the wood. "And I'll send someone to fix that lock tomorrow."
"Good night, Luke."
"A chair," he repeated, and stood there until he heard her do it, then with a long, pent-up breath, drove home.
You're a smart man, you figure it out.
But he didn't, not until hours and hours had passed, during which time he'd tossed and turned in his bed, watching the shadow of the moon play across the ceiling.
Finally, with the rising sun, he got it. She'd released him from his duties for the exact same reason he'd been so afraid to go back.
It was that undeniable something between them, a spark neither of them could ignore, and neither wanted. More importantly, there was a need.
He needed her.
He, Luke Walker, who did his damn best not to need anyone else, needed her.
* * *
A few sleepless nights later, Luke sat in front of his television with no idea what was on. His head hurt, his mind was full of things; work mostly, and the incredible miracles they'd performed at the hospital all week, and also his brother's upcoming wedding, which was now definitely set for summer.
He was Matt's best man, which was okay, even if a part of him was still baffled over how his brother could possibly want to sleep with the same woman for the rest of his life.
Damn, he needed ibuprofen. Too bad he was out of them. A doctor who couldn't heal his own headache. Sad.
Tomorrow was Saturday. A day he should have dedicated to one redheaded, temperamental, beautifully infuriating Faith McDowell because of his own big mouth.
But she'd politely set him free.
Which really, as Leo had said, should have sent him dancing down the hallways. And it would, if his head didn't still feel as if it was going to fall right off his shoulders.
When he heard the knock at his door, he turned off the TV. Maybe ifhe was really quiet, whoever it was would go away. Far away.
Another knock didn't improve the pounding in his head, so he got up. The last person in the world he expected, and the one person on his mind, stood there wearing a flowery sundress and strappy sandals.
Faith McDowell, so tough and in charge of her world, had pink toenails and a dainty little silver toe ring.
"Hi." She let out a little smile. "Am I interrupting anything?"
"Nothing but a king-size headache."
"Really?" She cocked her head and sent him a sympathetic look. "I could fix that for you."
"You have ibuprofen? I'm completely out, and too lazy to go to the store."
"I don't need pills."
"Hmm." He eyed her. "You have fairy dust?"
"Maybe." She reached for his hand. "Let me get rid of the headache for you, Luke."
He felt the pull of her touch like a thousand watts as she led him into his own house. Did she feel it, he wondered as he followed her like an eager puppy, watching her slim, straight spine, her hips swaying in a way that made his aching head spin.
She craned her neck when he slowed his steps, and her hair wildly flowed around her bare shoulders. "Problem?"
Hell, yes. "No. No problem."
She sent him a smile from beneath lowered lashes that revealed nothing of her true thoughts. "Then what's the slowdown? You chicken?" she taunted.
Her voice was low, sexy, and he doubted that was intentional. Still, the teasing lightened his own troubled thoughts. "Hell, yeah, I'm chicken. There's a reason I always wear the doctor's coat."
"It'll only take a minute for me to make you feel better, I promise." She pushed him down to his coach and stood over him, her hands on her hips.
His eyes hungrily traveled up the length of her curvy, lush body. "Is it gonna hurt?" he asked, only half kidding.
"Not if you believe."
He nearly swallowed his tongue when she dropped to her knees on the floor beside him, head now level with the part of his body coming to hopeful attention. Complicating matters, she put her hand on his thigh.
From her shockingly innocent yet unbearably erotic position, with her hair brushing his knee, she smiled. "Put your hand on your thigh," she instructed. "Palm up."
"Uh…" He
"Good night, Luke."
"A chair," he repeated, and stood there until he heard her do it, then with a long, pent-up breath, drove home.
You're a smart man, you figure it out.
But he didn't, not until hours and hours had passed, during which time he'd tossed and turned in his bed, watching the shadow of the moon play across the ceiling.
Finally, with the rising sun, he got it. She'd released him from his duties for the exact same reason he'd been so afraid to go back.
It was that undeniable something between them, a spark neither of them could ignore, and neither wanted. More importantly, there was a need.
He needed her.
He, Luke Walker, who did his damn best not to need anyone else, needed her.
* * *
A few sleepless nights later, Luke sat in front of his television with no idea what was on. His head hurt, his mind was full of things; work mostly, and the incredible miracles they'd performed at the hospital all week, and also his brother's upcoming wedding, which was now definitely set for summer.
He was Matt's best man, which was okay, even if a part of him was still baffled over how his brother could possibly want to sleep with the same woman for the rest of his life.
Damn, he needed ibuprofen. Too bad he was out of them. A doctor who couldn't heal his own headache. Sad.
Tomorrow was Saturday. A day he should have dedicated to one redheaded, temperamental, beautifully infuriating Faith McDowell because of his own big mouth.
But she'd politely set him free.
Which really, as Leo had said, should have sent him dancing down the hallways. And it would, if his head didn't still feel as if it was going to fall right off his shoulders.
When he heard the knock at his door, he turned off the TV. Maybe ifhe was really quiet, whoever it was would go away. Far away.
Another knock didn't improve the pounding in his head, so he got up. The last person in the world he expected, and the one person on his mind, stood there wearing a flowery sundress and strappy sandals.
Faith McDowell, so tough and in charge of her world, had pink toenails and a dainty little silver toe ring.
"Hi." She let out a little smile. "Am I interrupting anything?"
"Nothing but a king-size headache."
"Really?" She cocked her head and sent him a sympathetic look. "I could fix that for you."
"You have ibuprofen? I'm completely out, and too lazy to go to the store."
"I don't need pills."
"Hmm." He eyed her. "You have fairy dust?"
"Maybe." She reached for his hand. "Let me get rid of the headache for you, Luke."
He felt the pull of her touch like a thousand watts as she led him into his own house. Did she feel it, he wondered as he followed her like an eager puppy, watching her slim, straight spine, her hips swaying in a way that made his aching head spin.
She craned her neck when he slowed his steps, and her hair wildly flowed around her bare shoulders. "Problem?"
Hell, yes. "No. No problem."
She sent him a smile from beneath lowered lashes that revealed nothing of her true thoughts. "Then what's the slowdown? You chicken?" she taunted.
Her voice was low, sexy, and he doubted that was intentional. Still, the teasing lightened his own troubled thoughts. "Hell, yeah, I'm chicken. There's a reason I always wear the doctor's coat."
"It'll only take a minute for me to make you feel better, I promise." She pushed him down to his coach and stood over him, her hands on her hips.
His eyes hungrily traveled up the length of her curvy, lush body. "Is it gonna hurt?" he asked, only half kidding.
"Not if you believe."
He nearly swallowed his tongue when she dropped to her knees on the floor beside him, head now level with the part of his body coming to hopeful attention. Complicating matters, she put her hand on his thigh.
From her shockingly innocent yet unbearably erotic position, with her hair brushing his knee, she smiled. "Put your hand on your thigh," she instructed. "Palm up."
"Uh…" He
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