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One Night With The Army Doc
Traci Douglass


Is one night enough…To convince her to stay?Travelling to Alaska to film the latest episode of her TV show is just what brilliant diagnostician Dr Molly Flynn needs. It’s the perfect escape from her family’s expectations—until she clashes with privacy-loving ex-army doc Jacob Ryder over her patient’s care! But as friction turns into flirtation can Molly trust that Jake sees the real her and loves her…just the way she is?







Is one night enough...

To convince her to stay?

Traveling to Alaska to film the latest episode of her TV show is just what brilliant diagnostician Dr. Molly Flynn needs. It’s the perfect escape from her family’s expectations. Until she clashes with privacy-loving former army doc Jacob Ryder over her patient’s care! Only, as friction turns into flirtation, can Molly trust that Jake sees the real her and loves her—just the way she is?


TRACI DOUGLASS is a USA TODAY bestselling author of contemporary and paranormal romance. Her stories feature sizzling heroes full of dark humour, quick wit and major attitude, and heroines who are smart, tenacious, and always give as good as they get. She holds an MFA in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University, and she loves animals, chocolate, coffee, hot British actors and sarcasm—not necessarily in that order.


One Night with the Army Doc

is Traci Douglass’s debut title

Look out for more books from Traci Douglass

Coming soon


One Night with the Army Doc

Traci Douglass






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-07527-5

ONE NIGHT WITH THE ARMY DOC

© 2018 Traci Douglass

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To my precious Carma:

Thank you for watching out for me and this story

from across the Rainbow Bridge.

Until we meet again, love and miss you puppers!


Contents

Cover (#u05077f37-deff-58f5-b6ea-a5733e3cfcd5)

Back Cover Text (#uacf63a50-6a7a-52f6-898a-f670850661fd)

About the Author (#uc1029bc6-1d34-5cf0-82e0-7df5e08737c1)

Booklist (#u9bf3a8bb-2c8c-5728-96f9-9943aa6456f9)

Title Page (#u83778087-bdea-5bad-8806-cbbf7e8f3f99)

Copyright (#u1084d3c6-3b40-5a13-81fa-dca9f67e1f75)

Dedication (#u3dc23b90-8507-5cb9-9ef1-9078bd4b4bd4)

CHAPTER ONE (#u0d7051b2-4f95-5807-b3e3-152d328e5a4e)

CHAPTER TWO (#uc66ed63e-081c-5540-b069-d37f271e25cf)

CHAPTER THREE (#udfedd1b9-22ed-50d5-9dc1-5e50f1b8cd46)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

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)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#u47fe7316-68b2-5470-925c-cae52fee2d24)

“UNITS RESPOND TO trauma rollover. Motor vehicle accident. Hickel Parkway near Raspberry Road. SUV flipped several times, currently on roof. Three passengers involved—man, woman and young child. Man self-extricated, according to police. Woman and child trapped inside. Fire Rescue responding with Jaws of Life. Over.”

“Copy. Unit A18 en route.”

Dr. Jake Ryder replaced the receiver on the dashboard two-way radio, feeling the familiar buzz of adrenaline that always followed a call to arms pumping through his blood.

“Ready for action, Doc?” EMT Zac Taylor asked from the driver’s seat.

“Always.” Since taking over the Emergency Medicine Department at Anchorage Mercy Jake didn’t get to spend much time out in the field, so this was a special treat. “I’ll get things ready in the back.”

While Zac steered them toward the accident scene Jake unbuckled his seat belt and moved into the rear of the ambulance. He grabbed some extra rolls of gauze and shoved them in his bag, then double-checked the batteries in his flashlight. His chief of staff’s words from earlier that day were still echoing in his head.

“I know how you feel about the media, but this is Bobby’s best chance at recovery...”

His best friend Bobby had saved his life once. Now Jake would return the favor.

There were no other options.

Even if it meant the possibility of revisiting the dreaded invasion of his personal life that had followed his Distinguished Service Cross commendation. That debacle was one of the reasons why he kept to himself these days. Other than Bobby and Zac, and a few other staff at the hospital, he wasn’t really close to anyone. His ex and those reporters had really done a number on Jake back then, and now he had some reality TV doc ready to barge in and take over Bobby’s case.

Exactly what he didn’t need.

They swerved to a stop as Jake tried to picture this media darling doctor who would be waiting for him when he got back to the hospital. He’d never heard of this wunderkind guaranteed to be Bobby’s medical savior. All he knew was what his ER staff had mentioned—that this traveling physician was all about the new and experimental, mainly at the expense of old-fashioned caring and compassion.

Not good. Not good at all.

Zac parked the ambulance, then leaned around the partition separating the front cabin from the treatment area. “Looks like a real zoo at the crash scene, Doc. At least the cops have the perimeter blocked off.”

“Great. Let’s roll.”

Jake zipped up his pack, then pushed out of the rig with the heavy duffle slung over one shoulder. Sirens wailed and red and blue emergency lights blazed from all directions. One of the police officers gave them a rundown while they weaved their way toward the overturned vehicle.

“What happened?” Jake asked.

“From what the father told me, it was a moose,” the officer said. “Ran out into the road and the guy swerved. Those SUVs are top-heavy, so the whole thing rolled under the strain. I asked him how many times, but he couldn’t remember.”

“Wife and kid still inside the car?”

“Yep. Both awake and talking. We’ve got a couple of guys trying to keep them calm.”

“Awesome.”

Jake slipped around the end of a fire rescue truck parked diagonally near the wreck, seeing the snowcapped peaks of the Chugach Mountains rising like sentinels in the distance.

“Any loss of consciousness with the father or the other victims?”

“He says no, but it’s hard to tell.”

The cop kept pace with Jake’s longer strides.

“The kid keeps crying for his toy, poor guy. We’ve searched the area, but haven’t found any stuffed sheep.”

“Got it covered.”

Jake patted the side pocket of his duffle. The thing in his bag wasn’t a lamb, more like a cross between a giraffe and a dinosaur, but any port in a storm.

“Is that the dad?” Jake pointed toward a man huddled beneath a blanket despite the warm September night.

“Yep.” The cop veered off toward the demolished car again. “I’ll let you get to work.”

“Thanks.” Jake turned to Zac. “I’ll check out the father while you assess the wreck.”

“Sounds good.”

Jake walked to the agitated male standing between a police officer and a firefighter. “Evening, sir. I’m Dr. Jake Ryder.” He set his pack on the ground near his feet. “I hear you had a run-in with a moose tonight?”

The guy, who looked about forty, and pale as death, nodded. “We’re here on vacation and were out sightseeing. Next thing I knew this huge animal ran out in the road and everything happened so fast and—”

Recognizing the lingering signs of shock, Jake cocked his head toward the fireman and together they helped maneuver the father until his weight rested against a nearby squad car.

“Sir, help’s here, and we’re going to take care of you.”

“What about my wife and son? Are they going to be all right?”

“The crew’s working to get them out now.” He proceeded to examine the man for any obvious injuries. “What’s your name?”

“Mark. Mark Leonard.”

“Okay, Mr. Leonard.” Jake palpated the guy’s head and neck before moving to his arms. “Tell me if anything hurts or doesn’t feel right.”

“I’m fine. I just want to see my family.”

“Please let me finish this exam first.” He crouched to check out the man’s legs and discovered a nasty gash on Mr. Leonard’s left calf. “Looks like you banged up your leg, Mark.” He unzipped his bag and pulled out supplies. “I’m going to tape this up before we take you to the ER. Hold still. It might sting.”

“Ow!”

The guy jerked away and Jake tightened his grip. The cut wasn’t deep, but it was filled with gravel and debris from the accident. If not cleaned properly, it could cause a bad infection. Jake had seen more than enough of that on the battlefield.

The father scowled, a bit of his color returning. “What the hell was a moose doing around here in the autumn? Don’t they only come out in winter?”

“Rutting season.”

Jake shoved the soiled gauze pads into a portable hazmat container, then unwrapped several fresh ones to cover the laceration before twining a bandage around the man’s leg. Not perfect, but it would hold him until the Anchorage Mercy ER could suture the wound closed properly.

Talk of mate-seeking moose only served to remind Jake of the sad state of his own relationship status—or lack thereof. He wasn’t completely pathetic. He was a healthy, red-blooded male after all. But these days he only engaged with women who knew the score, women who never expected more than a few pleasant hours between the sheets.

The firefighter beside Jake cleared his throat and brought him back to the present. He secured the end of the bandage around Mr. Leonard’s leg with a metal clip, then straightened.

“Are we done?” Mr. Leonard tossed the blanket aside and tentatively put some weight on his injured limb. “Can I see my wife now? What about my son?”

“Stay here with the officers while I check in with the crew. Once they give me the okay, you can see them. All right, Mark?”

“Okay.” The man’s tense shoulders relaxed a tad. “Thanks for helping.”

“That’s my job.” Jake packed up his gear again before joining Zac near the vehicle. “Dad’s doing fine. What’s happening here?”

“Mom says her arm hurts, and the boy is really frightened, but neither seem to have any serious issues. Remarkable, considering the shape of this SUV.”

Jake stepped back and took his first real look at the damage. Shards of shattered glass littered the roadway and the sharp smell of gasoline and burning oil stung his nose. The whole right half of the car closest to him was dented and twisted, making the doors impossible to open.

A small voice called from the busted-out rear window. “Where’s Lamby? I want Lamby.”

The little boy’s plaintive tone pummeled Jake’s heart and took him right back to his last day in the Kandahar desert: to the acrid stench of diesel and melting rubber clogging his throat and choking his lungs, to Bobby pulling him from the blazing village amidst a hail of gunfire. Jake was supposed to have been the one doing the rescuing, but Bobby had done the saving that day.

They’d been best buds since their first day of basic training—a friendship that had only strengthened over the years. Bobby was his rock, his shield, same as Jake was for him. He couldn’t lose his best friend. Not after everything they’d been through.

As the memories crashed in—of other emergencies in far-off warzones—Jake slowly counted down in his head from ten to one, as his counselor had taught him, and the shadows gradually withdrew.

“You okay, man?” Zac thumped him on the shoulder, his expression concerned.

“I’m fine.” Jake focused on the trapped family members. He’d always wanted kids of his own—always figured he’d get around to having them someday. Then time and circumstances and his career had slapped a quick kibosh on those dreams.

Jake battled the knot of regret tightening between his shoulder blades. Didn’t matter. He was better off alone. Alone was safer. Alone was more comfortable. Alone didn’t run off for a life in front of the cameras in glitzy, glamorous Manhattan.

He reached into his bag for the stuffed animal, then knelt beside the mangled car, clicked on his flashlight, and peered inside. Two huge dark eyes stared at him from the shadows. It was the child, still protected in his booster seat.

“Hey, buddy. My name’s Jake. What’s yours?”

The boy’s bottom lip quivered and tears welled anew.

Jake hung his head. Here he was—a former special operations combat medic, trained to think on his feet with a hundred snipers poised to take him out at any second—yet all he wanted was to make this scared little boy smile again.

“Lamby’s busy, but he sent a friend to keep you company. Want to meet him?”

“My son’s name is Noah,” the mother said from the front of the SUV, where she was secured partially upside down by her seatbelt. “He’s four.”

“Noah, my man.” Jake held up the dino-giraffe. “This is Chewy. He’d like to come in and say hello...maybe sit with you until we get you and your mom out. Would that be okay?”

The little boy eyed him warily for several seconds before extending a tiny hand.

“Awesome.” Jake passed him the stuffed animal, then turned his attention to the mother. “I’m Dr. Jake Ryder, ma’am. Are you doing all right?”

“My arm is killing me, and I’ve been pinned in this car for way longer than I ever wanted—but other than that, yeah. I’m fine, thanks.”

The snark in her tone made him chuckle. “Do you recall what happened?”

“My husband swerved off the road to miss a moose, then glass shattered and flew everywhere and we were tumbling...over and over and over.”

“Did you lose consciousness?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What about your son? Has he been awake the whole time?”

“Yes. I’ve been talking to Noah to make sure he stays calm.”

“Excellent.”

Jake shifted to survey the wreckage again. It looked like a bomb had gone off inside the car. He’d seen enough destroyed villages to know. Still, Jake and Bobby had been the lucky ones, coming home in one piece, without too many mental or physical scars from the war. Many others hadn’t been so fortunate.

“Hey, Doc. Fire’s ready with the Jaws of Life,” Zac called from behind him.

“Ma’am, the crew’s here to free you now.” Jake started to retreat from the vehicle. “There’ll be a lot of loud noise and some shaking, but I promise we’ll have you both out soon.”

“Thank you.” The mom sniffled, her voice trembling. “Noah, sweetie? Remember the fireworks in July? All the loud booms?”

The boy nodded.

“It’ll be noisy like that for a short while, but Mommy’s right here with you, okay?”

“Okay.” The little boy looked from his mom to Jake, the new toy clutched to his chest. “Bye, Jake.”

“See you soon, buddy.” Jake thumped his hand on the side of the car, then moved away as the firemen brought in the heavy equipment.

* * *

Moose!

Dr. Molly Flynn slammed on the brakes of her rented burgundy Range Rover and veered to the berm of this oddly deserted stretch of roadway. Well, deserted except for her and the behemoth creature standing twenty feet ahead. She shifted into “Park,” then met the animal’s startled gaze while fiddling with the onboard GPS once more.

Still nothing.

Molly shook her head and snorted.

“Go to Alaska,” her executive producers had said last week. “A high-profile sports case is the best way to raise the ratings.”

Normally she would’ve told them that her soon-to-expire contract clearly stipulated she got final say on all cases portrayed on her reality medical drama, Diagnosis Critical. But, considering she was on thin enough ice with the MedStar cable network, those ratings might be the only thing saving her career. And her career was all she had these days.

Besides, she’d earned this show, darn it. Built it from the ground up without any support from her father or her family. Now she’d do whatever was necessary to save it—even if it meant traveling to Anchorage, Alaska, a place that was a far cry from the hustle and bustle of Chicago.

She took a deep breath and stared at the lush forest around her. Maybe the middle of nowhere wasn’t such a bad place to be after all. It might allow her a chance to escape the spotlight for a while.

Strange as it sounded, for a person who made her living in front of the camera, she’d always seen fame as a necessary evil. Curing the incurable, solving the unsolvable medical puzzles—that was her true love, the real driving force behind why she did what she did. In fact, the thought of being able to melt into the woodwork as she saved her latest patient sounded like pure bliss, if highly unlikely. Her network’s syndication deals ensured that her show reached nearly every corner of the globe.

So much for privacy and anonymity.

Molly frowned at the digital clock on her dashboard. She’d been scheduled to meet with the chief of staff at Anchorage Mercy General Hospital twenty minutes ago, but her late-arriving flight, followed by the rental car’s faulty GPS, seemed to have other ideas.

Add in the fact that the sun was setting over Cook Inlet, which was the opposite of where it had been when she’d left Ted Stevens International Airport at least an hour prior, gave her the sinking feeling she’d been driving in circles.

Overhead, an eagle swooped through the air, its low cries eerily haunting in the autumn evening. Despite her conundrum, Molly had to admit Alaska was lovely. Too bad she wouldn’t have time to appreciate much of the gorgeous scenery, given her tight production schedule and the seriousness of her patient’s case. Work came first, as always.

The male moose huffed and shook his mighty antlers before ambling into the forest on the opposite side of the four-lane road. Molly stared wistfully at the spot where he’d disappeared into the thick foliage, wishing she could find where she belonged so easily. Then her pragmatic instincts kicked back in and she focused on her current mission—find the hospital, locate her crew, save her patient.

Determined, Molly pulled back out onto the road and continued around a slight curve—only to slam on her brakes again. Now she could see why oncoming traffic had been virtually nonexistent. Judging by the array of emergency vehicles blocking all four lanes, there had been an accident.

As a licensed physician, it was her duty to assist when needed. Critics of her show always complained that she had the bedside manner of dry toast, but her real skill was as a diagnostician. And when she was working on a case everything else fell by the wayside—friends, family, romantic relationships. She’d sacrificed everything for her patients, and success was her reward.

A twinge of loneliness pinched her chest before she shoved it aside. The last thing Molly needed was a relationship. Especially since her last one had ended without warning. She parked on the berm, cut the engine, then blinked back the unexpected sting of tears as she walked around to the rear of the SUV.

Yes, maybe she did sometimes wish she had someone to share her life with. But, as her father had always said when she was a child, “Wishes are for fools. People like us seize what they want.”

Trouble was, Molly had never felt like her father’s kind of people. Or her mother’s, for that matter. In fact there wasn’t really a single member of her family, parents or sister, that she truly identified with. So she’d learned early on to live inside herself and bide her time. Now, though, it seemed she’d gotten so good at keeping her emotions bottled up she couldn’t seem to show them at all—not even with the people she should. People like Brian.

She shook off thoughts of her ex and rummaged through the car for her emergency first aid kit. The pungent smell of spruce, mixed with a faint hint of fish and salt from the inlet, snapped her to attention.

Dressed comfortably for the nearly seven-hour flight from Chicago to Alaska, Molly didn’t pay much attention to her appearance—jeans, sneakers and one of her favorite T-shirts that read, “Back Up. I’m going to try Science”—as she approached the nearby officer guarding the perimeter of the scene.

“Dr. Molly Flynn.” She drew herself up to her full five-foot-four-inch height and held out her hand to the middle-aged guy. “Looks like there’s an accident ahead. Do they require assistance?”

The cop looked her up and down, his expression dubious. “What are you, twelve?”

“Twenty-seven, actually, thanks for asking.”

Molly adjusted her bag, undeterred. She’d put up with plenty of crap through the years because of her gifts. She’d graduated medical school at the ripe old age of twenty-four, with dual specialties in Immunology and Internal Medicine, but nothing made a girl feel less welcome and confident than having no friends and no one to sit with at the lunch table.

“Do I have to show my physician’s license or are you going to point me toward the scene, Officer...?”

“Bentz.” He sniffed and looked away. “The EMTs arrived a little while ago. Pretty sure they’ve got it under control.”

“I see.”

The man was dismissing her, but she was used to that too. Her mother had always been present, but aloof, and when her father had been home from performing amazing feats of surgical genius all over the world he’d only wanted to parade Molly around like some prize show pony instead of treating her like his beloved child.

“Molly, solve this impossible equation.”

“Molly, impress my friends with another feat of mental acrobatics.”

“Molly, earn my love by always doing what you’re told, always being perfect, always performing, no matter what.”

Her cell phone buzzed and Molly pulled it from her pocket, hoping for an update from her crew. Instead, all she found was the same dumb message that had been on her screen since before takeoff from O’Hare. The stupid text from her ex glowed brightly, its cheerful white background at direct odds with the dismal words.

I can’t do this anymore.

Not sure you’ll even notice I’m gone.

She resisted the urge to mic-drop the useless device into a nearby mud puddle and instead returned it to her pocket.

Looking back, she should’ve expected the break-up. Brian had always been complaining about her long hours and frequent trips, even though she’d been up-front with him about her demanding schedule from the beginning. And their blazing fights over the past few weeks had only served to resurrect painful memories of her father’s indifference and cruelty when she’d been a child—the day he’d called her weak for crying over the death of her pet cat, the way he’d taunted her because she hadn’t been able to make friends with the popular girls in her class, the night she’d graduated from medical school and overheard her father saying what a hopeless, awkward mess she was and how embarrassed he was to have her for a daughter because she’d been denied the membership of the Ivy League exclusive clubs and cliques her father had deemed necessary to mingle in his lofty social circles.

Even now those words gutted Molly to her core.

Brian, in the end, had pushed those same agonizing buttons, causing Molly to withdraw inside herself until they’d been basically nothing but glorified roommates. Still, she’d thought the year and a half they’d spent together rated more than a two-line text to end it all.

She guessed she’d been wrong about that too.

One more reason relationships were off her radar. Not even one-night stands. She preferred certainties to messy emotions, thank you very much. And, honestly, why bother when people left once you’d opened up and revealed your true, flawed self to them. Luckily, she wasn’t likely to find a man who’d challenge those beliefs out here in Alaska.

Ignoring the lingering sadness in her chest, she concentrated on Officer Not Budging, still blocking her path. Intimidation was out of the question, given the guy had at least a hundred and fifty pounds on her, but maybe a healthy dose of mind-numbing logic would do the trick.

Whenever she felt overstressed or insecure, random facts always popped into Molly’s head and out of her mouth. Blind dates, heated confrontations, heated situations of any sort, really. She’d ramble on and on about useless information until the poor victim’s eyes glazed over and they wandered off in a fog of utter boredom.

Considering she was thousands of miles from home, hopelessly lost, and late for a potentially career-altering meeting, Molly couldn’t get much more stressed. Plus, she’d done some light reading on the flight—facts and figures about Alaska, atlases, safety manuals, wildlife guides. Perfect for boring an unsuspecting cop to tears.

“Officer Bentz, did you know traffic fatalities in this state increased by twenty-six point eight percent from fifty-six in 2010 to seventy-two in 2011? Also, the percentage of statewide traffic fatalities related to alcohol-impaired driving decreased from thirty-four point three percent in 2009 to twenty-eight point six percent in 2010...”

Molly hid a smile. The man was fidgeting, his expression growing more uncomfortable the longer she droned. Soon the poor guy stifled a yawn and gazed skyward.

Chalk up another win for her near-eidetic memory.

“Most interesting of all...”

Officer Bentz looked at Molly again, his eyes as blank as his expression. “Go on ahead. I’m sure you can help with something. In fact, ask for Jake. He’s with the ambulance crew tonight. He owes me one anyway.”

“Thank you very much.”

She turned on her heel and sidled through the maze of squad cars and fire trucks toward what she could now see was an overturned vehicle. During her emergency medicine rotation in Chicago, Molly had treated plenty of accident victims. That had been a while ago, however, and she’d been out of the ER trenches since signing on to do her TV show.

Fresh nerves and adrenaline quickened her steps and her pulse. Amidst the bright floodlights set up around the perimeter of the scene, Molly peered past the end of an ambulance in time to see a huge metal claw rip off a chunk of twisted debris from the SUV’s side.

“Dammit.” A man stalked over, his gray eyes sparkling with fury, his impressive build only adding to his imposing presence. “The cops are supposed to keep any rubberneckers away.”

Molly looked around to see who he was scolding and realized, too late, that it was her.

“Get out.” He stood at least a foot taller than her. And from the top of his dark brown hair to the tips of his black work boots the guy looked every inch the alpha protector. “Before you get hurt.”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

She did her best to stand tall and forget about the fact this man was movie-star-handsome. Even with the beard. Molly had never gone for the lumberjack look before, but he made her seriously reconsider her life choices.

“The cop back there said I should ask for Jake.”

His gaze narrowed. “Who told you that?”

“Officer Bentz.” She pointed in the direction of her Range Rover. “I’m a doctor. Perhaps you’ve heard of me? I have a—”

“We’re ready,” said another guy. He was dressed in an EMT uniform, African American, maybe midthirties, and was calling from near the crash site. “Time to quit flirting and start working.”

Her gaze darted from the wreck to the scowling hunk before her.

Flirting? With me?

If glares and glowers were this man’s idea of how to attract women, it was entirely possible she’d finally met someone who was worse than her in social situations.

“Excuse me.”

Molly started to move around him, only to be stopped by his hand on her arm. Never mind the warmth spreading through her bloodstream, or the zing of awareness crackling like fireworks. Verbal sparring was one thing. Unwanted contact was another.

Outrage stormed through her and Molly tried to shake off his grip. “Let go of me.”

“You need to wait over there.”

The first responder pointed toward the area beyond the yellow crime scene tape, his rigid posture and stern expression obviously meant to wither any defiance. He was a man who was used to being obeyed—that much was obvious.

Molly squared her shoulders and glared. “And you need to remove your hand before I remove it for you. Permanently.”

The man’s eyes widened slightly and a hint of admiration ghosted across his features. Before Molly could dwell on it longer, however, he released her, crossing his muscled arms across his broad chest.

“Fine. Stay at your own risk. I have work to do.”

With that, the hunk jogged back to the wreck and joined the other man inside the half-crushed SUV. Soon they’d removed a small boy from the front passenger seat, stabilized his neck with a brace, then slid him onto a waiting body board before repeating the same with a woman.

Reluctantly, Molly’s curiosity about the daring rescuer blossomed. She watched him cuddle the child, coaxing a smile from the little guy, and a fresh pang of loneliness stabbed her—along with a lingering worry about ever finding someone who’d look at her that way.

Considering her relationship with Brian was DOA, Molly had grave doubts. For a woman brilliant in her profession, when it came to her personal life she was one big mess. Not that flirting at an emergency scene was appropriate, but she wasn’t good at it anyway. She’d always been a wallflower—one more check in her Don’t-Date-Much column.

“Gurney coming through.”

Molly barely had time to keep her toes from getting crushed before the EMTs rolled past with the first victim. The two men hoisted the little boy up into the ambulance, then returned for the mother.

After they’d gotten the woman secured alongside her son, another man with a bandaged leg joined them in the back of the rig and the doors were closed. The hunk crouched near Molly’s feet, gathering up scattered gear and shoving it into a medical bag. From her vantage point she couldn’t help noticing how his tight navy blue T-shirt clung to his muscles and sinews and the way his black pants cupped his butt like a second skin.

Throat dry and head swirling, Molly panicked and said the first thing that popped into her mind—more random trivia. “Moose are herbivores and will casually devour seventy-three pounds of plant material a day in the summer. They like an assortment of shrubs, woody plants and aquatic vegetation; in the winter, their diet is more restricted.”

She clamped her lips shut to prevent more useless facts from spilling out. Her father’s voice echoed through her head, calling her pathetic. Worse, her last argument with Brian replayed in her mind like a bad song. The red flags were so easy to see now. She’d asked him to set a wedding date, to take their relationship to the next logical step, but he’d balked.

“Not everything’s about logic. You solve everyone else’s problems, but not your own.”

The handsome first responder straightened and gave Molly a slow once-over. “Your facts are correct—except the bull that caused this accident wasn’t looking for a meal. He was looking for a date.”

Ah, right. She’d read about the mating season starting in late September in one of her pamphlets. Embarrassed heat prickled Molly’s cheeks. Nervous, she smoothed a hand down her blond hair, still secured into two braids. Quickly she removed the bands at the ends of her plaits and ran her fingers through the stick-straight strands that wouldn’t hold a curl to save their life.

The man’s gaze followed the movement, the gray of his irises darkening to gunmetal. A throb of want started low in her belly, spreading like honey through her blood. It had been so long—too long—since a man had looked at her like that, and she found his arousal intoxicating.

“C’mon, Doc,” the other medic said through the open door. “We got patients who need to be transported to Anchorage Mercy.”

“Have a nice evening, ma’am,” the hunk said, his stormy gaze flickering to her lips before returning to her eyes. “Be careful on the roads.”

Molly stepped aside as the rescuer slung the medical kit over his shoulder, then climbed into the passenger side of the rig. The ambulance pulled away, maneuvering out of the tangle of vehicles blocking their path to the open roadway.

Hurrying back to the Range Rover, Molly started her engine, hoping to follow behind the emergency vehicle to her destination, all the while analyzing the new information she’d just gleaned. So he wasn’t an EMT, he was a doctor. At Anchorage Mercy. Where they’d be working in close proximity.

Whoops. No.

Molly doused the sudden flare of excitement sweeping through her like wildfire. The last thing she needed was a rebound fling. Not with her career in the balance and her life in Chicago a shambles. Besides, she’d never chased after a man, never lived dangerously. At least not outside of the medical realm.

In the pursuit of a cure for her patients she’d tackle any challenge, take any risk.

In the pursuit of her own happiness? Not so much.

Still, one of the other reasons she’d chosen to do her TV show was to learn to listen to her gut. And right now her instincts were screaming that following that man and his ambulance represented her best shot at finding the hospital. So, Molly reasoned, this wasn’t about a rebound relationship or a booty call with a hot doctor at all. It was about solving her next case and saving her show. She would worry about the rest later.

Squinting out the windshield through the gathering twilight, Molly realized she couldn’t go through all the jumbled vehicles snarled in gridlock and still catch up to the ambulance, so she went around instead, driving her off-road-capable vehicle into the grassy gulley between lanes and past the still blocked section of roadway, then back onto the asphalt highway.

She might be late to her meeting, but if she was lucky she could still salvage this debacle.


CHAPTER TWO (#u47fe7316-68b2-5470-925c-cae52fee2d24)

“DR. FLYNN, I’M glad your producer was able to find a slot in the schedule for us.”

The hospital’s chief of staff grasped Molly’s hand, his white hair and jolly blue eyes reminding her of Santa. He’d been kind enough not to mention she was an hour late. She was never late. Another lesson courtesy of her bully father. He’d always noticed any tardiness and the results had never been good.

“Your dad and I were classmates in medical school. How is he these days?”

Molly took the seat he offered. It seemed she hadn’t quite outrun the looming shadow of her father after all. “He’s currently in Beijing, conducting a training conference on the latest alternative techniques for closure of the open abdomen.”

“Fascinating.” The chief sat behind his desk and straightened his name plate. “Dr. David Carpenter” it proclaimed, in engraved gold letters. “And, please, call me Dr. Dave.”

“Okay.”

The cluttered room was the opposite of Molly’s own pristine office back home. Amongst his papers and files were several family photos, in which everyone was laughing and cheerful. Smiles—genuine ones, anyway—were rare in the Flynn family.

“What can you tell me about my patient, Dr. Dave?”

“Yes, yes. Of course.” He searched through a stack of charts on a shelf against the far wall then handed her one. “His name is Robert Templeton, though he prefers to be called Bobby. Thirty-one and a professional hockey player for our hometown team the Anchorage Anoraks.”

“Anoraks?” Molly raised a brow. “Isn’t that a type of jacket?”

Dr. Dave chuckled. “Yep. But it sounded cool so we went with it.”

“I see. Says here he’s an enforcer. What exactly does that mean?”

“It’s not an official position on the hockey team, more of a tough guy. He starts fights to protect the smaller guys from taking the hits.”

“Huh.”

Molly had gone to a Blackhawks game in Chicago once, with Brian, and had had to cover her eyes during the worst of the brawls. Even a year spent in the ER hadn’t prepared her for the copious amounts of gore and raw testosterone. If her new patient regularly partook in those kinds of brutal activities, it was no wonder he’d landed in the hospital.

“What are his current symptoms?”

“He was initially seen through our outpatient clinic for contact dermatitis.”

She frowned. “How does a man go from a simple skin rash to cardiac arrest?”

“Good question.” Dr. Dave sat back in his chair. “The treating physician gave him samples of diphenhydramine to take before he left and the wheezing started shortly afterward.”

“He was allergic to the anti-allergy medicine?”

“It would appear so.”

“Looks like they gave him point one cc of epinephrine to counteract his reaction to the antihistamine.” She traced her finger down the chart documentation. “Could he have an underlying heart condition? A skin infection like cellulitis can cause a rapid pulse. Or perhaps inflamed blood vessels from vasculitis?”

“Nope. His CBC results were normal. No signs of an infection anywhere.”

“Hmm.” She flipped to the patient’s labs, then went back to the history and the physical. “No food allergies? He’s not taking any meds on a regular basis?”

“None.”

“And he’s been complaining of strange scents?”

“Yes. Says he smells cinnamon and cloves all the time.”

“All right.” Difficult cases were Molly’s bread and butter. She took them as a personal challenge. “Can you please order a CT of his chest to rule out Churg-Strauss Syndrome? His bloodwork may have been normal, but inflammation of the blood vessels in his heart, lungs and skin would explain all his symptoms. Also, let’s start him on a high-dose steroid therapy.”

“CSS doesn’t have a good prognosis, does it?” Dr. Dave asked, his tone concerned.

“For patients diagnosed and treated quickly the life expectancy is five years. Untreated, Mr. Templeton would have a year at most. Of course there’s always the chance this isn’t autoimmune-related.”

“You’re the expert, Dr. Flynn. I’ll get these orders to the staff right away.” Dr. Dave smiled—the kind of fond grin she’d always wanted from her own father but never received. “You look so much like your dad.”

Molly clasped her hands atop the file on her lap. Looks were about the only thing she and her father had in common. Always active, Roger Flynn expected everyone around him to adhere to his hectic schedule. To him, Molly had always been too quiet and boring, preferring to stay home and read a good book rather than operate in the jungle.

“Would you like to meet your patient now?” Dr. Dave stood and moved toward the door. “I believe your crew’s waiting for us outside Bobby’s room.”

“Of course.” She followed him out into the busy hallway. “And, please, call me Molly.”

“Okay.” He pushed the button for the elevator. “All the staff assigned to Bobby have signed the required releases except one. I’m still working on him.”

“Unfortunately anyone who doesn’t sign the forms can’t participate in the care of the patient from this point forward. My crew films whenever I’m present, to make sure we get an accurate portrayal of the process.” The elevator dinged and they boarded. “Perhaps this person can be reassigned?”

“Right.” Dr. Dave chuckled. “And perhaps polar bears will learn to tap dance.”

Molly glanced up, surprised by his sarcasm.

“This particular physician is a close friend of Bobby’s and can be...stubborn when it comes to people he considers family. I talked to him again, before you got here, but he hasn’t budged on the publicity releases. I’m afraid he prefers to keep a low profile. Dedicated workaholic, really.”

“I see.” Molly crossed her arms, wishing she’d had time to unpack her lab coat and cover up her casual travel clothes. “Well, I don’t know anything about this Dr. Ryder, or his reasons for not signing, but those rules come directly from the network. Besides, treating a close friend or family member is a conflict of interest.”

“Oh, I’m still the patient’s official care provider.”

The elevator arrived on the fourth floor and Dr. Dave held the doors, exiting after Molly.

“But Bobby signed consent forms allowing Jake full access to his medical records when he was admitted, and granted him power of attorney in case he’s incapacitated.”

Molly waited while Dr. Dave walked on ahead to the nurses’ station, to speak with a curvy Latino woman whose name tag read “Gladys.”

“Our boy available?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, Dr. Dave. He’s got company, though.”

“Dr. Ryder?”

“Yep.”

“Great.” He turned to Molly once more, his smile broad. “You’ll like Dr. Ryder. He’s a brilliant trauma surgeon, like your father. The youngest head of EM in Anchorage Mercy history. Cut his teeth on combat rescues in Afghanistan...”

Molly only half listened from that point, her mind still snagged on Dr. Dave’s earlier words.

“He’s a brilliant trauma surgeon, like your father.”

Great. Just what she needed. Roger Flynn, Version Two.

“Hey, Mol. About time you got here,” said her cameraman Rob, coming around the corner with her show’s field producer, Neal. “Thought we’d have to send out a search party.”

“Funny.” She smoothed her hand down her shirt, then asked Neal, “Everything all set?”

“Everything except the guy sitting in the room with the patient.”

“Molly?” Dr. Dave stood with his hand on the door. “Ready to go in?”

“Of course.” She turned to her crew. “Give me a moment.”

Resolve steeled, she followed Dr. Dave into Bobby Templeton’s room. Whatever this Dr. Ryder’s issue was with being on TV, she needed him to get over it or get out. Perhaps all those years of dealing with her father had made for good practice after all.

“Bobby, this is Dr. Molly Flynn, from Diagnosis Critical. As we discussed, she’ll be managing your case from this point forward.” Dr. Dave placed a guiding hand on Molly’s back and gave her a slight nudge. “Dr. Flynn, this is our local superstar—NWHL MVP Bobby Templeton.”

“Hey.” The burly guy gave her a small wave. “Honor to meet you. I watch your show all the time when I’m not training. My favorite episode was the one with the weird toe fungus.” His gaze darted from her to the man at his bedside. “What’s the matter, Jake? Tongue-tied around a beautiful woman?”

Dr. Dave smiled. “Dr. Flynn—this is Dr. Jake Ryder.”

She turned, her polite smile freezing then falling. Dr. Ryder was the gorgeous rescuer from the accident scene. With her luck, she should’ve guessed.

He looked different now, dressed in scrubs instead of his navy and black EMT uniform. Not that the pale green material looked bad. Quite the contrary. With his stethoscope slung around his neck—no lab coat—he was transformed into a stoic professional, but she wasn’t fooled. She’d seen glimpses of the passion lurking beneath his surface at the accident scene. In fact, just the thought of him rushing headlong into danger to save that little boy and his mother caused a fresh wave of giddiness to bubble through her.

But her attraction to him wasn’t a good thing. It was a distraction she couldn’t afford.

Molly swallowed hard against the lump in her throat caused by the tension between them. “Nice to meet you again.”

“Again?” Dr. Dave asked with interest. “You two know each other?”

“I came across an emergency scene where Dr. Ryder was working on my way from the airport. He seemed quite...handy to have around.” Molly rubbed her arm where Dr. Jake Ryder had grabbed her, her flesh still tingling from his touch.

“I should’ve guessed you were media.”

The way he said the last word, like a curse, set her hackles rising. Common sense demanded she keep her head down, focus on work. Ignore this man who broke her concentration and keep her distance. Unfortunately he seemed to push all her buttons without even trying.

She met his sanctimonious stare directly. “What’s wrong with the media?”

Instead of answering her question, the man looked back to Dr. Dave and exhaled sharply, his expression a mix of disgust and exhaustion. “Can we hurry this up, please? I’m coming off a thirty-six-hour rotation.”

“Jake, please,” Dr. Dave implored. “Dr. Flynn’s one of the best in her field. You should reconsider signing those forms. Together, you two could make a fabulous team.”

“No.” He widened his stance, an immoveable wall of nope. “No releases. Not until I’ve seen for myself I can trust her.”

It was the derision in his tone, Molly decided, that really got to her. She’d developed a thick skin over the years out of necessity, and could put aside almost any slight. Except one against her professional conduct.

Incensed, she stepped closer to the arrogant man, ignoring the heat of him penetrating her thin cotton T-shirt and the clean, soapy scent of his skin. Bad enough that she had to constantly prove herself to her father. She wasn’t about to take the same crap from this pompous stranger—no matter how maddeningly attractive.

“My integrity isn’t in question here, Dr. Ryder. Now, as per my network’s guidelines, I must exclude you from Bobby’s care unless you sign the required paperwork. I understand having the crew trailing your every step might be a headache, but—”

“You don’t understand a damned thing, lady,” he growled, his jaw set.

“Sorry, Dr. Flynn, but no one’s touching me if Jake’s out of the picture,” Bobby added. “My prerogative.”

Molly crossed her arms, all previous flutters of attraction for the handsome ER doc buried beneath a mountain of affront. She hated appearing so flustered, and cringed inwardly at the thought of how her father would judge her—letting her emotions get the better of her—but there was nothing to be done at this point.

“Then it appears we’re at an impasse.”

“Sure does.”

Dr. Ryder mimicked her defiant posture and didn’t give an inch. His gaze had gone positively flinty, and a small muscle ticked near his tense jaw, drawing her eyes to the hint of stubble shadowing his tanned skin.

“Why won’t you sign the releases?” she demanded.

“Why do you think it’s any of your business?”

His lips were pressed so tightly together Molly was surprised he could even get words out.

Dr. Dave coughed, the sound reverberating in the small room. “Jake, be reasonable. Dr. Flynn’s a prodigy. She graduated high school at thirteen. In addition to her medical degree she’s earned two PhDs.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “In what?”

“Art history and genetics,” Molly said, her tone equally frosty.

“Then I’ll be sure to call you the next time I need to know the DNA sequence for a Jackson Pollack painting.”

“Unfortunately for you, Mr. Pollack didn’t leave behind any DNA samples for testing. Although it might be possible to extract a specimen from his exhumed corpse, given the lack of oxygen and sunlight to denigrate the samples. In fact, the oldest actual DNA specimens hail from Greenland, extracted from beneath a mile of ice...”

Molly’s voice trailed off as she took in the dazed stares of the others in the room and her heart sank. Not again.

“Right.” Dr. Dave passed Bobby’s chart to her on his way to the door. “I’ve got other patients to attend this evening. Jake, you’ll have to leave if you won’t sign the releases. We discussed this.”

“I don’t want to be on camera.” Dr. Ryder scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Why not?” Molly asked again. “Perhaps if you voiced your concerns—”

“He just doesn’t, okay?” Bobby rose to the defense of his friend. “Can’t Jake be an off-screen consultant or something?”

The door opened and Neal stuck his head inside. “We need to get a move on, Mol. The network’s called me five times already, wondering when they’re going to receive initial footage.”

Molly hated to admit defeat, but things were getting desperate. If a compromise would get this guy to agree to the network’s terms then it was worth it—at least for now.

“Fine, Dr. Ryder. But you’ll have to work around my schedule. If I need access to Bobby you leave, no questions asked.” Molly extended her hand. “Deal?”

He didn’t move at first, and her hopes dwindled. Finally, Dr. Ryder grasped her hand, his voice sounding as reluctant as she felt. “Deal.”

“Good.”

Molly brushed aside the inconvenient flood of endorphins fizzing through her from his touch and handed him the patient’s chart. She did her best work when she had colleagues with whom to brainstorm, and tonight she needed to bring her A game.

“Before the crew comes in, what’s your assessment?”

Dr. Ryder thumbed through the pages, glancing at her with no small amount of suspicion. “Given the weird olfactory hallucinations, and the fact we’ve ruled out the other obvious choices, how about encephalitis?”

“The only elevated result on the CBC was a slightly higher than normal eosinophil level, which doesn’t point to a brain infection.”

Molly struggled to keep her voice steady. It wasn’t the case that unsettled her. It was this man. He was too big, too masculine, too...everything.

Gladys came to check the patient’s vitals. Molly wanted to question Dr. Ryder further, but his cell phone buzzed.

He pulled it from the front pocket of his scrubs, then scowled at the screen. “I need to get back to my department. Bobby, you’re okay with all this?”

“Yep.” The patient shifted on his bed, the plastic frame creaking under his muscled weight. “I’ll call you if I need you, Jake. And don’t hover. You just think you have to watch out for me because—”

“That’s not why.”

A look passed between the two men and the air in the room seemed to vibrate with a secret silent understanding.

Then Dr. Ryder headed for the door, calling to her over his shoulder. “May I speak to you outside, Dr. Flynn?”

Still trembling slightly from a jumble of unexpected confusing emotions, Molly took a deep breath and followed him out into the hall. She hated being this overwrought in front of people, especially her new patient, but this issue between her and Dr. Jake Ryder needed to end. She wouldn’t let him destroy her best chance to save her show, even if it meant putting up with his irritating sexiness for the duration of her shoot.

* * *

“What are your next steps?” Jake asked once they’d reached a secluded corner of the hall.

The words had emerged more harshly than he’d intended, given Dr. Flynn’s slight wince, but he couldn’t seem to help it. Bad enough that she’d walked around that accident scene looking like some Disney princess come to life—all big blue eyes and lush blond hair—making him itch to hold and protect her. The tightness in his chest intensified, though his frustration was directed more toward himself than anyone else. Even worse that the first woman he’d felt attracted to since Kellie’s departure was the media star Dr. Dave had invited to collaborate on Bobby’s case.

Irony at its finest, folks.

Trust wasn’t something Jake gave freely. He’d been burned too badly in the past. The truth was, he had a hard time believing in anyone these days, except his Army buddies and his tight-knit circle of friends. Intimacy required vulnerability, and Jake didn’t do vulnerable anymore. Besides, he was a successful trauma surgeon. With his crazy schedules and on-call nightmares it was difficult to meet people, let alone have any kind of life outside his profession.

That was the excuse he was going with anyway.

And maybe Molly Flynn was the best at what she did—if Dr. Dave was to be believed. That didn’t excuse her impassioned speech about her sterling integrity—which, crazily enough, had only increased his foolish awareness of her as a woman. All he’d been able to concentrate on when she’d talked was her sparkling azure eyes and soft pink lips. God help him, he was in trouble here. Because she was Bobby’s specialist and a TV sensation.

The last time he’d dealt with the press—after his commendation—he’d gotten way more than his fifteen minutes of fame. Worse, the glare of media attention had only intensified after his relationship with Kellie had fallen apart, with reporters poking and prodding into his wreck of a personal life like vultures at a roadside kill.

The last thing Jake wanted now was to delve into that shark-infested cesspool again, but he couldn’t leave Bobby without an advisor in his corner. The guy had risked his own life to save Jake—literally. No way would he turn his back on him, no matter how uncomfortable the situation, and releases be damned.

During his time in Afghanistan he’d spent hours on the front lines, patching up men and women and ally civilians who’d given their all for their country. He’d enlisted initially for the experience, and to uphold the family legacy—his father had served as a Special Operations Pilot during Vietnam. But six years with the Seventy-Fifth Ranger Regiment had made his fellow soldiers Jake’s surrogate family, his brothers and sisters. With them, he’d found a tribe of kindred spirits all addicted to danger and valor.

Day in and day out he’d vowed to protect every one of them with his life, if needed. The time had come to make good on his promise.

Rock—meet proverbial hard place.

“I’ve ordered a chest CT to rule out CSS,” Dr. Flynn said, jarring Jake from his thoughts. “If you’ll excuse me...”

“Wait.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, doing his best to ignore the heat of her body wrapping around him, beckoning him closer. “I think we got started on the wrong foot.”

“Yes, I think we did,” Molly said, her gaze glittering with obvious irritation.

She wasn’t going to make this easy. Then again, neither was he.

“Churg-Strauss Syndrome is a severe conclusion to jump to so quickly, isn’t it?” he asked, puzzled.

Dr. Flynn sighed, the rise and fall of her chest causing the front of her T-shirt to hug her small curves. Not that he was looking. Nope. Definitely not looking.

“It’s a remote possibility, yes, but it would explain all his symptoms. And I like to be thorough. Satisfied now, Dr. Ryder?”

Not by a long shot, sweetheart.

Sudden images of them tangled in his sheets, her long silky hair splayed around him, swamped Jake’s exhausted mind. He backed away, alarmed. He’d just met her, for goodness’ sake. Must be the lack of sleep. Had to be.

“Keep me posted on the results.” Jake handed Bobby’s file back to her, then headed for the elevators. “If you don’t, I know where to find you.”

The brief flare of awareness in her eyes made his own pulse kick higher. Apparently he wasn’t the only one affected by this weird connection between them. Good thing she’d be on the first plane out of here as soon as Bobby had recovered.

All Jake wanted was an empty bed and peace and quiet. Unfortunately he still had about an hour of documentation to finish and a few patients either to admit or discharge before he was off duty for forty-eight blissful hours. Hours when he wouldn’t have to see Dr. Flynn or deal with the odd blaze of emotions she stirred inside him, making him want to both kiss her and throttle her in equal measures.

It was crazy. And then there was that slight yearning that crept into her expression sometimes, like when they’d been standing in the hallway discussing the case—a hesitation that called to his inner protector. Dangerous, that, since it threatened those precious walls he’d built—the ones meant to keep his heart from getting torn out and stomped on again.

Honestly, it had been so long since he’d had a significant other he couldn’t remember what it was like. During the last few months before Kellie had left him things had been so strained they’d just been going through the motions. Even so, the last thing he’d expected had been her accepting a network job in New York City without even discussing it with him. Blindsided didn’t begin to cover how he’d felt at the time. How he still felt, in some ways.

Eighteen months had passed and it still hacked Jake off whenever he remembered. He’d thought they had something good together—something real, something lasting.

He guessed that just went to show what an idiot he was when it came to love.

Good thing he was brilliant in his career. Saving lives was what he did, who he was. Since his fiancée’s abrupt departure Jake had thrown himself into saving his patients, into making their lives better. It helped him forget about the loneliness, the doubts. Doubts that if he hadn’t been enough for Kellie, why should he believe he’d ever be enough for anyone else?

One more reason to stick with short-term flings.

No muss, no fuss, no commitment. No chance for heartbreak and disappointment.

Yeah, perhaps if circumstances had been different, and he and Molly had met at some bar on a lonely night, they might’ve shared more than a medical case. Jake might’ve let her get a glimpse of the man locked behind those staunch barriers...might’ve let that instant connection between them evolve into something more.

But not now. Now he’d consult on Bobby’s case, be his advocate. That was all.

The elevator dinged and Jake climbed on board, ignoring the niggle of regret that bored into his chest.

Once he reached the first floor, he headed to his office near the ER and the inbox full of patient files awaiting his attention.

Yawning, he took a seat and grabbed the top chart, scanning the lab reports and papers inside before making his notations. Work kept him busy and sane. Work also kept him distracted. The constant hustle and bustle was part of the reason he spent so much time here. The other part was the fact that he didn’t have much going on outside of this place.

Determined to stay on track, Jake worked his way through the stack of charts until they were finished, then grabbed his keys and did a final check on the condition of his patients at the nurses’ station. Once that was taken care of for the night, Jake headed home.

He climbed behind the wheel of his truck and cranked the engine, squeezing his tired eyes shut. Bobby’s words during that firefight in Kandahar were ringing in his head like a clarion call.

“We’ll make it, bud...”

And they would No matter what trials and temptations Dr. Molly Flynn might pose.


CHAPTER THREE (#u47fe7316-68b2-5470-925c-cae52fee2d24)

“JUST PUT YOUR arm around it!” Rob yelled to Molly from behind a swath of thick rope. “Pretend it’s that hot doc at the hospital.”

She gave her cameraman a peeved stare. Had her attraction to Jake Ryder been that apparent? If Rob and Neal’s smirks were any indication then, yes, it had. Ugh. She usually kept a tight lid on her emotions. One more casualty of her jet lag and post-break-up-from-Brian funk.

Fabulous.

Exhaling loudly, Molly did her best to snuggle up to the world’s largest broccoli spear—weighing in at an astonishing thirty-nine pounds—and flashed a TV-perfect fake smile for the camera. The thing smelled like dirt and towered above her, its fanned floret casting ominous shadows. She’d read that Alaska was famous for its abnormally large produce, and here she was, within breathing distance of the proof.

“Perfect!” Rob gave her a thumbs-up while Neal texted on his phone.

Remarkably, they seemed to have good cell service out here—better than she’d had on her drive in from the airport the night before.

“I want to grab a corn dog before we head to the next location. Mol, you want anything?”

She shook her head. They’d set out this morning to capture some of the local flavor before her case took precedence. Bright and early, they’d packed up her Range Rover to explore all the area had to offer. After stopping at a diner for breakfast, and taking some exterior shots at the must-see spots in Anchorage—the modern curved sculptures outside the Z.J. Loussac Public Library, the gorgeous Native American exhibits at Rasmuson Center, the rustic quaintness of the Oscar Anderson House Museum, the city’s oldest residence—they’d driven forty minutes north to the small town of Palmer and the Alaska State Fair.

She released the giant cruciferous vegetable and scanned the vendors there, selling everything from pretzels to enormous ice cream cones. The air smelled of sweet popped corn and deep-fried dough. Rob tottered off to get his corn dog and Neal linked arms with Molly, leading her down a path designated as “The Purple Trail” to buy something called a Doughnut Burger.

“C’mon. It’s guaranteed to make you gain ten pounds.” He gave her a wink and placed his order but she passed.

She tried to eat healthily, even while traveling. If she ever let herself go physically her father would be the first to comment, so it was safer to not go down that road to begin with—no matter how tempting at times like this.

After collecting his food, she and Neal took a seat at one of the many wooden picnic tables to wait for Rob. The two guys had been a couple since before she’d joined the network, though they kept their personal relationship out of the office.

“Are you sure you don’t want a bite?” Neal asked.

Molly eyed the thick caribou steak patty between two slabs of grilled glazed doughnut, ketchup and mustard dripping down its sides, with trepidation. She could almost feel her arteries clogging. “Uh...no thanks.”

“It’s so scrumptious.” Neal wiped his face with his napkin, speaking to her around a mouthful of food. “At least try a corn fritter with honey butter dipping sauce. They’re delicious.”

“I’m still stuffed from breakfast, really.”

Molly pulled her phone from her pocket and zipped through her emails while Rob took a seat on the bench beside Neal and slid a plate in front of her.

“I got you a funnel cake, Mol. My treat.” Rob grinned. “Extra powdered sugar.”

Frowning, she stared down at the greasy confection. Its yeasty aroma was enticing, despite its odd look. She’d heard of these things, but never tried one herself. Tentatively she pulled off a tiny chunk and ate it. The treat melted in her mouth, releasing its sweet, rich goodness.

Eyes wide, Molly blinked at her smiling crew. “That’s amazing.”

“Told you.” Neal winked, then nudged Rob with his elbow.

She gobbled down more of the sweet deliciousness before answering her buzzing phone without checking the caller ID, assuming it would be the hospital. “Dr. Molly Flynn.”

“Hello, dear. Did you hear about Martha?”

“Yes, Mother.”

Neal raised a speculative brow and Molly swiveled on her bench to face in the opposite direction. She and her older sister Martha weren’t exactly close, but that hadn’t kept Molly from escaping the dreaded Baby Aboard! email blitz.

“I heard.”

“Then you’ll help me plan the shower?”

“She’s five months along.” Molly squinted into the hazy morning sunshine.

“Never too early to plan, dear. Not if you want the best.”

And of course Martha would have the best. She always got the best—from prom dresses to husbands.

“We need to reserve a room and order flowers. Pick a caterer and a cake maker too.”

“It’s a baby shower, Mother. Not a wedding.”

A cute little girl dressed to perform in one of the fair’s many shows waddled by and Molly smiled. She’d always loved children, but having her own someday seemed farther out of reach than ever. Mainly because of the belief her father had instilled within her every day of her childhood—that if people saw her true fallible self, her imperfections and quirks, they wouldn’t love her, couldn’t love her. So she hid behind her slick professionalism, her media persona, never letting anyone get too close to the truth.

“Speaking of weddings—how are things with Brian?” her mother asked.

The question hit Molly like a sucker punch. For a moment she considered lying about their separation, but her mother would find out soon enough—if she didn’t already know. “We’re taking a break.”

“Break?”

“Yes.” Molly reached behind her and grabbed the remaining huge chunk of funnel cake, shoving it in her mouth without thinking. “He’s busy with stocks and bonds and I’m swamped with shooting in Anchorage for the next few weeks, so it’s fine.”

“I see.” Her mother’s tone suggested that she’d seen straight through Molly’s crap. “You can’t keep doing this, dear.”

“Doing what?”

“Putting your personal life on hold. You’re not getting any younger.”

Exactly what she didn’t need today. A baby pep-talk from her mother. When she was a teen, Molly had often wished she had the kind of parents that showed up in her favorite sitcoms. The loving, supportive variety, who never pushed their kids to do things they didn’t want and loved them unconditionally for who they were. But real life wasn’t like TV, and usually you just had to do the best with what you’d got.

Her shoulders slumped as the scent of fresh kettle corn drifted on the breeze. Molly’s lifelong imposed restraint buckled under the pressure and she all but tripped over herself on her way to buy a bag. After all, she should experiment while she still had the chance, right?

Molly changed the subject while she waited in line. “What are my duties for the shower?”

“Decorations. And I’ll see if your father knows anyone.”

“For what?”

“For you. When will you be back home, dear?”

“I just got to Alaska.”

Not to mention the fact the last thing she wanted was a blind date with one of her father’s legion of devoted clones.

Molly paid and thanked the vendor then returned to the table with her popcorn. “I’m not ready to date anyone else yet. Besides, there’s a colleague here who’s giving me issues.”

“Really? Is he attractive?”

“No.”

Yes. All she had to do was picture Dr. Ryder’s stormy gray eyes, his chiseled jaw and toned muscles, and molten heat spread outward from her core to sizzle through her bloodstream. It seemed the gorgeous man caused her problems even when he wasn’t around.

If only he wasn’t her new colleague.

If only...what?

No. That line of thinking was completely unacceptable. They were working together. Molly was only here temporarily. Dr. Ryder treated her as if she harbored a deadly contagious disease. It was all so irritating and annoying and incredibly intriguing.

Scowling, she shoved another handful of popcorn in her mouth. “What difference does it make? He’s a nuisance. Challenging everything I do, every order I give.”

“Perhaps if you tried charm instead of your usual abruptness you might get further.”

Molly checked her watch. If they were going to fit another location in before she went to the hospital, they had to get a move on. “I need to go.”

“Thank you for proving my point, dear.”

She felt her mother’s disapproval like a slap.

“I’ll call you next week with a list of supplies.”

“Fine,” Molly said, though the line had already gone dead. Talk about abrupt. Clicking off her phone, she turned back to her crew. “Have you guys decided on our last stop?”

“We have.” Neal gave her his devious smile—the one that always warned of mischief ahead. “You ready?”

She tossed her trash in a nearby bin, then followed her crew toward the exit. “Can I at least get a clue where we’re headed?”

“I talked to one of the ER nurses yesterday before you arrived,” Rob said. “She’s part of a volunteer mountain rescue group. They’re practicing maneuvers today. Neal thinks it might be a nice way to segue into the local medical scene.”

* * *

“Ready, Ryder?” shouted a man in an orange emergency jumpsuit.

“Ready!” Jake yelled back.

He was currently dangling off the north face of O’Malley’s Peak, wind whistling, while his training-partner-slash-victim for this rescue was strapped to a body board.

“Victim’s secure for lift.”

He sagged into his riggings to wait, enjoying the stunning views from this vantage point. Bright autumn colors dotted the landscape as far as the eye could see, and the city of Anchorage gleamed in the distance. Most tourists cleared out of Chugach State Park this late in the season, leaving it to year-round locals like himself until the first snows hit. Then this place would be packed again, with ice-climbers, skiers and winter enthusiasts.

And, like clockwork, some of those weekend daredevils would do something ill-advised, requiring intervention. That was why he was here. Plus, volunteering for the Anchorage Rescue Team—or the ART—helped him keep his rescue skills sharp. And, particularly this weekend, he hoped the training might help him forget about a certain blond doctor who seemed to haunt his every waking moment.

Dr. Molly Flynn was proving to be a challenge. In more ways than one.

Inhaling the crisp mountain air, Jake distracted himself by double-checking both his harness and the one around his pretend victim, then tested the ropes and carabiners for strength. He’d scaled these peaks since his teens, knew every nook and cranny by heart. He and his dad had used to come here when he was in high school, just to hang out and relax.

Those carefree days seemed a million miles away now, with his parents off traveling the country by RV for three-quarters of each year, returning to Alaska only during the brief summer months. In fact Bobby was really the closest person he had left in Anchorage.

If I lose him...

Jake’s muscles tightened with anxiety. The wind gusted harder and he grabbed the ropes near his victim’s chest to steady himself. He wouldn’t lose Bobby because he couldn’t lose Bobby. Just as he couldn’t allow himself to get involved with Dr. Flynn. It would be bad. Very bad. Besides, he didn’t trust her—would never trust her. Kellie had destroyed his ability to trust.

“You trying to cop a feel, Doc?” Wendy Smith—fellow ART volunteer, an ER nurse at Anchorage Mercy and today’s pretend victim—grinned up at him from the body board. “Been there, done that—not going back again.”

“Shut up, smartass.” Jake focused on the distant hazy peaks of Denali, doing his best to shake off his melancholy. He and Wendy had known each other since grade school. “You have a rare day off too, Clutch?”

“Don’t call me that. I hate it,” she said.

Half-Inupiat and all attitude, Wendy looked like a swimsuit model, swore like a drunken drill sergeant, and had grown up fast after her mother had passed away when she was only twelve.

Living with three older brothers and having a mechanic for a father had made her into quite a tomboy, and Jake often found her tinkering with cars when she wasn’t saving lives in his ER. They’d gone out once, but the romantic sparks hadn’t been there. They’d remained good friends ever since.

“And I could ask the same of you,” she said.

“What?” He scowled. “I take plenty of time off.”

“Right.”

“I can’t help it if my patients need me.”

She gave him an exasperated look. “Whatever gets you through the night.”

He squirmed a bit. Her comment had hit too close to home. Trouble was, his time-honored excuse wasn’t getting him through the night anymore. Especially since a certain prickly and disturbingly pretty media star had arrived.

They were totally unsuited. Polar opposites on so many levels it wasn’t even funny. His best bet would be to put her out of his mind and concentrate on Bobby’s recovery. Except all it seemed to take was one thought of her and his blood burned like lit gasoline, sparking a primal rush of need he didn’t expect or want.




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