One Night That Changed Everything

He swallowed, despite the fact that he had nothing in his mouth other than the lump that was currently stuck in his throat.

Incredibly long lashes swept back up, and green eyes regarded him. “Aren’t you going to taste it?”

The only thing he wanted to taste were her lips.

Ah, hell.

He forked up a big bite and shoved it past his teeth, dumping the food onto his tongue before he could do or say anything stupid. He chewed. Swallowed. His stomach gave another fierce rumble.

Okay, so she’d been right. He was hungry. And evidently that fact was going to trump any other urges for the moment. He relaxed into his seat, figuring he could eat and then get the hell out of there before his belly figured out it was full and let his other instincts out of their cage. “It’s good.”

“I know. It’s my go-to place for takeout. I order from there at least once a week.”

He didn’t like to think of Hannah at home alone, eating from disposable metal containers. But it wasn’t much better than what he did day in and day out. He was content with it, so why would he assume someone else wouldn’t be?

Greg just couldn’t imagine her having weekends free, figuring she’d be out making up for the year she’d lost. There was something inside her that burned brightly. That glow could have been snuffed out in an instant. Not something he wanted to think about right now.

He covered by saying, “I normally just grab something from the hospital cafeteria.”

“I know.”

She did?

Before he could ask, she added, “I used to see you walking down the corridor with a sandwich container in your hand.”

“When …?”

“When I was getting my chemo infusions. I saw you sometimes.” Her hand went to her collarbone area and fingered the pale scar where her port had once been. Greg was so used to seeing those that he hadn’t even noticed it.

He also hadn’t realized she’d been in that treatment room. Had seen him. How many other patients had he walked by without noticing? Another brick of guilt settled into place. “I’m sorry. I’m normally so busy, I don’t stop in there all the time.”

Putting her fork into her bowl, she reached out and touched his hand. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. I’ve just learned how important it is to eat a balanced meal.”

She was right. Again. He often preached to his patients that they needed to strengthen their bodies as much as possible to help during the chemo treatments as well as to aid in the fight of their disease. That meant making healthy choices when it came to food. And yet, just like a pulmonologist who indulged in the occasional cigarette, Greg was unwilling to abide by his own advice.

“I don’t have cancer, but I also don’t cook.”

She picked up her fork again, avoiding his eyes this time. “That’s why there are places like Piazza Toscana.” The comment, unlike her lighthearted ones from a few moments ago, was tight, as if …

I don’t have cancer.

How damned insensitive could he be? She’d spent a year undergoing chemotherapy. Hadn’t known for sure if she’d live or die.

Maybe she was right. He worked so hard that he no longer paid attention to social conventions or cared how his words might affect someone else.

No, that wasn’t right. He did care.

Setting his plate onto the chair next to him, he shifted sideways to face her. “Hey.” He waited until she looked at him before continuing. “I’m sorry for saying that. There’s no good reason, other than I’m tired and not thinking straight.”

She blinked, and he wasn’t sure whether the light was playing tricks on him or if there’d been a trace of moisture rimming her lower lids. But when he looked closer, it was gone.

“How long will you be at the hospital tonight?” she asked.

“About an hour.”

Glancing at her watch, she set her own plate to the side and went over to the low sofa and picked up one of the leather pillows. Coming back, she lowered herself to the padded loop carpet at his feet.

His mouth went dry as she set the pillow down and patted the area next to her. “It’s only seven. Why don’t you stretch out for a while? Take a quick nap. I promise I won’t let you sleep longer than an hour.”

Was she crazy? After the thoughts that had just gone spinning through his head? There was no way he was going to lie down on the floor and—

Even as the words slid through his mind, a wave of exhaustion washed over him, staggering him with its force.

It was the food. The heavy meal was making him sleepy.

What would it hurt? If his eyes were shut, he could block out her face. No more trying to make small talk. No more worrying about how he was looking at her. About what her kneeling on the floor with that pillow had made him imagine.

Before he was fully aware of what he was doing, he’d done as she’d suggested and stretched out on his back, his head on the pillow she’d laid next to her hip. Every muscle in his body seemed to go boneless, and he glanced up to see her leaning over him with a smile. Her fingers brushed across his forehead, the touch light. Comforting.

He pulled in a deep breath. Let it out.

“Close your eyes, Greg. I promise I’ll be right here.”

Even as his lids seemed to obey her every command, a tired sense of triumph went through him.

He’d been right. She’d said his name. Again.

CHAPTER THREE

THE trill of Hannah’s watch alarm registered in her ears, but it took her brain a little more time to place the sound.

Opening her eyes, she punched a button before noticing Greg’s dark, mussed hair, his even darker eyes regarding her with a slight smile. He was upside down. No, wait. She was. Hadn’t she been sitting up while he’d slept? Why were they now reversed?

Ack. Because she’d fallen asleep, too. Had evidently just keeled over sideways and was lying on the floor, looking pretty much like she’d looked sitting up. Bent at the hips, legs straight out.

Greg’s lips curved higher. “Looks like I wasn’t the only one who was tired.”

Only he didn’t seem tired. Not anymore. His eyes glittered with life, and the dark circles beneath them had eased. He also looked much more relaxed. Or was that still due to the topsy-turvy world she’d awoken into? Maybe his smile was really a frown.

“Did you sleep well?” She cleared her throat when her voice came out as a hoarse squawk.

“Like a rock. Good thing you set that alarm.”

He could say that again. She’d only set it so she wouldn’t be tempted to wake him with the proverbial kiss. Like a reverse Sleeping Beauty. That analogy fit her current mixed-up thought processes to a T. “Sorry. I had no idea I was that tired.”

“I should be the one saying sorry. I don’t expect you to keep the same hours I do.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized she should be moving. “Don’t you think I’m capable of it?”

He gave a soft laugh. “Oh, I know you are. I just don’t want you to run you off before I’ve …”

His words trailed away.

“Before you’ve what?”

“Before I’ve proven I can take better care of myself.”

That made her smile. But when she did try to sit up, the awkward angle at which she’d been lying made her back muscles give a warning twinge. She eased back down, licking her lips as she waited for the spasm to pass.

He frowned. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Lord, what was she going to do? She couldn’t very well wave him off and send him on his way while pretzeled on the floor. What if she couldn’t get up after he left and he returned in the morning to find her still here? Still folded like a crazed contortionist? “I’ll be fine in a minute. My … er, foot’s asleep.”

He angled away, his gaze sweeping down her pants’ legs. He reached down and plucked off one of her white leather slip-ons and then the other. “Which one?”

“No, don’t touch it!”

Okay, that screech hadn’t been exactly the calm tone she’d been going for. But her feet were seriously ticklish—one wrong move and she’d wrench her back even further.

“Shh. I won’t.” He propped himself on one elbow as he continued to regard her. “Your foot might keep you from walking but it wouldn’t keep you from sitting up. Why didn’t you at least get a pillow for yourself?”

Because I didn’t expect to crash to the floor like a felled tree. Was so busy watching each breath you took that …

No, that wasn’t right. She’d been merely biding her time, letting him get some much-needed rest.

“I just closed my eyes for a second or two.”

“Or more.” He paused, still watching her face. “Do you want me to help you up?”

Her body tensed, her back already sending up a frantic mayday. “No.” She even managed to smile, although she could only imagine what it looked like to him. She’d better come clean before he did something that made the situation worse. “My back is a little … sore. From lying in this position.”

“I thought it was your foot?”

“I lied.” The admission came with a real smile this time.

“Hannah, Hannah, what am I going to do with you?” The soft murmur trailed across her senses, making her back tighten further.

She pulled in a careful breath. “How about leaving me to die in peace?”

His face stilled. “Don’t say that.”

“Don’t say …?” It hit her. Mrs. Brookstone’s turn for the worse. How hard he’d worked to keep that from happening to any of his patients. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He stood up and carefully lifted the chair behind her out of the way. Then the two on either side of it.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to help you sit up.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

When he knelt on the floor behind her and put his hands on the muscles on her right side, a quick flicker of fear went through her. But he didn’t try to jerk her upright. Instead his fingers played over the different areas of her back before muttering something under his breath. Then he said, “I can’t feel anything through your shirt. I need bare skin.”

Her heart went into overdrive, threatening to hammer its way out of her chest. “Wh-what?”

“Sorry. I meant your muscles.” He paused. “Where does it hurt?”

“Below my right shoulderblade.”

His fingers shifted, testing. “Can you roll onto your stomach?”

“I don’t know.” She tried, inching to the right, his palms taking some of the work off her back muscles. Then she was there, legs stretched straight behind her, feet bare, all the while a group of muscles sizzled with fire. Even drawing too deep a breath caused it to tighten further. A tiny whimper made its way out before she could stop it.

His fingers began exploring her back again until he reached the ball of agony around which her world currently swirled.

“Oh, God, don’t. Please.” She was horrified at the hoarse plea in her voice.

He swore softly.

“Stay here. I’m going to get a muscle relaxant and a heating pad. I’ll be right back.”

As he walked away, Hannah heard him talking softly to someone, giving them his cell number and asking whoever it was to call him if there was an emergency. The hospital? His answering service?

She hadn’t wanted to interfere with his work. She’d just wanted to leave some food for him and be on her way.

He could have just left her, like she’d suggested …

But he wasn’t that kind of man.

She heard him come back. “I don’t want you to take the pill lying down like that, so we’ll see if we can loosen you up a little first.”

Despite the pain, she giggled. It sounded more like he was trying to get her drunk than help her get back on her feet.

“You find this funny?”

“No. It’s just … Never mind.”

A second later he draped something across the sore part of her back and the sound of a switch clicking hit her ears. Soft vibrations made their way through her back, not hard enough to hurt but enough that she knew it was there.

“It’ll warm up in a minute or two.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t normally have back spasms.” The last time had been after her biopsy, when lying in one position for a prolonged period of time had left her muscles stiff and sore. She’d moved too quickly and driven home in quiet agony, too embarrassed to tell anyone at the hospital what was going on. It had taken two days for the pain to ease—she hadn’t even been able to lift her arm to brush her hair. And it had been in the same muscle group as now.

What if she were laid up for two days again? No. If she could just get up, she’d be fine.

Greg’s voice came back to her. “It’s okay. Just rest a few more minutes.”

Unable to do anything else, she watched as he cleaned up the remainder of their shared meal, tossing containers into one of the trash cans and drawing the plastic bag up tight.

Sure enough, the vibrating pad began to warm, the heat working its way into the affected muscle. It didn’t completely relax but the pain wasn’t quite as severe as it had been moments earlier. Maybe she could … Shifting a bit, she gasped as the muscle contracted again.

“Lie still. You’re not going anywhere for a couple of hours.”

A couple of hours? A second ago he’d said to rest for a few minutes.

“Why don’t you go to the hospital and then head home? I’ll be fine in a little while. Promise.”

“Not going to happen, Hannah. The hospital can do without me for one night. I’ve already told them to call me if there’s an emergency.”

Guilt rolled through her. He never skipped his rounds that she knew of. Always did them every night. Even weekends.

And here he was, stuck at the office, babysitting the person who’d told him to get some rest. Having to take care of her. Again. Just like during her treatments.

The thought brought tears to her eyes. She never wanted to go back to those days of fear and pain and that dark hole that had threatened to close over the top of her.

Stop it. You’re not sick. It’s just a muscle cramp.

The pain would soon be gone then she’d be strong and healthy once again. Free to live every day to the fullest. She visualized those words, made them her reality. Added an image of herself with a rounded tummy and pink, glowing cheeks. She was happy. Content.

Pregnant.

She blinked, remembering the procedure she’d undergone just that morning. She also realized her back was feeling better, at least while she was lying still. If she could just stay where she was a few minutes longer …

A half hour later, she found herself again nodding off, the pain finally sliding away. The vibrations stopped and she was aware of the heating pad being lifted off and gentle hands again moving over her back, this time right where it had hurt. She pulled in a deep breath and felt nothing but that contentment she’d reached for a few minutes earlier. “It’s gone.” She whispered the words, afraid the pain would find her again if she spoke any louder.

“I’m sorry. Do you want me to put it back?”

“Put it …?” She realized he was talking about the heating pad. “No, I meant my back feels better. Can you help me sit up?”

“Yes, but we’re going to roll you onto your back first so you won’t have to twist at an awkward angle. I don’t want to give that muscle any reason to flare up again.” He placed his hands on her right shoulder and hip. “Ready?”

His fingers were almost as warm as the heating pad and a tiny shudder went through her. “I’m ready.”

“On three.” He counted slowly and when he reached three, before she could even brace her hands on the floor and help, he’d gently rolled her over.

Moving a tiny bit, she tested her muscles. Nothing felt out of place or sore.

His brown eyes slid over her face. “Everything okay?”

“I think so.”

“Let’s just wait a minute or two.” He nodded toward the reception desk. “I have some carisoprodol, just in case.”

She shifted again, a little more this time, to see if anything acted up. Still nothing. “I think the worst is over. And I’d rather not drive with that kind of medication in my system.”

“I’ll take you home.”

“Muscle relaxants knock me for a loop, and I’m never myself the next day.” She didn’t want to tell him that her year of treatment had conditioned her throat to constrict at the sight of anything that resembled a capsule. “I have to work tomorrow, remember?”

“Stay home.”

She lifted her hand, feeling at a distinct disadvantage lying flat on her back. “Help me up, and then we’ll talk about it.”

Greg stood and then curled his hand around hers. She sensed a slight hesitation on his part before his grip tightened and his arm bent at the elbow as he applied steady pressure. Their connected palms were doing crazy things to her stomach so, in an effort to hurry the process up, she braced her feet and launched herself into a vertical position.

Her momentum carried her straight into his chest where she landed with a thump.

Ack!

Greg wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her against his solid body as she tried to catch her breath.

At least her stupid move hadn’t sent her back into another spasm.

Something she couldn’t say about her heart, which was pumping at an alarming rate. A hundred and twenty beats per minute at least … and rising by the second.

She tried to act nonchalant, as if falling against her employer was something she did on a regular basis. And it was no big deal. She’d hugged him before after all. “Sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have gotten up so fast.”

“I’ll say.” The murmured words ruffled her hair and sent her heart on another race for the finish line. “How’s your back?”

She wiggled the upper part of her body back and forth to feel it out, then realized she’d just done a quick shimmy against his thorax.

Her nipples contracted in reaction, and she blurted out the first thing she could think of: “Can’t feel a thing.”

The hand at her back tightened. “Can’t you?”

Um, yeah. And it wasn’t good. Because she was suddenly aware of every inch of male flesh pressed against her. Muscular chest, firm abs, taut thighs, and …

No, it couldn’t be. She licked her lips, telling herself to pull back now before he realized that she realized that he was …

He was …

Yes. He was.

And if she shifted one millimeter, she’d be rubbing right against his was. Lord, did she want to press just a little bit.

And like that horrible thing that often happened when you told yourself not to do something—like not to eat that whole pint of ice cream in one sitting—your body did the exact opposite.

She pressed.

And the sound of his breath hissing in through his teeth met her ears.

Okay. Now he knew that she knew.

She slowly lifted her head and met eyes that were sizzling with something she hadn’t seen in a very long time in a man. Especially not directed at her.

Desire.

Steaming. Naked. Toe-curling need.

“Greg?” She had no idea why she said his name, but his gaze darkened further.

One hand came up and slid into her hair, his thumb resting along her jaw. “How’s your back?”

“Better.” The words came out in a whisper, because suddenly she knew why he was asking. She emphasized her point. “Much better.”

“Hannah.” His thumb applied gentle pressure to tilt her head up, even as he angled his own down until only a breath of space remained between them. “You know this is a very bad idea.”

“Worse than playing with matches?”

“Much worse.”

It was. But the fascination of running that match across a strike plate and watching it flare to life proved too much to resist. Besides, she wasn’t sure she even had what it took to light that particular fire. Closing her eyes, she bridged the gap between them, deciding to prove him right … and herself wrong.

He didn’t want her. Couldn’t.

The second her lips met his, though, and the hand at her nape hauled her even closer, she knew.

He could.

And he did.

CHAPTER FOUR

GREG wasn’t sure who kissed whom first, but he knew with certainty there was nowhere he’d rather be right now. First she’d coaxed him to eat. Then to sleep. When he’d awoken, he’d found her right there beside him—even if she had been folded into something reminiscent of a cube. Her mouth had been slightly open, one hand curled softly against her chest. Her breasts had slowly risen and fallen as she’d breathed. The sight had sent his endocrine system on a rampage, pumping chemicals through his body. Then she’d looked up with those big green eyes, and he’d been lost. He’d stayed where he was, when he should have run.

No, that wasn’t completely true. He’d been pretty sure he could walk away without a problem, until that singular moment when her hips had seemed to zero in on a certain part of his anatomy. The part that was now issuing all sorts of commands he wasn’t sure he could resist.

He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, ready to pull back at the first sign of hesitation on her part.

Damn it, what was he thinking? Her back had just gone through hell and back, and here he was, mauling her to within an inch of her life.

But wasn’t she mauling him right back, her fists buried in his starched shirt and hanging on for dear life?

Still, he had to be sure.

“Your back,” he whispered against her lips.

“Forgotten.”

“But—”

She pulled him close and cut off his words with another lingering kiss.

Okay, if that’s the way she wanted to play this, who was he to complain? Besides, he was tired of warring against his emotions, trying to keep them in check so as not to alarm his patients, or hand out undue hope, if things took a turn for the worse.

Like with Martha Brookstone?

No, don’t think of that right now.

He was with someone who’d fought the disease. Who’d won. He gloried in that. Celebrated Hannah’s life. Her health. It was why he’d surrounded himself with people just like her, to remind himself that cancer could be beaten. Not all of the time. His own sister had …

His fingers tightened in Hannah’s hair, desperate to feel the life force coursing through her body, her heart pumping strongly against his own.

Life! This was what it was about. The need for closeness, to reaffirm your own existence.

Surely just this once he could block out the real world.

The blinds were closed. Door locked. Alarm set.

And, most of all, there was a beautiful, willing woman in his arms.

Her low sigh melted his resistance even further, and Greg gentled his kiss, taking the time to taste her, to measure the softness of her lips against his. His tongue slid in a slow arc across the surface of her teeth, then back again, his senses roaring to life when she opened her mouth in invitation. Stunned by the force of his reaction, he hung around outside for a second or two, until her tongue touched the underside of his, leading him inside. Coaxing him, just like she’d done with his meal. Before he knew it, he was right there, the interplay of textures and heat making it impossible for him to retreat again.

His hand left her hair, sliding down her back until it lay just above the curve of her buttocks. A very dangerous place to be. Once he took that leap there’d be no going back.

On that note, he lingered in her mouth, needing to show her exactly what she was doing to him, and that if she intended to call a halt to things, it needed to be soon.

She didn’t. She met each stroke by moving closer, protested each withdrawal with a soft bite to his lower lip. His hands slid down and over in unison, his fingers curving on the rounded flesh he found there. It filled his palms, set his whole body on fire.

He pulled her up and against him, hoping to relieve a little of the ache that was growing steadily worse. And hoping the shock would knock them both back into the realm of reality. Except Greg didn’t want reality. He wanted the fantasy … to keep her here. With him. Wanted to wish their clothing gone and to drive every last inch of himself into her—to fill her to capacity and beyond.