Sleeping ’til Sunrise (2 page)

I liked and was impressed by all that Roark was and the fact I had really enjoyed our interaction the first time we’d met.

I was walking into city hall, he was coming out, and I held the door open for him.

“Oh thank you,” he said offhandedly, rushing to get out of my way.

“My pleasure,” I replied, smiling as he turned to look at me.

He froze, nearly tripping, and I reached out to steady him because he was on a step and I didn’t want him to lose his balance.

That was the day I noticed his jasper-green eyes, because they were open so wide as he stared at me.

It was impossible to miss how beautiful the man was, and so I let go of the door and stepped into his space, wanting to get a name. He had to tip his head back to hold my gaze, as I was six four and had several inches on his long and lean-muscled frame, and when I heard his breath catch and saw him wet his lips, I was encouraged by the reaction. As a fireman, I needed to be in great shape, so I was. Even though I didn’t really see it—I had looked like all the other guys in my neighborhood growing up—I’d been told since I hit my early teens that I was handsome, beautiful, gorgeous. And while it had never gone to my head, I hadn’t heard a “no” from anyone I tried to pick up, even the married/in a relationship guys, since I turned sixteen.

“I’m Essien Dodd, the new fire chief,” I said softly, offering him my hand.

He tried to answer, but his voice was full of gravel that needed to be dislodged. Coughing, clearing his throat, he took my hand as he started again, only to have the beginning of his reply come out in a low, almost yodeling sound.

I couldn’t control my smug grin. Apparently the gorgeous man in front of me, squeezing my hand as he tried to get his voice to work, found me quite appealing as well.

“I’m,” he began again, for the third time, his tone like dried leaves crunched under a boot, “Ra-roar—Roark, Hah-hah-hammond,” he stuttered.

I covered his hand with my other and held tight. “You’re the doctor, right?”

He nodded.

“I’m bringing my daughter in to see you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Next week.”

He took a quick breath. “You’ll bring her or your wife will?”

“I will,” I told him, taking in his long, thick eyelashes, dark curved brows, and lush lips. “I’m not married.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And even if I was, it wouldn’t be to a woman,” I added, because that needed to be clear even if I wasn’t in the market for a new man in my life.

He gave me a fleeting smile, and I let his hand go but remained where I was, close, staring down into all that deep, dark green.

I was surprised when he suddenly closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before letting them drift back open.

The urge to lean forward and kiss him was overwhelming and just a tiny bit terrifying. There’d been no one since my wife died, since my ex-boyfriend in Detroit told me it was too late to rekindle our romance, not even a one-night stand, in either Miami or now Mangrove. It hadn’t been a problem. I was focused on my daughter and our exodus from Michigan to Florida, and then to a new and even better opportunity in the small coastal community where we’d landed.

I realized now that, if I thought about it, the only man in town I had any interest in at all was the good doctor. And really, if it wouldn’t be breaking my firmly laid-out rules, I would have been more than happy to follow my daughter’s prompt to ask him out. But as it was, he—and every other available man in Mangrove—was off-limits.

“Good morning,” I greeted him softly, my voice warm as I leaned in close, whispering, my breath on Roark’s ear.

He shivered, and I was surprised that he kept his focus forward instead of turning to look at me.

“Roark?”

The answering whimper was sweet. He finally turned to me. “Yeah?”

Not quite the response I was expecting, but as his gaze met mine over his shoulder, and his lips parted, I found myself lost in his dark eyes. They were a beautiful green-black color, and when he laughed, which was rare, they sparkled. I knew I wasn’t the only one who noticed, as often as I’d seen strangers transfixed on the street when he stopped to talk.

“Essien?”

I coughed quickly. “So why do you look like you slept in your clothes?”

He took a breath before glancing away. “I didn’t sleep.”

“Should I be sorry or not?” I chuckled, surprised.

“Oh, no, not like that,” he grumbled. “God, I wish.”

“Pardon me?”

His groan was tired.

“Roark?” The tremble that ran through his long, lean-muscled frame was noticeable. I took hold of his shoulder and turned him around to face me. “What’s wrong?”

He cleared his throat. “It’s possible I could be a little needy this morning.”

“Because?”

“I was up all night with Mr. and Mrs. Garcia.”

“I don’t know them, I don’t think.” I had only been in Mangrove for six months, so it was possible the Garcias were people I’d missed.

“The litter was delivered early this morning.”

It took me a moment. “I’m sorry?”

“I’ll give you a thousand dollars if I don’t have to explain,” he mumbled before pivoting to face toward the counter again.

“Hold up.”

His whimper was cute before he mumbled something under his breath about the town being much too small as he moved up one space. Our place in line was slowly edging toward the counter.

“Kittens?” I said to his back.

“No.”

It was too good. “Puppies?”

Exasperated sigh from the man, and I found I couldn’t stop smiling.

“Please let it go,” he grumbled. “I can’t even see straight, let alone think.”

“You delivered puppies?” I snorted.

He ignored me as he reached the cashier and ordered a regular cup of coffee with four espresso shots mixed in.

“You don’t think maybe sleep would be better?” I prodded.

He shushed me, paid, and stepped off to the side to wait instead of quickly darting to the other end of the bar to wait with other customers. It was surprising, because he usually bolted. If we saw each other in line for coffee, he’d pretend I wasn’t there or talk to anyone but me and would certainly grab his coffee and get out of there as fast as he could. Normally he never lingered. It had actually become kind of our thing, his hurry to ditch me whenever possible. He was always in a rush when it looked like we’d get a few minutes to talk. I had no idea what I’d done to the man, but it was like he couldn’t stand me. Until today. Until now.

He was staying put, waiting not just for his coffee, but for me.

Knowing he was there, that I had his attention, was dizzying, and I had no idea why.

Adam Crawford, the barista, brought my regular and passed it over.

“Here you go, Chief,” he said as he did every morning, and I thanked him, paid his sister, Pattie, the perky little cashier, and then moved sideways to stand with Roark, who was still waiting on his cup.

“How come you get yours so fast?”

“I’m special,” I said like it was obvious.

He smiled even though his eyes were watering. “Yeah, okay.”

I tipped my head, studying him.

“What?”

“Why work today?”

“It’s kind of what I do.”

“Yes, but what if you diagnose something wrong? What if in your sleep-deprived state you do something really stupid?”

“I was a resident at one time, you know, so I’ve done without sleep for days on end. It’s how doctors are trained.”

“You’re telling me you never made a mistake?”

“Never,” he promised.

I tried another tactic. “You could reschedule and—”

“I have patients booked solid the whole day,” he explained calmly. “And if I don’t go in today, then all that does is make tomorrow absolutely insane.”

“Yes, but—”

“People need me.”

He got off on that, I could tell. People thought he was so magnanimous, but the truth was, he liked the attention. His ego was huge, and there was no way it wouldn’t be, with everyone telling him he was the Second Coming. I knew that because I used to be the same exact way. The birth of my daughter changed that for me. Before she’d been born, I’d been the kind of guy who took foolish chances just to be told he was amazing. In his way, it was the same for Roark. He gave his time selflessly just to be praised. I often wondered what was missing in his life that made him seek validation from others, but we weren’t good enough friends for me to ask. Maybe, though, with him stilling for a moment, actually waiting on me, perhaps I had an opportunity that had never presented itself before.

I cleared my throat. “So,” I said softly, stepping in close, into his space. “Puppies?”

“There’s no vet in town, and Domino, the Garcias’ pit bull, was suffering.”

“And so you did what? Performed an emergency C-section?”

“Yeah.”

I nodded. “And how’s the dog now?”

“Resting comfortably.”

“And the puppies?”

“All five are good,” he answered with a smile followed by a quick yawn.

“Good job, Doc,” I assured him, brushing his thick hair out of his face so I could keep looking into his gorgeous eyes, red-rimmed with dark circles under them.

“Thanks,” he grunted, taking a breath, ready, I could tell, to leave.

“Hey, I have a proposition for you,” I offered, dropping my hand.

He coughed. “Oh? What’s that?”

“How ’bout you let me come over after work and bring dinner.”

“I don’t know if that’s—”

“Come on,” I insisted, “just let me.”

“But I’ll be exhausted.”

“That’s the point. You’ll be too tired to cook. Who takes care of you?”

He looked startled. “No one.”

“Well, then,” I said gruffly. “Allow me.”

“Why would you—I mean, I’ll be fine.”

“That’s not the point, is it. Not that you’ll be fine, but that you could use the caretaking and that’s who I am.”

His jaw clenched. “I’ve heard that about you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” he assured me, firmly but gently. “And I can promise you that I don’t need to be looked after.”

With that he whirled around, grabbed his coffee off the counter since they’d called his name, and left the shop out the side door so he didn’t even have to look at me again.

“Why doesn’t he like you?”

When I turned my head, I found my neighbor, Hutch Crowley.

“He likes everyone,” he said.

I just stared at him.

“Hello?”

“What?” I said irritably.

“Why doesn’t the most eligible bachelor in town like you?”

“I have no idea,” I admitted.

“You should maybe figure that out.”

“Go away,” I groused. “And stay out of my love life.”

He scoffed. “Oh buddy, that ain’t love.”

No, it wasn’t. Not yet, anyway.

I COULDN’T
shake the feeling that I was missing something with Roark, and even after a day of lecturing fourth, fifth, and sixth graders about the dangers of matches, and extinguishing a science experiment at the high school, a grease fire at a shrimp shack on the beach, and a barbecue that almost got out of control because of the wind and the seven years’ worth of petrified Christmas trees in the backyard, Roark Hammond was still on my mind.

Ivy called and said soccer practice was running late and that afterward her coach, Kahala Hill, was taking her team out for pizza. I told Ivy I’d see her at home, changed out of my uniform and into jeans, a T-shirt, and running shoes, and headed over to Roark’s office. Though it was after seven when I got there, I wasn’t surprised that his car—a gorgeous restored 1941 Chrysler Town & Country Woody Station Wagon—was in the driveway, not the car that belonged to Blake Timmons, his partner at work. They were both pediatricians, but while Roark was booked solid from morning to night, Blake was basically the fallback. If Roark was sick or away, you got Blake.

The office was a converted barn, just stunning inside. From the enormous double ceiling fans that extended the length of the hall to the polished wood floors and distressed white walls, it was beautiful.

Walking inside, I realized no one was there, not even a nurse or the receptionist.

The howl of pain startled me, even more so because I knew exactly who’d made it. Bolting down the hall to look for Roark, I rushed into his office and found him slumped over his desk, files on the floor, keyboard wedged against his cheek, moaning in his sleep.

A lot of the guys I’d worked with over the years had been soldiers, and since we slept at the fire station during our three days on, I learned some had been abused and still others had worries that ground away at them in their sleep. I knew the sound of a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from, though I wasn’t actually looking at PTSD.

Hustling around the desk, I lifted him from where he’d passed out on top of paperwork, leaned him back in his chair gently, and rubbed his upper arms.

His eyes fluttered open, but when he saw me, his eyes that had been wild softened, telling me he was more than pleased to see me.

“It’s okay,” I soothed, stepping around in front of him and sinking down to one knee. I took hold of his shoulders and kneaded them, moving slowly, carefully, to his biceps, getting the blood flowing, certain that he was stiff and cold from being unconscious in such a contorted sprawl across his desk.

“Why are you here?” Roark asked tentatively.

“I’m taking care of you, of course,” I answered softly, smiling at him.

He wasn’t really awake yet, so he couldn’t hide his reaction to having me close. His pupils dilated, the black absorbing the jasper, he puffed out a breath followed by a sweet little whine, as he licked his lips, swallowing hard.

When he tentatively leaned forward as my hands were massaging his wrists, I drew him closer, into my space, and kissed him.

It was meant to be a quick peck of comfort, but the second our lips brushed, mine parted for him, and that was all the invitation he needed before he pounced.

I was more than ready to allow the mauling and returned the passion, slipping my tongue into his mouth. I tasted and savored, sliding a hand around the back of his head, fingers tangled in his thick, wavy black hair as I held him against me. I didn’t want him to move. The way he responded, submitting, opening, moaning into my kiss, wrapping his arms around my neck, made it hard to not take him over the desk.