The MD's Mistress / The Money Man's Seduction. Leslie LaFoy

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      Glancing at John, Seth said, “He’s about ready to go.”

      With her usual calm efficiency, Becca dressed the wound around the tube. Just then, the boy’s eyelids fluttered and opened. She smiled into his startling and blessedly clear green eyes.

      “Mommy,” the child cried in a rough whisper.

      “I’m here.” Tears streaming down her face, the woman from the waiting room shouldered her way by the ambulance crew. “I’m here, baby, Mommy’s here.”

      While the crew gently slid the child from the table to their litter, the woman grabbed John’s hands. “Thank you, Doctor, thank you so very…”

      “I did very little, it’s Dr. Andrews you should thank.” He turned her to face Seth.

      She repeated her gratitude to Seth, and impulsively grabbed and hugged him.

      Not unused to being hugged by grateful patients and family members, Seth patted the woman’s back gently. “You’re welcome, now go with your boy.”

      With tears still trickling down her face, she gave him a brilliant smile and rushed after the ambulance crew.

      Becca felt misty-eyed but exhilarated…for all of three or four minutes. Then she crashed. Exhaustion, part physical but mostly emotional, struck like a blow. With a last surge of energy, she pulled off the lab coat and the mask from her face. Heaving a heavy sigh, she dropped like a stone onto the chair at the doctor’s small desk.

      Seth heard her sigh and he turned to give her a probing look, in exactly the same piercing way he would gaze at one of his still shaky patients.

      “You look beat.” His tone was not kind, more accusing. “You shouldn’t be working yet. It’s obvious you aren’t strong enough.”

      “I’m okay,” she insisted, abruptly standing to prove her point. For a second the room spun around her and her stomach lurched, proving only that she was completely played out.

      “Right.” Seth shook his head, showing his impatience with her. “Let’s go.”

      “I can’t go now,” she protested, feeling the need to sit down again. “I have to clean up in—”

      “Seth is right, Becca, you’ve done more than enough for one day,” John interrupted. “You look about ready to collapse. Mary and I will do the cleaning up.”

      “But—” Becca began once again, and again she was interrupted, this time by Seth.

      “Don’t argue,” he said, moving to her to gently but firmly take hold of her arm. “And be still,” he went on as she tried to shake his arm off.

      In truth, Becca was too tired to argue. She allowed Seth to lead her from the clinic to his car. It was a nice one, too, and expensive. But she was even too tired to comment on the vehicle.

      Becca nearly fell asleep on the drive back to the cabin. Fortunately, she thought, as she roused with a start when the car came to a halt at the house, she hadn’t drifted deep enough for her to dream.

      The very idea of Seth witnessing her in the throes of one of her erotic dreams was embarrassing. Whatever would he think? She didn’t want to find out.

      Seth was out of the car and at her door before Becca finished undoing her seat belt. Pulling the door open, he again took her arm, guiding her from the car and up the porch steps.

      The door swept open, revealing a concerned-looking Sue. “What happened, Becca? You look awful.” She leveled a narrow-eyed look at Seth. “What have you done to her? You, of all people…” That’s as far as Seth let her get.

      “She’s all right,” he said, brushing past her to lead Becca inside to a chair. “There was an emergency at the clinic. A child stung by a bee had an allergic reaction. He was asphyxiating when I got there.”

      Sue’s eyes widened and her one hand flew to her chest. “Oh, my lord,” she exclaimed. “Is he…” She paused, as if afraid to voice her fear.

      “No.” Seth shook his head to reassure the woman, but kept his intent gaze on Becca, who had her eyes closed and was resting her head against the back of the deeply padded chair. “He’ll be fine. He’s being ambulanced to the hospital.”

      “Thank goodness,” Sue murmured, her anxious gaze also fixed on Becca. “She overdid it, didn’t she?”

      “What else?” Seth’s tone was wry. “I believe she thinks she’s indestructible…but…” He hesitated before adding, “She was magnificent.”

      Becca blinked her eyes open. “I was no such thing,” she protested, scowling at him. “I didn’t perform the surgery.”

      “Surgery?” Sue jumped on the word. “John performed surgery on the boy?”

      Becca shook her head. “No, no, Sue. Seth did it, although John was prepared to do it.”

      “But John’s not a surgeon!” Sue said.

      “That’s why I did it,” Seth inserted. “I am a surgeon. But John would have tried.”

      “Of course he would,” Sue agreed. “John is a devoted, caring…” The ringing of the phone stopped her cold. “I’ll get it,” she said, turning away.

      “Is there any coffee, Sue?” Becca called after her. “I think I need a shot of caffeine.”

      “Yes,” Sue called back. “I made a pot for lunch, but I’ll make a fresh pot as soon—”

      “No, I’ll get it,” Becca said, interrupting.

      “No, I’ll get it,” Seth interrupted Becca. “You stay here and rest. Where’s the kitchen?”

      “Follow me,” Sue said from the dining room. “That’s where I’m going.”

      “But…” Becca started to rise.

      “Sit down and behave yourself,” Seth ordered, in his most I’m-the-boss tone, as he strode after the housekeeper.

      Watching the back of his retreating form, Becca began to simmer. That…that…man, she thought. Who the hell did he think he was? Well, she continued in her mental rant, she wasn’t about to let him order her around. She no longer worked for him. He was not her boss.

      Carefully rising, Becca stood still a moment. When her head didn’t whirl, or her stomach rebel, she smiled. Moving slowly, she took one step, then another. Ha! She could walk just fine. Take that, Mister-Big-Deal-I’m-The-Man-Surgeon.

      Feeling proud of herself, which she admitted to herself was pretty childish, Becca sauntered through the dining room to the kitchen. Seth was standing at the countertop, pouring coffee into two mugs.

      “You take orders much better in the O.R.,” he grumbled, turning to carry the mugs to the table.

      “But we’re not in the O.R.,” Becca said, calmly, seating herself, “are we?”

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