A Most Desirable M.D.. Anne Marie Winston

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      But the Allison standing before him wasn’t the pale, buttoned-down nurse with her blond hair scraped back in a severe bun to whom he was accustomed. This Allison had yards and yards of thick, bouncy, curling sunlit tresses that she’d been in the process of unpinning when he’d nearly run her down. The curls cascaded around her shoulders and down her back, glowing in the early morning light with an almost unnatural sheen as they slithered free of the bun. The jolt he’d given her had sent one wayward lock flying across her face and he watched, mesmerized, as she hooked a finger through the curl and tugged it aside.

      “Dr. Fortune. Kane,” she said belatedly, when he pointed a finger at her, silently reminding her that he’d told her to call him Kane when they weren’t working. “I’m sorry, too. I should have been paying more attention.”

      “I, uh, I was distracted.” The words were a lame effort. He still couldn’t believe it was the same woman he thought he knew. “I’ve never seen you with your hair down,” he said slowly. “You have…a lot of hair.”

      A faint hint of pink color crept into her cheeks and she ducked her head in a self-conscious manner he recognized. “A mess, you mean,” she corrected. “I’ve thought about getting it cut, but I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

      He didn’t say anything. He wanted to beg her not to cut it, to tell her that hair like that was every man’s fantasy, that he could imagine wrapping himself in that gorgeous mane, could see it streaming around him while—

      What the hell was he thinking? This was Allison, for God’s sake. His co-worker. His friend, if he could call her that. His confidante.

      “Kane?” She was eyeing him curiously, the emerald eyes that were one of her most striking features wide with concern. “Are you okay?” She put her hand on his arm and patted gently, comfortingly. “The Simonds’ baby didn’t make it, did she?”

      Her hand was warm on his arm, drawing him back to the present and he shook his head silently as the reasons for his lack of concentration returned.

      “You did everything you could, you know.” She continued touching his arm now, a light, soothing stroke. “I knew if she survived the week it would be a miracle.” She sighed. “And let’s face it, with the number of premature infants we see with serious problems, miracles don’t come along often enough.”

      “It still tears me apart,” he admitted quietly, the regret he still felt at losing the baby welling within him again.

      She tilted her head and smiled sympathetically at him. “That’s not a bad thing, you know. It’s one of the reasons you’re the best doctor on this staff. You care.”

      He shook his head. “Too much, sometimes.” He lifted a hand and scrubbed it over his face, massaging his temple. “I’m whipped. I was up almost all night with that case, and I’ve got rounds in a few hours. I’m going to try to grab some sleep.”

      She nodded. “My shift just ended at seven. I’m headed home, too.” She stepped back, hesitated, then lifted her hand again and briefly squeezed his shoulder. “Get some rest. And try not to feel so badly. She was lucky to have had you for a doctor.”

      And with one last smile, she climbed into a little red Mazda and backed out of the parking space, giving him a long study of her classical profile before she drove away.

      Kane stood there, watching until she was out of sight. A red sports car. If he’d ever considered what kind of car she drove, he’d have guessed a sensible compact or a small sedan in a dark color that wouldn’t attract a lot of notice. It was a shock, although he didn’t quite know why. Just like the hair. Maybe Allison wasn’t as sensible and passionless as the image she projected.

      When he realized he was massaging the shoulder she’d touched, he dropped his hand and grimaced. God, he must be tired. He’d never been an indiscriminate skirt-chaser and he didn’t usually get the hots for quiet little nurses, but here he stood, wondering what Allison Preston would look like lying beneath him with all that glorious hair spread across the pillow.

      Probably damned good. He was a male, after all. He’d noticed the trim little butt beneath her uniform pants and he’d eyed her breasts from time to time, wondering if they looked so full because her waist was so small or her uniform top was loose…or because they were full and round and delicious. But he’d always stopped himself from finding out with the reminder that a good friend was a hard commodity to come by. Allison was one of the few women he knew who didn’t seem to want anything from him. Most women, even if they didn’t know about his family connections, wanted either sex or marriage or both. The rest simply added money and prestige to that list.

      But Allison wasn’t like the women who sought him out on a near-daily basis, and he found his interest level rising. She was gentle and soft and if he were honest, he’d admit that he’d wondered if she’d be that gentle and soft in bed, or if he could get her to turn into a demanding wildcat beneath his hands.

      Stop it, he told himself. Allison would be mortified if she knew what you were thinking.

      Banishing the images teasing his mind, he walked on across the lot to his car and drove out to his mother’s villa in Kingston Estates, not far from the hospital. It was one of the newest communities in San Antonio, an enclave of indecent wealth, and his mother’s home was no exception. The sight of her sprawling Mediterranean-style villa always took him aback for an instant no matter how many times he came by.

      He’d grown up in modest circumstances—modest, ha! That was an understatement. His mother had barely been able to keep a roof over her children’s heads for most of his life. He’d worked his butt off in school to keep his grades high, knowing that his only chance at med school was on scholarships and loans. Then, six years ago, his sister had discovered that their mother hadn’t been entirely truthful with her children.

      He and Gabrielle always had assumed she had no family…which was laughable now that they knew the truth. Miranda had family in spades, though she’d been estranged from them after a fight with her father years before Kane’s birth.

      Although Kane’s mother had resisted the idea of reconciliation at first, his sister Gabrielle had badgered her until finally Miranda had softened. The father with whom she’d always clashed had passed away, and Miranda’s brother Ryan had welcomed her back into the family fold—the family that had turned out to be one of the wealthiest clans in Texas, the Fortunes.

      When his mother had decided to reclaim the Fortune name, everything had changed. They’d gone from being a threesome to being part of a…a tribe. True, the tribe had been uniformly warm and welcoming, but it was still overwhelming to have a hundred relatives instead of two.

      To Kane’s shock and surprise, that welcome had included sharing his grandfather’s extremely large estate with Miranda. His mother, a woman who had elevated scrimping and saving to an art form, now was one of the most well-to-do heiresses in the country.

      Kane still wasn’t sure how he felt about the Fortune money. He didn’t begrudge his mother her welcome back to the life into which she’d been born. She deserved to take it easy after all the rough years.

      One thing he was sure of, though—he didn’t want it. He’d gotten used to forging his own path and he didn’t intend to let anyone tell him what to do. Accepting money, even family money that his mother insisted was due him, felt too much like charity. He was used to working for what he wanted and he preferred to keep it that way. And there was another reason he shied away from his inheritance, his heritage. That money was an obligation. СКАЧАТЬ