Finding Dr. Right (Contemporary Medical Romance) (14 page)

The minutes ticked by as Nathan stared down at her. The intensity of his eyes sent a flurry of heat shooting through her, nipping at her nerve endings until her entire body hummed.

“I just needed to be with you tonight.” His voice, husky and strained, washed over her. Their eyes locked and sent another jolt shooting through Catherine when she glimpsed the emotion and raw need reflected in their golden depths. Her breath caught in her throat and she swallowed, pulling away to put the slightest distance between them.

“Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

“No, just tired.” Nathan watched her in silence and she couldn’t help but feel like there was something else he wanted to say. His lips twitched briefly but anything he might have said was interrupted by a muffled banging from somewhere else in the locker room. He shook his head and offered her a small smile. “I think we’re about to have company.”

The door swung open as the words left his mouth. A middle-aged man wearing industrial blue coveralls struggled with a cleaning cart and bucket of water, then looked up in surprise. Heat flooded Catherine’s face and she felt like a teenager caught making out in a dark corner of the high school gym.

“Sorry, Mr. Conners. Didn’t realize anyone was still here.”

“No problem, Gary. We were just leaving, anyway.” Nathan squeezed her hand again before releasing it, then bent down to pick up the small gym bag he always carried with him. After he slung it over his shoulder, his hand settled on the small of Catherine’s back as he guided her toward the door.

Heat from his touch already radiated through her, spiraling outward to tingle the endings of each nerve. Catherine swallowed and let him guide her outside. She thought of asking him where they were going then decided against it, knowing already that he would take her back to his place for the night.

Just as she knew that neither of them would get much sleep in the upcoming hours.

C
atherine hated Mondays. Not for a specific reason, just the principle of starting a new week of hectic activity. But today was worse. Worse than worse.

She had overslept, something she couldn’t remember doing anytime recently. The lost thirty minutes had wreaked havoc with her schedule. Matty had missed the bus so she had to drive him to school. She was late for the single surgery scheduled for today, which, fortunately, was a minor arthroscopy. The time she lost on that spiraled out to her patient rounds, which rippled even further to affect her afternoon appointments at the office.

Catherine glanced at her watch then impatiently jabbed at the elevator button again. She cursed the thirty-minute block of time that had started it all, then cursed the alarm’s snooze button, the bus driver who refused to wait and every single red light she’d encountered. Her list extended to include slow elevators by the time the doors opened with a soft whoosh.

Who was she kidding? She could point blame wherever she wanted but it wouldn’t change the fact that she was the one responsible for the day’s upheaval. Catherine absently hit the button for her office floor then slouched against the panel wall. What was with her? She never overslept. Never.

Guilt raked cold fingers over her. She had overslept to catch up on the sleep she missed Saturday night. And the other two nights last week that had been spent with Nathan.

She rubbed a hand across her face as if the single action could brush away the tiredness that refused to let go. The late nights had to stop. She needed sleep and a clear mind.

The elevator stopped at her floor and she stepped off, trying to recall her appointments for the afternoon. Just a few, if she remembered correctly.

“You finally made it!” Gwen offered her a quick smile as she turned the corner. “Your two o’clock is waiting in room three, and your two-thirty is in the reception area. I told them you were delayed in surgery.”

Catherine glanced at her watch then moaned. Well, it wasn’t like people actually expected to be seen by a doctor on time. Never mind that she was usually more punctual than the patients. “Thanks, Gwen. Just give me a couple of minutes.”

She pushed through the door of her office and closed it behind her, sagging against it for the briefest moment before moving to her desk. She tossed her lunch on the cluttered surface then rooted through a drawer for aspirin, which she tossed back with the water Gwen had placed there earlier. Obviously much earlier. A grimace spread across her face as she swallowed the warm water.

There was a short rap on her door which she acknowledged with a soft grunt. Gwen poked her head in and quickly looked her over. “You look exhausted.”

“I am exhausted.” Catherine shrugged into her lab coat.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, you only have the two appointments today. Your three o’clock just canceled.”

“Thank God for small favors. Any other messages?”

“A few lab results came back, all fine. Brian called to say he’d pick up Matty. And Nathan called but no message.”

Catherine bit back a sigh when she remembered she was supposed to have called him earlier about tonight’s game. Once again he was getting tickets for her and Matty. She’d just have to cancel. No more late nights, not until her system caught up.

Her first patient, an elderly woman with the unlikely name of Jane Smith, was recovering from hip surgery. The progress she had made was astounding and the appointment should have taken no more than fifteen minutes, but was delayed because the woman liked to talk. Incessantly. Catherine waited for a pause in her story then explained she had another patient to see. Miss Jane had trouble concealing her disappointment and reluctantly left the office, telling Catherine she wasn’t looking at all well.

Tell me something I don’t already know.
Catherine blew a strand of hair from her eyes and proceeded to the next patient, an elderly man with arthritis who, unlike Miss Jane, preferred to remain silent. She was in and out of the exam room within fifteen minutes, breathing a sigh of relief when she was finally able to sit behind her desk and lean back in the chair.

The silence of the office wrapped around her and her eyes drifted closed. Guilt nagged at her but she ruthlessly squashed it. There was no harm in enjoying the solitude, nothing wrong with letting her eyes relax. Nothing pressing waited for her, just a few reports to dictate. Nothing that couldn’t wait.

She leaned farther back in the chair, her head resting comfortably on the padding. She would keep her eyes closed for a few more minutes, for one of those power-naps everyone always talked about. A few minutes, that was all she needed.

Nathan listened to the message for the third time then slowly placed the receiver back on the hook, trying to hide his frustration and impatience. Catherine hadn’t returned his call, and there was no answer at her house. He could page her, but what was the sense in doing that? He didn’t want her to call back on the locker room payphone. Not that he wouldn’t be there to answer it, of course, since he wasn’t playing tonight.

He let out a heavy sigh and rested his forehead against the cool metal of the telephone. Sonny had made good on his promise, much to Nathan’s surprise. Six hours earlier he had shown up at the practice rink for game-day skate, had avoided Sonny’s questioning stare and performed well. Two hours ago he dressed with his teammates and went out on the ice for warm-up, still avoiding Sonny but thinking he was in the clear when the coach let him go. He had honestly thought Sonny had forgotten all about their talk the other night, until thirty minutes ago when a stone-faced Sonny approached him.

The coach stopped in front of him, slowly looked him up and down then shook his head. Just a small side-to-side motion of his head followed by words that only Nathan could hear.

“You’re a scratch tonight, Conners.” Sonny walked away, leaving Nathan to stare after him in stunned silence. A part of him wanted to chase after the coach but he didn’t. Sonny had warned him the other night and Nathan had ignored him. This was Sonny’s way of letting him know he meant business.

“Dammit.” The expletive rushed out of Nathan on a frustrated sigh. In the background he could hear the crowd go wild as the intro music blasted through the arena. His team would be hitting the ice right now, stepping onto the slick surface into the spotlights, lining up for the national anthem. Nathan swallowed against the sudden tightness in his chest.

“Dammit!” He hit the wall above the phone with his fist then turned away, ripping his jersey off as he moved to the bench. He was supposed to dress and go into the stands, mingle with the fans and smile and pretend that nothing was wrong.

Nathan clenched his jaw as he peeled the remaining pads off with a ruthless desperation and flung them to the side. Screw it. He was in no mood to mingle with the masses. Did they honestly think he could go out there with a cheery smile and pretend nothing was wrong? Sonny was threatening his career, his whole
life,
dammit! There was no way he was going to go out there and pretend nothing was wrong.

He grabbed the gym bag and yanked it from his locker, pulling out ripped jeans and a faded T-shirt, opting for comfort instead of the casual dress clothes that hung in the locker. What else could they do to him if he just left? He was already scratched for tonight, probably for the next game, as well, if he knew Sonny, so screw team policy.

Nathan threw the gym bag over his shoulder, grabbed his keys from the locker shelf then slammed the door, taking obscene pleasure in the hollow echo it made in the deserted locker room. The sound of the horn blaring in the arena filled the empty room, muted but still loud enough to drown out the echo of the slamming door. Nathan gritted his teeth, knowing he should be happy that the
Banners
had scored so quickly. He was happy. But he was also resentful as hell. Dammit, he belonged on the ice right now. That could have been his goal. He reached out to open the locker door then slammed it again.

He rested his forehead against the door and shut his eyes. He had to get out of there. If he was smart, he’d go straight home and work his frustrations out on the home gym. Maybe run a couple of miles on the treadmill until his anger was gone.

Yeah, right. He’d be on the treadmill all night before his anger disappeared. The last place he needed to go was home. He thought briefly about going to Catherine’s then quickly dismissed the idea. Matty was home, and Catherine had made it clear that their relationship had certain boundaries in front of Matty. Holding hands and the occasional kiss were permissible, but no overnighters with Matty present. Nathan respected her for that, but right now it only added to his frustration.

It looked like he was going home to work things out on the weights. After a drive, though. A night ride through the streets of Baltimore would go a long way to relieving the stress that knotted his shoulders and tightened his neck.

Nathan sped out of the parking garage, not going in any particular direction. He was in a sour mood tonight, his thoughts lingering in the past instead of focusing on the here and now. Instead of thinking about what might happen.

He didn’t want to think about what lay ahead, about the very real possibility that this could be his last year playing. Dammit, he still had a lot to offer, was still a good player regardless of his knee problems. Sure, it had set him back a little at first, but he had worked hard to get back. It would probably never be a hundred percent, but he could get it close. Just a little more work…

Who was he kidding? He
had
worked at it, pushed himself beyond his limits and he could still feel the difference, knew he’d never be back to his old self. He had gone as far as he could; if he pushed further, he’d only do more damage. He knew it, and Dr. Porter had confirmed it the other night when Nathan asked him to do a quick check on it after the game.

He could finish this year out with minimum problems. It was mid-March. The regular season ended the beginning of April. The
Banners
were in first place in the Southeast Division and guaranteed a spot in the run for the Cup. There was no doubt in Nathan’s mind that they’d go all the way, which meant playing until June. Playing a game every other night, playing through injuries, ignoring the pain. All for the privilege of raising Lord Stanley’s Cup over his head. It was a price he — like everyone else — would gladly pay.

As for next year…he didn’t know. He’d asked Brian about it the other night. Things didn’t look to be in his favor, though.

Nathan muttered an expletive under his breath and cranked up the stereo volume. George Thorogood blared from the speakers, piercing the night as he maneuvered the small car through the Baltimore traffic. Cold air whipped past him, clearing his head as all thought disappeared behind him into the night.

Catherine woke in time to see the shadowed figure looming over her. The scream building in her throat was cut off by the large, callused hand over her mouth.

“Shh, it’s me.” The hoarse whisper was close enough to her ear that she could feel the moist heat of breath against her cheek, smell the faint scent of stale beer. The fear that had momentarily frozen her released its grip and she lashed out with her fist, connecting with something hard and bony. A loud
oomph
escaped the intruder as he stumbled backward. Another grunt broke the silence as she kicked out with her foot.

She thought she heard her name but dismissed it, thinking it was surely her imagination as she flicked on the bedside light and grabbed her alarm clock for use as a weapon. Her eyes blinked against the sudden bright light, then blinked again at the huddled figure on the floor next to her bed.

“Nathan?” He was kneeling close to her feet, bent over far enough that his forehead rested on the floor. One arm was wrapped firmly around his stomach; his free hand covered his nose. She called his name again.

The seconds stretched around them. Nathan’s harsh breathing finally returned to normal as he slowly sat up. His deep amber gaze rested on her, one dark eyebrow raised in question.

“Are you going to clock me, too?”

“What?” Catherine stared at him, thinking he must have gone mad, then realized she still held the alarm clock up, ready to wield it as a club. She placed it on the nightstand then turned back to him. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“Your back door was unlocked.” A small groan punctuated his words as he slowly stood, alternately rubbing his nose and his stomach. He stepped closer to the bed and looked down at her, a crooked smile turning up one corner of his mouth. Catherine glanced down, realized she was wearing only a T-shirt and struggled to pull the hem lower over her legs. Nathan’s hand reached out and closed gently over hers.

“Don’t.” His voice had turned quiet, a husky whisper in the silence that surrounded them. She swallowed, trying to clear the last of the sleep from her head. Nathan closed what little distance remained between them and placed one knee on the bed beside her, trapping her between his legs, trapping her with the heat of his body and the sparks flying between them. Sleep and passion fought for control of her senses, blocking out coherent thought as his lips came down to claim hers. Catherine fell backward, felt Nathan ease his body over hers until they were nestled in the overstuffed mattress and jumble of blankets.

It was the faint taste of beer on his tongue that brought her fully awake, the faint scent of it on his breath as he nuzzled her neck that told her things were not as they should be. Catherine pushed gently against him until he reluctantly propped himself on his elbows and stared down at her.

“Nathan, are you drunk?”

“No.”

“But you’ve been drinking?”

“Yes.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.” Nathan dipped his head and dragged his lips along her jawline, sending a jumble of sensations through her. Catherine caught her breath, held it, let it out in a rush as she pushed against him once more, this time rolling out from under him. It wouldn’t be quite as easy to give in to temptation if there was distance between them.