Authors: Julie Rowe
“Yeah. I’ll let you know.”
She nodded once and began gathering her supplies. “Fair enough. You weren’t wearing your safety gear?”
“Nope, dummy that I am.” He winced as she injected a local anesthetic into the area around the wound then pulled at the piece of wood, a thick bandage ready in her other hand.
“So, the great Tom Wolinski is fallible?”
He snorted. “Of course, I’m human.”
She glanced at him. “Really? You had me wondering this morning.”
He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“How many people did you tell?”
“Tell? Tell wha—” His mouth flattened. “You mean about last night? No one.”
“Then why were all your friends giggling and avoiding looking at me in the cafeteria?”
He swore. “It wasn’t because we…I just couldn’t let another man…” He threaded his free hand through his hair, sighed and finally said, “Tyler made a comment about asking you out at breakfast. I told him to lay off, that you were…taken. He declined to believe me, so I used a little more direct language.”
“What?” Tom told them she was taken? Warned Tyler to stay away from her?
He leaned forward. “Look, you’re a quality woman. Way too good for the likes of him or any other guy at this station, including me.”
Her jaw fell open. Too good for
him
? “But—”
“Let me finish.” He searched the room as if trying to find the words. “What happened last night blew my mind. You are the most gorgeous, sexy woman I’ve ever…” He stopped to clear his throat. “As much as I’d like to make love with you every other hour of every day, I can’t.”
“Every other hour?” Her eyes grew wide. The thought made her heart pound and her stomach flip-flop.
“I could have you a hundred times, three hundred times, but it wouldn’t be enough,” he said, looking at her like she was something tasty to eat.
“Oh,” she said, her voice a delicate silken thread. Wow.
“But we can’t.”
She swallowed. “But we did.”
“We shouldn’t have.” He shook his head. “I’m not a one-woman man, and that’s what you deserve. Someone who can take care of you, cherish you and love you like you’re worthy of. You know, the fairy tale? I’m not capable of that.”
“How do you know?” Most men didn’t even know what those words meant. Tom not only knew, he’d already done it.
An expression filled with fear and anger flashed across his face before he said, “My childhood was pretty rough.”
“We all grow up sometime.”
“Some things can’t be fixed no matter how much time has passed,” he said in a desolate, despair-filled tone.
Emilie choked and looked away. “Now
that
I can understand.” She paused to let the nausea, the memories, pass. “I can still see the look on David’s face. Surprise, horror, then nothing. Blank, like his body was no longer inhabited. That’s when I knew he was dead and I’d failed.” She shook her head and struggled not to shed the tears building behind her eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”
“The look I can’t forget is fear, raw and shaking,” Tom said. “It sticks a knife in my gut every time.”
Emilie nodded and resumed stitching up his arm. So he did have his own demons to dance with. A mixture of sympathy and relief swamped her, and she fought the urge to put her arms around him, to offer comfort and ask for it in return. But was it the smart thing to do?
He was the station manager and she was the doctor, two pivotal positions. Two people who needed to stay rational and in control. No matter how much she wanted it to be otherwise.
She took a deep breath and said, “I want to thank you for showing me so much care and concern this morning. I think we both needed it.”
He nodded slowly, his gaze warm on her face.
She peeked at him and heat bloomed on her cheeks. “But I don’t know how to act with you now. I’m…floundering.”
“Em, we’re friends.” he told her, leaning forward a little with no hesitation in his voice. “I’ve got your back and I
know
you’ve got mine.”
“So work has to be our focus?”
“Yeah.” he said. “That’s why we’re all here, isn’t it?”
“Okay.” She took a steadying breath. “Okay, I can live with that. I think. It means a lot to know we can trust each other to work together.” Even though it felt like it was killing her.
“Me too.” His smile stretched his lips too tight and she almost asked what was wrong. But she knew the answer. He was injured and she had a needle in his arm.
Emilie finished stitching up the wound and bandaged it. “I think you’re good to go. The anesthetic will wear off in an hour or so. Come back for a painkiller if you need one. Alright?”
He nodded, looking at his arm. Then he met her gaze. “Thanks to this I’ve got some schedule shuffling to do.”
“Yeah, so do I.”
Tom left the exam room, but she stayed to clean it and prepare for her next patient. When she came out, he was talking with her patients. A few minutes later he left, but not before he stared at her for several seconds, his expression solemn.
When the door closed behind him, was it for good?
Sleep the next night was a long time coming. Emilie stared up at the ceiling wishing she could retreat into unconsciousness, but despite all the work she’d done to exhaust herself, her eyes stayed wide open as she relived Tom telling her he found her beautiful and sexy, but didn’t think he was good enough for her.
Surprise had held her immobile and unable to form a coherent sentence. Despite the fact that she agreed with him about not wanting a relationship, she wanted to argue, to demand he fight for her, for the powerful attraction between them. He was kind and gentle, and an incredible lover.
Tears trickled across her face to wet her pillow. She had to remember she was here to heal, to find herself and finish David’s project. Once his legacy was established, and her time at the station was over, she’d be free to finally pursue the one dream that had eluded her. Having a child. Motherhood was what she wanted now. The one thing she and David hadn’t accomplished was the only thing that would make her whole.
Tom was like David in so many ways, but unlike him in others. Tom didn’t want a family. In pursuing a relationship with him, would she deprive herself of what she wanted most in life, again?
Were they both too scared to have more than they thought could safely handle?
Finally she slept, restless and interrupted by dreams she couldn’t remember, but which left her feeling as if she’d left something undone. She woke with a headache that hung on with claws hooked into her temples, refusing to let go.
“His vitals are steady,” Tom reported from his position near Stan’s head. His job was to watch the monitors, Stan’s pulse, oxygen saturation, heart pattern and breathing rate all dancing across assorted screens.
“Almost finished,” Emilie said as she put the last sutures in Stan’s left hand with meticulous precision. She’d removed his pinkie and a third of his ring finger, and had sewed up the skin over the wound with tiny sutures and very fine silk. She tied the final knot and cut the thread. “Done.”
Tom stepped closer and examined her handiwork. “Nice job.”
“Thanks.” She smiled behind her mask. “It’s worth taking a few extra minutes to do it right.”
His steady, somber gaze met hers. “You’re good, Em. There must be dozens of hospitals itching to have you.” Something in the tone of his voice told her he wasn’t just referring to the surgery.
“Thanks, I’ve had a few offers, but—” she was riveted by the icy isolation in his deep eyes, “—coming here was more important.”
He regarded her for a moment longer then nodded and turned his attention to Stan. Emilie applied a dressing to the closed wound.
What would it take to close her own wounds? She glanced at Tom. And his?
“Are you going to leave him on the gurney once he wakes up?”
“No, I think Wally can move back to his room. Stan can have his bed.”
Tom nodded. “Do you need me for anything else?”
She took a closer look at his face, but it was oddly blank. “No, I can finish up. How’s your arm?”
“Good, fine. I’ll be in the powerhouse if you need anything. There’s still plenty to clean up after the fire and I want to check on all the outdoor power lines and cables.”
“Keep me in the loop.”
He nodded in response.
Tom helped Wally move to his room and settle Stan in a permanent bed, then left. Emilie purposely didn’t watch him go.
She grabbed her lunch from the cafeteria and brought it back to eat so she could keep an eye on her patients.
Around four o’clock, Emilie was preparing to begin a round of testing for David’s project.
“Hey, Em.”
She turned to see Sharon walking in. “Hi, how’s it going?”
“Not bad, better than the two guys about to come through these doors in a minute.”
“Oh?”
“Tyler and J.J. decided it was a good idea to hit each other. Repeatedly.”
“J.J.?” Emilie asked. “I don’t remember a J.J.”
“Tall, skinny dude, a beaker from UCLA.”
“Doesn’t talk much?”
“That’s him. Lately he and Wendy, one of the carpenters, have been keeping company.”
“Let me guess, Tyler made a move on her.”
“Yep.”
The double doors burst open. Tyler came first, Tom right behind with J.J. at his side. Tyler and J.J. had blood and the beginnings of bruises on their faces and were yelling at each other around Tom.
J.J. suddenly lunged at Tyler, and Tom had to grab both men by the collars of their shirts to keep them apart.
“That is
enough
,” Emilie bellowed.
Silence descended as the three men turned to stare at her.
“You,” she said to Tyler, “in there.” She pointed at the exam room.
He went, but not before directing one last poison-coated glance at J.J.
“You,” Emilie said to J.J, “there.” She pointed to her desk.
He stormed across the room and dropped himself in her rollaway chair.
“Nice parade ground voice, Emilie,” Sharon said with a smirk.
“My husband was in the air force. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to break up a fight.”
“Impressive,” Tom added.
Emilie took a look at J.J. His nose was swollen and bloody, as were his knuckles.
“I’ll clean this one up,” Tom said, coming up behind her.
“Use lots of alcohol on those cuts,” she suggested. “I don’t want to have to treat an infection later.”
Tom’s grin grew. “We wouldn’t want that.”
In the exam room, she pulled out a wound dressing kit for Tom to use on J.J. and another plus a suture tray for herself. She closed the door and took a good look at Tyler’s face.
“You’re going to have a black eye, and it looks like I’m going to have to put a couple of stitches in your cheek.”
“That’s only because he’s wearing a god-awful big ring.”
“What happened?”
Tyler didn’t answer.
“Did you ask his girlfriend out?”
“She’s too good for him.”
“That’s for
her
to decide. You’re going to apologize to him.”
“But—”
“No buts and no more poaching. Let the ladies come to you.”
He snorted.
“It’s not like we don’t know what you’re looking for.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Women talk to each other, you know.” She stopped cleaning up his face to look him in the eye. “I tell you what, you promise to settle down a little and I’ll put in a good word for you.”
“Hey, that would be great, thanks.”
“No charge.”
“So, are you interested in—”
“No.”
“With Tom?”
She looked into Tyler’s eyes and decided the boy was either stupid or incredibly horny. “What did I just say?”
“Okay, okay. Just checking. I’ll stop.”
“Check again and I’ll sew your mouth shut.”
She stitched up his face and put a self-adhesive gauze pad over the sutures. “Okay you can leave, but don’t start any more fights.”
“Thanks, Doc.” Tyler hopped off the bed, went out the door and headed for her desk. “Sorry, man,” he said to J.J. “I shouldn’t have bothered your lady.”
J.J. scowled, but nodded after a second. “Sorry about your face.”
“No sweat.” Tyler winked at Emilie and Sharon then sauntered out.
Emilie checked Tom’s handiwork. “You look fine, J.J., but please, no more fistfights.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thanks.” She watched him leave then turned to Tom. “Tyler confessed.”
Tom shook his head. “That boy’s dick is going to get him in a lot of trouble if he doesn’t learn some control.”
She bit her lip, but Sharon laughed out loud. “Maybe we should nickname you the Ice Man?”
“He’s
not
made of ice,” Emilie replied immediately.
“Do you know something we don’t?”
Emilie glanced at Tom, who gave her a half smile and shrugged. A blush crept up her face, but she looked Sharon right in the eye. “Are you kidding? All it takes is one look to know he’s
hot
.”
Sharon hooted. “Sounds like someone’s going to get lucky tonight.”
“I don’t think so,” Emilie said shaking her head.
Sharon frowned and glanced at Tom, who simply stood there with a bemused expression on his face. “But you just said—”
“I can look without touching,” Emilie declared.
“Oh, but touching is a great way to relieve stress,” Tom drawled, his gaze moving over her body.
“Is that what Tyler is trying to do? Relieve stress?”
Tom’s expression turned thoughtful. “Maybe.”
Emilie shook her head. “Anyway, not to worry, I won’t be calling on you or anyone else for stress relief this trip.”
“Never say never.” Tom grinned, turning up the heat on her face, and strolled out.
“You’re right,” Sharon said. “He is hot.”
“Looking for some of that stress relief?” Emilie asked. Jealousy had nothing to do with her question. Not one thing.
Why, then, didn’t she believe it herself?
Sharon’s face turned a deep pink. “Francis, the head chef, takes care of that sort of thing for me.”
Emilie hid her smile of relief and began to clean up. “Ah.”
The next days passed quietly. Stan and Jack progressed well, enough for both men to begin a modified work schedule. Wally went back to regular duties. Stan adapted quickly to the loss of his fingers without a single complaint. He frequently expressed complete happiness in just being alive.
Sharon and Carol hung out regularly in the clinic when they weren’t working, and Emilie found them fun girls to have around, except for one thing. They took it upon themselves to tell her what Tom was up to, on duty and off. They seemed to delight in informing her that while Tom flirted in public with many of the unattached female crew members, he hadn’t seen any of them in private. No one. Emilie refused to be drawn in by their open-ended discussions.
A month after she arrived, Emilie was in line for dinner, waiting her turn to dish up, when the two guys in front of her, both mechanics, raised their voices and shoved each other.
“Leave my stuff alone,” the first one, a blond, said.
The guy behind him gave Blondie another little shove. “I just want to borrow your wrenches once in a while.”
“Touch my tools again and I’ll break something of yours.” Blondie pushed back so hard, his coworker bumped into her and knocked her off her feet. She landed on her bottom on the floor.
The shouting continued, then they dropped their trays to throw punches. Emilie raised her tray over her head like a shield and crawled out from beneath their feet. Other people rushed in and for a moment she thought she would get trampled.
“Em!”
Large hands grabbed her by the shoulders and guided her out of the crush. Tom’s arms came around her.
“Are you hurt?” Worry creased the skin between his eyebrows and he cradled her close.
“No, I’m okay.” She glanced up and found herself only inches from his mouth. His scent surrounded her, making her mouth water. She swallowed hard and forced herself to look at the chow line where the fighting had spread to several other people. “But things are getting out of hand.”
Tom released her, easing her behind him as he stepped forward.
There were about ten guys involved in the pushing, shoving, yelling and swinging. No one appeared to be really trying to injure anyone else, but they would if it went on for too much longer.
“We need a distraction,” Tom said to her over his shoulder.
She craned her head around him. The melee was escalating quickly. “Like what?”
“One of us needs to take their clothes off.”
She couldn’t have heard that right. “I beg your pardon?”
Tom gave her a hot once-over. “It better be me.”
Emilie’s jaw fell open as Tom climbed onto the nearest table.
No one even glanced in their direction.
Was he really going to do this? “What do you want me to do?”
The smile he aimed at her would have gotten an X rating. “Give me a couple of hoots and hollers.”
He grabbed the hem of his sweater and pulled it up and over his head. He twirled it around a couple of times then threw it into the middle of the fray.
Emilie laughed. She let out a shrill wolf whistle and a hoot. “Yeah, big boy, take it off!”
People all over the cafeteria turned to look, and several of them whistled or yelled in encouragement. The mob in the middle of the fight turned almost as one to see what all the commotion was about.
Tom pulled his cotton undershirt off, leaving his chest bare. Emilie hooted again and stared at his taut muscles, her eyes widening in appreciation, caught in the memory of stroking them.
The catcalls and applause jerked her attention from Tom as the guys involved in the pushing and shoving match surrounded the table, laughing and yelling for him to take it all off.
He held his hands out for quiet. “You want to see some skin?”
The crowd responded with a unified, “Yes!”
“How about showing a little first?” Tom dared. “We’re all ready to overheat, and I’m not talking about the temperature. Am I right?”
A chorus of whoops and whistles answered him.
“So, I’m issuing a challenge. Who’s ready to become a member of the three hundred club?”
An excited roar answered him.
“All interested parties meet me in the sauna in five minutes. You can wear shoes or boots, and balaclavas are optional. No other clothing allowed. We’re also going to need a bunch of people with cameras.”
Someone threw Tom’s sweater at him, and there was a mad rush for the door.
“Three hundred club? Balaclavas optional?” Emilie asked.
“I’ll explain on the way to the sauna.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her along.
The mood of the crew pivoted and changed. People talked in excited, happy voices with no trace of the frustration that had dominated only minutes before.
“The three hundred club is a tradition here on the Ice,” Tom began. “When the temperature outside gets down to minus one hundred, people cram into the sauna set to two hundred degrees, naked. Once they’re good and hot, they’ll race outside for a total temperature drop of three hundred degrees.”
“Sounds like a great way to get frostbite in all kinds of inconvenient places. What’s with the cameras?”