The Most Eligible Doctor

Deciding to put her best foot forward—what trouble could she get into cooking supper?—Brianne smiled at Jed’s father. “Mr. Sawyer, why don’t you show me around your kitchen?”

As he jammed his hands into the pockets of his coveralls, he muttered, “It’s Al. Come on, and I’ll show you where everything is.”

After supper, washing dishes while Brianne dried, Jed tried to figure out why he felt turned inside out whenever he was around her. Her presence stirred up emotions he hadn’t felt in years. He told himself she was young and beautiful, and that’s all it was.

He was placing the last dish in the drainer when his father went to the back door and looked out. “The snow shows no sign of stopping anytime soon. I think I’ll go out and shovel the front walk.”

“I bought the snowblower so you don’t have to do that, Dad. I’ll take it out later for its first pass.”

“That thing runs away with me,” Al grumbled. “I prefer a shovel.”

“You should prefer the living room in front of the fire, and let me take care of it.”

His face reddening, Al demanded, “And just what happens if I let you take care of everything and then you leave and I’m stuck with it again? I’ll be out of shape and not used to countin’ on myself. If you’re so dad-blasted set on running the snowblower, I’ll go upstairs and work on that jigsaw puzzle in my room.”

“Mr. Sawyer?” Brianne said as he started toward the living room.

Al gave her a look that said she was supposed to call him by his first name.

“Al,” she amended. “I don’t want to disrupt your evening. If you want to watch TV—”

“You’re not disrupting anything. I’m almost finished with that puzzle and I want to see it all put together. Jed will find you anything you need for tonight. If I don’t see you before, I’ll see you in the morning.” He left the kitchen abruptly without saying good-night to his son.

Jed took the dish towel from Brianne’s hands. “Let the rest drip dry. Would you like a glass of brandy?”

The house was drafty, and the idea of a glass of brandy in front of the fire with Jed was appealing. “Sure.”

A few minutes later as he joined her on the sofa, he handed her a small snifter, took a sip of his, set it on the coffee table and ran his hand through his hair. She could tell the interchange with his father was still frustrating him.

“Your dad doesn’t take to change easily?”

“That’s an understatement. Every time I try to do something for him, there’s a battle.”

“It sounds as if he doesn’t think you’ll be staying here.”

Shifting toward her, Jed replied, “I’m not sure I will be. How about you? Where do you want your career to take you?”

Before she’d accepted the position at the Beechwood, she’d applied for a job with Project Voyage—a team of doctors and nurses who volunteered their time helping children in South America. But she hadn’t heard from them, and when the position at the family practice had opened, she’d decided it was just what she needed while she settled her parents’ estate and got her life in some kind of order. “I’m not sure where I want it to take me.”

“Why didn’t you go to med school and follow in your father’s footsteps?” Jed’s gaze was probing.

“I’m not sure how to explain.” She thought of Bobby and how she’d helped nurse him every day after school. “I like caring for patients, not just listening to their symptoms and prescribing medication. I saw my father’s life—how he wanted to give more time to each patient but couldn’t always, the kind of hours he kept, being called out in the middle of the night. If I ever have a family, I’d like to keep working. But I also want to be there for them. Do you know what I mean?”

Jed knew exactly what she meant. Caroline had accused him often of not being available, of his patients always coming first. He didn’t feel it was true. Especially after their daughter was born. Trisha had been the light of his life, and sometimes he’d thought Caroline was jealous of that. She’d been a pampered, spoiled rich girl, used to being the center of attention. Unfortunately, he hadn’t realized that until after he’d married her.

Brianne came from money, too. Nevertheless, he’d felt her compassion, could see what a caring nature she had. Maybe that’s why his desire for her was only part of what was going on. Her soft, bronze-colored sweater had a round neck that molded to her creamy throat. Her calf-length wool skirt draped enticingly over her slender hips and curvy legs. When he’d carried her earlier and her arms had gone around his neck, he’d realized he’d been alone for a long time now.

The flaming wood in the fireplace popped and crackled. The sip of brandy he’d taken made a burning path down his throat. Yet the heat inside him had nothing to do with the fire or the brandy.

Brianne was looking up at him with such complete absorption…

“Brianne,” he said huskily.

She didn’t move, just kept studying his face, his lips, as if she was as curious as he was about the chemistry brewing between them.

Bending his head, he savored the moment of wanting her…of needing her. He reveled in the feeling as his blood started racing faster and his hunger built. His lips hovered over hers and he heard her sigh, then catch her breath. But she didn’t move away.

I feel alive again, he thought as his lips touched hers.

Fascinated by the soft curls and their fiery color, Jed was unable to resist sliding his hand into Brianne’s hair. His tongue instinctively slipped between her lips, and when her hands went to his shoulders, he brought her closer. Breathing her in, he delved into her mouth, giving himself up to the kiss, to Brianne, the fire and the brandy.

Numb as he’d been to his physical needs for the past four years, Jed felt more aroused now than he’d ever been in his life. Brianne’s soft moan, her surrender to the desire between them, her sweet beauty, spun him into turmoil and excitement and hunger.

It was the hunger that stopped him—the soul-deep, aching hunger that he knew he could never satisfy. He couldn’t use Brianne as a Band-aid. He wouldn’t take advantage of her. He shouldn’t become involved at all.

Tearing away from her, controlling the mind-drugging sensations of holding her, tasting her and kissing her, he shifted until there was space between them.

He waited until he saw the sensual haze in her eyes dissipate a bit. “That was a mistake that won’t happen again.”

Her cheeks were flushed, and she looked embarrassed and vulnerable.

“We have to work together,” he added. Then, as if he needed more reasons to keep his distance, he continued, “And I’m much older than you are. I’m not looking for an involvement.”

“I see,” she murmured, studying her hands now, rather than him.

He stood. “I’d better see to that snowblower. Your room is the one at the top of the stairs. I put towels on the bed.”

Trying to act casual, she repositioned a sofa pillow. “Do you think we’ll be able to get out in the morning?”

“I’m hoping the plow will come through.”

Finally her gaze met his. When he looked into her eyes, he remembered the kiss and saw she was remembering, too. He’d been an idiot to give in to the moment. He wouldn’t do so again.

As he turned away from Brianne, he tried to shut off everything that kiss had stirred up inside him. But as he left her staring into the fire, took his jacket from the closet and went out into the swirling snow, he felt as if a locked door had been opened.

And he might never be able to lock it again.

The mattress was lumpy, but that wasn’t the reason Brianne couldn’t sleep in the simple pine bed. Her nose and hands and feet were cold. To distract herself, she thought back to the memory of Jed’s kiss. Why had she let it happen? Why hadn’t she backed away? He’d given her time. But she’d been overcome by curiosity, by a sense of adventure she’d never experienced before.

The howl of the wind sounded through the window, and she shivered.

There was a knock on the door to her room, then it opened. “Brianne?”

She recognized Jed’s voice immediately. “I’m awake.”

When he came into the room dressed in a white T-shirt with gray sweatpants, he was carrying a flashlight. “Now our power is out, too. The temperature in the house has dropped. Do you want to come down and sleep on the sofa by the fire?”

“What about your dad?”

“He’s sound asleep and snoring. I laid a down-filled quilt over him and that should do the trick. But we only have one of those.”

“What time is it?” she asked, unable to see her watch.

“It’s three. If you get warm, you could still catch a couple of hours of sleep before you have to get up.”

“All right.” Suddenly she realized the predicament she was in. “Can you turn around while I dress?” She’d crawled under the covers in her slip. Her sweater and skirt lay over the chair.

His gaze went to the clothes and then back to her. “I’d go on down, but you’re going to need the flashlight. Just tell me when you’re finished.” Then he turned and faced the door.

Brushing her tousled curls off her forehead, Brianne realized her hair was an absolute mess. But without her comb, brush and curling iron she really couldn’t do anything about that. Quickly, she got out of bed, slipped on her skirt and sweater. “Ready,” she told him, not feeling ready at all.

With a glance over his shoulder, he beamed the flashlight out in the hall. “I have an oil lamp lit downstairs, but I don’t want you to fall, so take your time. The steps are narrow.”

Jed waited for her at the top of the stairs and descended slowly. She almost bumped into him when he stopped at the bottom. As he turned, his face was very close to hers. “Do you need anything before we get settled?”

I need to be held in your arms, she thought illogically, then dismissed the irrational longing. Jed was her boss! And hadn’t she learned that getting close to anyone eventually hurt?

“No. I’m fine,” she managed to answer. She could see the muscles under his T-shirt. Black hair curled in the vee. Awareness zipped between them, and she swallowed hard.

He cleared his throat and motioned toward the living room. “You take the sofa. I’ll sleep in the recliner.”

A blanket had been tossed on the sofa, along with a pillow. But she couldn’t keep her eyes off of Jed as he sank into the recliner and raised the leg rest, stretching out his long limbs on top of it.

Wind blew against the house, causing the flames in the fireplace to crackle and leap. When Jed glanced at her, she made a point of pulling the blanket up and averting her gaze. The shadowed intimacy of the room made them more aware of each other instead of less. Brianne doubted if she was going to get any sleep, but at least she’d be warm.

“Would you rather work for Dr. Olsen?” Jed’s deep voice carried an edge of tension.

“Because of what happened?”

The mantel clock ticked.

“Yes. I never should have kissed you. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I can talk to Olsen about it—”

“No. I don’t want to work for another doctor. I like working with you,” she insisted quickly, in spite of her own misgivings. She liked the way Jed handled patients, and she was learning a lot from him.

The clock ticked loudly, marking off a few more seconds.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m very sure.” Her fingers played with the satin edge of the blanket and then she said, “Jed?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you leave a specialty practice to become a general practitioner?” It was the most tactful way she knew to pose the question. She wanted to know why he’d gone to Alaska…and why he’d come back here. She guessed something had driven him, and she needed to know what it was.

“My reasons don’t matter anymore. They’re in the past. I’m happy with what I’m doing now.”

It was a polite way of telling her to mind her own business. And she would…for tonight.

Chapter Three

Aware of the soft, restless sounds coming from the sofa, Jed shifted in the recliner, unable to let sleep overtake him. He was strung tighter than he’d ever been…ever since that kiss. Even running the snow-blower on the walks, letting the icy wind and the cold wrap around him, hadn’t diminished the effects from it. If he didn’t block the memory from his mind, it replayed over and over. He wanted to take Brianne in his arms, do things with her he hadn’t imagined since he’d had fantasies as a teenager.

With an effort, he pushed thoughts of her away and tried to replace them with pictures of an SUV he might buy. Unfortunately, he pictured Brianne in the SUV with him!

He blanked out the pictures the same way he did memories of Trisha, sealing them in a tight box he never willingly opened. But just as recollections of his daughter caught him unawares, just as a glance into a child’s eyes stirred up emotions he never intended to feel again, he knew the passion and innocence and surrender of Brianne’s kiss would gnaw at him until he acknowledged at least his physical need. Ever since the first moment he’d caught sight of her, his subconscious had let her slip into his dreams—her pretty face, the bouncy auburn curls shimmering like silk, that perfectly shaped mouth.

He reminded himself again that she was too young and he was too old…too old for that kind of involvement.

When he’d met his ex-wife, she’d seemed young and innocent, passionate and giving. It wasn’t until after they were married that he’d learned Caroline had had an agenda. She’d been protected and safeguarded by her parents all her life, but she’d learned to manipulate them and everyone else to get what she wanted whether it was a new car or a husband she could mold into her version of the ideal.

Hadn’t Brianne come from the same lifestyle? Had she been raised to believe her money and beauty could get her whatever she wanted? He’d been wrong about Caroline. Somehow she’d convinced him she was something she wasn’t. Was Brianne as sweet and compassionate as she seemed? Even if she was, he was too cynical to believe she’d stay that way.

In the deep silence of the storm, the absence of the hum of the furnace magnified each and every one of the old house’s sounds—the crackle of the fire, the rustle of Brianne’s covers. Suddenly, though, her movements became more than a restless turning. In the glow of the fire, Jed could see her shaking her head back and forth.

Her hands came up in front of her as if she were pushing something away. “No! No, you’re wrong,” she moaned. “It can’t be Mom and Dad. It can’t be.”

The anguish in her voice tore at him. Jumping from the recliner, he quickly crossed the room and crouched by the sofa. “Brianne, wake up.”

When she still seemed trapped by the nightmare, he said, “Brianne, it’s Jed. You’re safe. You’re in my house. Wake up.”

Finally, her eyes flew open. They were wide with sadness and wet with tears.

He’d been fooled by Caroline’s tears too many times to count, but he knew these were different. Nightmare tears were genuine.

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