his eyes, something about the way he said the word struck her as wrong. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
His grin stayed in place but, still, there was something off kilter, something a bit too brittle about him. “Just that it looks like Bing Crosby should be showing up any moment to start singing about a white Christmas.”
“What would be so bad about that? He was a great singer. What’s wrong with you anyway? All day you’ve acted like you really don’t like Christmas.”
He shrugged. “I don’t.”
“Say it isn’t so!” Astounded, flabbergasted, shocked, her mouth dropped open and her palm flattened against her chest, dish towel and all.
“Why?” He shrugged, looking so serious it made Abby want to loosen her apron strings. “It’s the truth. I’m surprised you buy into such a commercialized holiday.”
“The business world commercializes every holiday but that doesn’t lessen what the day is about.”
“Which is?”
“Are you kidding me?” She eyed him, wondering if he was teasing her. When he’d first told her he didn’t like Christmas, she’d thought he was just trying to get out of playing Santa. Could anyone really not like Christmas? Why wouldn’t they? “Christmas is about everything good in life. It’s a time when families come together and give of themselves to each other. A time when the world slows down and gives a helping hand to someone in need. It’s—”
“It’s a time when people run up credit-card debt they can’t pay. It’s a time of the highest rate of depression cases treated, the highest rate of suicide, the highest rate of—”
“How can you be such a cynic about Christmas?” Abby tossed the dish towel onto the countertop and frowned. How could someone not love Christmas? Not love the bright colors in the stores, the sounds of Christmas over the radio, the decorations along the streets? Abby even loved walking past the Salvation Army bellringers. Dropping money into their collection pails always made her feel warm and fuzzy inside.
Giving of oneself was the greatest joy of the holidays. Sure, it would be nice to have someone give to her, to share the moments with, but she’d already decided once today that she’d had enough self-pity.
“I’m not a cynic,” he denied, but the more he talked, the more convinced she became that he was.
“I’m a realist,” he clarified. “For most, Christmas is a major stressor with trying to come up with the perfect gift, trying to figure out how they’re going to pay for that gift, and how they’re going to fight the crowds to make sure they get their hands on that perfect gift.”
“You’re so negative,” she pointed out, wondering what had given him such a slanted view of her favorite time of the year. “I see Christmas as at time when you get to search out that special gift to bring a smile to someone’s face. A gift meant just for them from you that signifies who they are and how much you appreciate having them in your life.”
“It’s about rushing from one place to the next,” he went on, as if she’d never interrupted his tirade. “Never quite satisfying family and friends with how much of your time you can allot for the festivities they planned without any consideration for your busy schedule. It’s about high emotions and family bickering and—”
“Bah, humbug,” she interrupted, pulling out a chair at the table and sitting down beside him, positive she was staring at a complete stranger. Who would have thought the wonderful emergency doctor was such a Scrooge? The caring man who’d been as devastated by the deaths of two patients as she had? “Say what you will, but that’s not what Christmas is about. Not to me, and you should be ashamed for being so…so…Grinchy!”
He eyed her for long, silent moments, studying her as if she were an oddity. Then, as if he’d not just dissed her favorite holiday, dissed her favorite childhood memories of perfect Christmas moments, his lips curved into a crooked smile. “If it’s any consolation, I really like Christmas fudge.”
Taking a deep breath, relaxing the tension that had tightened her neck muscles, Abby sighed. How could she stay annoyed at him when he gave her that boyish look that made her toes curl in her shoes?
“Good thing I didn’t know all this about you when I asked you to be Santa,” she said, smoothing out the edge of a plain red and green table placemat. “You, Dr. Kelley, are no Santa Claus.”
“You asked me to be Santa because you couldn’t get anyone else to agree.” Still showing wry amusement, his gaze pinned hers. “Admit it.”
An unexpected giggle rose up her throat. “Okay, you’re right. Everyone else I asked claimed to be busy.”
“Such classic examples of Christmas goodwill and cheer.”
“They were probably busy,” she said defensively, although she doubted any of them could match her holiday season schedule. Every year she took on as many projects as she could fit in.
“Sure they were.” He popped the last piece of his fudge into his mouth. “But if they’d known they could maneuver their way into your kitchen, you’d have had to beat Santa-wannabes away with stockings filled with coal.”
“I’m guessing you’d know a lot about those stockings filled with coal.” At his mock look of horror, she smiled. “You should’ve tried my mother’s Martha Washington candy.”
Memories of standing on a chair beside her mother, carefully dipping rolled candies into melted chocolate, her mother smiling down at her, praising her efforts, filled Abby’s heart. How she longed for a family to spend Christmas with.
Dirk reached for a second square of fudge. His sooty ashes swept across his cheeks as he bit into it. Was it shameful she’d like to see that blissful look on his face while he tasted her lips? Yes. Yes, it was. They’d agreed anything physical between them was a mistake. She’d agreed when he’d said that.
It had been a mistake. Hadn’t it? Or had agreeing with him been the mistake?
Because looking at him, being here with him, denying the way she wanted him when she wanted him so badly sure felt like the bigger mistake.
Chapter Three
“IF YOU’RE more into peanut butter, there’s always peanut-butter balls and homemade peanut brittle,” she rushed out, trying to redirect her mind away from the direction it was headed.
Eyes wide, his gaze lifted to hers. He looked like an eager little boy. Like he’d looked that morning when he’d devoured her mouth.
He placed his hand over his heart. “I’ve died and gone to heaven. You’re right. I was too easy. I should have asked for peanut brittle.”
She laughed out loud at his look of ecstasy.
Just as quickly her laughter faded as more memories of another time, another look of ecstasy had been on his handsome face.
When he’d been standing just inside her front door, awkwardly saying goodbye but making no move to leave. The only move he’d made had been to bend and gently kiss her lips.
Then he’d kissed her not so gently.
Oh, Lord, how he’d kissed her.
And kissed her.
No, she couldn’t keep thinking of that morning. Not with him here, alone, in her house, just the two of them and the bed where he’d made love to her.
No, not love. They’d just been two colleagues dealing poorly with a very stressful night in the emergency room.
Her gaze tangled with his and his good humor faded just as quickly as hers had. Was he remembering, too? Recalling that the last time he’d been in her house, he’d never seen the kitchen but had had an up-close-and-personal tour of her bedroom?
He stuck the remainder of his fudge in his mouth, stood and brushed his hands over the faded jeans he’d changed into in her guest bathroom after his shower. When he’d swallowed the mouthful, he took a step back. “I put your Santa suit on the sofa.”
His words managed to pull her from memories of Dirk’s last visit to further in the past. Her father’s Santa suit. When Dirk had asked her about what he’d wear, she’d instantly offered her father’s suit.
“Thanks for the fudge and for the loan of the suit.”
“It was the least I could do as you filled in for Santa.” True, but had anyone else agreed to play the role, she would have bought a cheap Santa costume from a department store. For Dirk, she’d dug out the treasured suit that had belonged to her father.
“Thanks all the same.”
“If you hadn’t agreed, I’d have had to play Santa.” Not that her father’s suit would have fit her, but she’d have made it work somehow. “I think the kids might have been scarred for life.”
His gaze raked over the ample upper part of her body. “You’re probably right about that. You’re no Santa.” He tossed her earlier words back at her.
Abby didn’t know whether to be offended or flattered. Either way, heat crept into her face.
“I’ll get a dish for you to take some home.” She stood so rapidly her chair almost toppled. Pulling out a Christmas patterned storage tin, she placed a generous piece of plastic wrap inside, arranged as much as would fit of the fudge and cookies, and put the lid on. “There you go.”
He’d moved over next to her, standing near the cabinets. His body heat radiated toward her, luring her nearer. “I feel guilty, coercing you to make this and then taking most of it.”
“You should feel guiltier if you left it here,” she teased a bit nervously, playfully elbowing him, the contact shooting stars through the pit of her belly.
His gaze dropped to where she’d touched his arm then his brow rose in question of her comment.
“If you left it, I’d eat it,” she clarified, not lowering her gaze despite how her blood pumped through her body at warp speed and made her feel as if she needed to call time out so she could catch her breath.
Again his eyes ran over her features, taking their time and not seeming to mind the bumps and valleys along the journey. “That would be a bad thing?”
“I’m a woman who is constantly on a diet,” she admitted, sucking in her waist reflexively as his gaze traveled lower. Not that holding her belly in would do much good.
“You have no reason to be on a diet.” When his eyes met hers, they were blue fire, hot, lust-filled.
A thousand carolers began to sing in her soul, louder and louder until she might explode from the sheer beauty of it, until she was sure the sound must be able to be heard in heaven itself.
“No reason at all,” he repeated, his gaze burning hotter. “You’re perfect just as you are.”
Um, right. Perfect. If you liked a woman who was busty and hippy, with a little extra thigh thrown in on the sides. But she couldn’t look away from Dirk, because he was either the most talented fibber in the world or he meant what he said. And, darn, if those carolers hadn’t gone up another octave in the pit of her belly, making every individual cell vibrate in a happy dance.
“I, uh…” What could she say when he was looking at her as if a slightly fuller figure really was perfection? She shoved the fudge at him. “Thank you, but I’m glad you’re taking it, all the same.”
He looked as if he wanted to say more, but must have decided against doing so as he took the candy, stared at her a few moments, his gaze going from fire to almost a sad smoldering. “Bye, Abs. You working tomorrow night?”
Abs. He really shouldn’t say her name like that so carelessly! Holding her breath, she nodded.
“Are you planning to go to the hospital Christmas party this weekend?” Had he winced while asking that? Or after the words had left his mouth?
“Of course,” she answered slowly, watching the play of conflicting emotions dance on his face. “I’m on the hospital’s Christmas committee and helped put the party together. Are you going?”
“I hadn’t planned to, but…” He paused, looked as if he needed to loosen his collar even though his black T-shirt was far from restricting at the neck.
“But?” she prompted, her eyes focusing on a bead of sweat she’d swear was forming on his brow.
He took a deep breath, as if he was about to embark on a dangerous quest he really didn’t want to go on but had little choice. “If you’ll go with me, I could probably tolerate it this once. When I didn’t RSVP, the hospital administrator came by.” Dirk sighed, looking almost as uncomfortable as he had when he’d been playing Santa. “He said it wouldn’t look good for the newest member on the medical staff to not show for the hospital’s biggest employee social event of the year.”
Not the most enthusiastic invitation she’d ever received, but happiness spread through Abby.
Dirk had just asked her on a date to the hospital Christmas party.
Not that he really wanted to go, but he’d asked her to accompany him. On a date.
“I’d love to go to the Christmas party with you.” There wasn’t a man alive she’d rather attend with. Being at Dirk’s side would make the party all the more special, made everything all the more special.
Would he please turn around a moment so she could happy-dance around the kitchen?
Dirk had asked her to the Christmas party! Their morning hadn’t been a one-night stand after all. Er…a one-morning stand after all.
“Okay. Great.” He sounded relieved at her answer.
Had he thought she’d say no or was it the Christmas party itself stressing him? Either way, Dirk had just asked her to go on a date.
Thinking this just might be the best Christmas ever, she bubbled with good cheer and found herself wanting to tease a smile out of him. “Do I need to have my father’s Santa suit dry-cleaned or will you be providing your own wardrobe for the evening?”
He snorted, his mouth creeping up at the corners as she’d hoped. “You worry about what you’re going to wear, Li’l Miss Christmas Spirit. I’ll take care of my suit.”
“So long as it’s not green with pointy toes, Mr. Grinchy.”
He laughed. “Deal.”
They stared at each other long moments, so long Abby couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking, couldn’t help but wonder what had prompted his invitation. Was it possible that she wasn’t the only one with visions of more than sugar plums dancing through her dreams? Could he at this very moment want to whisk her off her feet and carry her back to her bed and have a repeat? Why bother going to the bedroom? Kitchens were always good for cooking up something hot.
He cleared his throat, coughed, shook his head a little. “See you tomorrow night at the hospital. Thanks again for the fudge.”
With that, he took his goodies and left.
Abby wrapped her arms around her apron-covered waist and danced around the kitchen while singing along with one of her favorite Christmas tunes.
She was going to the hospital Christmas party with the most amazing, sexy, wonderful man she’d ever met.
God, she loved Christmastime and if she wasn’t careful, she just might end up loving Dirk, too.
“Bay one has a probable UTI,” Abby told Dirk when he stepped out of the exam area where he’d just been seeing a patient in. “White blood cell count is twelve thousand, with neutrophils slightly elevated. There’s a trace of blood and plus four bacteria in the urine. The patient reports tenderness in the abdomen and in the mid-low back.”
Dirk nodded, without glancing directly at her.
Abby sighed. He’d seemed a bit distant tonight. She’d been dreaming of dashing through the snow like lovers with him ever since he’d issued his invitation to the Christmas party. Okay, before then. Way before then. She’d been dreaming of Dirk since the morning they’d ended up in bed together. Hadn’t she known not to get her hopes up after the way he’d dashed out of her house after they’d made love? But she just couldn’t seem to help herself where Dirk was concerned.
Reminding herself that she was a registered nurse, a professional, and on the job, she followed Dirk into the bay, telling herself to keep her mind—and eyes!—off the man in front of her, even if he did look fab-u-lous in his hospital-issue scrubs.
Obviously, he didn’t spend his days inside, baking. Not with the taut definition in his upper arms, the strength in his neck and shoulders, the taper of his waist, the…Abby gulped. Focus! He is not a Christmas package waiting for you to unwrap him. He’s a highly respected emergency physician.
But she’d really like to unwrap Dirk.
Focus! Focus! Focus!
“Hello, Mrs. Youngblood,” he greeted the thin lady with streaky brown-blond hair and pinched facial features. “The nurse was just telling me about your lab results. It appears you have a serious urinary-tract infection. Tell me what’s been going on.”
Dirk examined the patient while the lady told him of her symptoms, when they’d started and how they’d gotten much worse during the night to the point she’d decided she couldn’t wait until morning to check in with her primary care provider.
“No history of kidney stones?”
Mrs. Youngblood shook her head, her expression easing very little. “My husband has them, but I never have. Are they contagious?”
“No. You can’t catch kidney stones from another person.” Dirk pressed on her thin abdomen, attempting to palpate organs. “Any vaginal symptoms?”
“I don’t think so,” she denied, her hand guarding her belly as Dirk examined her. “It just really burns when I urinate. And feels like my bladder is going to turn inside out when I go, too.”
“Have the medications given since you’ve arrived helped?”
“Yes.” Although you sure couldn’t tell it by the woman’s grimace. “When I first got here I was miserable. The pain hasn’t completely eased, but I’m a lot better.”
Dirk washed his hands then turned to his patient. “I’m going to write a prescription for some antibiotics. You’ll need to follow up with your primary care provider within the next couple of days.” He began writing out orders. “Do you need a note for work?”
The woman shook her head. “I work from home as a medical billing clerk.”
“Great.” Dirk turned to Abby, meeting her eyes for the first time since they’d entered the room, and he smiled.
A real smile that reached those gorgeous blue eyes and pierced right into her heart.
Relief flooded Abby. Did he have any idea as to the lethalness of his smile? Probably. She soaked up every drop of his potency, letting the intensity of her emotions flow through her veins.
“Mrs. Youngblood,” he said, his gaze flicking back to his patient. “The nurse will get you ready for discharge. If you have any additional problems or get worse before morning, I’d suggest you return to the emergency department for a recheck.”
An hour later, the emergency department was in full swing. Every bay was full. Both physicians and the nurse practitioner on duty were at full stretch.
Abby adjusted a breathing mask over an asthma patient’s mouth and nose, preparing to administer a beta-agonist medication via a nebulizer to rapidly open up the restricted airways.
“You may feel a little shaky and jittery after the medication starts working,” she warned her patient. “The process that causes the bronchial tubes to dilate also speeds up the heart rate. Don’t let the reaction alarm you as that’s a natural and expected response to the medicine.”
She turned on the nebulizer and waited to make sure the patient’s wheezing slowed before she stepped out of the bay to check on her next patient.
Dirk was with him—a morbidly obese man who’d woken up with a sharp tightness in his chest that took his breath. They’d started him on meds immediately on arrival, done tests, including an EKG that showed left ventricular hypertrophy and a possible blockage. They’d stabilized him while awaiting the results of his cardiac enzyme tests.
“I read your chest X-ray, Mr. Lytle. Your heart is enlarged, showing signs of your high blood pressure and congestive heart failure, but that shouldn’t have caused you to wake up with chest pain. I don’t see anything acute on the films, but your troponin level is slightly elevated. That’s a myocardial muscle isoenzyme that elevates when the heart isn’t getting enough oxygen. I’m going to admit you to the cardiac-care unit for close observation. The cardiologist on call has been notified you’re here and will be by soon. He’ll schedule you for a cardiac catheterization, likely for in the morning. That way, if there are any blockages, he can repair them immediately.”
Abby began to prepare to have the patient transferred to the cardiac-care unit while Dirk answered the questions of the patient and his wife.
The rest of the night passed quickly. The E.R. was still bustling come shift change. An hour past time for her to have left, Abby clocked out, exhausted and feeling a little woozy.
Dirk had still been with an abdominal pain patient who’d come in minutes before shift change. Abby had offered to stay, but the day-shift nurse had taken over and had things under control.
She’d felt relieved at the reprieve, and surprised at how tired she was. The night had been busy, but no more so than dozens of others she’d worked, but she just wanted to go home, crawl into bed and pass out.
She rarely got sick, but definitely her stomach churned at the thought of breakfast. Maybe she’d just skip her usual light meal before going to bed. Hopefully, she’d feel better once she got some sleep.
She hoped she wasn’t coming down with something, especially so close to Christmas.
Regardless, no way would she let a little nausea and fatigue get her down when she had a date with Dirk for the Christmas party on Saturday evening.
Chapter Four
“DON’T tell me you unwrapped a Christmas present early and found Dr. Kelley inside, because if that’s the case, I’m changing what I put on my wish list for this year.” Medical floor nurse Danielle Booker draped her arm around Abby’s shoulder on Saturday night at the hospital Christmas party being held in the ballroom of a nearby hotel.
Abby glanced away from where she watched Dirk talk with a couple of other physicians. When the conversation had turned to golf, she’d excused herself. She’d needed a few moments to breathe. Dirk had been the perfect attentive date, but the tension between them was so palpable it threatened to cut off her windpipe. Between that and his obvious discomfort at being at the party, Abby was wound tighter than a spool of ribbon.
“I’m waiting.” Danielle tapped her slinky black high heels against the ballroom floor. “Were you such a good girl this year that Santa arranged for Dr. Kelley to be in your stocking?”
“Now isn’t the time for details about my relationship with Dirk.” Not to mention that she didn’t know how to define their relationship.
“You’re admitting you have a relationship with Dirk?” Her friend put emphasis on the use of his given name rather than his title of Dr. Kelley.
He’d been Dirk from the moment she’d glanced into his eyes and felt as if she were drowning in a blue sea of Christmas ribbon. With all her volunteering with the community outreach program, she hadn’t found the time to call her best friend and they’d been on different shifts at the hospital. She hadn’t told anyone about the morning she’d spent with Dirk. Perhaps if their relationship hadn’t ended almost as fast as they’d started…And if they’d ended, what was tonight about? And why did she fluctuate between giddy and the need to protect her heart?
“I’m not admitting anything. Not here.” Abby’s gaze shifted to him again. Just looking at him made her feel as if she was all tangled up and would never be able to free herself. “But I like him, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You like him? Girl, that isn’t ‘like’ I see in your eyes,” Danielle teased, her grin growing bigger in direct proportion to Abby’s face growing hotter. “You are so telling me everything soon.”
“Everything,” Abby agreed. Which was what? Dirk hadn’t called or even talked to her at the hospital other than about patients and to confirm what time to pick her up. After his Santa debut and him asking her out for tonight, she’d jumped every time her phone had rung, hoping he’d call. She’d been disappointed every time. Disappointed that he hadn’t made any effort to talk to her outside the parameters of work.
Until tonight.
Tonight, he’d been a considerate date, if quiet, taking her white faux-fur wrap and gloves to the designated coat room, ensuring she had everything she wanted to drink and eat, even making the comment that her goodies tasted better than the ones supplied by the party’s caterer.
Yet that ever-present awkwardness, awareness, kept her slightly on edge, not letting her completely relax, making her stomach stay slightly knotted with tension. That’s why she’d needed a breather. Being so close to Dirk, his hand occasionally resting possessively on her back, she’d been on the verge of swooning from lack of air.
On the verge of grabbing his hand and dragging him to a room and kissing him like crazy in hopes of abating whatever this burn inside her was.
Abby covered her mouth with her hand, biting back a slight smile at what Dirk would do, say, if she marched over to him and did just that. Bet that wouldn’t do a thing to ease the edginess she’d sensed about him all evening. Because of her? Or the Christmas party?
Danielle eyed her a moment, taking note of exactly what Abby wasn’t sure, just that her friend’s smile faded. “You okay? You look flushed.”
Any flush on her face was from her thoughts, not from not feeling okay. Actually, the bug that had been bothering her earlier in the week was sticking around. But, fortunately, by the time Dirk had arrived she’d been fine. When he’d looked at her as if she was more mouthwatering than any piece of peppermint candy, had told her she was beautiful, well, she’d been over the moon.
If she’d stop trying to label whatever was happening between them and could just enjoy the fact that something was happening, everything would be wonderful.
She visually sought out where he still stood with the group of golfing physicians. He wasn’t saying much, just listening to the others. Dirk didn’t have to say much. The man would stand out in any crowd. Not just because of his height or his good looks or even his quick intelligence. No, he’d stand out because of the confident way he held himself, the pure aura of testosterone that clung to him and demanded women take notice, even though he seemed oblivious to the fact he was gorgeous.
Abby noticed. From his thick black hair to the tailored lines of his dinner jacket and trousers to the pointed toes of his Italian shoes, she noticed. And liked. She definitely liked.
“How could I not be okay?” she practically sighed, wondering if Danielle would scoop her up if she melted into an Abby puddle. Dirk liquefied her insides. Any moment she might slosh to the floor.
“Right,” Danielle replied, her gaze following Abby’s. “Got to admit, that man is fine. A little quiet and brooding for my taste, but he is easy on the eye.”
Very easy on the eye. She’d seen more than one envious look her way when they entered the hotel ballroom.
“Just because he doesn’t like Christmas doesn’t mean he’s brooding,” Abby defended. “Plus, he isn’t quiet once you get to know him. He has a great sense of humor.”
Just recalling how he’d teased her made her insides toasty warm.
“I didn’t know Dr. Dreamboat doesn’t like Christmas and I still think he’s brooding,” Danielle pointed out.
Okay, so maybe a little brooding.
“The man keeps to himself, doesn’t socialize, rarely talks to anyone outside anything to do with a patient or work. That’s okay, mind you. He’s probably just a private person, but that’s not my style. Although…” she glanced toward where Dirk stood “…in his case, I could be convinced to make an exception.” Danielle gave a little shake of her head. “Seriously, he doesn’t like Christmas? Talk about your opposites attracting. Does he know you’re the Queen of Holiday Cheer?”
“He knows.” Recalling their conversation about the holidays, Abby tried not to wince. She’d just focus on the positive. “He likes my peanut-butter fudge.”
“I’ll just bet he does.” Danielle snickered.
Abby rolled her eyes, but couldn’t keep her smile from her face. “He stepped in and played Santa the other day at the community center, too.”
See, there was another positive. Dirk had been there when she’d needed him. How many people could she say that of throughout her life so far?
“You’re kidding! Dr. Kelley was Santa?” Danielle’s mouth dropped open. “Now I know I’m changing my Christmas wish list. You should have told me. I could have come and sat in his lap.”
Um, no. If any grown-up had been going to sit in Dirk’s lap, Abby had dibs.
“My Santa canceled very last minute and I couldn’t find a replacement. He saved me from canceling the event. Plus, he did a good job.” Abby laughed at her friend’s amazed expression. “Seriously, he did.”
Mostly. He hadn’t seemed to enjoy himself, but he had stayed until every kid in line had gotten their time with Santa. Not every busy doctor would have given up so much of his free time.
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Janice Lynn
The Nurse Who Saved Christmas
Janice Lynn
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#ua8e585ac-02f2-5ec4-a8f7-60ca5e6c07ad)
Title Page (#u09c03ddf-6d60-54a8-84ea-280ea0c911fe)
Dear Reader (#u16d2a440-7cab-5f61-b882-9f9d2168f157)
About the Author (#u9356f5fb-b711-53aa-b818-386df4eb7594)
Chapter One (#ue2a7752b-bea8-529e-a498-741b294fdd05)
Chapter Two (#ufad3440a-def6-5b8f-b76d-d32304990d4a)
Chapter Three (#ue809a572-01ca-5b47-9b54-0a53de5dcbc8)
Chapter Four (#ub8dbf618-6695-5d9a-83b3-292e11bd3bd6)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader
Some of my favourite memories are of my children waking up on Christmas morning—of seeing their faces as they first catch sight of the goodies beneath the tree, of their laughter as they tear into packages, of watching the excitement in their eyes. Other wonderful memories are of going to my parents’, sampling my mom’s homemade goodies, enjoying time with my rather large extended family, looking around and seeing people treat others with love and generosity, making an extra effort to make the world a better place for others. All those things are what make up Christmas, but other not so happy memories can hit hard at the holidays as well. Memories of loved ones who are no longer with us, in particular.
In THE NURSE WHO SAVED CHRISTMAS I wanted to capture the warmth of the holidays, but also the pain of when your heart’s not whole. Abby and Dirk have to learn the true meaning of the holidays, and of love. I hope you enjoy their story, and that you have a wonderful Christmas filled with all the magic of the season.
I love to hear from readers. Please e-mail me at Janice@janicelynn.net, write to me care of Harlequin Mills & Boon, or visit me at my website: www.janicelynn.net
Janice Lynn
About the Author
JANICE LYNN has a Masters in Nursing from Vanderbilt University, and works as a nurse practitioner in a family practice. She lives in the southern United States with her husband, their four children, their Jack Russell—appropriately named Trouble—and a lot of unnamed dust bunnies that have moved in since she started her writing career. To find out more about Janice and her writing, visit www.janicelynn.com
Chapter One
NURSE ABBY ARNOLD hid her smile behind her hand as Santa Claus grimaced at the squirming kid sitting in his lap at the children’s advocacy Christmas community outreach in downtown Philadelphia.
“Smile for the picture,” she said sweetly, standing a few feet from the elaborate thronelike chair and Christmas tree being used for “Pictures with Santa.”
Santa Claus’s deep blue eyes narrowed behind his gold-rimmed glasses, but his lips curved in a smile hopefully only she could tell was forced.
How had she talked Dr. Dirk Kelley into helping when the Santa she’d arranged for the event canceled at the last minute, leaving her desperate for a replacement? So desperate she’d asked a man she’d treated as if they were just friendly colleagues for the past two months and not more, all the while walking on eggshells at the sharp undercurrents between them.
“Ho, ho, ho, what do you want for Christmas this year, little boy?” Santa asked, sounding more like the Abominable Snowman than a jolly old man full of Christmas spirit.
Despite her awkward physical awareness of the man beneath the suit, it was all Abby could do not to snort. Did Dirk really believe that voice sounded Santa-ish? Hadn’t he sat on Santa’s knee as a kid? Watched Christmas television shows about jolly Saint Nick? Anything that would clue him in that Christmas was the most magical time of the year and that for these kids he was part of that magic? Something they’d always remember?
For all she knew, he hadn’t.
Although they’d started out with a bang the night they’d first worked together, she really didn’t know much about the handsome doctor who’d knocked her socks off from the moment she’d met him.
She knew very little about him or his past. Although, thanks to that morning, she spent way too much of her present thinking about him and how much she’d like to feature in his future.
The kid on Dirk’s lap, around five, wiped the back of his pudgy hand across his runny nose. “An Xbox, and a cellphone, and a digital voice enhancer, and a…”
The list went on. And on. Even Abby’s eyes widened at some of the items the kid listed. What had happened to a baseball glove or a bicycle?
Santa’s bushy white brow rose as he regarded the kid. “Have you been that good this year?”
Another wipe of the face, then a nod. “I have. Extra-good.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” At the mother’s frantic look, Santa diplomatically added, “But Santa’s on a budget. To be fair to the other good little boys and girls, I’ll have to prioritize and just bring one or two of your list items.”
The mother heaved a relieved sigh.
Santa set the boy off his lap but, rather than walk away, the kid wrapped his arms around Dirk’s neck and planted a noisy kiss on a high cheekbone Abby had doctored earlier with rosy rouge. “I love you, Santa.”
Abby’s insides melted. How sweet! This was why she’d volunteered to organize this event. Why she volunteered with so many Christmas events. To help bring holiday magic alive for others.
Only Dirk looked more like he was being cooked alive than feeling the magic.
“I…uh…” His eyes cut to her with a distressed plea for rescue. He didn’t have to say anything aloud. Abby got the message loud and clear.
Not in a million years could she deny him. Not when his gaze held hers and she had a resurgence of the connection she’d instantaneously felt with him, had a resurgence of the connection they’d shared that morning. One so real, so tangible, she’d felt in sync with him, had comforted and been comforted.
No, she couldn’t deny Dirk much of anything within her power to give. Obviously. Besides, she was good at helping others, giving to others. It’s what she did. What she’d always done. What was expected of her by all who knew her, especially this time of year.
Wondering at Dirk’s evident rising unease, she put her hand on the boy’s back and gave him a gentle pat. “Santa loves you, too. Don’t forget to keep being extra-good between now and Christmas. He’ll be watching.”
At the last, the kid shot a wary glance toward Santa, his face contorting in shock. “Even when I’m in the bathtub?”
“No, not then. Just when you’re being good or bad.” Sending an apologetic smile, the boy’s mother took his hand and led him away. Several times he glanced over his shoulder, waving goodbye.
Standing to tower above her five feet, six inches, Dirk bent to whisper in her ear. “Santa needs a break. Stat.”
His rush of warm breath tickling her ear filled her with Christmas magic, from her head to the tippy-tips of her toes. This so wasn’t the place to be getting hot and bothered by Dirk and his overabundant male magnetism.
In a Santa costume, for goodness’ sake.
How could she possibly be turned on by a man dressed in her deceased father’s treasured Santa suit? Although she loved Christmas, she wasn’t prone to Christmas fetishes. Then again, it wasn’t the suit but the man inside it lighting up her world like the most overdecorated house in the neighborhood.
He was playing Santa as a favor to her—she had no choice but to get her feelings under control and not attack the man’s lips with hers in front of all these children.
She gave a calm nod and told the waiting crowd, “Sorry, kids, but Santa needs to check in with his elves to make sure all the toys are being made just right.” She smiled brilliantly at the children and their parents. “We’ll be back in ten minutes.”
As expected, moans and groans greeted them from the families in the long line. Despite Dirk’s obvious need for a reprieve, she sensed his hesitation, liked him all the more for it. Still, he’d said he needed a break and she’d seen in his eyes that he really did.
“Come on, Santa.” Smiling brightly, Abby looped her arm in a red-velvet-covered one and spoke loudly. “Follow me, and I’ll take you to where you can use your special Santa phone to call the North Pole and put in the requests for presents you’ve heard so far. There’s only two more weeks until Christmas, so they need to get started filling the orders right away.”
Gratitude shining in his eyes, Dirk nodded, pasted on a fake smile, and waved at the crowd.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” he mumbled under his breath while allowing her to lead him away from the masses gathered at the community center just to meet him. “This is madness. Pure commercialized madness.”
She still couldn’t believe he’d said yes, either. Sure, he was the one man capable of delivering her Christmas wish, but long and lean Dr. Dirk Kelley playing the role of Santa to dozens of children was another matter altogether. They’d worked together long enough for her to realize kids made him uncomfortable, that he was quiet and kept to himself. Her friend and fellow nurse Danielle called him Dr. Dreamboat. Abby called him what she most wanted for Christmas, but had never said the words out loud, not even to her tabby cat, Mistletoe.
Regardless, Dirk was doing her a huge favor and she was grateful. Smiling, she quirked a brow in his direction. “Ah, Santa, where’s your Christmas spirit?”
He snorted. “I lost it somewhere between demands for a new computer and the kid who wanted a Mercedes-Benz.” He shook his red and white hat and white wig topped head in dismay. “What happened to kids wanting Tinkertoys and tricycles?”
Although he pretty much echoed her earlier thoughts, Abby just shrugged. “Now, Santa, stay with the times. It’s high tech and electronics these days. You’ll have to get your elves with the program.”
“Apparently,” he said wryly. The moment they stepped out of the main walkway of the community center and into the privacy of the employee break room where they’d left their things earlier, his broad shoulders sagged. “I’m not sure I’m going to last another hour. Christmas just isn’t my thing, Abs.”
“Bah, humbug, Mr. Scrooge.” While trying to decide if he was serious about the Christmas comment, she gave an internal sigh at his use of his pet name for her. Did he have any idea how that sent shivers through her? That every time she heard it she was instantly taken back to being in his arms, to the first time he’d whispered the name when they’d been tangled together beneath her bedsheets? “Surely you can make it another hour.” She sighed theatrically. “Guess men of endurance are a thing of the past, too.”
“Don’t you believe it,” he warned, grinning for real for the first time in over an hour, his eyes taking on a dangerous gleam despite his costume and obvious dislike of his role. “My endurance is just fine. Better than fine.”
She raked her gaze over his red fur-covered body. The padding beneath the suit didn’t begin to hide the wide shoulders and abundant male charisma. Not really. Abby had caught more than one mom in line eyeing Santa as if they’d like to sit on his knee and ask for him in their Christmas stockings…If they knew Santa was none other than scrumptious Dr. Dirk Kelley, Santa would have had to beat the women off with a giant candy cane.
Besides, thanks to the particularly rough night they’d first worked together, Abby did know all about Dirk’s endurance. If only she could forget what amazing stamina the man wielded at the tips of those magical fingers. What stamina the rest of him had delivered. Twice.
Dirk Kelley didn’t need a sleigh and flying reindeer to take a woman to soaring heights.
Maybe somebody should thwack her with a giant candy cane for even letting memories of that morning creep into her thoughts. Hadn’t they agreed they’d made a mistake? Memories like those could only cause her to want to sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what she’d like to find under her tree on Christmas morning.
And that was a family.
Kids anxiously waiting to rip into brightly colored packages.
Aunts, uncles, cousins, parents and grandparents to fuss and carry on about everything from setting the table for Christmas morning breakfast to who was the most surprised by their gift.
A man to share her life with, to love her, and surprise her with something special just for her. Not necessarily something expensive, just something with meaning, something from his heart.
Like the beloved Christmas village pieces her father used to give to her mother before they’d been killed in a house fire when Abby had been seven. She wanted to experience what her parents had shared, to open a package and glance up with excitement, not at the physical gift but with the love with which it had been chosen. She wanted to see that love reflected back at her in the glow of twinkling Christmas morning lights.
But on top of all that, she wanted Dirk.
Abby sighed.
Other than her very busy volunteer schedule and long work hours, Abby led a lonely life. Oh, she had friends, lots of friends, amazing friends like Danielle, but she didn’t have someone to come home to, someone to whom she was the most important person in their life, someone to love and be loved by. Only her tabby cat Mistletoe cared whether or not she came home in the mornings after working the emergency department night shift.
Oblivious to her onset of melancholy, Dirk adjusted his belly padding, scratched at his glued-on beard. “I’ll never complain about a monkey suit again. After this getup, wearing a tuxedo will feel like a real treat.”
Pulling herself from her unwanted self-pitying thoughts and trying not to think about how handsome Dirk would look in a tux, out of a tux, Abby focused on the here and now. She had a great life, a great job and great friends. She was a needed, productive member of society. At the moment she was needed to give downtown Philadelphia children a magical visit with Santa.
Abby wasn’t the kind of woman to disappoint. Not when she had any say in the matter and never when it came to children and Christmas.
“Better let me adjust your beard there, Santa.” She tugged on Dirk’s fake white beard, soothing down the coarse lifelike hair he’d ruffled with his scratching.
Just touching him prickled her skin with goose bumps.
Glancing everywhere but at her, he fanned his face. “Man, this thing is hot.”
He was what was hot. Hot as a roaring fire she’d like to warm herself next to. Oh, my! Abby turned away before she had to fan her face, too.
“You think that’s why Santa’s cheeks stay red?” She reached into the break room’s refrigerator and pulled out a cold bottle of water.
“I thought it was from kissing all the mommies under the mistletoe,” he surprised her by saying.
Abby blinked at him, at how the corners of his mouth hitched upward ever so slightly. Was he flirting with her?
Laughing a bit nervously, she handed him the water. “Well, there is that.”
Twisting off the top and taking a long swig, Dirk sagged into a chair, his blue gaze lifting to hers. “Tell me I don’t really have to go back out there.”
“You don’t have to, but you will, anyway.”
He would, too. In the short time since he’d arrived in Philadelphia, just a couple of weeks prior to Halloween, Dirk had proved himself the type of man who didn’t shirk a commitment. Even one he so obviously regretted having made. Why had he? Guilt at what had happened between them? At his hasty retreat into “This never should have happened” immediately afterward? She’d hid her hurt. She knew she had. And she’d told herself she should be relieved—workplace romances never seemed to end well.
“You’re right.” Even for a guy dressed like Santa Claus his sigh was a bit too melodramatic. “I will, but you owe me, Abs. Big-time. Any time. Any place. Any thing. You owe me. Take note.”
Despite how her heart tattooed a funky beat at his unexpected words, wondering if maybe that morning haunted him, too, Abby placed her hands on her hips. Or maybe it was because of his words she felt the need to stand her ground. “I think ‘any’ is a bit too general.”
“Nope.” He shook his Santafied head. “Any it is.”
She sighed. How bad could owing him be? They’d both agreed falling into bed together had been a mistake, the result of a particularly bad night in the E.R. where three people had died due to trauma received in a multicar accident. Although they’d done everything medically possible, the internal injuries had been too extensive. An elderly man had suffered a heart attack and hit another car head-on. He’d died instantly, but a two-year-old girl and her mother had been alive, barely, when paramedics had rushed them into the emergency room. The mother had died within minutes, the child soon thereafter. Abby’s heart had felt ripped out by shift change. Surprisingly, Dirk had been just as devastated. It had been the only time she’d seen his E.R. physician armor crack.
They’d ended up at her house, clinging to each other for comfort. That’s all that morning had been. Comfort sex between two normal, healthy adults who found each other attractive.
Not that comfort sex with Dirk had been a bad thing. She supposed sex with any man of his probable experience would be fabulous. Definitely, Dirk had been fabulous. Practice made perfect, right?
Which meant there was no way his any thing, any time, any place would have anything to do with a repeat performance. He might have been well on his way to the perfect lover, but she’d been sorely lacking in practice.
As in a couple of not-so-perfect boyfriends.
So why had she asked Dirk in when he’d dropped her by her house when he’d caught her crying in the elevator and insisted on driving her home? How had him walking her to her front door ended with him carrying her to her bedroom, stripping her naked, and initiating her to the joys shared between a man and a woman that up to that point she’d only believed happened in romance novels?
“Abs?” He pulled her back to the present.
She blinked again, hoping more fervently than every kid on Christmas Eve that he couldn’t read her thoughts.
He pushed the gold-rimmed glasses back against the straight slant of his nose. “Do we have a deal?”
She may as well agree. It wasn’t as if Dirk would ever really need anything from her. He was gorgeous, and despite his grumblings about having to play the role of Santa, Dirk was good-hearted, an honorable man and an excellent doctor. The physical chemistry between them kept her from being a hundred percent comfortable in his presence—how could she be comfortable when she looked at him and remembered how delicious his kisses tasted, how his naked body felt gliding against hers?
Just thinking about him made her feel a little giddy. There was always a little extra bounce to her step on the nights her shift overlapped his emergency room duties.
“Fine.” She met his gaze and wondered what he was up to. The man was brilliant. He was also the only Santa she had. She needed him. “For the kids. I owe you.”
“Good,” he said, standing. “Let’s get this over with.”
Dirk’s smile scared her. Which felt wrong. How could a smiling Santa be intimidating? Yet, as his gloved hand clasped hers, her nervous system lit up like a twinkling Christmas tree.
Chapter Two
FROM the moment his precious two-year-old daughter and his wife had been killed in a car accident on their way to an early-morning Christmas bargain sale, Dirk Kelley had hated Christmas.
He’d avoided anything to do with the holiday year after year. To the point that his family had held a well-intended but unnecessary intervention at last year’s not-so-joyous festivities.
After their unwelcome confrontation, telling him he needed to deal with Sandra and Shelby’s deaths, they’d continued to hound him, to try to set him up on dates, to beg him to live life. By early summer, he’d known he had to move away from Oak Park, where his family resided, before the next holiday season. Much to their disappointment, he’d accepted the job in Philadelphia, knowing he was far enough away to avoid holiday get-togethers and their piteous look, but not so far away that he couldn’t make it home if there was an emergency. He loved them, just couldn’t deal with the pity in their eyes, their interference in what was left of his life.
They were wrong. He hadn’t needed the intervention. What he’d needed was for his wife and daughter to be alive, but that was impossible. He’d accepted that inevitability years ago, accepted that he had to move on with his life, and he had. But that didn’t mean he’d ever want to be involved with another woman or would welcome the month of December and all the holiday hoopla that arrived with it.
If he could fast-forward December, he’d gladly do so. The lights, the smells, the sales, the noises, everything about the month ripped open his never-healing chest wound.
Abby’s initial shocked expression must have mirrored his own when he’d agreed to be her Santa.
Mortification and panic had struggled for top seat. Yet he hadn’t been able to take back his ill-fated yes. Not when the wariness she’d eyed him with since the morning after they’d met had finally disappeared, replaced with surprise and soft hazel-eyed gratitude. That look had done something to his insides. Something strange and foreign and despite knowing how difficult today was going to be, he hadn’t retracted his agreement.
Not when doing so would disappoint Abby.
Thank God the deed was behind him and he could put Christmas nonsense behind him, where it belonged.
Thankfully de-Santafied, he wandered around Abby’s living room. The room had been taken hostage by Christmas Past since the last time he’d been here, two months ago. He’d swear he’d stepped into a nostalgic Christmas movie scene from a couple of decades ago.
An ancient wreath hung over Abby’s fireplace, a slightly thinning silver garland was draped over a doorway with faded red ribbons marking each corner. A small Christmas village complete with fake glittery snow and dozens of tiny trees and villagers was set up on a white cloth-covered table, clearly set up in a place of honor beside the tree. The nine main pieces of the village looked old, expensive.
Her live Christmas tree towered almost to the ceiling, a ceramic-faced angel’s tinsel halo mere inches from it. What a crazy tradition. Trees indoors. The entire room smelt like the pine tree—like Christmas. Smells he didn’t like. Smells that haunted him and took him to hellish places he didn’t want to go.
There had been a Christmas tree in the waiting room of the emergency department the morning Sandra and Shelby had died. Amazing how the smell could take him back to sitting in that room, a broken man, a doctor who hadn’t been able to do a damned thing to save his baby girl and her mother.
He walked over to the fireplace, eyeing the giant painted toy soldiers to each side, picking up a slightly worn wooden nutcracker. He shook his head, waiting for the nausea to hit him, waiting for the cold sweat to cover his skin, the grief to bring him to his knees.
Christmas did that to him. Sure, he’d learned to bury his pain beneath what most labeled as cynicism, but that didn’t mean in private moments the past didn’t sneak up to take a stab through his armor, to chip away another piece of what was left of him.
And yet, for the first time since Sandra and Shelby’s deaths, he’d agreed to do something that fed into the whole commercialism of Christmas. All because pretty little nurse Abby Arnold had asked him. She’d lit up so brilliantly someone could stick a halo on her head and place her on top of a tree.
He’d definitely found a piece of heaven on earth in her arms. Had found solace he hadn’t expected in the heat of her kisses.
Solace? After the first sweep of his mouth over her lush lips, he hadn’t been seeking comfort but acting on the attraction he’d instantly felt for the pretty brunette nurse. He’d been on fire. With lust. With need. With the desire to be inside her curvy body.
He hadn’t been remembering or forgetting. He’d been in the moment. With Abby.
He’d wanted her the second he’d laid eyes on her, but never had he experienced such all-consuming sex as that morning. So all-consuming he’d known they couldn’t repeat it. Quite easily he could see himself getting obsessed with having her body wrapped around him, getting serious when he had no intention of ever having another serious relationship. Just look at how often he thought of Abby and they’d only had the one morning where they’d made love, twice, and collapsed into exhausted sleep.
Letting out a slow, controlled breath, Dirk placed the nutcracker back on her mantel. Any time, any place, any thing. Why had he teased her into making such an outlandish promise? Better yet, why had he asked for what he had?
He turned, planning to go and find Abby, to tell her he’d changed his mind and needed to go.
A fat tabby cat in a wicker basket at the end of the sofa caught his eye. They’d been formally introduced when the cat had jumped onto the bed, waking both Dirk and Abby in the middle of the afternoon that mid-October day. The cat had been observing his perusal of the room but other than watch him with boredom the cat never moved except to close its eyes.
Realizing another smell, one that was making his stomach grumble, was taking precedence over the pine and was coming through an open doorway, he followed his nose.
When he stepped into the kitchen, he stopped still at the sight that met him, wondering if he’d had one too many kids call him Santa. Because he certainly had the feeling that he’d stepped into an old Christmas movie again.
Singing to the soft Christmas music playing on the mounted under-the-counter player, Abby had on an apron that had Mr. and Mrs. Claus kissing under a sprig of mistletoe on the front. She’d pulled her thick hair back with a red ribbon and had kicked off her shoes for a pair of worn, fuzzy Rudolph slippers.
Stirring a mixture in a glass bowl, a whimsical smile played on her lips as she swayed to the beat of “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree.” She looked happy. Like she belonged in this house with its hand-me-down decorations and cozy holiday atmosphere.
Not that he found any of this cozy.
Only there was something about Abby that made him feel warmth where only coldness had resided for so long. There was also something about her that made him want to hold mistletoe over her head and kiss her.
He’d need a thatched hut with a mistletoe roof over her head to justify all the places he wanted to kiss Abby Arnold.
He wanted to do more than kiss her. Lots more. Like take some of that fudge and smear it across her…
Her gaze lifting from the glass bowl she held, she smiled, knocking the breath from his lungs with her beauty and sincerity. “I can’t believe you wanted homemade fudge as your any time, any place, any thing.”
Her smile said he’d pleased her with his ravings about the goodies she’d brought to the break room at the hospital and how he wanted another bite.
He wanted another bite all right.
Her dimples dug a little deeper into her lovely face. “Some men are so easy.”
Smiling at him like that, she made him feel easy. Like he was cookie dough in her hands, waiting for her to mold him into whatever shape she wanted. So why was he still there? Why hadn’t he told her he was leaving as he’d come in here to do?
Why was he smiling back at her? Why was he eyeing the pan of chocolate-chip cookies she’d taken out of the oven and feeling a pang of hunger in his belly? A pang that didn’t begin to compare to the one below his belt caused by eyeing Abby.
“If they’ve tasted your homemade goodies, I understand why. Especially the peanut-butter fudge.”
“Thank you.” Her eyes sparkled like the silver tinsel draping her tree. “It was my mother’s recipe.”
“Was?”
A flicker of pain crossed her face. “She died.”
“I’m sorry.” He was. Death was never easy. If anyone knew that, he did. In spades. No, death wasn’t easy. Not even when you were a highly trained doctor who’d been dealing with life and death on a daily basis for years.
Just look at how stupidly he’d behaved that first night he and Abby had worked together. Even now, his reaction to the motor vehicle accident victims bothered him, but he understood why, understood that when he’d been battling to save the mother and daughter, he’d been trying to save his wife, trying to save Shelby.
Only to fail.
But he’d held up fine, wearing the mask he’d perfected in those months following their deaths. Pretending he was okay when inside all he’d felt was cold.
Until he’d run into Abby.
He’d been on his way out of the hospital, had caught the elevator just as the door had started closing, and been startled to see a red-eyed Abby eyeing him in surprise.
After shift change, she’d obviously slipped into the bathroom and had a good cry, was still fighting tears. She’d looked vulnerable, needy, way too distraught to be getting behind the wheel of a car.
Way too distraught for him to let her.
He’d insisted on driving her home.
Which was all fine and dandy.
Walking her to the door, going inside, staying, was where he’d messed up.
He didn’t date hospital employees, wouldn’t date hospital employees.
He hadn’t really dated Abby. He’d just not been able to stand the sadness in her eyes, to stand the thought of her driving upset and possibly something happening to her. They’d ended up naked, in her bed, making love until they’d both collapsed in each other’s arms and slept the day away.
He shouldn’t have done that.
Shouldn’t have agreed to be her Santa.
Shouldn’t be here now.
So why was he pulling up a chair, willingly staying somewhere Christmas tunes played, instead of beating a path to the door?
Was her imagination running wild or was Dirk looking at her like he’d rather take a bite out of her instead of the peanut-butter fudge?
Abby turned away from his intense blue eyes and took a deep breath. Needing to do something with her hands, she twisted on the faucet and filled the sink with sudsy water to wash the dishes she’d used to make the cookies and two batches of fudge—one chocolate, one peanut butter.
“This is really great.”
There was no doubting the sincerity in his voice. She’d swear she heard him moan a moment ago.
Without turning toward him, Abby began stacking the dishes into the hot water to let them soak a few minutes.
“My mother had tons of great recipes, but…” But most of them had been lost in the fire. Only her mother’s Christmas recipes packed away in the crates in the basement had survived. The items stored in the basement had been the only items that had survived, period. Almost every box had contained precious Christmas items. “I always bring several big platters full of goodies to the hospital every Christmas.”
“Like the fudge you brought the other day?”
“That, and more.” She grabbed a dish towel, turned toward him and leaned against the sink. “I like to bake. I like how the house smells when I have cookies in the oven and candies going on the stovetop and…”
Realizing she was probably boring him, heat flushed her face. She wiped her hands more with the dish towel, wondering if the moisture was from the dishwater or from nervous clamminess. Dirk made her edgy.
“Sorry.” She smiled wryly. “Christmas is my favorite holiday and I get carried away at times.”
“Obviously.”
Despite the amusement in his eyes, something about the way he said the word struck her as wrong. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
His grin stayed in place but, still, there was something off kilter, something a bit too brittle about him. “Just that it looks like Bing Crosby should be showing up any moment to start singing about a white Christmas.”
“What would be so bad about that? He was a great singer. What’s wrong with you anyway? All day you’ve acted like you really don’t like Christmas.”
He shrugged. “I don’t.”
“Say it isn’t so!” Astounded, flabbergasted, shocked, her mouth dropped open and her palm flattened against her chest, dish towel and all.
“Why?” He shrugged, looking so serious it made Abby want to loosen her apron strings. “It’s the truth. I’m surprised you buy into such a commercialized holiday.”
“The business world commercializes every holiday but that doesn’t lessen what the day is about.”
“Which is?”
“Are you kidding me?” She eyed him, wondering if he was teasing her. When he’d first told her he didn’t like Christmas, she’d thought he was just trying to get out of playing Santa. Could anyone really not like Christmas? Why wouldn’t they? “Christmas is about everything good in life. It’s a time when families come together and give of themselves to each other. A time when the world slows down and gives a helping hand to someone in need. It’s—”
“It’s a time when people run up credit-card debt they can’t pay. It’s a time of the highest rate of depression cases treated, the highest rate of suicide, the highest rate of—”
“How can you be such a cynic about Christmas?” Abby tossed the dish towel onto the countertop and frowned. How could someone not love Christmas? Not love the bright colors in the stores, the sounds of Christmas over the radio, the decorations along the streets? Abby even loved walking past the Salvation Army bellringers. Dropping money into their collection pails always made her feel warm and fuzzy inside.
Giving of oneself was the greatest joy of the holidays. Sure, it would be nice to have someone give to her, to share the moments with, but she’d already decided once today that she’d had enough self-pity.
“I’m not a cynic,” he denied, but the more he talked, the more convinced she became that he was.
“I’m a realist,” he clarified. “For most, Christmas is a major stressor with trying to come up with the perfect gift, trying to figure out how they’re going to pay for that gift, and how they’re going to fight the crowds to make sure they get their hands on that perfect gift.”
“You’re so negative,” she pointed out, wondering what had given him such a slanted view of her favorite time of the year. “I see Christmas as at time when you get to search out that special gift to bring a smile to someone’s face. A gift meant just for them from you that signifies who they are and how much you appreciate having them in your life.”
“It’s about rushing from one place to the next,” he went on, as if she’d never interrupted his tirade. “Never quite satisfying family and friends with how much of your time you can allot for the festivities they planned without any consideration for your busy schedule. It’s about high emotions and family bickering and—”
“Bah, humbug,” she interrupted, pulling out a chair at the table and sitting down beside him, positive she was staring at a complete stranger. Who would have thought the wonderful emergency doctor was such a Scrooge? The caring man who’d been as devastated by the deaths of two patients as she had? “Say what you will, but that’s not what Christmas is about. Not to me, and you should be ashamed for being so…so…Grinchy!”
He eyed her for long, silent moments, studying her as if she were an oddity. Then, as if he’d not just dissed her favorite holiday, dissed her favorite childhood memories of perfect Christmas moments, his lips curved into a crooked smile. “If it’s any consolation, I really like Christmas fudge.”
Taking a deep breath, relaxing the tension that had tightened her neck muscles, Abby sighed. How could she stay annoyed at him when he gave her that boyish look that made her toes curl in her shoes?
“Good thing I didn’t know all this about you when I asked you to be Santa,” she said, smoothing out the edge of a plain red and green table placemat. “You, Dr. Kelley, are no Santa Claus.”
“You asked me to be Santa because you couldn’t get anyone else to agree.” Still showing wry amusement, his gaze pinned hers. “Admit it.”
An unexpected giggle rose up her throat. “Okay, you’re right. Everyone else I asked claimed to be busy.”
“Such classic examples of Christmas goodwill and cheer.”
“They were probably busy,” she said defensively, although she doubted any of them could match her holiday season schedule. Every year she took on as many projects as she could fit in.
“Sure they were.” He popped the last piece of his fudge into his mouth. “But if they’d known they could maneuver their way into your kitchen, you’d have had to beat Santa-wannabes away with stockings filled with coal.”
“I’m guessing you’d know a lot about those stockings filled with coal.” At his mock look of horror, she smiled. “You should’ve tried my mother’s Martha Washington candy.”
Memories of standing on a chair beside her mother, carefully dipping rolled candies into melted chocolate, her mother smiling down at her, praising her efforts, filled Abby’s heart. How she longed for a family to spend Christmas with.
Dirk reached for a second square of fudge. His sooty ashes swept across his cheeks as he bit into it. Was it shameful she’d like to see that blissful look on his face while he tasted her lips? Yes. Yes, it was. They’d agreed anything physical between them was a mistake. She’d agreed when he’d said that.
It had been a mistake. Hadn’t it? Or had agreeing with him been the mistake?
Because looking at him, being here with him, denying the way she wanted him when she wanted him so badly sure felt like the bigger mistake.
Chapter Three
“IF YOU’RE more into peanut butter, there’s always peanut-butter balls and homemade peanut brittle,” she rushed out, trying to redirect her mind away from the direction it was headed.
Eyes wide, his gaze lifted to hers. He looked like an eager little boy. Like he’d looked that morning when he’d devoured her mouth.
He placed his hand over his heart. “I’ve died and gone to heaven. You’re right. I was too easy. I should have asked for peanut brittle.”
She laughed out loud at his look of ecstasy.
Just as quickly her laughter faded as more memories of another time, another look of ecstasy had been on his handsome face.
When he’d been standing just inside her front door, awkwardly saying goodbye but making no move to leave. The only move he’d made had been to bend and gently kiss her lips.
Then he’d kissed her not so gently.
Oh, Lord, how he’d kissed her.
And kissed her.
No, she couldn’t keep thinking of that morning. Not with him here, alone, in her house, just the two of them and the bed where he’d made love to her.
No, not love. They’d just been two colleagues dealing poorly with a very stressful night in the emergency room.
Her gaze tangled with his and his good humor faded just as quickly as hers had. Was he remembering, too? Recalling that the last time he’d been in her house, he’d never seen the kitchen but had had an up-close-and-personal tour of her bedroom?
He stuck the remainder of his fudge in his mouth, stood and brushed his hands over the faded jeans he’d changed into in her guest bathroom after his shower. When he’d swallowed the mouthful, he took a step back. “I put your Santa suit on the sofa.”
His words managed to pull her from memories of Dirk’s last visit to further in the past. Her father’s Santa suit. When Dirk had asked her about what he’d wear, she’d instantly offered her father’s suit.
“Thanks for the fudge and for the loan of the suit.”
“It was the least I could do as you filled in for Santa.” True, but had anyone else agreed to play the role, she would have bought a cheap Santa costume from a department store. For Dirk, she’d dug out the treasured suit that had belonged to her father.
“Thanks all the same.”
“If you hadn’t agreed, I’d have had to play Santa.” Not that her father’s suit would have fit her, but she’d have made it work somehow. “I think the kids might have been scarred for life.”
His gaze raked over the ample upper part of her body. “You’re probably right about that. You’re no Santa.” He tossed her earlier words back at her.
Abby didn’t know whether to be offended or flattered. Either way, heat crept into her face.
“I’ll get a dish for you to take some home.” She stood so rapidly her chair almost toppled. Pulling out a Christmas patterned storage tin, she placed a generous piece of plastic wrap inside, arranged as much as would fit of the fudge and cookies, and put the lid on. “There you go.”
He’d moved over next to her, standing near the cabinets. His body heat radiated toward her, luring her nearer. “I feel guilty, coercing you to make this and then taking most of it.”
“You should feel guiltier if you left it here,” she teased a bit nervously, playfully elbowing him, the contact shooting stars through the pit of her belly.
His gaze dropped to where she’d touched his arm then his brow rose in question of her comment.
“If you left it, I’d eat it,” she clarified, not lowering her gaze despite how her blood pumped through her body at warp speed and made her feel as if she needed to call time out so she could catch her breath.
Again his eyes ran over her features, taking their time and not seeming to mind the bumps and valleys along the journey. “That would be a bad thing?”
“I’m a woman who is constantly on a diet,” she admitted, sucking in her waist reflexively as his gaze traveled lower. Not that holding her belly in would do much good.
“You have no reason to be on a diet.” When his eyes met hers, they were blue fire, hot, lust-filled.
A thousand carolers began to sing in her soul, louder and louder until she might explode from the sheer beauty of it, until she was sure the sound must be able to be heard in heaven itself.
“No reason at all,” he repeated, his gaze burning hotter. “You’re perfect just as you are.”
Um, right. Perfect. If you liked a woman who was busty and hippy, with a little extra thigh thrown in on the sides. But she couldn’t look away from Dirk, because he was either the most talented fibber in the world or he meant what he said. And, darn, if those carolers hadn’t gone up another octave in the pit of her belly, making every individual cell vibrate in a happy dance.
“I, uh…” What could she say when he was looking at her as if a slightly fuller figure really was perfection? She shoved the fudge at him. “Thank you, but I’m glad you’re taking it, all the same.”
He looked as if he wanted to say more, but must have decided against doing so as he took the candy, stared at her a few moments, his gaze going from fire to almost a sad smoldering. “Bye, Abs. You working tomorrow night?”
Abs. He really shouldn’t say her name like that so carelessly! Holding her breath, she nodded.
“Are you planning to go to the hospital Christmas party this weekend?” Had he winced while asking that? Or after the words had left his mouth?
“Of course,” she answered slowly, watching the play of conflicting emotions dance on his face. “I’m on the hospital’s Christmas committee and helped put the party together. Are you going?”
“I hadn’t planned to, but…” He paused, looked as if he needed to loosen his collar even though his black T-shirt was far from restricting at the neck.
“But?” she prompted, her eyes focusing on a bead of sweat she’d swear was forming on his brow.
He took a deep breath, as if he was about to embark on a dangerous quest he really didn’t want to go on but had little choice. “If you’ll go with me, I could probably tolerate it this once. When I didn’t RSVP, the hospital administrator came by.” Dirk sighed, looking almost as uncomfortable as he had when he’d been playing Santa. “He said it wouldn’t look good for the newest member on the medical staff to not show for the hospital’s biggest employee social event of the year.”
Not the most enthusiastic invitation she’d ever received, but happiness spread through Abby.
Dirk had just asked her on a date to the hospital Christmas party.
Not that he really wanted to go, but he’d asked her to accompany him. On a date.
“I’d love to go to the Christmas party with you.” There wasn’t a man alive she’d rather attend with. Being at Dirk’s side would make the party all the more special, made everything all the more special.
Would he please turn around a moment so she could happy-dance around the kitchen?
Dirk had asked her to the Christmas party! Their morning hadn’t been a one-night stand after all. Er…a one-morning stand after all.
“Okay. Great.” He sounded relieved at her answer.
Had he thought she’d say no or was it the Christmas party itself stressing him? Either way, Dirk had just asked her to go on a date.
Thinking this just might be the best Christmas ever, she bubbled with good cheer and found herself wanting to tease a smile out of him. “Do I need to have my father’s Santa suit dry-cleaned or will you be providing your own wardrobe for the evening?”
He snorted, his mouth creeping up at the corners as she’d hoped. “You worry about what you’re going to wear, Li’l Miss Christmas Spirit. I’ll take care of my suit.”
“So long as it’s not green with pointy toes, Mr. Grinchy.”
He laughed. “Deal.”
They stared at each other long moments, so long Abby couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking, couldn’t help but wonder what had prompted his invitation. Was it possible that she wasn’t the only one with visions of more than sugar plums dancing through her dreams? Could he at this very moment want to whisk her off her feet and carry her back to her bed and have a repeat? Why bother going to the bedroom? Kitchens were always good for cooking up something hot.
He cleared his throat, coughed, shook his head a little. “See you tomorrow night at the hospital. Thanks again for the fudge.”
With that, he took his goodies and left.
Abby wrapped her arms around her apron-covered waist and danced around the kitchen while singing along with one of her favorite Christmas tunes.
She was going to the hospital Christmas party with the most amazing, sexy, wonderful man she’d ever met.
God, she loved Christmastime and if she wasn’t careful, she just might end up loving Dirk, too.
“Bay one has a probable UTI,” Abby told Dirk when he stepped out of the exam area where he’d just been seeing a patient in. “White blood cell count is twelve thousand, with neutrophils slightly elevated. There’s a trace of blood and plus four bacteria in the urine. The patient reports tenderness in the abdomen and in the mid-low back.”
Dirk nodded, without glancing directly at her.
Abby sighed. He’d seemed a bit distant tonight. She’d been dreaming of dashing through the snow like lovers with him ever since he’d issued his invitation to the Christmas party. Okay, before then. Way before then. She’d been dreaming of Dirk since the morning they’d ended up in bed together. Hadn’t she known not to get her hopes up after the way he’d dashed out of her house after they’d made love? But she just couldn’t seem to help herself where Dirk was concerned.
Reminding herself that she was a registered nurse, a professional, and on the job, she followed Dirk into the bay, telling herself to keep her mind—and eyes!—off the man in front of her, even if he did look fab-u-lous in his hospital-issue scrubs.
Obviously, he didn’t spend his days inside, baking. Not with the taut definition in his upper arms, the strength in his neck and shoulders, the taper of his waist, the…Abby gulped. Focus! He is not a Christmas package waiting for you to unwrap him. He’s a highly respected emergency physician.
But she’d really like to unwrap Dirk.
Focus! Focus! Focus!
“Hello, Mrs. Youngblood,” he greeted the thin lady with streaky brown-blond hair and pinched facial features. “The nurse was just telling me about your lab results. It appears you have a serious urinary-tract infection. Tell me what’s been going on.”
Dirk examined the patient while the lady told him of her symptoms, when they’d started and how they’d gotten much worse during the night to the point she’d decided she couldn’t wait until morning to check in with her primary care provider.
“No history of kidney stones?”
Mrs. Youngblood shook her head, her expression easing very little. “My husband has them, but I never have. Are they contagious?”
“No. You can’t catch kidney stones from another person.” Dirk pressed on her thin abdomen, attempting to palpate organs. “Any vaginal symptoms?”
“I don’t think so,” she denied, her hand guarding her belly as Dirk examined her. “It just really burns when I urinate. And feels like my bladder is going to turn inside out when I go, too.”
“Have the medications given since you’ve arrived helped?”
“Yes.” Although you sure couldn’t tell it by the woman’s grimace. “When I first got here I was miserable. The pain hasn’t completely eased, but I’m a lot better.”
Dirk washed his hands then turned to his patient. “I’m going to write a prescription for some antibiotics. You’ll need to follow up with your primary care provider within the next couple of days.” He began writing out orders. “Do you need a note for work?”
The woman shook her head. “I work from home as a medical billing clerk.”
“Great.” Dirk turned to Abby, meeting her eyes for the first time since they’d entered the room, and he smiled.
A real smile that reached those gorgeous blue eyes and pierced right into her heart.
Relief flooded Abby. Did he have any idea as to the lethalness of his smile? Probably. She soaked up every drop of his potency, letting the intensity of her emotions flow through her veins.
“Mrs. Youngblood,” he said, his gaze flicking back to his patient. “The nurse will get you ready for discharge. If you have any additional problems or get worse before morning, I’d suggest you return to the emergency department for a recheck.”
An hour later, the emergency department was in full swing. Every bay was full. Both physicians and the nurse practitioner on duty were at full stretch.
Abby adjusted a breathing mask over an asthma patient’s mouth and nose, preparing to administer a beta-agonist medication via a nebulizer to rapidly open up the restricted airways.
“You may feel a little shaky and jittery after the medication starts working,” she warned her patient. “The process that causes the bronchial tubes to dilate also speeds up the heart rate. Don’t let the reaction alarm you as that’s a natural and expected response to the medicine.”
She turned on the nebulizer and waited to make sure the patient’s wheezing slowed before she stepped out of the bay to check on her next patient.
Dirk was with him—a morbidly obese man who’d woken up with a sharp tightness in his chest that took his breath. They’d started him on meds immediately on arrival, done tests, including an EKG that showed left ventricular hypertrophy and a possible blockage. They’d stabilized him while awaiting the results of his cardiac enzyme tests.
“I read your chest X-ray, Mr. Lytle. Your heart is enlarged, showing signs of your high blood pressure and congestive heart failure, but that shouldn’t have caused you to wake up with chest pain. I don’t see anything acute on the films, but your troponin level is slightly elevated. That’s a myocardial muscle isoenzyme that elevates when the heart isn’t getting enough oxygen. I’m going to admit you to the cardiac-care unit for close observation. The cardiologist on call has been notified you’re here and will be by soon. He’ll schedule you for a cardiac catheterization, likely for in the morning. That way, if there are any blockages, he can repair them immediately.”
Abby began to prepare to have the patient transferred to the cardiac-care unit while Dirk answered the questions of the patient and his wife.
The rest of the night passed quickly. The E.R. was still bustling come shift change. An hour past time for her to have left, Abby clocked out, exhausted and feeling a little woozy.
Dirk had still been with an abdominal pain patient who’d come in minutes before shift change. Abby had offered to stay, but the day-shift nurse had taken over and had things under control.
She’d felt relieved at the reprieve, and surprised at how tired she was. The night had been busy, but no more so than dozens of others she’d worked, but she just wanted to go home, crawl into bed and pass out.
She rarely got sick, but definitely her stomach churned at the thought of breakfast. Maybe she’d just skip her usual light meal before going to bed. Hopefully, she’d feel better once she got some sleep.
She hoped she wasn’t coming down with something, especially so close to Christmas.
Regardless, no way would she let a little nausea and fatigue get her down when she had a date with Dirk for the Christmas party on Saturday evening.
Chapter Four
“DON’T tell me you unwrapped a Christmas present early and found Dr. Kelley inside, because if that’s the case, I’m changing what I put on my wish list for this year.” Medical floor nurse Danielle Booker draped her arm around Abby’s shoulder on Saturday night at the hospital Christmas party being held in the ballroom of a nearby hotel.
Abby glanced away from where she watched Dirk talk with a couple of other physicians. When the conversation had turned to golf, she’d excused herself. She’d needed a few moments to breathe. Dirk had been the perfect attentive date, but the tension between them was so palpable it threatened to cut off her windpipe. Between that and his obvious discomfort at being at the party, Abby was wound tighter than a spool of ribbon.
“I’m waiting.” Danielle tapped her slinky black high heels against the ballroom floor. “Were you such a good girl this year that Santa arranged for Dr. Kelley to be in your stocking?”
“Now isn’t the time for details about my relationship with Dirk.” Not to mention that she didn’t know how to define their relationship.
“You’re admitting you have a relationship with Dirk?” Her friend put emphasis on the use of his given name rather than his title of Dr. Kelley.
He’d been Dirk from the moment she’d glanced into his eyes and felt as if she were drowning in a blue sea of Christmas ribbon. With all her volunteering with the community outreach program, she hadn’t found the time to call her best friend and they’d been on different shifts at the hospital. She hadn’t told anyone about the morning she’d spent with Dirk. Perhaps if their relationship hadn’t ended almost as fast as they’d started…And if they’d ended, what was tonight about? And why did she fluctuate between giddy and the need to protect her heart?
“I’m not admitting anything. Not here.” Abby’s gaze shifted to him again. Just looking at him made her feel as if she was all tangled up and would never be able to free herself. “But I like him, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You like him? Girl, that isn’t ‘like’ I see in your eyes,” Danielle teased, her grin growing bigger in direct proportion to Abby’s face growing hotter. “You are so telling me everything soon.”
“Everything,” Abby agreed. Which was what? Dirk hadn’t called or even talked to her at the hospital other than about patients and to confirm what time to pick her up. After his Santa debut and him asking her out for tonight, she’d jumped every time her phone had rung, hoping he’d call. She’d been disappointed every time. Disappointed that he hadn’t made any effort to talk to her outside the parameters of work.
Until tonight.
Tonight, he’d been a considerate date, if quiet, taking her white faux-fur wrap and gloves to the designated coat room, ensuring she had everything she wanted to drink and eat, even making the comment that her goodies tasted better than the ones supplied by the party’s caterer.
Yet that ever-present awkwardness, awareness, kept her slightly on edge, not letting her completely relax, making her stomach stay slightly knotted with tension. That’s why she’d needed a breather. Being so close to Dirk, his hand occasionally resting possessively on her back, she’d been on the verge of swooning from lack of air.
On the verge of grabbing his hand and dragging him to a room and kissing him like crazy in hopes of abating whatever this burn inside her was.
Abby covered her mouth with her hand, biting back a slight smile at what Dirk would do, say, if she marched over to him and did just that. Bet that wouldn’t do a thing to ease the edginess she’d sensed about him all evening. Because of her? Or the Christmas party?
Danielle eyed her a moment, taking note of exactly what Abby wasn’t sure, just that her friend’s smile faded. “You okay? You look flushed.”
Any flush on her face was from her thoughts, not from not feeling okay. Actually, the bug that had been bothering her earlier in the week was sticking around. But, fortunately, by the time Dirk had arrived she’d been fine. When he’d looked at her as if she was more mouthwatering than any piece of peppermint candy, had told her she was beautiful, well, she’d been over the moon.
If she’d stop trying to label whatever was happening between them and could just enjoy the fact that something was happening, everything would be wonderful.
She visually sought out where he still stood with the group of golfing physicians. He wasn’t saying much, just listening to the others. Dirk didn’t have to say much. The man would stand out in any crowd. Not just because of his height or his good looks or even his quick intelligence. No, he’d stand out because of the confident way he held himself, the pure aura of testosterone that clung to him and demanded women take notice, even though he seemed oblivious to the fact he was gorgeous.
Abby noticed. From his thick black hair to the tailored lines of his dinner jacket and trousers to the pointed toes of his Italian shoes, she noticed. And liked. She definitely liked.
“How could I not be okay?” she practically sighed, wondering if Danielle would scoop her up if she melted into an Abby puddle. Dirk liquefied her insides. Any moment she might slosh to the floor.
“Right,” Danielle replied, her gaze following Abby’s. “Got to admit, that man is fine. A little quiet and brooding for my taste, but he is easy on the eye.”
Very easy on the eye. She’d seen more than one envious look her way when they entered the hotel ballroom.
“Just because he doesn’t like Christmas doesn’t mean he’s brooding,” Abby defended. “Plus, he isn’t quiet once you get to know him. He has a great sense of humor.”
Just recalling how he’d teased her made her insides toasty warm.
“I didn’t know Dr. Dreamboat doesn’t like Christmas and I still think he’s brooding,” Danielle pointed out.
Okay, so maybe a little brooding.
“The man keeps to himself, doesn’t socialize, rarely talks to anyone outside anything to do with a patient or work. That’s okay, mind you. He’s probably just a private person, but that’s not my style. Although…” she glanced toward where Dirk stood “…in his case, I could be convinced to make an exception.” Danielle gave a little shake of her head. “Seriously, he doesn’t like Christmas? Talk about your opposites attracting. Does he know you’re the Queen of Holiday Cheer?”
“He knows.” Recalling their conversation about the holidays, Abby tried not to wince. She’d just focus on the positive. “He likes my peanut-butter fudge.”
“I’ll just bet he does.” Danielle snickered.
Abby rolled her eyes, but couldn’t keep her smile from her face. “He stepped in and played Santa the other day at the community center, too.”
See, there was another positive. Dirk had been there when she’d needed him. How many people could she say that of throughout her life so far?
“You’re kidding! Dr. Kelley was Santa?” Danielle’s mouth dropped open. “Now I know I’m changing my Christmas wish list. You should have told me. I could have come and sat in his lap.”
Um, no. If any grown-up had been going to sit in Dirk’s lap, Abby had dibs.
“My Santa canceled very last minute and I couldn’t find a replacement. He saved me from canceling the event. Plus, he did a good job.” Abby laughed at her friend’s amazed expression. “Seriously, he did.”
Mostly. He hadn’t seemed to enjoy himself, but he had stayed until every kid in line had gotten their time with Santa. Not every busy doctor would have given up so much of his free time.
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Janice Lynn
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: The Nurse Who Saved Christmas, электронная книга автора Janice Lynn на английском языке, в жанре современные любовные романы