The Doctor's Secret Son

She wasn’t sure she’d be able to function at all.

“What are you thinking?”

Chrissie jumped at Trace’s question. “I didn’t see you.”

“Obviously.” His gaze was on her rather than the stage where Agnes spoke. “You were lost in your thoughts.”

“I was marveling at how Bud and Agnes turned something so personally tragic into something so positive.”

“They are good people who live to give to others.”

“Some would say a man who gave up four years of his life to help others was a good person, too.”

His expression tightened. “On my best day I don’t measure up to the man and woman on that stage.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t say I meant you,” Chrissie assured him, grateful when his serious expression lightened at her comment, as she’d intended.

There was something darker about him than she remembered. No doubt the things he’d seen over the past four years had changed him.

Was there anyone in Trace’s life that made it better? Someone who helped him deal with the no doubt tragic situations he’d encountered while working overseas?

“Is Alexis an old girlfriend?” That wasn’t what she’d meant to ask when she’d opened her mouth.

“We went out a few times.”

His smile was quick and too cocky for her liking. He knew she was jealous of the woman. Great.

“Which is more than you can say about me, so I guess that answers my question.” Which probably only made her sound jealous and bitter and judgmental. Ugh. She should keep her mouth shut.

“What question would that be?”

“Whether or not you’d slept with her.” She fought to keep the image of him with the woman from her mind. An image she’d fought for four years. She’d just never had a face to put with her thoughts of what he’d been doing while she’d been raising their son.

“I haven’t.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right.”

“I said she and I went out a few times. I didn’t say we had ‘stayed in’ a few times.” At her continued doubt, he added, “I have no reason to lie to you.”

He had a point. He owed her nothing, least of all a defense of whether or not he’d had sex with someone.

“No, I guess you don’t,” she admitted, trying to hide the fact that she was happy he hadn’t slept with the beautiful Alexis.

“Would it matter if I had?”

Good grief. Could he see inside her head or what?

“No.” But she was lying. It would have mattered. Maybe it shouldn’t, but it would have. Because of Joss, she told herself. That was why she cared who he’d slept with and who he hadn’t. Because she’d given birth to his child that made her more possessive, more concerned. At least, that was what she was going to keep telling herself, as she conveniently ignored the fact he’d been out of the country for four years.

Hoping he hadn’t realized she’d lied and that if he had, he wouldn’t call her on it, Chrissie focused on the stage.

Agnes was still speaking and Chrissie did her best to take in each word. With Trace standing so close, she couldn’t focus on the woman on stage. She was surrounded by people. How was it possible to be so physically aware of one man that she could smell his spicy scent, hear the call of his body?

“I don’t believe you,” Trace whispered close to her ear, further sensitizing her nerve-endings.

His breath tickled her skin. She could feel his heat and would swear he’d just nuzzled her hair.

“It really doesn’t matter what you believe,” she said, stepping back. “I’ll see you in medical.”

With that she pushed through the crowd to get away from him.

But mainly to get away from her unwanted reaction to everything about him.

* * *

Later that evening in the medical tent, Trace lifted the fifty-year-old woman’s foot and examined her swollen ankle.

“Yep.” He glanced at her name tag on the lanyard around her neck. “Ms. Perez, you have definitely done a number on your ankle.”

“I shouldn’t have been quite so vigorous dancing in the bubbles, eh?”

“Apparently not.” He had her turn and rest on her knees while he squeezed her calf, watching carefully as it triggered the appropriate movement in her foot. “There’s no evidence that you’ve torn your Achilles’ tendon, but you’re definitely out of commission for the rest of the weekend.”

The woman’s face fell. “I was afraid you were going to say that. Can’t you give me a quick-fix pill?”

“It’s not that easy, Ms. Perez. Some things take time and rest, not a pill. I’m sorry.”

She heaved her chest in frustration. “Me, too.”

“Sit here with ice for about twenty minutes with your foot elevated. Later, one of the guys will drive you on a gator to your tent. Is there someone we can call for you?”

Ms. Perez shook her head. “My daughter is out of town with work and my son lives in Chicago with his wife and kids. I’m by myself.”

He gestured to her leg. “You need to stay off that ankle.”

“I was looking forward to volunteering in the food tent. I’ve not missed a year there since CCPO started these events.”

“There’s no way I can okay for you to serve food.”

The woman perked up. “Maybe I could volunteer in a different way? One where I could still keep my foot up?”

Trace didn’t want to burst the woman’s bubble, but she was going to be in quite a bit of pain and wouldn’t be able to put any weight on her ankle for several days. Not with the amount she’d injured the tissue.

Stepping back into the exam area, Chrissie assisted the woman in propping up her foot and then put the woman’s ice pack back on her ankle. “Is there anything I can get you? We have a few magazines if you’d like, and I brought a stack of books I’ve finished if you want to take one.”

The woman shook her head and held up her cellular phone. “I have books on this thing to keep my mind occupied for times such as these.”

Patting the woman’s hand, Chrissie smiled. “That’s good.”

The medical tent had been slow most of the evening.

Trace liked being busy, and felt restless. He was used to having more to do than time to do it.

Alexis was seeing a gentleman who had come into the tent with some indigestion. The other volunteers were not quite twiddling their thumbs but none of them were busy, either.

Trace compared it to where he’d been not so long ago, in the midst of mayhem and a war-torn country where there had been more ill and injured than hands to care for them, with problems much worse than a sprained ankle.

He closed his eyes. There were other assignments he could take with Doctors Around the World. Less dangerous places. He didn’t have to go back to the places he’d gone before, but he chose to.

“You okay?”

He opened his eyes, surprised Chrissie had initiated a conversation with him that didn’t have something to do with a patient or the event. For the most part she’d ignored him or given him the cold shoulder when he’d attempted conversation.

“Fine.”

Appearing torn, she eyed him. “You didn’t look fine. You looked like you didn’t feel well.”

“Had a flashback,” he admitted, shocking himself that he’d said the words out loud. He hadn’t talked to anyone here about the things he’d seen or done. DAW had required he go through psychological evaluation. He’d passed with flying colors, but that wasn’t to say that the things he’d lived through and seen hadn’t affected him. He’d never be quite the same. “No big deal.”

It wasn’t a big deal. Nothing he couldn’t cope with.

“What kind of flashback?”

“Not one of you,” he teased, unwilling to tell her the nitty-gritty details, “so it wasn’t good.”

She smirked. “Ha-ha. Too funny. Seriously, you turned a bit green there for a few seconds.”

Maybe he’d been green at how stand-offish she was around him. He wanted to go back to the way she was four years ago.

He suddenly longed for at least a glimpse of more carefree times. Even if just a short one.

“You want to go play in the bubbles?”

Her jaw dropped at the same time her brow rose. “What?”

He gestured around the medical tent. “We’re not busy and might not get another chance to catch more of the events. The bubbles are new this year. Agnes was excited about them.”

The more he said, the more he wanted her to say yes. He wanted to play, to let loose and have fun. With Chrissie.

“But...we can’t leave. Ms. Perez,” she reminded him, looking a little panicked.

“You should go,” the woman called from a few feet away, obviously listening to their conversation. “Don’t mind me. I’m fine and can have one of these other folk help me out of here.”

First mouthing “thank you,” Trace grinned at the woman. “See, Ms. Perez wants us to go check out the bubbles. We’ll share a dance in her honor.”

“That would be absolutely lovely!” the woman exclaimed, clapping her hands together and obviously playing cupid. “I insist you go.”

Chrissie still looked hesitant.

“Hey, Gianakos?” he called to Alexis, who had just finished with the only other patient in the tent and sent him on his way with an antacid and instructions to cut back on spicy foods. “Will you check on Ms. Perez’s ankle in a few? She’s got about another ten minutes of icing, then have one of the guys take her to wherever she wants to go. Chrissie and I are going to the main area for a while.”

Alexis shot an envious glance toward Chrissie, then nodded. “No problem.”

“Perfect. See, I’ll be fine.” Ms. Perez shooed them away. “You two go have a little fun.”

Before she could find another excuse, Trace grabbed Chrissie’s hand and led her out of Medical. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“Not kicking and screaming the whole way. I needed to get out of there for a few.”

She looked as if she still might kick and scream, then her expression morphed into one of confusion. “Trace, what were you thinking about back there?”

He shook his head. “Nothing important now. Let’s go check out the bubbles.”

Her hand was still inside his. He didn’t want to let go so he held on tightly as he led them toward the bubbles. Her hand felt warm and comfortable in his.

As if it belonged there.

Without thought he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the top. Because that felt warm and comfortable, as if it belonged in that moment in time.

“Trace, I...” Chrissie’s voice trailed off as she came to an abrupt stop and stared up at him. “You shouldn’t.”

She was right. He shouldn’t, but he was glad he had. They stood behind the medical tent on the path leading toward the main event area. They were alone, but someone could come up the path at any time.

“Probably not.” He was only home for a short while, had nothing to offer her beyond the weekend. Which was too bad, because from the time he’d seen her he’d known what he wanted, what he needed. Chrissie.

“Yes.”

But her eyes said something different and that fueled him forward to say what had already been in the back of his mind, tempting his conscious thought and actions.

“We were good together. We could be good together again.”

Her expression tightened.

And then he’d take off for parts unknown, for who knew how long, before he’d be home for another few weeks’ hiatus from his reality? Maybe he should let the attraction go but, for whatever reason, he pushed. Whatever it was about Chrissie seemed to be dictating his every move from the moment he’d laid eyes on her that afternoon.

“I can tell you’re still attracted to me,” he pointed out, as if that were breaking news.

“Doesn’t matter.” Her exasperation was palpable, and yet she still didn’t pull her hand away from his, just kept staring at where their fingers intertwined.

“Sure, it does.” To prove his point, he bent and pressed his lips to hers. Gentle, to where she could push him away with ease if she wanted to.

He hoped she didn’t. Her lips were so sweet.

She didn’t stop him or push him away, but he felt the struggle within her and that gave him pause.

He pulled back, stared down into her wide eyes.

Her wide, slightly dazed eyes.

Her eyes that were filled with desire so sweet it punched him in the gut.

This was why he hadn’t been able to resist kissing her.

Because her kisses were addictive and powerful. He craved what being with her promised.

“You taste good, like the sweetest wine, making me want to drink until I’m intoxicated,” he admitted. “Let me, Chrissie. We both know you want to.”

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