Wild Honey. Veronica Sattler

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      But whose plan are we talkin’ about, Mother? His own voice echoed through the corridors of five long years, angry, strident. Y’all were so certain I’d become a doctor—a heart surgeon, to be specific. Just like my father. And my grandfather, of course. But did anyone ever ask me? Did anyone, just once, ask if that was what I wanted?

      But four years at Harvard Medical School, Travis! Four years of straight A’s! Why do all that if you didn’t want it? His poor mother, sounding so bewildered, helpless, and so very sad. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. He loved her, respected her. But his father, ah, now there—

      “Nurse, give me a hand here please.” The voice of the young resident cut across his thoughts. Then a loud crash had Travis glancing at the floor beneath his gurney; a tray of surgical instruments lay scattered there.

      “Good grief, Terhune, what’s wrong with you? I’ve never seen you this way!” The resident, whose name tag said Dr. Ames, looked more puzzled than angry.

      “I…I’m sorry, Doctor. Just having a…a bad night, I guess.”

      Travis’s eyes traveled upward from the tray on the floor. When they came to rest on the flushed face of the woman who’d stammered the apology, he sucked in his breath.

      “Sorry,” Ames said to him. “I know it’s painful, but I’m suturing now. It shouldn’t take much longer.”

      Pain, hell! Pain had nothing to do with it. But Nurse Terhune’s gorgeous self sure did! What a stunner! Honey blond hair, whiskey-colored eyes and a figure that…

      Travis cleared his throat and quickly looked away as Nurse Terhune’s shapely bottom presented itself when she bent to retrieve the instruments. He was actually getting aroused! Like some horny adolescent, for Pete’s sake!

      He couldn’t resist slanting another glance at the beautiful blonde as she handed the tray to an orderly and asked another nurse to stand in for her while she went to scrub. He took in the long leggy figure striding away from him, and his lips formed a silent whistle.

      Ames grinned at him, finally aware of what was going on with his patient. “Some piece, huh?”

      “Dynamite.” Travis’s soft drawl was slightly husky, his eyes lazily assessing as they followed the retreating figure.

      “Yeah, but don’t get your hopes up, buddy.” Ames gestured in Nurse Terhune’s direction. “That little number comes in at about forty below.”

      “You’re kiddin’.”

      The resident shrugged. “All I can say is, a lot of us have tried, and no one’s gotten to first base. Of course, our little ice queen may have a ‘significant other’ tucked away somewhere, but nobody’s been able to—Uh-oh…”

      Travis winced as Ames returned his attention to the wound a bit too energetically; Nurse Terhune was headed back in their direction.

      “Lord, Lord, what a shame,” Travis murmured softly as his eyes approved of what they saw. Dynamite, coming and going.

      Ames caught this and barely stifled a grin as he told Nurse Terhune to proceed with dressing the wound.

      But Travis frowned. Something had begun to niggle at the back of his mind. Through half-shuttered eyes he traced the features of Nurse Terhune’s heart-shaped face as she bent over his shoulder. There was a hazy momentary image of a similar face, but younger maybe…and then it was gone. Damned Demerol!

      “Ouch!” Travis glared at the woman who’d been the object of his most recent—and scandalous—thoughts.

      “Oh, I’m so sorry!”

      Her embarrassed apology had Travis swallowing the blistering setdown he’d been about to deliver. But she sure had been clumsy in bandaging his shoulder. A glance at her badge had already told him she was the ER’s head nurse. Why, he asked himself, was she acting as nervous as a newly capped rookie? And damned if that wasn’t a blush under that porcelain skin.

      A slow, lazy grin stole across his face as he watched her from beneath half-closed lids. She caught his casual scrutiny, and the blush deepened.

      Lord, he did love a blusher! You hardly ever saw one these days. Fact was, he couldn’t recall the last time he had. Unless it had been Sarah, and kid sisters didn’t count.

      The grin faltered as he recalled how long ago that would have been. He hadn’t seen Sarah in five years, hadn’t seen any of his family. His sister was in her second year of premed at Georgetown now. Hardly a kid anymore.

      Maybe he should go there and try to see her. Would she even let him? Would she dare it? Maybe. She’d always been pretty gutsy.

      Suddenly the monstrous inadequacy of relying solely on his sources at the Agency to keep informed about his own sister had him wanting to pound something with his fist. His fingers clenched and he ground his teeth.

      “If…if the pain’s real bad, I think I could get you something more for it.”

      The softly murmured offer of Nurse M. Terhune pulled him back to the moment. She’d stammered a bit; still jittery, then. Yet somehow, maybe because of its softness, he’d found her voice soothing. His grin reemerged.

      “What’s the M stand for, Nurse M. Terhune?”

      “Hold still, please.” Suddenly all thumbs, Randi tried to sound professional and concentrate on the bandaging.

      Travis wasn’t about to let her ignore him. “Melanie, maybe? Margaret? No, scratch that—you don’t look like a Margaret. I’ve got it! How ‘bout Marcie?”

      “Mr.—” Randi made a show of glancing at the name on his admittance form “—McLean, I don’t—”

      “Travis, honey. Just Travis.”

      Randi found herself unwillingly seduced by the liquid softness of his voice. Lord, the man was every bit as compelling as she remembered. Unable to stop herself, she risked a glance at his face.

      A mistake. He was observing her with a casual indolence that reminded her of a well-fed lion basking lazily in the sun. The clear blue eyes, heavy-lidded and sensual, roamed her face, coming to rest on her mouth. As they did, his own curved into a slow, easy smile.

      “Uh, Travis, the sooner you allow me to finish here—”

      “Uh-uh, honey. Not fair. Now that you know my name, I reckon it’s tit for tat for me to know yours.”

      The soft Southern accent had a teasing quality, which curled around the edges of her defenses and stole inside. Something began to unravel somewhere deep within, in a place Randi couldn’t name, a place she hadn’t known was there.

      She looked quickly away, reaching for a pair of scissors on the tray.

      “C’mon now, darlin’,” he cajoled. “Margie? Molly? Hey, how ‘bout Millicent? I know it’s old-fashioned, but I do believe Millicent’s makin’ a comeback.”

      He was outrageous. And too persistent by far. СКАЧАТЬ