April 2, 12:37 a.m.
CAM WOKE SLOWLY, scanning the disaster site that had been his bedroom, but there were no injuries, no blood. He pushed his face into his pillow and smiled.
No pillow.
Jenna.
He pressed a grateful kiss to the inviting skin, and then frowned as the previous night’s events clicked back into place.
The clock was now on, and he realized it was 12:27 a.m. on April 2. Cautiously he flexed his hands—no bruising, no fractures. The rest of him seemed to be fine, too.
Had he slept through the entire day? Nah. It was impossible.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” she murmured, turning on the light.
Jenna.
He lifted his head, unhappy to notice that she was sleeping in his bed with her red dress back on. Not that it had to stay on.
“Did it go away?”
She knew what he was talking about. The Curse. It with a capital I. “You slept the entire day. Welcome to April Two.”
“You’re sure.”
She clicked on the television, and he watched the date and time crawl on the news channel. She was right.
“I have some connections, but not that good.”
“What happened?”
“You grabbed the cold medicine instead of aspirin.”
Groggily he rubbed his head. “I don’t have cold medicine.”
“Apparently you’ve forgotten about it, because it’s here,” she replied.
The words played in his head, new implications, new ideas, new plans. Plans with Jenna. Cam sat up, stretched his arms, feeling amazingly good. “I can’t believe it—April second.”
“Live and in person.”
“And nothing bad happened?”
“You might need a need roof at some point,” she stated, pointing to the wet patch on the ceiling.
“No HazMat scares, no mislaid laundry, no misdelivered packages of live snakes?”
“Sure, there were a few things.”
“Bad?”
“You should have seen me with the IRS auditor. Masterful. He won’t be back.” She smiled at him then, not so cool, not so detached, and a charge of lust shot through to his groin.
“You really stayed all day? Why?”
Her hands plucked at the sheets of his bed, a faint blush on her cheeks. “For the great sex.”
“Like there was any doubt,” he said, because sex was the least of his problems.
She gently laid a hand over his. “And for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Casually Cam rolled his shoulders, a nonchalant gesture to indicate that it had never mattered whether he was alone or not. Jenna stared at him as if she didn’t believe him. Cam didn’t mind.
“I’m kinda liking having my own personal doc. It’s convenient.”
“And cheap.”
“Are we talking frugal or tawdry?”
This time, she rolled a shoulder, a nonchalant gesture to indicate that it didn’t matter, and he covered her mouth, not so nonchalant, because it mattered.
She mattered.
He pulled her close, held her tight, fiercely tight, feeling the quiver within her. That quiet shudder always gave her away.
“Doc?”
Jenna looked at him, and despite the dim of the room, he saw something warm and good. Something that made him realize he would never be the same. “Yeah?” she asked.
Cam hesitated for a minute then shook off his nerves. “You don’t think less of me?”
“Why should I?”
“Because of the panic attacks,” he answered, not that he didn’t think she needed the answer. She was a doc. She knew. He loved that she understood him and accepted him, but Cam wasn’t sure he accepted himself. “Nobody knows. My family doesn’t even know.”
“You should tell them.”
“I like my other image better.”
She quirked a brow at him, haughty and all-knowing. In fact, if it wasn’t for the sexy little love bite right below her neck, he might have been more offended. “The other image? You mean the stupid guy that takes death-defying risks?”
“That’s not exactly the image I was thinking about.” He liked being the solid rock of the family. Would John Wayne suffer anxiety attacks? Probably not.
“Why don’t you be you? Do what you want to do, not what you think you have to do.”
Her dark eyes were loving when she looked at him, as if she didn’t care who he was. Actually, at the moment, lying next to her, feeling her fingers locked around his, he didn’t mind being who he was. It was nice to be taken care of for once.
“What if I want to dive out of an airplane on April first?”
Jenna put on her bossy doctor’s face, exactly like he’d hoped she would. He liked that face. He’d liked it from the first time he’d met her. “Do the skydiving on April second,” she instructed. “Play golf on April first. Or, alternatively, if you want to lounge in bed on April first, then maybe you should do that.”
His fingers slid along her neck, underneath her dress, and whoops, accidentally exposed one shoulder. She had great shoulders. Soft, capable, sexy. “Lounging in bed is a very tempting idea. You’d be there?”
“Would you like me to be there?” she asked, and he noticed the uncertainty in her eyes. Amazing that with all the letters after her name, after all the lives she’d saved, she still hadn’t clued in to how he felt.
He took her face in his hands, kissing her gently and sincere. “Yes.”
“Then, I’d be there.”
Well satisfied with life at the moment, Cam leaned back against the pillows and pulled her into his arms, accidentally exposing the other shoulder, as well. “I’ll miss the E.R. I sort of liked the fights with Bertie. And I loved when you put your hands on me. Those were some good memories.”
“We can make new memories. Better memories,” she told him, and oops, there went the dress, and they spent the next few hours making new memories. Definitely better memories.
It was a long time later before Cam found the exact right instant, when the morning sun was warm on the bed sheets, when the city was humming outside, sounding so very far away, and when Jenna was curled against him, her hand resting over his heart.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“For what?”
Cam stayed silent for a minute because he wasn’t good at this. Wasn’t good at talking about things that were inside him. Fears. Emotions. But he felt too good, too much at peace.
“I always handled the First so badly, my heart always got so fried, pumping like mad, and there wasn’t any room for anyone or anything. But I don’t want to do anything next year. I just want to be here. With you. I thought my heart had to stay the other way forever. But it’s different today. It feels good, strong, not so anxious. You fixed that.”
She raised her head, resting her chin on his chest. “You’re the one who fixed it.”
No, he thought, and he noticed that her hand still rested on his heart, soothing it, calming it, fixing it. She had done that, but he knew better that to argue with the doc. So he kissed her instead, showing her how much he cared. Someday she’d figure it out. She was smart that way. She was the doc. His doc.
She’d figure that one out, too, someday, because she was smart that way. Very, very smart.