Resisting Her Commander Hero

Sammy? she thought with a frown. Who the heck is Sammy?

Thinking maybe they were talking about her patient, Frankie drawled, “I’m allergic to rings,” laughing when she was rewarded with confused looks. She shook her head. “Never mind.”

No way was she explaining that one. She’d decided a long time ago that marriage wasn’t for her and guys seemed to think all a woman wanted was a wedding ring and a white picket fence.

Determinedly pushing aside unpleasant thoughts, Frankie willed the chopper to move faster through the air. The sooner they arrived at the hospital, the sooner her patient could be rushed into surgery. And she really needed to escape this inexorable pull Nathan appeared to still have on her double-X chromosome.

CHAPTER TWO

HOURS LATER FRANKIE dragged her weary feet through the ambulance bay doors into ER. The adrenaline had long since faded and she was feeling every strained muscle and ache as though she’d been through a marathon workout session.

Fortunately, the mud slide hadn’t been as extensive as everyone had feared and most people had managed to escape the worst of it. Those that hadn’t had already been admitted or treated and released.

It had probably been the longest shift of her career. Her jumpsuit clung wetly to her skin and her boots squelched with every step. There was also something wrong with her back that she could no longer ignore. She’d check it herself but one of her superpowers wasn’t the ability to make her arms bend the wrong way or her head swivel like an evil toy in a horror movie.

Fortunately, the ER was quiet after the earlier rush and she found the person she was looking for in the staff lounge, stuffing her face with one donut while searching through the bakery box for another.

Paige Carlyle looked as exhausted as Frankie felt. At the sound of the door opening, the petite doctor looked up guiltily—cheeks bulging like a chipmunk’s—as though she’d been caught doing something illegal.

“Those things will kill you,” Frankie announced, snagging the full to-go mug off the counter. She swallowed a large mouthful and grimaced. “And so will this.”

“Hey,” Paige objected around a mouthful of pastry, and snatched the cup away, cradling it protectively against her chest. “It’s hot, delicious and I need the sugar.”

“No, you don’t. You need some veggie juice and a nice long soak in a hot tub.”

Paige made a face at the mention of veggie juice. “Yuk, I’m not drinking pond scum,” she declared, gleefully washing down her donut with hot chocolate and making sounds that were a little too disturbing in Frankie’s opinion. Paige reluctantly closed the bakery box and slumped against the counter. “But a long hot soak sounds like heaven. My feet hurt and I haven’t been home in so long Ty’s probably forgotten what I look like.”

“Stop whining. It’s unattractive,” Frankie said with an accusing frown. “And so are your constant reminders that you have a sexy hunk waiting for you with home-cooked meals and daily massages.”

Paige’s mouth curved in a secretive smile and she made another sound that ratcheted Frankie’s irritation level a couple of notches. “You sound jealous,” Paige observed mildly. “Like you want a sexy hunk at home too.”

Frankie snorted. “Who doesn’t?”

“Well, I do know another unattached sexy hunk you might be interested in,” the doctor said craftily.

“Your brother? The air force top gun?” Frankie gave a dramatic sigh. “He’s hot and I just love a man in uniform.”

Paige gagged. “Yuk. No. I was talking about someone in another sector of the armed forces. Say...the Coast Guard?”

“Not interested,” Frankie said promptly. “And I can handle my own love life, thanks.” Or lack thereof, she reminded herself dryly. “You just concentrate on Terrible Ty.”

Tyler Reese had been Nate and Jack’s best friend until the summer they’d turned eighteen. Something had happened that had landed the three friends in a lot of trouble and it had been the last time Ty had been in Port St. John’s—except for Jack’s funeral—until an injury had threatened to end his surgical career. He’d returned to recuperate and had run into Paige on his first night.

Or rather into Paige’s flashlight, which had clearly knocked some sense into him because he’d left his life and big city career to move north.

Paige cleared her throat and stared at Frankie expectantly. “Is there something you need to tell me, Ms. Bryce?” she asked with excruciating politeness.

Frankie frowned at her friend’s tone. “No,” she said warily, and when the doctor just narrowed her eyes, she shrugged and couldn’t stop the sharply indrawn breath at the movement.

Paige must have seen something in her expression because she demanded, “What did you do?”

Of course Frankie answered with an affronted “Nothing,” hoping Paige would drop it because the doctor looked like she needed a break as much as Frankie did. She’d just go home, have a hot shower and fall into bed. She could deal with everything after about twelve hours of shut-eye.

Paige scoffed. “Tell me before I call Ty.” She paused and her gaze turned crafty. “Or better yet, maybe I’ll call a big bad coastie. He can hold you down while I examine you.” Knowing exactly who Paige was talking about, Frankie narrowed her eyes dangerously but her expression clearly didn’t intimidate the medical center’s newest specialist.

“Let’s go,” Paige said, tossing her to-go cup in the trash before moving toward the door, turning impatiently when Frankie didn’t move. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

“An ER physician?”

Paige rolled her eyes because everyone knew that though she was a qualified pediatrician, she was still paying off her state-granted tuition by working in ER. “Your smart mouth doesn’t intimidate me, Ms. Bryce,” she drawled. “Room Four. Stat,” she ordered, before disappearing through the door.

Frankie closed her eyes, her boots rooted to the spot. It wasn’t that she was being deliberately difficult. She was just too tired to move. Oh, yeah, and every breath reminded her of her flying trapeze stunt. Moving required skills she’d temporarily misplaced.

A second later the door opened again and Paige stuck her head inside, scowling when she saw that Frankie hadn’t moved. She narrowed her gaze and gave her cellphone a peremptory waggle. “Now,” she snapped.

Frankie frowned. “Does Ty know how annoying you are?”

“Of course he does,” she announced cheerfully. “It’s one of the things he loves about me.”

Frankie rolled her eyes because Paige was right. Ty did love her. His feelings for the pint-sized Attila the Hun were so obvious that it made Frankie just a little bit jealous.

She wanted someone to look at her like that.

Sighing, because now she was feeling sorry for herself, she followed Paige down the passage into an empty ER room.

“Okay,” the doctor said with her hands on her hips. “What hurts?”

Finding levity in the situation, Frankie snorted and reached for the zipper tab on her jumpsuit. “Maybe you should ask what doesn’t hurt...and go from there?” Maybe she should have gone home before she tried this because there was no way she was going to be able to dress again without bawling like a baby.

Paige pulled on a pair of surgical gloves and studied her. “Lemme guess. You acted rashly during that mountain rescue and you’ve hurt your back.”

“What mountain rescue? How do you know it’s my back?” Frankie demanded irritably. “And I’m never rash—at least, not any more—and not unless I need chocolate. Then all bets are off.”

Paige arched her brow. “It’s the way you’re holding yourself.” She leveled a mildly irritated yet softly understanding look that made Frankie squirm. “And I know you hate being a burden because you harbor what you think is a super-secret need to make amends for your past, Frankie. So you were wild and rebellious.” She shrugged impatiently. “Big deal. We all do dumb stuff when we’re kids.”

Frankie spluttered. “That’s ridiculous. I bet you—”

But Paige interrupted with, “You’re an excellent paramedic—the most advanced one on the coast, actually—but maybe you should think about saving yourself.”

“What does that mean?” Frankie demanded with a scowl.

“It means no woman is an island. It means that you should accept help once in a while. Now would be good...while we’re both still standing.” Paige huffed out a laugh when Frankie rolled her eyes. She reached out to peel the jumpsuit off Frankie’s shoulders and had barely got it halfway down her arms before sucking in a sharp breath.

“Ooh, that’s nasty.”

“What?” Frankie demanded, craning her neck at the tone in Paige’s voice. “What?”

“You really should have had this seen to ages ago,” Paige scolded, and gently pulled Frankie’s wet undershirt away from her back. Frankie must have made a sound because Paige cursed. “Did this happen before or after your Fearless Frankie stunt?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do, since everyone else knows about it,” Paige groused. “And how come I have to hear via the grapevine that you made a superhero save, anyway? I thought best friends told each other everything?”

Not everything...because there were some things a person didn’t share. With anyone. Especially things that made Frankie cringe with shame whenever she thought about them.

Paige huffed and eased Frankie’s bloodied tank top over her head, leaving her in a black sports bra, jumpsuit pooled at her waist. She made a sound of exasperation at what she’d uncovered. “I know we joke about it but, Frankie, really, taking a flying leap off a ledge? What the heck were you thinking?”

Wincing as Paige gently probed a particularly tender spot, Frankie demanded, “Who told you about that?”

“So it’s true?”

She sighed irritably. “It’s complicated... Ouch. That hurts.”

“Not as much as it’s going to,” Paige said shortly. “But seriously? It’s like you have a death wish or something.” Frankie opened her mouth to object but Paige beat her to it with a snapped-out “I’m busy here.” But after a couple of beats she said almost absently, “There’s bruising, a couple of lacerations and some bad grazing. What really happened?”

Frankie gave a negligent shrug. “I got caught between a rock and a hard place.” Paige sighed and began cleaning Frankie’s injuries. “Wanna tell me about it?”

“No,” Frankie said.

At the same time a deep voice drawled from the door, “Yes, Francis, let’s hear all about it.”

She closed her eyes wearily and thought, Not now. Not ever. Or at least not while she was feeling exhausted and raw and couldn’t think of a snappy comeback.

She’d hoped to avoid the lecture she knew was coming but she should have known he would eventually hunt her down. He’d hunted terrorists for a living, for God’s sake. What had made her think she could continue to evade him?

She’d only managed to avoid him since the night of her eighteenth birthday because he’d wanted it that way. She’d wanted it too, she reminded herself, mostly to forget that the boy she’d idolized had called her a selfish willful brat who didn’t think about how her actions affected others. He’d also called her reckless and told her to grow up.

Then he’d left town. Getting as far away from her as possible.

Well, she was cool with that. Really cool, she thought fiercely. She just wished he’d stayed away.

Turning, she eyed him with what she hoped was cool disinterest, ignoring the fact that even after the long night, he looked bigger, badder and hotter than ever.

While she looked like a complete mess.

Go figure.

“This is a medical examination room,” she said flatly. “Only medics allowed.”

One dark brow rose in silent challenge. “Want to call Security, Francis?” he drawled with a hint of amusement that did nothing but raise her blood pressure. And not in a good way.

“No,” she snapped, because he had awesome SEAL skills no security team could match. “I don’t want any witnesses when I use a scalpel.” Her unspoken, on you, hung in the air between them.

It had genuine amusement lighting his eyes and curling his mouth in a smile that had her gritting her teeth in aggravation. Arrogant BAB, she snarled inwardly, using the acronym she and Paige had thought of one night when they’d been a little tipsy. But “badass boy” fitted Nate like a pair of snug boxer briefs. Except seeing him now, it was clear he was no longer a boy.

“You thinking of taking me on, Francis?” he drawled smoothly, his gaze hot and intense one moment, dark and unreadable the next. The lightning-fast changes left her confused and more than a little irritated.

“You think I can’t?” she challenged, furious with the shiver crawling up her spine that had nothing to do with Paige using alcohol swabs on her scrapes and cuts.

Besides, taking him on while she was tired and hurting wouldn’t be smart. Not to her pride and certainly not to her heart.

She glared at him. Why couldn’t he take his sexy self off and leave her alone?

“You can try.” He smirked with typical male arrogance that had Frankie barely restraining herself from snarling.

Casually propping his shoulder against the door frame as though he had every right to be there, Nate locked his dark brooding eyes on his hapless target—her—his sensual mouth an uncompromising and disapproving line. All humor had gone.

Frankie shivered. Yeesh. She’d forgotten that about him, about his ability to focus so intently on a person they felt like the most important person in the world. Like they were under a microscope.

She turned away to stare at a wall chart without seeing a thing. But her body, the traitor, was locked like a tractor beam on him. And then...and then her nipples tightened and tingles spread across her skin like a heat rash that she blamed on the fact that she was cold and wet.

“Excuse me, Doctor,” she drawled, ignoring the hunk in the doorway. “But isn’t there a rule that says only family members are allowed in an ER room?”

Paige sent Nate a quick look and muttered something that sounded like, “Don’t pull me into whatever is between you two.”

Frankie felt guilty for about two seconds. She didn’t want to involve Paige but she wasn’t above using her friend as a buffer either. Especially when it came to Commander Cool.

“There isn’t anything to get between,” she said smoothly, ignoring Nate and mentally celebrating the complete disinterest in her tone.

“Frankie.” Paige protested her rudeness, but Frankie ignored the rebuke, watching Nate out of the corners of her eyes while pretending to ignore him too. For long moments he studied her until she was ready to start squirming.

Finally, with a casual roll of his shoulder, he pushed away from the door frame.

“It’s all right, Doc. I’ll go.” A big hand landed palm flat against the door in preparation of pushing it open. He paused and with a hard look at Frankie said to Paige, “For you.”

Meaning he’d never do it for Frankie. The notion stung, and before she could stop it, hurt sliced through her. Quickly squelching it with the full force of her will, she reminded herself that getting her feelings hurt by Nate’s attitude would not only be stupid but self-defeating. Besides, she was over her silly adolescent infatuation and the last thing she needed or wanted was someone with a hero complex.

She turned and locked gazes with him just as he pushed open the door. His mouth twisted with faint irony and the next instant he was gone.

Heavy silence descended on the room but Frankie could literally feel her friend vibrating with questions and maybe a bit of exasperation. She slid a sidelong look at her and caught Paige chewing on her lip. She could practically see the wheels spinning away in the brunette’s head and counted the seconds until the other woman cracked.

She reached nine.

“Seriously, Frankie?” Paige finally burst out. “You blew him off? Are you sick, dumb or just insane? And what the heck is going on between you two anyway?” she continued, without waiting for a reply.

“Nothing.” Frankie sighed, tension draining abruptly and leaving her beyond exhausted. “Nothing I want to talk about anyway. But I am confused about why everyone keeps referring to Nathan as Sammy.”

Paige was silent for a couple of beats as she studied Frankie. She must have decided not to probe because all she said was, “It’s his coastie handle.”

“Handle?”

Paige rolled her eyes. “His nickname, his moniker.”

“I know what a handle is, Dr. Cutie,” Frankie said, because she knew that moniker irritated Paige. Besides, why should she be the only frustrated person in the room? “I’m just not sure I understand this one.”

Paige shrugged and swabbed a particularly tender spot that had Frankie sucking in a sharp breath.

“I’m guessing it might have something to do with him transferring from the SEALs.” She sprayed her back with iodine. “Lie down, will you? I need to put in a few stitches.”

Frankie’s gut clenched. “Can’t you just glue them or something?”

“No. I can’t.”

“But—”

“I know you, Francis,” Paige briskly interrupted when Frankie opened her mouth to argue. “The first thing you’re going to do when you get home is ignore doctor’s orders and shower. Next thing you know you’re back here with an infection. Besides, I’ll make sure they’re small and won’t leave any scars.”

Her mouth snapped shut. Okay, so maybe Paige did know her. “Fine.” She lay facedown on the bed and propped her chin on her stacked hands. At some point she must have dozed off because the next thing she knew, Paige was tapping her arm.

“All done, sleeping beauty,” she said cheerfully, “and before you object, I’ve booked you off for a few days. Now go home and get some sleep. No picking up heavy objects or taking flying leaps off ledges. And absolutely no physical activity or you’ll undo all my hard work.”

Frankie sat up with a yawn and twisted to see Paige’s handiwork but her back was a patchwork of waterproof dressings. She tentatively rolled her shoulders to test her flexibility and was pleasantly surprised to discover that, though it pulled a little, it didn’t hurt.

“While you were snoring, I gave you a shot of pain meds and antibiotics,” Paige said, clearing up the mystery. “You should be good till the morning.”

“Which is in about an hour,” Frankie said, sliding off the bed and blinking blearily at her wristwatch. “How long was I out?”

“About twenty minutes.” Paige helped Frankie pull her jumpsuit up her arms and over her shoulders. “I’d let you sleep but Andrews is in charge tonight.”

Frankie brushed her hands away.

“I can dress myself, Mom, thanks.”

Paige backed off with a snicker and picked up a clipboard. She scribbled something then looked up. “Are your tet shots up to date?” Frankie grunted out a reply that the doctor must have understood because she tore a sheet off a pad and held it out. “I’ve prescribed antibiotics and pain meds. Get them. With all that bruising, you’re going to be sore in the morning.”

Frankie mustered a snappy salute. “Thanks, Doc,” she said, and with a quick hug headed stiffly for the door. “You’re the best.”

“Yes, I am.” Paige chuckled. “Just be sure to put that in the patient survey on your way out.”

Frankie stopped abruptly at the door when she remembered their earlier visitor. She wouldn’t put it past Nate to hang around and ambush her while she was spaced out on pain meds and couldn’t defend herself.

“What’s wrong?” Paige asked, alarmed. “Are you hurt somewhere else?”

Shaking her head, she quickly stepped aside and nudged Paige into the doorway. “Tell me what you see. Go on,” she urged when her friend looked at her like she was a crazy person on the verge of a meltdown.

When she made a get-on-with-it gesture, Paige gave a dramatic eye-roll and stuck her head out, looking around with dramatic furtiveness. “What am I looking for?” she whispered loudly, clearly enjoying the cloak-and-dagger moment.

Frankie growled and pulled her back into the room. “Any...um...thing that doesn’t belong in the ER?”

Paige’s eyes widened and sparkled with enjoyment. “You mean like a...a seal?”

“No.” Of course a SEAL. She huffed out an exasperated laugh, both at herself and Paige.

“Well, no sign of seals or any other wildlife,” Paige said with a quick head-shake.

“Okay, good. Because I’m not in the mood to fend off any marine mammals or any other wildlife.”

She wasn’t in the mood to deal with Nate, especially not in his disapproving big-brother role.

No wait, she amended. Not in any role. She just wanted to go home, shower for about an hour and then fall into bed and sleep for a week.

“Thanks, Paige, I owe you,” she said quietly, and walked stiffly from the room.

“Yes, you do, Francis Abigail,” Paige said, popping her head into the passage. “And I plan to collect...in the form of an explanation. About sea mammals.”

“Sure,” Frankie said agreeably. “I know a lot about whales and dolphins.” She smirked when Paige sighed loudly, but no way was she sharing her humiliation at the hands of Nathan Oliver. She’d never told a living soul about what had really happened that night and had no intention of discussing it now.

Or ever. Even with her best friend.

CHAPTER THREE

LIEUTENANT COMMANDER NATHAN OLIVER leaned against the wall in the dark and drank from a disposable cup. He hadn’t wanted the sweet, black coffee but it was warming his hands and keeping him awake while he waited for the one woman on the face of the planet with the ability to drive him completely nuts.

Nate hunched into his wet-weather Coast Guard jacket and blinked his gritty eyes. He was cold, wet and exhausted after a thirty-hour shift and wasn’t in any kind of mood to deal with Frankie. But it needed to be done before her stupid recklessness got her killed. Besides, being cold, wet and exhausted was nothing compared to what he’d survived in the teams. Nothing compared to what could have happened up in the mountains.

But last night wasn’t what he wanted to think about; he got icy chills just recalling the expression of horror on Frankie’s face as she’d risen to her feet and launched herself at him in that split second before he’d gone over.

From experience, he knew the memory would be replaying in an endless loop for weeks, if not months, to come. His belly cramped into a tight ball and he felt a dull pain in his chest—right next to his heart. Massaging the ache, he reminded himself that he wasn’t having a coronary.

It was probably just indigestion from having to drink hospital coffee.

And since it was her fault he was drinking the swill, he added it to her already lengthy list of transgressions. Transgressions that included keeping him from his warm bed, acting without thinking and...and being all grown up and too damn beautiful for her own good.

Okay, and maybe for his good too, but no way would he ever admit that out loud...or go there. Not with her. Not after he’d promised Jack that he’d look out for his wild and willful kid sister if anything happened to him. Only Frankie was no longer a kid; something he’d been forcibly reminded of when he’d walked into that ER room.

Nate sucked in a breath at the memory of her sitting there, her back a patchwork of bruises, scrapes and lacerations. Injuries she’d sustained when she’d gone all Queen of the Jungle and saved his ass.

In that moment he’d wanted to grab her and shake some sense into her but the sight of her had hit him like a bullet to the chest. Gone was the wild skinny tomboy...in her place was a tall, stunning beauty with lush curves in all the right places.

Frankie was all grown up.

But the last thing he wanted to notice was...that. Besides, she’d been like a sister to him. And then there was the blood oath he and Jack had made the day they’d left to join the armed forces.

He was going to honor that promise, preferably from afar, but right now he needed to make her see that her actions had been reckless, thoughtless and dangerous.