IT WASN’T OFTEN that Paige and Frankie had a day off together but when they did, they liked doing something they wouldn’t normally. Last time they’d gone hiking—not Paige’s favorite pastime, although the scenery had made up for the unpleasant physical exertion.
It had been Paige’s turn to choose and she was eager to explore all the little towns along the coast. Frankie, naturally athletic, had smirked at Paige’s choice of outing but with the promise of lunch at the charming Three Orcas Restaurant, overlooking a rocky bay, she’d reluctantly agreed on condition that Paige paid.
They’d managed an early start and headed for the scenic route to an artists’ colony nestled in a bay a couple of hours up the coast.
Paige had jumped at the chance to get out of Port St. John’s, needing to clear her head of all the intoxicating male pheromones making her crazy.
Although she was enjoying having Ty around, she kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.
He’d been in Washington for nearly six weeks and she knew without being told that he would soon be returning to LA. She’d casually mentioned his check-up a few times but whenever she did he either shut down completely or he’d put his hands and mouth on her and then she not only forgot what they were discussing, she forgot her own name.
She understood that he was worried about how his hand would impact his future but she couldn’t help being hurt that he refused to discuss his concerns with her.
But that was okay, she told herself, they were just neighbors. Granted, they were neighbors with benefits, but Ty was hot, she was willing, and they enjoyed each other’s company. End. Of. Story.
Besides, ever since the storm they’d fallen into a kind of unspoken routine where Paige would go to work and Ty would spend time with his father, Nate or Harry. When she got home, he’d badger her about her eating habits, and more often than not make her dinner.
Suddenly she was spending more and more nights in his bed and she was afraid that when he left she wouldn’t be able to sleep alone. Her mom had been gone more than fifteen years and it was strange having someone around to nag her about eating properly and getting enough rest. Paige couldn’t remember anyone else ever making the effort. If she didn’t know any better she could almost convince herself that he cared.
But that was dangerous thinking and although she tried not to, she began looking forward to eating home-cooked meals she didn’t have to prepare.
Okay, so she enjoyed his company and whatever came after dinner—and sometimes before—was good too. Big deal. What woman wouldn’t get excited fantasizing about coming home after a long day in ER to a hot sexy guy, a home-cooked meal and great sex?
Well, Paige was no dummy. She was going to enjoy it while it lasted, without getting her feelings hurt or her heart involved. She’d learned early that people didn’t stick and when they bailed you got your heart stomped on. But that wasn’t going to happen because her heart wasn’t involved with Ty.
Nope, it was locked away safe and sound.
But her body...well, that was something else entirely. Her body craved him with an intensity that would have scared her if she let herself think about it.
So she didn’t.
She shoved it to the back of her mind and never made the mistake of waking up with him again, having discovered the emotional intimacy of mornings-after made her feel exposed.
And feeling exposed—especially with a man like Ty—would be fatal. Better to slip away and pretend they were just friendly neighbors. Besides, he’d never mentioned her early-morning Houdini acts so he was clearly happy with the way things were.
Well, good. Fine. She was happy too.
Especially as she was about to spend a glorious day with her best friend.
Once on the highway, Paige opened her window, cranked up the volume of the radio and sang along to every song—even when she didn’t know the words. After snorting at her creative lyrics, Frankie joined in and pretty soon they were laughing like loons.
It was exactly what Paige needed; a fun day away from all the confusing emotions she didn’t know what to do with. Besides, she needed a healthy dose of reality and could always count on Frankie’s perceptive smartass-ness to make her laugh.
They stopped for morning tea at a quaint little seaside café so Paige could stuff her face with waffles smothered in fresh berries and cream.
By midmorning they’d pulled into Battle Bay and set out to explore the quaint little galleries filled with hundreds of paintings depicting life on the Olympic Peninsula.
They headed over to watch craftsmen and -women work. It was fascinating and educational, especially the candle sculpting, but Frankie had been more interested in the artist creating huge metal sea creatures. That the guy had been hot and shirtless hadn’t escaped their attention and Frankie had spent an inordinate amount of time photographing...well, his artwork too.
By the time they were headed back to Port St. John’s, Paige was feeling mellow for the first time in weeks. Life on an emotional roller-coaster was exhausting and she was looking forward to her life getting back to normal.
Liar.
Ignoring the disgusted voice in her head, she thought instead about the gifts she’d bought for Ty and Harry. She’d chosen an amazingly realistic carving of a coastguard cutter for Harry and a fierce-looking eagle for Ty.
She couldn’t wait to see his reaction.
“You know,” Frankie said lazily when they were about fifteen minutes from home, “this was actually a fun day. We should do it again. Maybe sleep over somewhere and make a weekend of it.”
Paige hummed her agreement. “I knew you’d like it.”
“What I liked,” Frankie drawled, “was seeing that guy Matt Rolfe with his shirt off.” She hummed. “That was the highlight of the day.”
Paige giggled. “I thought it was the crab salad and Manhattan iced tea.”
Frankie waggled her brows.
“So I guess all those photos you were taking weren’t of his artwork?” Paige asked.
When Frankie gave a snorted “Puh-leeze”, she momentarily took her gaze off the road.
“Shame on you. Is that why you asked him if he ever posed in the nude?”
Her friend rolled her eyes and fanned her face. “Did you see that guy? He was the work of art. Boy, I sure learned a whole lot about art appreciation today.”
“He was okay, I guess,” Paige mused, thinking about another man she wouldn’t mind painting in the nude—if she had any talent, that was. But her stick figures could hardly be termed as talent.
She was enjoying the image of painting a naked Ty with chocolate paint—stuff she could lick off—and almost missed Frankie’s horrified sideways look.
“Okay? Are you nuts?” Her friend whipped off her sunglasses to gape at Paige. “With all those gleaming muscles and a great butt showcased in faded denim, the man was the embodiment of the statue of David. Holy cow, I nearly swooned at his feet.”
“Mmm,” Paige said, unimpressed. “Have you looked at David? I mean, really looked?”
“Well, not as much as I looked at Matt Rolfe,” she confessed. “But what are you getting at?”
“I did a study on David in art class and, well...he’s a little small.”
“What are you talking about? That statue is huge.”
Paige snickered. “Not where it, um...counts it isn’t.”
Grinning widely, Frankie said in an echo of Paige’s previous statement, “Shame on you, Paige Carlyle, but believe me when I say Matt Rolfe filled out his jeans just fine. And just because you’re getting some, it doesn’t mean the rest of us aren’t looking.” She glanced at Paige. “Or aren’t jealous as hell. Especially with that goofy smile you wear most of the time.”
“What?” Paige blinked innocently and made a show of looking at her reflection in the rearview mirror. “What goofy smile?” She hadn’t said anything about how she’d been spending her nights, mostly because she’d barely seen Frankie since the night of the storm. Oh, yes, and maybe because she didn’t know what the heck to say except...wow and...holy cow.
“Don’t try that with me, Dr. Cutie. With both you and Ty looking all relaxed and mellow, it’s obvious what’s been going on.”
“Nothing’s been going on,” Paige insisted, her mellow mood vanishing. Nothing was happening. Well, except for a lot of amazing orgasms...but nobody needed to know about those. “And when did you see Ty?”
“The other evening when you were on duty. Didn’t he tell you?”
“No, um... I guess it didn’t come up.”
“Well I was at the Seafarers when he and Nate came in and I overheard them discussing his accident.”
“His accident?” Paige said, trying to sound casual because Ty certainly hadn’t shared much of anything personal with her, especially his accident.
“Yeah, well, after what I heard, I did an internet search on it and apparently some drunk guy thought Ty was someone else and tried to run him over. Fortunately the bumper only clipped him or it would have been a lot worse than a few bruises and a couple of broken bones.” She shook her head. “A real pity as he’s supposed to be one of the top trauma surgeons at St Augustine’s.”
Frankie frowned and turned to Paige. “And why didn’t you tell me he’s leaving next week?”
Paige’s mind went blank. “I...um—What?”
Frankie’s gaze sharpened and she cursed softly. “You didn’t know. Damn, Paige. I’m sorry.”
Paige rallied quickly and casually hitched her shoulder. “Don’t be,” she said, sending her friend a dazzling smile that probably fell way short of its intended brilliance. “Of course I knew he was leaving...just not next... You know it doesn’t matter because it’s not like we’re a thing...or anything,” she finished lamely.
Frankie sounded skeptical. “So hot regular sex isn’t a thing?”
“Of course not,” Paige spluttered out on a strangled laugh. “We barely know each other and—”
“And you’re in love with him.”
“What? No,” she squeaked, wrenching the wheel and nearly driving into oncoming traffic. After righting the car, she turned to gape at Frankie like she’d announced something horrifying. Because she had...kind of. Horrifying and so-o-o not true. “Of course I’m not in love with Ty.” That would be ridiculous and really, really stupid.
“Stupid I give you,” Frankie retorted, and it took a couple of seconds for Paige to realize she’d spoken out loud. “But what’s so ridiculous about it? Is it because he might never do surgery again? Because if it is—”
“What?” Paige demanded indignantly. “Are you crazy? Of course that’s not the reason. He’s leaving, so whether or not I’m in love with him—and I’m not,” she insisted when Frankie rolled her eyes, “is beside the point. He’s leaving.” Oh, boy, it was finally happening. “Maybe now I can get some sleep.” Her heart squeezed and she got a very bad feeling in her stomach. Hopefully it was just the crab she’d had for lunch because the alternative was—No. Nope. Not happening. “End of story,” she said firmly, although she wasn’t sure who she was talking to.
“Sleeping’s overrated,” Frankie dismissed with a flick of her hand. “You can sleep when you’re—” She sat up abruptly and swore. “What the hell is that driver—? Hey, watch out!”
Her warning came too late for Paige to swerve out of the way and was drowned out by the sound of crunching metal and shattering glass. The last thing she heard was Frankie’s curse.
* * *
Ty raced through the automatic doors at the JDF Medical Center and headed straight for ER. The nurse at the sign-in desk looked up as he ran past.
“Hey!” She bolted around the counter and grabbed his sleeve. “You can’t go through there. Stop!”
Ty whirled on her, breathing fast. He probably looked like a wild man but he didn’t care. Only that he—
“Paige Carlyle,” he snarled. “Which room?”
The woman’s brow wrinkled. “I don’t know... Dr. Michaels, I think...she—”
“I’ll find her,” he growled through clenched teeth, shaking off her hand and heading for the swing doors separating the waiting area from the exam rooms. The door closed on her spluttered, “We’re in Code Yellow.”
The place was in chaos. Nurses, orderlies and paramedics rushed about and he could hear a furious male voice snap, “Find her, before I have all your asses in a sling.”
It was the first time he’d been in the belly of ER since his accident but the fact that his chest was squeezing the life out of him had nothing to do with apprehension about his future, cardiac arrest or even that he was afraid he’d never work in another ER again.
All he could think about was the call he’d received fifteen minutes ago from Nate. Sitting on Harry’s deck, playing chess, he’d been enjoying the sun and the old man’s stories about his glory days as a coastguard. One minute he’d been chuckling and plotting his move, the next...
“There’s been an accident,” Nate had said brusquely without his customary greeting, and his next words had sent Ty’s world into a tailspin. Nate barely got out, “Paige is...” and Ty had already vaulted off Harry’s deck.
“That was Nate,” he’d called out, dashing the few yards along the marina walkway and taking the stairs to his deck at a dead run. “There’s been an accident.” He’d said nothing about Paige in case Harry worried, but the drive to the hospital had been the longest fifteen minutes of his life; even longer than waiting for the orthopedic surgeon to pronounce his diagnosis after his surgery. Even longer than waiting in a jail cell at eighteen for his mother to arrive.
And now, with the current chaos, the worst possible scenarios flashed through his head. At the center was Paige, battered, bruised and the cause of all the panic.
He grabbed the first person he came across, the nurse from the night of the storm. “Nancy—”
“Can’t talk now, handsome,” she hurriedly called out. “We’ve misplaced a...something.”
He was about to ask her what the hell they’d misplaced when she raced off, leaving Ty to search every ER room himself.
He found her in the last room.
Not on the gurney, hooked up to IVs or machines, as he’d expected, but comforting the middle-aged woman on the bed. “Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry,” the woman sobbed. “I took that bend too fast and when I pumped the brakes there was...nothing. Not a thing.” She paused to wipe her eyes. “I didn’t see you, I really didn’t.”
Ty froze in the doorway, his eyes racing over Paige, his heart pounding so hard he was surprised to see his chest intact. He opened his mouth but when nothing emerged he closed it with a snap.
The sight of her clearly in one piece caused something like a brain explosion and it took a few moments before he found his voice. “What the hell are you doing?” he rasped furiously.
Paige jolted like she’d been shot and flashed a startled look over her shoulder. The sight of a bruise blooming along her cheekbone had his anger rising in tandem with relief. Stalking closer, he whipped her around.
“Dammit, Paige,” he growled, freezing when she winced and he got a good look at her face. Her eye was swollen, she had a vivid bruise along one side of her face, and a laceration that had yet to be attended to. Blood trickled from the wound and one side of her shirt was covered with blood.
“What the hell?” he rasped. “I thought...” He didn’t complete his sentence, mostly because his throat closed; instead, he yanked her into his arms and crushed her close, his relief at seeing her, a little battered but very much alive, so immense that for a moment his knees buckled.
He locked them and tightened his grip on her, needing the feel of her in his arms probably more than she did. She cried out and he immediately let her go. “Damn, I’m sorry,” he murmured, carefully stepping back so he could look her over. “Why haven’t you been seen and why are you attending to someone else?”
“A patient has gone missing,” she explained. “Everyone’s busy and I’m not a priority.”
“You damn well are,” he snapped out, and took her arm before turning to the wide-eyed woman on the bed. “Ma’am, are you okay?”
The woman blinked. “I, um...sure. My son is on his way and your...your wife was kind enough to sit with me while I wait for a scan. But I’m fine. You go ahead.”
“Ty—” Paige began, only to stop with a huff when he sent her a look that usually had ER personnel scattering.
He turned to the woman. “Excuse us while I attend to my...wife.”
He pulled Paige into the opposite room and led her to the bed. “On,” he said tersely, and when she made an annoyed sound in the back of her throat he sighed and growled, “Please.”
“Ty, I’m fine,” she began, gingerly getting onto the bed. “You didn’t need to come.”
“I came,” he gritted out, “because I thought—probably stupidly—that you might need me.” He didn’t say that the thought of her being seriously injured had scared the living spit out of him. He didn’t tell her that his mind had gone utterly blank and that at one point he’d thought he was having a coronary.
Getting madder, he slammed open drawers and cabinets, looking for what he’d need, before turning to find her sitting on the bed, watching him with serious eyes, her soft mouth pressed into a firm line. As though he’d done something reprehensible.
“You didn’t have to come,” she repeated dully. “As you can see, I’m fine.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” he growled, wanting more than anything to wrap her close and never let go. Or maybe wrap his fingers around her neck for scaring him.
The latter impulse was less frightening than the former and allowed him to focus. With his jaw clenched, he gently cleaned Paige’s head wound, relieved to find it was just a little over an inch long and wouldn’t even need stitches.
“What happened?” he asked when he’d calmed down enough to talk without snarling.
“Mrs. Eberhart said her brakes failed.”
“I heard that part. What happened, Paige?”
She winced when he touched a particularly tender spot and huffed out a breathy growl like she was irritated. She didn’t know the meaning of irritated, he thought furiously.
“I don’t know,” she said. “We were just up the coast and Frankie and I were talking about—well, never mind that.” She flashed him an unreadable glance before continuing. “We were approaching a particularly steep bend and the next thing this red car came out of nowhere. It swerved into our lane and—Damn, that stings.” She sucked in a sharp breath when he applied antiseptic but after a couple of beats she continued, her voice tight. “Anyway, I didn’t swerve in time. She hit the driver’s side and we...um...we spun into a section of rock face.”
She was silent while he taped the wound closed. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. Frankie would have—”
“Shut up,” he interrupted quietly, and picked up the ophthalmoscope. “How bad is the headache?”
“I’m f—all right,” she said huffily when he shone the light into her eyes and pain lanced through her skull. “I have a headache. Big deal. It happens when you rap your head against something.” She pushed his hand away. “Just give me a damn aspirin and I’ll be good to go.” She made to slide off the bed but Ty put his hand on her chest to keep her there and she made an odd sound and froze.
“What? What’s wrong?” he demanded, his eyes sweeping over her for signs of trauma he hadn’t yet picked up. In the process he caught sight of her bruised wrist. “Dammit, why the hell didn’t you say something?”
“Ty.” She caught his hand and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “It’s just a bruise, I promise.”
He flexed his jaw. “What else, Paige? A bruised wrist doesn’t make you go white with pain.”
For long moments she just looked at him as though she expected him to give up. But Ty wasn’t anybody’s fool. During his ER rotation he’d treated everything from crush injuries to impalements and knew when someone wasn’t being straight with him.
Finally, Paige sighed and slowly lifted her T-shirt and it was Ty’s turn to suck in air. He carefully helped her lift her shirt the rest of the way and cursed when he saw the line of bruising across her chest and abdomen from the car’s seat belt. “Lie flat for me,” he murmured, and when Paige snorted, he chuckled. “This is purely professional, believe me.”
He gently probed her ribs, watching her face for a reaction she wouldn’t be able to hide from him, and then listened to her chest for internal trauma. Finally he grunted in satisfaction and pulled her shirt down. He helped her sit up.
“Let’s wrap that wrist, shall we?”
“Your hand—”
“Is just fine,” he interrupted briskly. “A lot better than yours.”
He found a crepe bandage and carefully strapped her wrist. He struggled a bit with the clips until she reached out with her good hand to help. Finally there was nothing more to do but Ty didn’t move away. Instead, he lifted her chin and with his gaze locked on hers he kissed her carefully on the mouth.
His lips clung to hers, needing the connection more than he’d thought possible. After a long moment of unresponsiveness she uttered a soft sound and her...lips...melted.
Thank God. He’d been beginning to think that she was deliberately distancing herself from him. He changed the angle of the kiss and—
The door slammed open. “Paige, we have a blue thirt—Oh... Oh, I’m sorry,” the nurse said when she took in the scene. She was about to back out of the room when Paige shoved Ty aside with her good hand and eased off the bed.
She looked a little dazed. “What about a b-blue thirteen?” she stuttered, her cheeks blooming with the color she’d been missing a short while ago. It took a moment for the RN’s words to register and although not all hospitals used a code blue thirteen, he knew it meant an infant in distress.
“Paige, I’m s-sorry. I wouldn’t ask you to do this...not after all you’ve b-been through.” The woman’s eyes filled. “Everyone else is busy and I don’t know what to do.”
“It’s okay, Beth,” Paige said, turning to snag a lab coat and stethoscope as she hurried from the room. “I’m fine, really. Lead the way.”
Concerned, Ty followed. “Paige, don’t tell me you’re going to treat a patient while you have a possible concussion.”
She looked over her shoulder as the nurse handed her a clipboard. “I have a hard head. I’ll get over it,” she said, and Ty got an odd feeling she wasn’t talking about her head. She turned away to scan the hastily scribbled notes before pausing to flash him a look that was curiously closed and devoid of her usual spark. “I know how hard this was for you. But I just want to thank you. For everything.”
And the next instant she was gone, leaving Ty to stare at the corner around which she’d disappeared and wonder what the hell had just happened. It had seemed like she was saying goodbye. Like she would never see him again. Like... His chest squeezed.
“What the hell just happened?” he demanded, and though he’d spoken out loud, he certainly didn’t expect anyone to reply from directly behind him.
“What happened where?”
He knew it was Frankie even before he turned but the sight of her had him taking a step back. “Jeez, woman, I should be asking you that.”
Frankie’s one cheekbone was bruised, there was a contusion along the side of her jaw and her arm was in a sling. He gently took her chin in his hand and studied her eyes. “You okay? Has anyone checked you out?”
Her gaze was curious. “Paige did because everyone else was busy. But what about you, T? You don’t look so good.”
Ty’s automatic response was that he was fine, but he wasn’t. Not by a long shot. Not by any shot, dammit. He sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. “I’m just peachy.”
Frankie looked like she didn’t believe him. Not surprising, considering he felt like he’d been punched in the head.
“Really? Because you look like you just lost your best friend.”
He wasn’t ready to think about what was really bugging him, let alone talk about it. And certainly not with Frankie. “What I didn’t like was getting a call to say that there’d been an accident and that Paige—But you were there too and I’m glad to see you’re okay. You are okay, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, nothing a hot soak in the tub won’t fix.” She was silent for a couple of beats. “So who called?”
“Nate,” Ty admitted, and as he was looking right at Frankie, he couldn’t miss the abrupt change that came over her. Her back stiffened, her eyes instantly cooled and her mouth curled into a sneer.
“Can’t believe the big man actually took time off from his busy schedule to care about people he had no problem forgetting when he became a fancy Navy SEAL.”
Ty, suitably distracted from his own disturbing thoughts, sighed. “Frankie,” he said, slinging an arm across her shoulders and hugging her to his side. He pressed his lips to her temple. “When are you going to get over whatever has you riled up over Nate?”
“When hell freezes over,” was her instant reply, but before she shrugged off his arm she laid her head against his shoulder in an affectionate gesture. “And you can tell him that too.” She stalked off a few paces before turning. “But I have a piece of advice for you too, T,” she said walking backwards. “This place is a madhouse and Paige is hurting more than she’s letting on. Go help her.”
He wordlessly held up his cast and Frankie sneered for the second time in as many minutes.
“Since when did something like a broken hand ever stop you?” she demanded. “The Tyler Reese I knew climbed down a cliff face with a fractured ankle to rescue me when I was fifteen. Man up, T, and see what’s right in front of your nose.” And with that piece of baffling advice she spun away and disappeared around the next corner.