Sweet Salvation (6 page)

“Dr. Baker, call 6-1-0. Dr. Baker, call 6-1-0.”

The sound of the PA system blaring suddenly into the quiet room snapped Stacy back to the present, or had she never left? Her hands were sweaty and her pulse a bit fast. Frowning, she couldn’t determine if that had been a panic attack just now or a flashback into the past. When it happened and she detached, it was hard to tell and only tortured her mind further when she tried to figure it out.

Still, she huffed a relieved breath. She was alert and fully aware again. The pain in her knee telling her the reality, except the residual panic remained. Looking down at her tremulous hand, she saw her the prescription and the written instructions he’d given her, now crumpled from her grasp.

He’d said they were done, hadn’t he?

“That’s good enough for me! I’ve got to get out of here,” Stacy stated aloud as she eased away from the table. She needed to get home in case an attack recurred. Although it had been months since her last, she had been known to have multiple in one day when stressed. Dammit! She thought she was getting better.

She took a step, wincing as her knee adjusted to her weight. Nothing torn or broken, she’d be fine, he’d said. Without waiting, as he’d asked, she headed out. Bypassing the awful wheelchair, she limped out of the exam room and out to the checkout desk. By the time she’d paid her co-pay (thank heavens for her job with good insurance), she had adjusted to the slow hitching gait she needed to keep her knee from screaming in protest. Since the doctor’s offices were on the second floor, she took the elevator and in minutes was limping out to where she’d parked her Jeep.

On the way home, she called Marcy. Again, expressing regret for the f’d up interview. As sweet as ever, Marcy had brushed aside her apology and offered her wishes for a speedy recovery. She wouldn’t hear of her crazy idea of returning to work the next day and promptly told her she’d see her Monday and hung up.

A half hour later, knee throbbing painfully from working the gas pedal and clutch in her vehicle—much more difficult in metropolitan stop-and-go traffic than walking by far—she eased back onto her couch. She’d changed into shorts, grabbed a bottled water and a big pack of ice, popped four ibuprofen and a prescription antianxiety pill (the near-miss attack or flashback too close for comfort) and now was ready for some serious couch time. Her head hadn’t even hit the pillow before the doorbell rang. Dammit!

At first, she ignored it but then the persistent knocking started. Sighing in exasperation at her unwelcome and very tenacious visitor, she hauled her ass back off the couch. The bell rang again.

“I’m coming! Hold your horses, for crying out loud.” Unable to raise up on tiptoe to check the peephole, she recklessly mumbled ‘screw it’ and threw the locks. When she opened the door, her jaw dropped, because there in her doorway stood a very gorgeous and very pissed off Jared Baker. His jaw was clenched tight and his eyes flashed gray steel. Gray? She had thought his eyes were green.

He barged past her and slammed the door shut. “Do you have a hearing problem?”

“Uh, no.” What a strange question.

“Just checking, so that I’m clear on all points, because if your hearing is intact, I have to assume you are intentionally pissing me off by disregarding my orders.”

“Orders?” Taken aback, she frowned. “Wait just a doggone minute—”

He didn’t miss a beat as he spoke over her protest. “Yes, orders. I am not used to my patients or employees totally ignoring my orders. Twice I told you to stay put and twice you disobeyed me. Imagine my surprise—both times—when I returned expecting to find the woman I was responsible for injuring, gone. I wasted valuable time searching for you, by the way.”

His tone pissed her off. Seriously? He’d run into her. This was really all his fault and that remark about his valuable time really irked her. What was it with doctors and their egos? Just because he held an illustrious degree and had some initials behind his name made his time more valuable than anyone else’s? Ha! Here’s some initials for ya—KMA—kiss my ass! She’d missed a half day’s work already because of him and would be losing two more of her few paid days off recovering from his carelessness. What a jerk!

Of course, she wanted to tell him all that, but her manners and the fact that he was her boss made her stop short of telling him off and throwing him out.

“So sorry to have wasted your valuable time, Doctor; next time maybe you should plow into me after office hours.”

He glared at her smartass comment, but she didn’t care, although she toned it down a bit.

“Look. I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you, but the first time Marcy found me and lent a hand. Should I have told her to go on and sat alone in the hallway with my knee aching and swelling until you decided to come back for me? I was already late for my interview so excuse me for taking care of myself. This last time, I thought we were done. I had my prescription and encounter form already and you had left.”

“When I tell you to wait, I expect you to wait.”

“Do you treat all of your patients this way, Dr. Baker? If so, I’m amazed you have any at all.”

He ignored her, again although when he spoke again his tone was much more reasonable. “I expect my patients to follow doctor’s orders, Georgia.”

“Good to know what you expect, but I chose to leave. You were obviously busy and they were paging you.”

“That is a constant during clinic hours. I was making arrangements to see you home.”

Did he mean he was going to see her home personally? Surely, he was going to pass that off on a flunky, or call her a cab. Maybe it was because he felt responsible… or maybe he meant more. If so, did she want that? She needed to get a grip and stop projecting her feelings onto him. Just because she was attracted to the big overbearing jerk, didn’t mean he felt the same way. He was her boss anyway and getting personal was not a very good idea.

“Well, thank you for your concern, but as you can see I made it just fine on my own.” She started to open the door, a not-too-subtle signal that she was done putting up with his arrogant presence, but his long fingers wrapped around her wrist and he stopped her.

“I noticed your Jeep out front. How was changing gears on that sore knee?”

She grimaced but remained silent.

“That’s what I thought. I am most displeased with you, Georgia.” He slipped an arm around her waist as he said that and practically hauled her to the couch. “If you were my woman and acted so foolishly, you’d be over my knee right about now.”

Stacy gasped. His woman—was he serious? Who talked like that? Was he for real? A tingle shot up her spine and heat blazed intimately somewhat lower. Speechless, she let her boss prop up her leg and set the ice back in place. Then he stood frowning down at her.

“There is no way you had that prescription filled and got home in thirty minutes. Where did you put it?”

She pointed to her breakfast bar. Watching him grab it and her keys, she sat mute in shock as he headed toward the door. “I’ll be back.” After he’d opened the door and turned the mechanism so it would lock behind him, he pointed to where she sat slack-jawed, gaping like a fool. “If you move from that spot before I return, so help me, girlfriend or not, I’ll wear your bare backside out.” The door slammed then and he was gone.

What had just happened? She stared at the closed door for several moments puzzling over this latest in their growing list of bizarre encounters. Dr. Baker, a beautiful man that she barely knew and worked for unknowingly for two years who had technically become her doctor today, had plowed into her again, knocking her to the floor—yet again. That was all surprising, but then he had turned alpha-doctor-boss on her and proceeded to order her around, dug into her private information for her home address, stormed into her apartment, taken her keys and dared her to move by threat of a bare-bottomed spanking. Considering the professional, ethical, and potentially legal violations, Stacy found it all highly peculiar and stalker-esque, but for some strange reason also highly arousing.

Her mind retraced all the events of the day, mulling them around and before she knew it, having no clearer understanding of what was going on, a key sounded in the lock. He had returned, carrying a brown shopping bag and a set of crutches. Without a word, he walked to her kitchen and started unloading.

“That’s a mighty big bag for one little prescription bottle. What did you do?”

“I picked up a few necessities to get you through the next few days.”

“That was nice but you didn’t have to.”

His steely gaze seared into her, giving her an intense look of warning for several long moments before he returned to his task. Obviously, he felt that he had to. She watched him unload a loaf of bread, deli meat of some kind, some chips, bottled water, a small pack of cookies and Tylenol. Once it was all put away, he picked up the crutches and walked—well, more like stalked—to her side.

“You left before you could be fitted with these.”

“Are those necessary, I did fine—”

“Quiet. You are under doctor’s orders, which means until further notice, I am in charge here.”

“With all due respect, Dr. Baker, I think you’re overstepping your boundaries, not to mention violating your Hippocratic Oath, and to be quite honest, you’re scaring me a little bit.” It was true; she was alone and vulnerable in her apartment with an irritated man who was at least twice her size.

Giving her another scorching look, he went on, although in a much gentler tone. “I need you to stand so I can fit these to your height.” Without waiting for her to move, his large hands slid beneath her armpits and he lifted her off the couch.

Ticklish, she squirmed involuntarily. “You know, Doc, your bedside manner needs work.”

“Back at you, patient, your compliance sucks. Now stand still while I fit these. I’ve got a meeting in thirty minutes.”

She did as she was told, a first with him, but she was usually a cooperative person and patient. Instructing her not to bear weight on her injured side, he adjusted the aluminum crutches.

“Ever used these before?”

“No.”

“It’s not as easy as people think and they take a bit of getting used to.” He pushed back her coffee table and moved her heavy recliner easily. Standing at her side, he began his lesson. “First, lean forward slightly and place the crutches about a foot in front of you. Shift your weight to the crutches and sway forward. Swing your good leg forward until it’s between the crutches and can take your weight and repeat. Now give it a try.”

Awkward at first, she took a few tentative steps.

“Good, but you don’t have to hold your injured leg up though. Just touch your toes for balance, no pressure and don’t put the crutches so far ahead of you. Use small strides. Try again.”

A few more attempts had her getting the knack and soon she had circled her small living room.

“Very good.” Jared helped her back down on the couch, resituated her knee on the pillows and replaced the ice pack. He went to the kitchen next, returning with her prescription bottle, two bottles of water, a sandwich, and a bag of chips and cookies. He arranged everything on her coffee table and handed her the remote for her TV. Crouching by her side, he looked at her with a firm expression. “Take the pills with food or they will upset your stomach.”

“Yes, sir.”

He smiled at her, the first of the day.

“What?”

“Nothing important right now, I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll return around six o’clock to check on you and make you dinner. Other than going to the bathroom or refilling your ice pack, you have what you need and shouldn’t have to get up. I expect you to rest that knee and will be most disagreeable if I find that you haven’t.”

Unless I narc myself out. How on earth would he know?

He arched a brow and said softly, “I will be able to tell by the swelling if you don’t, Georgia. Don’t test me.”

She frowned, but nodded; it was like he could read her thoughts. This man was far too perceptive and way too bossy. He shocked her the next moment by leaning in and kissing her full on the lips. As kisses go, it was soft and sweet—no tongue or wetness, just a brushing of his warm lips. Still, it was wonderful.

Raising his head slightly, he looked at her, his eyes a soft laurel green. Green! Was she cracking up?

“Don’t be afraid of me, honey. I just want to see you taken care of.” His hand rose to her cheek and his thumb swept out, lightly grazing her jawline before he stood.

She found herself looking up at him, noting the softer expression on his face, and melted just a bit inside.

He ruined it all in the next instant by holding up her keys. “I’ll just hold onto these to eliminate temptation. Be good, Georgia.”

She made a strangled noise of protest. “My name is Stacy and this is going beyond the call of duty, Doctor, bordering on criminal. You can’t keep taking my keys.”

“Watch me.” He gave her a meaningful look, and just as quickly, he was gone. It seemed he was always riling her up, then walking away.
Infuriating man.

An image from two years ago popped in her head. It was the day of her initial interview with Southeast Orthopedic and Sports Medicine, Inc. She’d been riled up that day as well, but for a different reason. As she’d sat in her car, recovering from the panic that had almost kept her from her interview, she had seen him, once again walking away.

She’d been people-watching, waiting for the clock to switch to 8:55, trying to get her mind off the bad memories and the upcoming interview. A bright flash of light off to the side had caught her attention as a sweet silver BMW convertible pulled into the lot. It had parked in the reserved spaces across from her, and as she watched, a tall man with dark brown hair got out. No, not boring brown. It gleamed in the mid-morning sun, picking up shades of dark gold and reds, more like mocha or mahogany. No… it was chestnut. He was wearing blue scrubs and appeared to be in a rush.

Then she had caught a glimpse of his face as he briefly turned her way—
Wolverine.
She caught her breath, this time for a completely different reason.