More Than Words: More Than, Book 3 (3 page)

“You’re already overbooked.” His schedule was always crammed full, and some days—like today—were more full than others. But the man refused to say no to anyone. She sighed. “It’s going to be a jolly full morning.”

Sam gave her an enigmatic smile. “You’ll manage. You always do.”

Sheesh, the darn flatterer could coax her into anything, even managing an unmanageable day. But Sam was right. She’d slip Simone in at eleven fifteen. Sam would have to drink his midmorning cappuccino at his desk instead of stealing five minutes from his day to share a coffee with her in the kitchen.

“I’m waiting on results from two MRIs and a CT scan from radiology. Can you get those for me, stat?”

“Absolutely.” Molly made a quick mental note of all the things she needed to do. “Anything else?”

Sam shook his head. “Nothing else.”

“Right, then I’ll get started on that list.” She cast him one more look, devouring him with her gaze. Even stressed, worried and exhausted, Sam looked edible.

She turned, grateful he’d been too distracted to notice her lustful stare, and made for the door.

“Uh, Miss Molly?”

“Yeah, Doc?”

He smiled at her, sending a fresh rush of heat through her. “Thank you.”

She smiled back. “Just doing my job.” And once again, Molly headed to her desk, her limbs supple from the warmth that had flooded her muscles.

Sam’s first patient of the day arrived while Molly was on the phone to the ward. As she connected Sam to Nurse Ella she turned to greet Liam Collins and his mother. Within five minutes, Liam was digging through the big orange toy box in the corner of the waiting room, alongside two other patients.

Molly was talking to the hospital social worker when a fourth patient arrived. No sooner had the girl, Jeanette, sat down, than she began to convulse. Sam tended to her right there on the floor, beside the bright green-and-red chairs that lined the walls, as everyone else stared on in morbid fascination.

Molly stood close in case Sam needed anything. Watching him in action did funny things to her heart. He worked with a calm and a confidence that seemed to ease Jeanette’s mother and the other onlookers. He also spoke to Jeannette the entire time, telling her what was happening and explaining what he was doing.

When the worst of the convulsions had passed, Sam carried Jeanette through to his consultation room. He asked Molly to organize a wheelchair from reception so they could take the patient down to Emergency once he had her stabilized.

With the chair on its way, Molly retrieved the email from the lab. She’d minimized it earlier but needed to send it to Sam now. The door opened, and in walked a man carrying three envelopes.

The results from radiology.

She forwarded the email to Sam, accepted the envelopes with thanks and was helping a new patient fill in the necessary forms by the time the radiology messenger left.

Fifteen minutes later, Jeanette’s seizure was under control and she was on her way to the ward instead of Emergency, as Sam wanted to monitor her through the night.

He had the scans in hand and was taking Liam into his office as he called over his shoulder. “Uh, Molly? The blood results you sent through earlier?”

“Yep?” She looked up at him.

“I think you sent the wrong mail. Want to check on that and send the right one?” And then he was gone, walking through the door behind Liam and his mother.

Which was just as well, because it meant Sam never had the opportunity to witness Molly’s abject horror.

Holy shit.

Chapter Two

Utterly wiped out, Sam lowered his ass into his chair and hit
Enter
on his computer. Greg Avery still hadn’t regained consciousness, and a copy of his case file—recording every one of Sam and Ella’s concerns—was currently sitting with DOCS. Simone Anders was back in hospital, Jeanette Green’s epilepsy was once more under control, and Allan Bennet’s surgery was scheduled for 10:00 a.m. the next morning. Which took care of less than a fifth of the patients he’d seen today.

The screen flickered to life, the only light in his now dark and empty rooms. He squinted, searching for the email icon, and opened his inbox.

It was late, the hospital downstairs deserted of visitors. Sam knew he should have headed home after his final ward round. The thought of his bed made his body yearn for the hard mattress and soft sheets. His residency days were long behind him, which meant he no longer functioned adequately when exhausted. In total he’d had all of ninety minutes’ rest in the last thirty-six hours.

But Sam couldn’t leave. Not until he read the rest of Molly’s email. God knew the first couple of paragraphs had blown his mind. He wasn’t prepared to wait until he got home to see the whole thing.

Damn pity he couldn’t have read it earlier. But with one crisis after another, time had not been his friend. Didn’t mean her words hadn’t remained in his thoughts the whole day.

His indispensible, capable, funny, sassy and sexy-as-hell receptionist had been with him from day one, when he’d moved from the public Sydney’s Children’s Hospital to his own private practice three years ago.

Molly was the sister of one of his patients at the time, a five-year-old girl who’d broken her back in an MVA a year previously.

The then twenty-three-year-old Molly had stepped up to the plate, taking responsibility for Mickey’s care and livelihood. In effect, she became her new mother, since Molly and Mickey’s mum had died in the car accident.

Hiring Molly had been the best damn idea he’d ever had. She’d needed the work, and he’d needed her help.

Molly took care of his rooms, leaving him free to focus on medicine. She knew every patient by name and could rattle off personal details about them that Sam had no knowledge of. He trusted her implicitly, as did his patients and their parents. She was the backbone of his practice.

Hell, she was
his
backbone. Sam was totally reliant on her.

Yet today he hadn’t been thinking about her as a big sister or a receptionist or an employee. Nope, today—when he’d had a minute to think—he’d thought about her as a woman. A damn sexy woman, at that.

Something he’d tried for four years
not
to think about her.

He found the mail he sought and opened it.

Dear Sam,

I think it’s time you knew how I really feel. Perhaps once you know, you’ll understand why I’m addressing you as Sam and not Dr. Sherman. Under the circumstances “doctor” sounds a little, well, formal.

Okay, so he hadn’t imagined those first few lines—even if they made no sense. He’d been asking Molly to call him Sam for three years now—since she came to work with him. But she insisted on sticking to Dr. Sherman. Sometimes, when she wasn’t concentrating, she called him Doc, much the way his friends did.

He read further, gobbling up the words.

Then Sam’s jaw dropped. He blinked hard and rubbed his eyes, sure he’d misread a few things. But starting over only confirmed what he thought he’d seen. To make doubly sure, he read the first few paragraphs again, and then he couldn’t stop reading.

He devoured the letter.

By the time he’d reached the
“All my love and kisses”
Molly had signed her name with, he was hard as a freaking rock.

Jesus.

For a good few seconds, Sam sat where he was, stunned.

His receptionist had written him a dirty letter. An erotic, dirty letter. And damned if it didn’t stun him all the way down to his bones—and turn him the fuck on. Make him want to haul her into his arms and shower her with every one of those kisses she craved. Soft and sweet, long and deep…

His chest tightened and his dick ached.

Kisses to her lips and to her pussy.

Ah, Christ.

For four years, Sam had forced himself to overlook Molly’s charm and beauty. He’d pretended there was nothing about her that sang to his soul. Ignored the blond hair that tumbled over her back, her soft almond gaze that seemed to look deep into his heart—and see things he never showed anyone—and her cute little nose. And he absolutely wouldn’t let his thoughts dwell on her breasts. Even if they were the best he’d ever seen.

Not that he’d ever seen them. Well, not uncovered anyway. But he did somehow manage to get a good look at her clothed ones every day.

Yes, he’d almost drooled the first time he’d met her. Instinct had dictated he ask her out, get to know her better, talk to her for hours—about anyone and anything. Professionalism and a need to focus on her sister had brought him back in line. Molly and Mickey had been in crisis, and the last thing either of them had needed was for the consultant on the case to take a personal interest in the big sister.

Even though intuition had told him there was something special about Molly—something that went far beyond physical attraction and whacked him in the gut every time she was near—he’d treated her as he did every other one of his patients’ family members.

Besides, Molly’s attention had been on Mickey. And on making ends meet. On somehow finding the money to pay for what would amount to an enormous medical bill for Mickey’s year in treatment and rehabilitation.

Sam’s decision to offer her a job had been a no-brainer. She’d needed the money, and he’d known she’d be perfect for the position.

Not that he’d stopped thinking of her as sexy over the years. Hell no. He’d just forced himself to take his attraction to her out of the equation. Molly was now his receptionist. End of story. It would be totally inappropriate and unprofessional to ogle her tits or drool on her feet whenever he spoke to her.

Truth was, if he ever let himself see her as the beautiful woman she was, he’d be all over her like cheap perfume.

He scrubbed a hand over his face.
Hell.
Her letter had his balls so twisted in knots he was thinking in dumb clichés. But fuck. She’d admitted she wanted him to lick her pussy
.
How could he possibly think clearly? How could he focus on anything other than how that pussy would taste as he ran his tongue over the seam of her lips, flicked it over her clit…

So consumed was he by the images, by the desire that tackled him, tackled his best boss intentions, he almost failed to notice a second email from his receptionist. Yep, more than half the mails in his inbox came from her, but it was the title of the email that caught his attention:

Letter Of Resignation

Sam’s erection died a sudden death.

He sat up a little straighter and opened the mail.

Dear Dr. Sherman,

So, no more “Sam”?

It is with deep regret I forward my letter of resignation. I have tried to see a way around this, but after my mistake this morning, I am left with no option.

I had never intended to send you the personal email. It was supposed to be deleted as soon as I’d written it. I realize now that if I could send it to you accidentally, I could send it to anyone, thus diminishing the level of professionalism associated with your practice.

Apart from that, my remaining on as your receptionist would be awkward and uncomfortable for both of us. Your work is stressful enough. The last thing you need is a strained atmosphere in your rooms.

I am required to work out a thirty-day notice period, but if you’re okay with it, I will stay on only until you have found a suitable replacement. I know that with Dr. Akron retiring at the end of the month, Sally from his rooms is looking for a new position. Let me know if you’re interested, and I will set up an interview with her.

I apologize for any embarrassment I may have caused and thank you for the opportunity to work with you over the last three years.

With regards and regrets,

Molly Harris

Sam was shaking his head before he’d even finished the mail. As if he’d ever let Molly go. How the hell would she manage to pay back all her loans and look after Mickey? Apart from that, he, his practice and his patients would fall apart within days. Hours.

The reply was typed before Sam thought twice.

Dear Molly,

Thank you for offering both your letter of resignation and your apologies. Neither is necessary.

I cannot accept your resignation and expect to see you back in the rooms at 9 a.m. tomorrow morning, business as usual.

Warm regards,

Dr. Sam Sherman

MBBS, MSc(Med), FRACP

Sam hit send, closed the letter of resignation and found himself staring at Molly’s first letter. He read it again. Twice. And then sat back with another massive erection and a silvery-hot sensation in his stomach that had more to do with a happiness and excitement he hadn’t felt in years than physical desire.

Hah.
If Molly thought she could walk away after dropping a bombshell like that, she was sadly mistaken.