Doctor's Orders. Jessica Andersen

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СКАЧАТЬ in his dark-colored tough-guy street clothes with a good dose of five-o’clock shadow, she was suddenly too aware of the strong angle of his jaw and the masculine hardness of his body, too aware of the leashed anger in his eyes.

      Too aware that he’d just saved her life.

      She had the sudden, undeniable memory of how it had felt to be pressed against him years ago, how they’d come together in heat and need and joy, and how everything else had ceased to exist when they were with each other.

      A flush suffused her cheeks when she finally admitted that she’d been lying to herself for the past month. She hadn’t been aware of him because he was her boss, or because of their history. She’d noticed him because of him. Despite how it had ended, their time together had been amazing, and she’d never found the same sort of connection with another man since, damn it.

      The realization sharpened her voice when she turned away from him and snapped, “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

      He was silent for a moment, long enough to have her worrying that he’d seen the flare of heat in her eyes. But he made no mention of it, only saying, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He moved around to stand between her and the crime scene, and then touched her arm, urging her down from the gurney. “Come on. We’re leaving.”

      “It’s about time.” Resenting the sizzle that sparked at his touch, she yanked away and jumped down off the gurney too quickly, then swayed when the world took a sudden dip to the right.

      “Easy there. I’ve got you.” He looped an arm around her waist, and this time when she tried to pull free he merely tightened his hold. “Don’t be stupid. It’s okay to lean sometimes.”

      Since when? she thought with a snort at the memory of long-ago conversations that were suddenly too fresh in her mind. But she didn’t ask the question aloud, because she’d be damned if she went back there. It was one thing for a few memories to break through in a stressful situation, quite another to acknowledge the memories to the man who starred in them.

      So instead, she said, “Where are we going?”

      “The Chinatown police station. We’ll need to go over your statement.” The growl in his voice made Mandy aware of a subtle tension that vibrated through his body.

      That, combined with too many other things not lining up, brought latent suspicions flaring to life. A slew of questions suddenly jammed her brain, but she held silent as he led her out of the alley and over to an empty patrol car and ushered her into the backseat, then motioned for her to slide over so he could climb in.

      The moment he shut the door, a uniformed officer climbed into the driver’s seat, fired up the engine and pulled away from the scene, without a word spoken between the two men. The silent orchestration made Mandy nervous, made her feel as though some unclear fate had already been decided for her.

      None of it made any sense. Why had Radcliff been following her? Why the massive police response for a mugging?

      And why did the head of the BoGen Emergency Services Department have a police detective on speed-dial?

      Making a desperate stab at organizing the questions that spun through her already rattled brain, she said, “Radcliff, what the—”

      He held up a hand, cutting her off midquestion. “Not yet, okay? Stankowski will do a better job explaining. He’s meeting us at the station.”

      But though there was a certain logic to that, she got the impression it wasn’t the real reason he’d cut her off. When his eyes flicked over to her and away in the glow of passing streetlights, she thought she saw a stir of something in his normally chill expression, making her wonder if he’d felt the faint shimmer of attraction sparking between them back in the alley.

      Right. And he’s really been pining for you all these years, too, snapped her more rational side. Grow up.

      Those last two words resonated from the memory of their last night together, making her lean away from him and stare out the window as she fought to reorient herself, knowing that no matter how much she might’ve wanted to romanticize what had happened between them, he hadn’t really wanted her in his life back then any more than he did now. That was fine with her, too, because he was firmly entrenched in the city and its largest hospital. She, on the other hand, was out of there the moment the Meade Fellowship came through.

      “We’re here,” he announced as the officer pulled the patrol car to the curb outside the Chinatown police station. “Come on.”

      Once the officer opened the rear door, Radcliff climbed out, then held out a hand and waited for her, as though he thought she might collapse, or maybe make a run for it. But she did neither, ignoring his proffered hand to climb out of the car under her own power and stalk up the carved granite steps leading to the police station, leaving him to follow at her heels.

      She paused when she reached the main lobby, where a cross-section of Bostonians waited on padded benches, some chatting or reading dog-eared magazines, others glaring off into space.

      “Through here.” Radcliff led her across the lobby, waving to the two uniformed desk officers, who were attending to a straggling line of people from behind the safety of a chest-high desk and a slab of clear, bulletproof Plexiglas.

      The thought of someone walking into the lobby and shooting up a police station didn’t seem nearly as far-fetched to Mandy as it might have only hours earlier, and she suppressed a shiver as she headed down a short hallway in Radcliff’s wake.

      Nearly to the end of the hall, past a rest room and several offices, Radcliff paused, opened a door and ushered her through into what proved to be a small conference room. The walls were lined with file-stuffed bookshelves, and a large table filled the center of the space, surrounded by a dozen or so utilitarian chairs. An American flag hung in one corner, adding a patriotic dash to the functional space.

      There was a second door in the far wall, and before Mandy had gotten her bearings, it swung open and Detective Stankowski strode through.

      As before, her first impression was of a darkly handsome man in his early thirties, maybe two or three years older than her. This time, though, she noticed that when his eyes flicked from her to Radcliff and back, the world-weariness in them shifted ever so slightly, giving her the feeling that she was missing something when he took her hand and once again held it a beat too long before guiding her to a chair. As she sat, he said, “Are you sure you’re up for this, Dr. Sparks? Parker says you took a pretty good crack to the head back in that alley.”

      “She’s fine,” Radcliff broke in. He stepped in front of Stankowski to pull out the chair beside hers, forcing the detective to give way. “Let’s get on with this.”

      Deciding to ignore the brittle undercurrent between the two men for the time being, Mandy waited until Stankowski had taken a seat opposite her, where he arranged a stack of folders and then popped open a slim laptop computer and tapped a few keys. Turning toward Radcliff—she wouldn’t think of him as Parker because that was a name he reserved for his friends and she was feeling far from friendly—she narrowed her eyes. “Okay, we’re here, so let’s have your explanation, and make it good. How about starting with why you followed me tonight?”

      Radcliff leaned back in his chair. “You’ve got it backward—I didn’t follow you. I headed for the alley after work for the same reason you did. Lucky for you, we were on the same schedule.”

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