Playboy Doctor (10 page)

She leaned against the reception desk for support.

"Wow, Willow. You handled Linda like a pro. Looks like you might have yourself a new friend," Emmy said.

"I don't have time for a new friend. You're all I can handle," Willow teased.

"At least Shayne will be happy to have these." Emmy reached into the basket and stole one of the baked treats.

"Hey, those are for the doctor."

"He won't miss one little muffin from the Lovely Linda."

"She seemed nice enough," Willow managed, despite an envious twinge. She had to squelch her defensive response to the redhead. After all, who was she to harbor any resentment or pass judgment on the man's personal life?

Emmy pointed to the basket. "Careful there, girl. If you grip the handle any tighter, you might snap it in two." She bit into the muffin, moaned in delight, and sauntered off.

Willow stood there, clinging to the basket nevertheless, trying to sort through her unexpected response to Linda. She couldn't decide if this was a pang of jealousy or a sense of protectiveness for Shayne. In the short time she'd known him, Willow could already judge when a female, whether staff member or patient, young or old, had a keen interest in him. Goodness, she could tell just by the sparkles in their eyes.

But what about her? Had she shown the same kind of interest with glitter dancing in her own eyes? She hoped not. While she sensed a strange awareness of him and—dare she call it—a
connection
, she hoped she never morphed into some starry-eyed schoolgirl in front of him.

Sparkles may not have danced in her eyes but the butterflies in her belly had definitely taken flight. Their flutters have yet to settle down. And she would have to put up with them for the next several weeks. She'd survive, wouldn't she?

She was considering this when Shayne's long, lean form rounded the corner. The sight of him sent an unexpected shiver along her spine.

"Willow, I want to talk to you." He loomed over her, an expectant look on his handsome face.

The shivers came to an abrupt halt. "Right here? Don't you think it's a little too public for us to have our chat about—"

"I received your delivery from the cleaners. You didn't need to have my shirt laundered."

She blinked up at him, taking a moment to reply. "It was no trouble."

A full beat lingered between them. The tension contracted until Willow cleared her throat, but Shayne's focus remained hotly on her.

He stepped closer. Before he could get too close—before he made her lose her senses with one smoldering glance—Willow held the basket of muffins before him.

Confusion glided over his face. "What's this?"

"You had a visitor. Linda. She baked for you." Willow plunked the basket into his hands. "To make up for taking your keys the night of the fundraiser."

"She could have left this at the main desk. It's not your job to look after incoming gifts."

"My job changes by the moment," Willow said, impatience creeping into her tone, "and today happens to include managing your personal affairs."

"There's nothing personal with Linda and certainly no affair."

"Doctor, it's not my place to..." she began, unsure how to tread on touchy terrain.

"Willow, I realize my being here has disrupted your life and I'm sorry for that." He pulled a muffin from the basket and held it before her. "A peace offering."

Willow hesitated despite the tempting treat.

"They're still warm," he tantalized in a tone as toasty as the muffins themselves.

She plucked the muffin from his hand. After taking a bite, she announced, "They're good, even if they're not made with New England blueberries from home."

"Is there a difference?"

"Oh, absolutely. A New England blueberry is like a juicy sweet burst of heaven in your mouth. There's nothing better."

"I might be able to think of something just as good." Shayne's stare settled to her lips. The last time he looked at her that way, he'd swept her into his arms and kissed her. Normally, she would have been self-conscious over his blistering hot stare, but after last night, she found herself liking it.

"You were saying something about laundering your shirt I'd worn to bed?" she asked with a lilt to voice.

Shayne responded with a boyish grin until interrupted by a news announcement on the nearby television on the wall. A meteorologist on the screen explained the unstable activity in the atmosphere out over the Gulf of Mexico waters.

The sweet moment between them broken, Willow's thoughts catapulted back to the here and now.

"A tropical depression could be heading this way," she said, "the storm looks pretty big."

"Yes, I'd heard. Hopefully it won't be a direct hit."

Willow searched Shayne's eyes. Speaking of a direct hit, she recalled how a storm had interrupted them last night. Specifically, the lightning bolt that shook them loose, sending them back to their senses. She still longed to feel Shayne despite stopping them from making a big mistake. Although they'd decided to forgo any emotional drama, she feared that Shayne had already made a direct hit on her heart.

Shaken by her own realization, Willow stumbled back from Shayne. She had to escape his heat of attraction. This was so not good. Not what she needed. The sooner she got away from Shayne's magnetic draw the better.

* * *

Shayne could only watch in surprise as Willow stepped away from him. Maybe the sweet smell of the muffins mixed with Willow's heavenly scent threw him off guard, but he could only stand there momentarily confused by her action. Did he say or do something to offend her?

"Wait, Willow, before you go—"

"Doctor, I've got meds to dispense. But we'll keep an eye on the storm. It often means an increase of patients." With a curt smile, Willow brushed passed, sideswiping him with a curve of her hip, sending his senses into hyper-overload. That woman knew exactly what she was doing to him and showed no remorse for it.

He dropped the basket to the reception desk and trailed behind her, the sway of her hips driving him to distraction. Before she got too far, he hiked past her, stopped, and turned to block her escape.

Willow abruptly halted and thrust her tiny, balled fists on her hips. "Is there another personal affair I need to look after?"

Shayne cocked his head just so, surprised by her forward comment. No one spoke to him like that. Her straightforwardness both bothered and impressed him. She had sized up his situation and wrapped it into a bow as tidy as the one on the muffin basket.

"Do you have something to say, Willow?"

She lowered her fists to her side. "No, except that Linda is a beautiful woman."

Willow reached into her scrubs pocket and retrieved her handheld device to look up something as an artificial diversion, he was certain. But he wouldn't let her off that easily. "Linda is an acquaintance from the fundraiser, the night I met you. You know that." He spoke firmly, offered nothing more.

"It's not my business, Doctor," she said with quiet strength.

"You're right. It's not your business," he asserted.

But Shayne knew the score. He heard it in her tone. Willow wouldn't budge in her conviction. Apparently, his reputation surpassed him and Willow believed what she wanted to believe. Perhaps it was for the best. Like she said before, they needed to act responsibly inside the walls of this hospital.

Outside these walls, however, she had offered a little detail about her ex-husband. He knew something more hurt her but she wasn't sharing. Willow may be acting coolly toward him now, but under all that posturing, she was a wounded bird. He'd gotten a glimpse of it just before she left his flat when she mentioned her ex.

Admittedly, her emotional exterior had been well preserved in front of him all this time. But now, he could see her hearty exterior peeling away. Willow was more fragile than she'd first led him to believe.

"Willow, talk to me," he found himself saying, "because you look like," he stopped, unsure if he should probe.

"I look like what?" she asked.

"Like you're trying to hold it all together."

"I am. And I'd been doing a fabulous job until—"

"—I came along."

"Yes, I mean, no. Forget it. I meant nothing by it. I shouldn't take it out on you."

"You mean, because of what your ex did to you?"

The muscle in her jaw twitched. Perhaps she couldn't hold it all together for a moment longer despite her valiant efforts.

Willow squared her shoulders. "It's no secret I'm divorced. My ex dumped me. He wanted to move onto bigger and better things. Without me."

"He was a fool."

The tension left her eyes, a telltale sign that his remark had softened her.

"Let's meet later." He paused. "In fact, let's have dinner."

Chapter 8

Dinner
?

Willow tried to stand solidly, but the ground threatened to collapse under her. She didn't know what to think when it came to Shayne and any women in his life. A woman like Linda. She had to collect herself.

"You want to meet for dinner? I don't think it's a good idea."

"Do it for Baby Jack," Shayne quickly replied. "You owe me a status update on the Social Services process for him, remember?"

On the surface, his words were honorable, but the insistence in his voice gave him away. Asking her to dinner included more than a little pow-wow about a patient. She was sure of it. She could see it in his eyes.

"I can't. I, I have to check the damages to my bungalow after work. According to my landlord, everything touching the floor has been soaked."

"I'll come with you."

"That isn't necessary."

"I insist."

Willow checked her watch. "Look at the time. Don't you have any more residents to teach or something?"

"Did it."

"Or seeing any more patients?"

"Did it."

"Honestly, I don't have time for dinner. I just plan to go straight home and—"

"All right then. We'll downgrade to coffee. And I can help with your home. We'll grab coffee and bring it with us to check on your bungalow. We'll talk on the way."

Frustration rose within her. Why was he pressing the issue? One minute, he had Linda. Then her. Then Linda. Her pride made her dig her heels in and resist. She had to, because if he kept this up, she feared she'd cave in and accept his offer. She shook her head.

"Why don't you ask the redhead out for coffee?" she asked him.

Shayne frowned. "I don't even know her."

"Is that a requirement?" she quipped before her internal filter could kick in.

Shayne stepped back and clutched his chest. "Ouch. Right through the heart, Willow. You are a tough crowd."

Shocked by her own flippant retort, Willow couldn't believe her own callousness. Even a man like Shayne Edwards had feelings and she'd just trampled on them. "I'm sorry. I don't know where that question came from."

"Neither do I," he said through a smirk, belying his feigned injured ego.

"It was rude and, and, uncalled for," she stammered.

"Yes."

"It's not like me to... well... either way, it's none of my concern who you spend your time with."

"I want to spend my time with you."

"No, Shayne, but I do apologize for what I just said."

"Make it up to me."

Much to her horror, he was serious. "Isn't my apology enough?"

"Not nearly. Make it up to me by having coffee with me after our shift. Like I said, I'll help with your bungalow. My brothers and I did handiwork to get by when we were young."

"All of you?"

"Yes, we were known to wield a wicked wrench back in the day."

"But—"

"—you need to make it up to me, remember? For your rudeness and all that." His sly grin, however, indicated he wasn't offended. Not in the least. In fact, he looked quite smug.

Willow eyed him suspiciously. "Do you always use this kind of logic to get your way?"

He widened his grin. "Oh, but Willow, it's not about me. It's all for Baby Jack."

"Right. Jack. Just coffee." She spoke simply but her tone harbored a twinge of disbelief. "But really, I only need to inspect the furniture, floor, and rugs for damage."

"Perfect. Rugs and furniture can be heavy to move. And who knows about more storms? You'll need to be prepared. I'll take care of that as well." He leaned in and settled a devilish look on her. "Face it, Willow, you need me. I'm coming with you."

She narrowed her gaze at him. She wanted to toss back a remark telling him otherwise, but then the tightness in her shoulders softened into acquiescence, whether she liked it or not.

"Fine. But when we get there, I don't know what we're in for."

* * *

After following up on the recovery of the surgical patients, especially the teen, Willow's frayed nerves eventually calmed. But not completely. The muffin run-in with Shayne earlier still left her skittish. He'd insisted on going with her to her bungalow after their shift, which was ending now. Her day spent with Shayne would turn into an early evening with him at her place.

The prospect excited her, yet frightened her. The very thought of him coming to her damaged home seemed too, well, intimate. Then again, she had stayed at his place already, seen his photo with his brothers—and then some. She'd gotten a rare glimpse into his private life. Fair was fair, and so he'd now see her life outside the walls of Baycoast Memorial Hospital.