Only Yours

Denise nodded and jumped out of the car.

Montana found a parking space, but before getting out, she paused and sent off a brief prayer that everyone was going to be all right.

She hurried across the parking lot and through the automatic doors. Relief washed through her when she saw her brother Kent holding her mother. He looked shaken and pale, and had a bandage across his forehead, but otherwise he was all right.

Kent looked up and saw her. He freed one arm and held it open to her. She ran into his embrace.

“I’m okay,” he was saying. “Reese is going to need surgery.” His voice shook as he said the words. “He got cut pretty bad. Mostly his face, some on his arm. They’re telling me the injuries aren’t life threatening, but they scared the hell out of me.” He swallowed.

Montana sensed he wanted to say more, to share the experience. But he was holding back because of their mother. No doubt he was concerned that too many details would upset her. Montana had a feeling that the details involved a lot of bleeding and knew her brother was making the right decision. They could catch up on the specifics later.

She drew back slightly and studied him. Like his brothers, Kent was tall and broad shouldered, with dark hair and dark eyes. He looked a lot like their dad. Handsome, with an inner strength.

“Where is Reese now?” Denise asked.

“Being prepped for surgery.”

Before he could say more, a doctor approached him. The badge on her coat said Dr. Lawrence. Montana had seen her around the hospital and knew she had a good reputation.

“Reese is just fine,” the doctor told Kent. “He’s calm—we’ve given him something for the pain. He should be in surgery in the next half hour or so.” She gave them a warm smile. “The best news I have to give you is that the doctor who will be working on your son is extraordinary. I would go so far as to say gifted. If there is one surgeon I would pick to work on my child it would be Dr. Bradley.”

Montana blinked at her. “Simon is going to do the surgery?”

“You know Dr. Bradley?” Dr. Lawrence asked.

She felt everyone looking at her. “Yes. I take one of my therapy dogs to see one of his patients.” She turned to her mother and brother. “Simon, ah, Dr. Bradley, is a renowned plastic surgeon. He mostly works on burn patients.”

Dr. Lawrence nodded. “That’s true. He’s just finishing up surgery on a boy right now. As soon as he’s ready, we’ll take Reese in to him. The surgery itself shouldn’t take very long.”

They were given a few more details, told where to wait. When Dr. Lawrence left, Montana took her mother’s arm and leaned against her brother.

“It’s going to be okay,” she told him. “Dr. Bradley is the best.”

“I’m relieved,” Kent admitted, leading the way to the waiting room.

They settled onto surprisingly comfortable chairs, clustered close together. Their conversation was more idle chitchat than anything meaningful. Just something to pass the time while they each privately worried.

Nevada showed up next. Dakota was there a few minutes later, baby Hannah in her arms. Hugs were exchanged while everyone was brought up to date. Then Ethan and Liz arrived and they went through it all again.

As everyone talked, Montana realized this was what families did. They comforted each other, they waited in hospitals, they prayed. No matter what happened, she would always have this. People who loved her and would worry, and wait. She was one of six children and didn’t know any other way to live.

Out of nowhere, a thought occurred to her. What about Simon? Who waited and worried for him?

SIMON MADE THE LAST, impossibly small, even stitch. The procedure had been straightforward. The cuts looked worse than they were. Not too deep, not too wide. There might be some minor scarring but he doubted it.

He stood in the operating room while the boy was wheeled to recovery. Most surgeons would have left already. He didn’t linger out of concern. Instead he waited because he knew what was next. He would go tell the family that everything was going to be fine. That the worst the boy would have was the faintest hint of a scar. Nothing frightening. Barely noticeable.

They would be grateful. The families always were. They would surround him and thank him and want to offer him something. The women would try to hug him and the men would shake his hand. He went through it hundreds of times and he never found it easy. He didn’t want their thanks. All he wanted was to slip away. To take on the next case, to lose himself in the work.

This time would be especially awkward. According to the nurse, his patient was Montana’s nephew. He would be forced to see her again, to stare into her dark eyes and know that he couldn’t have the one thing he most wanted. Worse, he would have to do it in front of her family.

He doubted she would say anything. She was too kind for that. But she would be thinking it. That he had kissed her, practically forced himself upon her. It had been so unlike him.

Knowing he was putting off the inevitable, he walked to the waiting room. He saw them at once, the large family clustered together, talking, comforting one another. He’d been told that waiting was the worst and he believed it. At least he was always busy doing something.

In the second before they noticed him, he saw Montana had sisters. No, more than that. He saw the identical bone structure, the shape of the eyes that was exactly the same. Minor differences caused more by time than DNA.

A triplet. She hadn’t mentioned that. And brothers. She came from a large family, something he couldn’t relate to. How did people find quiet with that many family members around?

Montana glanced up and saw him. “Dr. Bradley.”

Everyone shifted, allowing one of the brothers and the petite, pretty woman in her fifties to move toward him. Montana’s mother, he realized, taking in more similarities.

The brother, a tall man, held out his hand. “Kent Hendrix,” he said. “Montana tells us you’re the best. How is he? How is Reese?”

They were all staring at him. All waiting to hear that their loved one was fine. He never knew what to say, even when the news was good, so he stumbled on as best he could. The boy was doing well, the scarring minimal. No surprises in surgery.

Montana moved to his side and smiled. “I was so happy when I heard it was you.” She turned her attention to her brother. “I’ve seen his work. It’s very impressive.”

Simon’s first thought was that she wasn’t angry. He felt as if he’d been given a reprieve, for whatever reason. His second thought was to realize the only work of his she’d seen was with Kalinda. No layperson could look beyond the bandages and raw skin to see the work he’d done.

Concerns for another time, he told himself.

Kent Hendrix continued to shake his hand. “I can’t thank you enough. When I saw him lying there, and all that blood …” He paused and glanced at his mother. “I didn’t know what to think.”

“It’s difficult when a family member is injured,” Simon said stiffly.

He managed to free his hand from Kent’s, only to be hugged by Denise.

She straightened and stared into his eyes. “Please tell me he’s going to be all right. I know you said it, but I need you to say it again.”

Love shone in her eyes. Love and concern and worry. She was everything a mother and grandmother should be. He had seen it time and time again in his practice. The mothers who didn’t love, the mothers who deliberately hurt their children, were rare. He’d always known that, but it still surprised him that so many parents were good.

“He’s going to be fine.”

“Very light scars,” Montana said, touching her arm. “It’ll make him a chick magnet.”

Denise managed a strangled laugh. “Just what every grandmother wants to hear.” She drew in a slow breath, then let it out. “Dr. Bradley, we were supposed to have a family dinner today. I suspect that’s going to be postponed until tomorrow. Please join us.”

Anything but that, he thought grimly. He didn’t want to have dinner with them. He didn’t want to socialize or spend time with them. He never knew what to do with himself, how to act with strangers. He knew the invitation was more about their need to thank him than anything else.

Which was why he always refused. He kept things separate. He wasn’t the kind of doctor who got personally involved.

The rest of the family echoed the invitation. Their words washed over him, easily ignored. Until Montana turned to him.

“Please say you’ll join us,” she said. Her gaze was steady.

Despite his reluctance, he found himself nodding. He couldn’t resist spending time in her company.

Denise said something about the time and rattled off an address. He wasn’t listening. Instead he focused on the two sisters, the ones that were identical to Montana. If it was chemistry, if it was simply some quirk of genetics, shouldn’t he be equally attracted to them?

He studied them, trying to imagine talking to them, touching them, kissing them. Instead of being interested, he felt uncomfortable and more than a little foolish. No, it was only Montana.

“Let’s not make him find his way,” Montana said, still looking at him. “Simon, I’ll pick you up at your hotel around four. Does that work?”

No, it didn’t work. He couldn’t spend time with her in front of other people. What if he did something ridiculous again? What if he kissed her?

He reminded himself he had always been able to force his body to do more than anyone anticipated. He’d healed faster, gotten better range of motion, kept up his grades in school. He determined his own fate, within the confines of the rules. Of course he could have dinner with Montana and her family without embarrassing himself.

“It’s Tuesday,” she added.

He allowed himself a smile. “I do manage to keep track of the days of the week.”

“As busy as you are, I thought they might blur.” Humor brightened her eyes. “I’ve always heard you genius types have trouble with ordinary details.”

“I struggle through. Tomorrow at four. I’ll be waiting.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” she admitted.

For a second, it was as if the rest of the world disappeared. Only the two of them existed. Then one of the other sisters laughed and he was brought back to reality.

After accepting another round of thanks, he excused himself. He still had patients to see and work to do. But as he stepped into the elevator he thought only of Montana and how being with her seemed to make everything better. Reality be damned.

MONTANA STOOD IN THE HOSPITAL parking lot, the one reserved for doctors. She’d found Simon’s car easily enough. It was sleek and expensive, some kind of Mercedes convertible. Her brothers would probably know the make and model and be impressed. All she knew was she wasn’t comfortable leaning against it. She didn’t want to risk scratching it.

The bag in her hand got heavier by the second. But what concerned her more than the temperature of the takeout was how stupid she was going to feel if she had to wait much longer.

She’d been told Simon would be done close to eight. She’d gotten him dinner and had shown up to wait. It was now eight-fifteen, the sun had nearly set and she was wondering if she’d been an idiot.

Buying him dinner had seemed like the least she could do. After all, he’d saved her nephew. For him, it was probably no more than part of his regular day’s work. But for her and her family, it had been a miracle. She wanted to say thank-you, and providing dinner had been a start. It was also possible she was curious … maybe even intrigued by the thought of seeing Simon again in private. There was something about him, something about the way he kissed her. Something about the way he’d looked at her in the hospital waiting room. She couldn’t define it, but she found she liked it.

She checked her watch again. She would wait until eight-twenty, then leave. She dropped her arm to her side, only to see Simon walking toward his car. He saw her and came to a stop.

She tried to read his expression and couldn’t. She had no idea what he was thinking, which meant she began to question herself and her decision. Maybe bringing him dinner had been a bad idea.

He began walking again, only to stop when he was a few feet in front of her.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

His tone was neutral. There wasn’t any emotion in his eyes. She shook her head. That wasn’t true. Plenty of emotions swirled in his eyes, she just couldn’t read them.

“I heard that you’d been in surgery most of the day. You haven’t gotten a break at all or a chance to eat.” She held up the bag. “You must be exhausted. I brought you dinner. It’s from the Fox and Hound. They make a great stew. And there’s bread and a salad.”

“Aren’t you feeding me tomorrow?”

“That’s my mom. This is from me.”

Okay, so this hadn’t been her best idea. The poor man probably thought she was stalking him. She wished she could think of something clever to say. Something smart and funny. Anything that would stop him from staring at her.

“I didn’t know you were a triplet,” he said.

“For as long as I can remember.” She smiled. “I have three brothers, so there were six of us. My mother stayed amazingly sane despite the chaos.”

“You must’ve been impossible to tell apart when you were younger.”

“We were. It was fun. Now we try to be different.”

“You outgrew the need to try to fool everyone?”

The tension in her body faded away. Well, that wasn’t completely true. The nervous tension was gone, but a different kind took its place.

She was aware of Simon standing close to her. Of the lines of weariness around his mouth and eyes. But even with the exhaustion, he had an energy that drew her. She wanted to step into his embrace and hold him against her. She wanted his mouth on hers, taking her the way he had before, as if he couldn’t help himself. No one had ever wanted her like that. Being desired was more seductive than she had ever known.

“By the time we were teenagers, we were ready to be more distinct.” She tilted her head. “What about you? Any brothers or sisters?”

“No.”

He said the single word with great finality. As if there would be no more discussion about family. At least not his.

While she was trying to figure out what to say next, he opened his car and took the food from her. After setting it on the passenger seat, he straightened and faced her.

“I don’t think coming to dinner tomorrow is a good idea,” he said. “I’m not the family type.”

She didn’t know very much about him. Finding out he was an only child practically doubled her knowledge pool. But sometimes she was good at guessing about people. Her gut told her Simon spent most of his life alone, even when he was around others.

“There’s no entrance exam. It’s dinner. You’ve done dinner before.”

One corner of his mouth twitched slightly, as if he were going to smile. A flicker of anticipation danced through her.

“Besides,” she continued, “you need a family dinner. It will do you good. Make you less stuffy.”

“Is that how you see me?”

“Sometimes. But not in a bad way.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Because there’s a good stuffy?”

“Maybe. It can work if you’re British.”

Now he did smile. His whole face changed as the amusement turned him from merely handsome to completely irresistible. She supposed some women would be put off by his scars, but she barely noticed them.

“I don’t do a very good accent,” he admitted. “Although I have a friend who’s British.”

“You should practice the accent. Because women really love that. Not that the doctor thing isn’t working for you.”

“The doctor thing?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. There you are, a good-looking doctor. Better yet, a surgeon. You’re like catnip.”

The smile faded. He stared at her with an intensity that made her want to take a step back. She knew she’d said something wrong, but couldn’t figure out what it was. She didn’t think he was mad, exactly. But he was—

He reached for her. His large, strong hands cupped her face, his thumbs lightly caressing her cheekbones. Then he was kissing her, his mouth on hers, claiming her with the passion she remembered from their last kiss.

She was less startled this time, more ready to step closer and lose herself in the feel of his lips against hers.

The heat was familiar, as was the need that rushed from him to her. She surrendered more quickly, putting her hands on his shoulders, then tilting her head so he could deepen the kiss.

She inhaled the scent of skin and night and the faint smell of the dinner she’d brought him. He tasted of coffee and mint. Stubble lightly scraped against her skin.

She was aware of the smooth wool of his suit jacket, the breadth of his shoulders, the tension in his muscles. Then he parted his lips and his tongue swept in to claim her.

It was exactly as she remembered, she thought happily as desire flooded her. The erotic dance, the way he kissed her, as if desperate and starving. She answered stroke for stroke, letting his kiss sweep her away because getting lost had never felt so right.

He dropped his hands to her waist and pulled her hard against him. She felt the strength of his body and had a vision of them naked together. Skin on skin. She shivered, her breasts becoming more sensitive, her nipples getting tight. Heat pooled in her belly before slipping lower.

He dropped his hands to her hips. His fingertips lightly grazed the curve of her butt. Her belly came into contact with his groin and she felt his erection.

She instantly wanted to touch him. No, that wasn’t it. She wanted to be on her back, naked, ready. She wanted his mouth everywhere.

The images were so real, for a second she thought she had begged to be taken, standing there in the parking lot. Instead of being embarrassed, she wanted to grab his hands and place them on her breasts or between her legs.

She’d been kissed before, had made love before, but she’d never been so … hungry.

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