Playboy Doctor (6 page)

A half-laugh escaped her. Ludicrous. A globetrotting surgeon didn't have time to consider asking her out. Surely, his first impression of her would forever be imprinted in his memory. Not to mention the reputation of his, which followed him like old luggage. That fact alone warned, "Hands off."

No, she would never entertain the notion Shayne might be attracted to her. And she certainly wouldn't allow herself to be attracted to him. Not to his eyes. Not to his lips. And not to that mass of lush, dark, dampened hair.

Chapter 5

Shayne's attraction to Willow had become unbearable. No man should be expected to keep his cool when so riled up by a woman. He had to escape those beguiling eyes and inviting lips.

Although he looked forward to working with Willow as a nurse, he couldn't help but be intrigued by her as a woman. The realization unnerved him.

Shayne checked his watch again as he hiked through the hospital halls. Plenty of time to get to the meeting. But he had to leave P-ICU and escape Willow before he did something terribly foolish like haul her into his arms.

If only she hadn't reached out and touched him. The moment she wiped his brow, he was a goner. He sensed the care in one brush of her hand. Therapeutic and soothing. And the way she spoke, so soft, gentle. No wonder Baby Jack responded to her. Shayne responded just as strongly.

But he couldn't have it. Not one bit.

His beeper pealed the air, breaking his conflicting thoughts. He glared down at the meeting-reminder message, although thankful for the mental reprieve. As he read, he used every ounce of willpower to put Willow out of his mind.

A lovely distraction was the last thing he needed when patients like Baby Jack took top priority. But on a personal level, right now, women had no place in his life. Nor in his heart. He'd been meticulous in his plans to remain unaffected by women wherever he worked. The construction of his cool exterior offered a steely shelter for his emotions. But when it came to one light-haired, wide-eyed nurse whose hot glances speared right through him, Willow had somehow found a crack in his sturdy exterior and worked her way in.

* * *

The next few days passed in a whir for Willow as she helped Dr. Edwards acclimate himself to his new surroundings. She kept him on schedule as he brought residents with him on rounds, checking patients at the hospital in the morning. She helped him navigate the halls of the university as he lectured in the afternoon. All the while, she did her best to anticipate his needs, assist with administrative matters, and ensure his day ran smoothly. She must have been doing a good job because he hadn't dismissed her on the first day the way he had with his previous nurse.

Despite this, when deep in the throes of a medical crisis, Willow never knew what to expect from Dr. Edwards. He barked orders that kept even the best cracker-jack team hopping—Willow included. But she chose to cloak herself in quiet confidence despite any turmoil around her.

Once a crisis passed, Shayne's intensity settled to composed-but-demanding. And when she found herself alone with him, she witnessed yet another side. An all-male side that evoked a sexual response from her. Shayne's very presence crackled with energy, where a light touch to her shoulder, or casual brush of his hand against hers, sent sparks through her like a string of Chinese firecrackers.

With this new frantic schedule she'd been keeping, Willow had been looking forward to the end of her shift to head home and relax. More importantly, she looked forward to her regular end-of-day visit with Baby Jack before leaving.

She padded into the infant's room, making sure not to disturb him if he slept, until she caught sight of Shayne leaning over the baby warmer. The warmth of the room enveloped her and she couldn't help but inch back into the doorway to watch. The chiseled features in Shayne's profile smoothed as he smiled at the infant. He rested his hand on the baby, not for a medical evaluation, but rather in a genuine act of caring. Low murmurs came from the surgeon. Fatherly, soothing tones. Was he murmuring sweet nothings?

The warmth of the scene enveloped her heart. As she witnessed this private moment, instinct told her she'd been given a rare treat. This hardnosed surgeon was capable of deep emotion and possibly capable of great love. At least when nobody was looking. Astonished by what she saw she took a moment to gather her wits. She then gently knocked on the doorframe to announce her arrival.

Shayne stood upright, cleared his throat. "Willow," was all he said.

"How is he?"

"Hanging in there. I was, just, ah, checking his reflexes, and his, ah, coordination."

"Right, of course, reflexes." She tried to bite back a smile and beamed up at him.

His attention went back to the infant and he emitted a low grumble. "I only wish we knew the family's history. Whether or not the mother was diabetic. Or malnutritioned. Or did she catch a virus while pregnant? It would help to know these things given the fact we're looking at a congenital heart defect."

"It's certainly like putting pieces of a puzzle together," she offered, "but do we know which pieces are actually missing?"

"In this case, the mismatched puzzle pieces include the greater blood vessels surrounding the baby's heart. The vessels are transposed, coming from opposite sides. We're looking at surgery if he can survive it."

Although Willow gave thanks the infant's illness had been diagnosed, deciding to perform open-heart surgery on such a young, sick baby couldn't be taken lightly. If done too soon, the procedure could lead to a failing heart; if done too late, the defect could prove lethal.

"I trust you're working on a surgical plan."

Shayne gave a curt nod. "I spoke with the cardiologist and the CVT surgeon. I also put a call into the pediatric anesthesiologist. Once we firm things up on a surgical intervention, I'll let you know. I want to get this little nipper healthy and give him a fighting chance."

"Yes, Doctor," she answered. Willow admired the surgeon's confidence at taking on this charitable task. She also admired the keen interest he took in this little guy.

"Regarding surgery, our scheduled procedures begin first thing tomorrow. I want to be sure you're up for it."

"Yes, of course.

"Thank you, Willow. And good-night." His focus solely on the infant, he remained by the baby's side. The man wasn't going anywhere. Not yet anyway.

She respected his intimate time alone with the baby and said good night. As she turned to leave, she noticed a new small gift box perched on the nearby table. A gift box she hadn't seen earlier when she stopped by.

But was there now... with Shayne.

A smile curled at the edges of her lips.

* * *

Willow gathered her things from the medical staff lounge, then headed toward the exit. She looked forward to getting home and getting a good night's sleep.

Through the glass panes of the exit doors, a flash of white from a lightning bolt filled the darkening sky, startling her. She still wasn't used to the sudden storms manifesting at any given time.

With the stormy weather and cacophony of thunder and wind running rampant through the area, she wouldn't be getting much sleep after all. Who was she kidding? If the storm didn't keep her up, then thoughts and feelings of Shayne would surely do her in. She stopped at the exit doors and peered out. Hard rain pellets beat against the glass. While she didn't mind getting wet in a downpour, she did respect the Florida lightning. Hopefully, a brief lull in the storm soon would allow her to get to her Toyota. Another lightning bolt flared through the sky. The ensuing thunder rumbled, vibrating the glass panes.

The storm wasn't letting up any time soon. She groaned.

Her cell phone rang. The caller ID revealed the number to her landlord, an older gentleman whom she rented a small bungalow from in the back of his waterfront estate.

"Hello, Willow? It's Mr. Langdon. I have some bad news. We're flooded to kingdom come here. The pressure of the rising water from the storms caused a pipe to burst in your place. You're completely flooded out," her landlord yelled over wind gusts in the background.

Confusion filled her.

"My place? Flooded?" she asked to be sure.

"Yep. I'm taking Mrs. Langdon to our daughter's house up on higher ground. She's not in a flood zone like we are. My wife doesn't do well in storms like this and the rising water don't look so good. The road will be washed out any minute. You'll never get through."

Willow let the news sink in, worried about the older couple. "I understand. I'll find somewhere to stay. But is it a good idea for you to be out in this weather?"

"Aw, now don't worry about us. My big old Cadillac hasn't let me down yet. I'll call you when it's safe to come back."

As Willow ended the call, another lightning bolt seared the sky, bathing the night in stark white light. A thunderclap rumbled. Florida offered plenty of sunshine, but it also came with its share of wild weather.

She tucked away the cell phone and leaned against the wall. This was not good news. Normally, she would have family to fall back on, but not here. The lingering homesickness she thought she'd grown accustomed to welled up within her.

Willow called Emmy, but only got a recording. Without leaving a message, she hung up and thought hard on what to do next.

"Willow? Are you okay?" Shayne asked.

She didn't realize he'd been standing next to her.

She nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine. I always am."

"I couldn't help but overhear your phone conversation."

"You shouldn't eavesdrop," she retorted.

"You shouldn't yell into your cell," he countered. "Especially in a hospital."

He had her there. She didn't know she'd been talking so loudly over the landlord's background noise.

"This may seem unorthodox," he continued, "but given the storm, I have a guest room you can use at the flat."

"Oh, I couldn't," she blurted. "I'll find a hotel or just curl up in the corner of the lounge—"

"It's late. You are only going to sleep and then wake up to come back here in a few hours, no?"

"Yes. But really, a hotel room, or a chair in the lounge, or even a bus terminal bench will do just fine," she teased. Anything to hide how his offer flustered her.

"I'll hear none of it. Willow, you are displaced for the night. Your family is a thousand miles away. I know a thing or two about being far from home. Hell, I live out of a suitcase for most of the year."

Willow heard the understanding in Shayne's voice. But did he really understand the occasional bouts of loneliness? She took a moment to contemplate his offer. A guest room did sound more appealing than scrambling to find a hotel room. It would be for just one night. Besides, with the storm blowing, the roads washed out, and her bungalow flooded, how could things possibly get any worse?

* * *

The whipping winds whirled behind Willow as she followed Shayne into the two-story townhome. She shook out her dripping hair and promptly removed her shoes on the tiled entry. "Wow, it's like a typhoon out there."

With gentle force, Shayne closed the door against the blustery gusts, and then set aside Willow's umbrella. "There's no protection against rain coming at you sideways." As he spoke, he made the rounds, turning on the occasional light.

"Thanks again for putting me up," Willow said.

"No trouble at all."

Willow ventured inside and took in her surroundings; a comfy looking sofa and a pile of throw pillows with a palm tree motif. She admired the collection of large seashells artfully arranged in the enormous glass bowl on the coffee table.

"This is a great place."

"Complements of the university hospital. Admittedly, it's quite serene after a long day at work. It has a view of the Gulf of Mexico, too."

He gave her a quick tour of the downstairs, ending up in the kitchen.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"No, just beat."

"Same here. Help yourself to anything to eat or drink, if you change your mind."

Shayne led her back to the living room. A boyish awkwardness swept over his face as he gestured toward a door. "The guest room is over here... I'll be right back." Shayne disappeared and soon returned with towels and a large white, button-down shirt draped over his arm. "I hope this will do as a nightshirt."

"It will do just fine." She accepted the shirt.

A quiet moment settled between them.

"Well, then, I'll be right upstairs if you need anything," he offered.

After saying goodnight, Willow found her way into the guest room in the lower level of the townhouse. She slipped out of her scrubs and bra, and then donned the white shirt. She relished the fresh scent of the cottony linen. It smelled just like Shayne, clean-shaven and freshly showered. The makeshift pajamas offered the perfect "boyfriend shirt" to wear to bed.

But she didn't have a boyfriend, now did she?

Willow was about to crawl under the covers when she noticed a picture frame facing away from her on a small chest of drawers. Next to it sat a partially opened shipping container. Various items lined the top of the chest, from boxed teas, to biscuits, to jam, all with British labels. Apparently, someone had sent him a care package. Probably someone from home. People sure did like to send him boxes with the most interesting things inside. Then again, how else could a person connect with a man who travelled the world?