Finding Dr. Right (Contemporary Medical Romance) (15 page)

She heard Nathan’s soft groan of frustration but he didn’t follow her. Instead he shifted more comfortably on the bed, stretched his long legs out and folded his arms under his head, watching her with an intensity she didn’t quite understand. Catherine moved back on the bed and curled her legs under her.

“What’s wrong?”

“I was getting ready to ask you the same thing. Nathan, what are you doing here?”

“I told you, I wanted to see you.”

“But it’s…” Catherine trailed off to look at the clock then uttered a small moan of disbelief. “Nathan, it’s two o’clock in the morning! You break into my house —”

“The door was unlocked.”

“— and scare the life out of me, then tell me you just wanted to see me? Didn’t you think about the time? Couldn’t it have waited until morning? I’d think the least you could have done was called!”

“I tried to call. First I left a message at your office that you never returned, then I tried calling earlier this evening and there was no answer. I didn’t think you’d appreciate me calling this late at night.”

Catherine stared at him in disbelief. He didn’t move, just lay back on her bed, looking comfortable, looking too much as if he
belonged.
His eyes locked on hers with an expression of boyish innocence and something else that threatened what was left of her common sense. “You didn’t want to call this late, but you had no problems with breaking into my house?”

“The door was unlocked.”

“Nathan!” Catherine shot off the bed in frustration. She felt like she was beating her head against the wall, trying to figure out what was going on. Why would Nathan sneak into her house at two in the morning? And why wasn’t she more upset at seeing him there?

Every grain of sense told her she should ask him to leave, that his being here wasn’t right. Matty was in his room down the hall, sound asleep. There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t wake up. What if he found Nathan here? Catherine strengthened her resolve, ready to tell him that he had to leave.

She turned to face him and the words died in her throat. He was sitting up now, his hands clasped together and hanging loosely between his knees. There was a desperate look in his eyes, a tortured haunting that impaled her with unexplained grief. She looked away for a second then turned back, not surprised to see his eyes clear of all expression.

“Did you watch the game tonight?” Nathan kept his voice carefully even, neutral. Catherine frowned, remembered they were supposed to go to the game but hadn’t. Guilt smothered her.

“Uh, no. No, I didn’t get a chance to see it. I was tired. There’ve been too many late nights and —”

“We lost.”

“Oh.” Catherine didn’t know what else to say. Surely this couldn’t be the reason for his sudden visit, for the look she had glimpsed in his eyes moments earlier. Even the best teams had to lose a game now and then.

“I didn’t play.” The three words were flat, toneless. The absence of emotion in Nathan’s voice and the blank look on his face told a bigger story. “Do you know why I didn’t play?”

Catherine shook her head. She was pretty certain it had something to do with his knee, but she remained silent.

“Because I’m a wash-up. A has-been.”

“Oh, Nathan…”

“It’s the truth. And all because of this damn knee.” He shook his head then slowly pushed himself off the bed, unfolding his long body in a single fluid movement. Catherine felt the tension rolling off him as he paced back and forth in front of her. “Sonny told me after the game the other night that he’d scratch me unless I got another clearance from the doctor. He wants to make sure that it’s not more screwed up than it is.”

“Which doctor did you see?”

“I didn’t. I didn’t think Sonny was serious. He made his point tonight by pulling me.”

Silence descended on the room, cloaking them in an eerie quiet. Catherine wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly chilled. “Not playing tonight doesn’t mean you’re a wash-up. It sounds more like two people butting heads than anything else.” Her statement was met with a derisive snort from Nathan. He ran one hand through his hair, mussing it up, then turned to look at her with a quick shake of his head.

“No, there’s more to it than that.” He paused, fixing her with another unreadable stare. “You know, I left the arena tonight with no idea where to go. I drove around for a while then stopped at some no-name bar to watch the game and have a few drinks. I planned on going home when I left there, had really planned on it. Instead, I found myself sitting in your driveway and not knowing why at first. I know now, though.”

Catherine shivered at his intensity and hugged herself tighter. The tension coming off him grew thicker as he stepped closer, not stopping until less than a hand’s-width of space separated them. Catherine opened her mouth to speak then shut it when nothing more than a pitiful squeak came out. She swallowed and tried again. “So why did you come here?”

“Because I need to see you.”

“Y
ou need to see me?” Catherine repeated his words in a hoarse whisper, an unreadable expression on her face. Nathan watched her, wondering at the sudden emotions that passed through her eyes. He knew he had been drinking but he was hardly drunk. His words shouldn’t have caused her so much confusion.

“Yes, see you,” he repeated. He reached out with one hand and rested it on her shoulder, thinking to pull her closer, to hold her until he could find some way to convince her to let him spend the night. Instead of leaning into him, though, she stiffened and pulled away a little, surprising him.

“Oh. I, uh, hadn’t planned on seeing you until tomorrow.” Nathan heard the wariness in her voice and frowned. Maybe he had more alcohol in his system than he realized, because he seemed to be missing something. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to decide if he should start over.

“I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow.”

“Oh. Um, why not?”

“Why not?” He sounded like a parrot, he realized. He shook his head and stepped toward her, not liking the fact that she stepped back when he did. He took a deep breath and let it out in a frustrated sigh. “Because you’ll be at work tomorrow, then I’ll be busy later, that’s why. And I wanted to see you now.”

“Oh.” She sounded less excited than he had hoped. He watched, not liking the way she wrapped her arms protectively around her middle or the way she wouldn’t look at him.

“Okay, so maybe it wasn’t a great idea. I’m sorry. But you don’t have to look so appalled. I just wanted to see you, to hold you. That was it.” His earlier excitement at seeing her faded, and he did his best not to slump in disappointment as Catherine finally looked at him through the strands of hair covering her still-sleepy eyes.

“You just wanted to see me? You didn’t want me to look at your knee or clear you or anything, right?”

“Clear me?”

“Yes. So you can go back to playing.”

“What?” Nathan made no effort to keep the disbelief from his voice. He shook his head, trying to refocus, trying to follow her train of thought. He watched her for a few seconds, saw the uncertainty reflected in her eyes and the small frown that creased her forehead. “Hell, no, I don’t want you to clear me! What on earth ever gave you that idea?”

“You said, I mean, you said you didn’t play tonight, that you needed to be cleared, and then you showed up here and broke in —”

“The door was unlocked!”

“I just thought…” Her voice trailed off, her eyes focused on the floor in front of her. Nathan wasn’t sure if he wanted to close the space between them so he could hold her or knock some sense into her.

“Catherine, I would never ask you to do something like that. I have a doctor, remember? Getting cleared to play again is not something I’m worried about. Next year may be a different story, but, well, never mind about that.”

“Then why are you here?”

Nathan stared at her in blank surprise. Surely she had been listening earlier and had to know he wanted to be with her. Hadn’t he told her that already, when they were on the bed together? Too much talk, that was the problem. He had never been much at talking, and this was why — it did nothing but cause problems. Better to let his actions speak for him.

He closed the distance between them in two long strides and pulled her to him. Her mouth dropped open in a surprised
O
and he used her shock to his advantage, lowering his head and claiming her lips in a hungry kiss that damn near buckled
his
knees. Masculine satisfaction raced through him when her body melted into his. Her hands reached for him, fisting into the thin material of his T-shirt as her tongue eagerly met his.

Nathan swallowed her small moan with a hunger that was out of control. His hands roamed lower, past the hem of her shirt, down to the bare silkiness of her thighs. Catherine moaned again as his hands moved back up, skimming her body, grabbing the hem of the cotton shirt and dragging it up, breaking the kiss so he could pull it over her head and toss it to the floor. She was bathed in the soft light from the lamp and he grew even harder at the sight of creamy skin and soft curves and rosy flush.

Catherine tried to cover herself but he reached out to stop her, holding her hands firmly by her sides so he could see her more fully. A look of uncertainty crossed her face then slowly disappeared when he smiled at her a split second before lowering his head and closing his mouth over one taut nipple. Her hands escaped his and threaded themselves in his hair, his name tearing from her mouth in a ragged whisper.

This was what he had come for. To feel her body mold itself against him, to lose himself in her. He broke away again, more satisfaction speeding through him at her groan of displeasure. Within seconds his clothes were scattered on the floor and Catherine was back in his arms, their bodies flushed together, her hands roaming wildly over his heated flesh as if she couldn’t get enough of him.

He knew the feeling, felt the frustration at the realization that he would never get enough of this one woman. His hands closed around her hips and lifted until her legs wrapped around him, searching for him, rubbing against him. He tightened his grip, stopping her before she could close over him. He smiled against her mouth, shook his head and walked backward until his legs touched the edge of the bed.

“Not yet, sweetheart. Not yet.” He collapsed onto the soft mattress, carrying her down with him, moaning when she straddled him. His earlier idea of sweetly torturing her body until she begged for mercy disappeared. Their mouths melded together, their tongues mating wildly, their hands frantic on each other’s body. Nathan grabbed her hips, guiding her, swallowing her cry as she impaled herself on him. A moan escaped him as she tightened around him, taking him all in, filling herself. Fear tightened his chest when he realized he would never have enough of her. They could stay like this for the rest of their lives and it still wouldn’t be enough.

Then the fear was gone, replaced by something more essential as Catherine rode him wildly, her breath coming in little gasps that grew with her pleasure. Nathan guided her hips, met each of her movements with a wild thrust until his name was ripped from her throat on a ragged scream. She tightened around him, grasping and pulling, treating him to the most exquisite torture he could imagine. Nathan turned, rolling with her until he was on top, clenching his jaw against the unbearable feeling of her legs wrapped around him. His hips thrust and he buried himself deep inside her, withdrew and thrust again. Again, until his own control shattered and his muffled cries mixed with Catherine’s.

Moments passed, or it may have been hours before his left leg cramped. He muttered a quiet oath, and reluctantly rolled off Catherine to stretch his leg. He felt a telltale wetness on her upper thighs when he moved and this time didn’t bother to keep his oath silent.

“What?” Catherine’s voice was sleepy, dreamlike. He looked down at her, took in her tousled hair and the contented smile curving her full lips. His mind was suddenly filled with an image of a child that would look just like her. Nathan held his breath, waiting for the fear to follow the image. None came, which frightened him even more.

Oh, man. Yeah, he had it bad.

“Is something wrong?” Catherine propped herself up and studied him, concern chasing the sleep from her eyes.

“No, nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Are you sure? You looked a little pale for a second.”

“I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.” Nathan laid back against the pillow and tucked her head securely in the crook of his shoulder. There was no fear, only a contentment as calming as a sedative. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and closed his eyes, smiling as she wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his chest.

Hot coffee. Sizzling bacon. Something spicy.

The smells curled around Catherine, so thick with flavor she imagined she could see them. Her stomach rumbled in protest against the sensory onslaught and she stretched, not wanting to ruin the dream by awakening but knowing she had to.

Her eyes opened slowly. Light streamed in through the curtains. She stretched again then bolted upright.

The smells were still there.

She frowned, knowing something was wrong but unable to immediately place it. A smile replaced the frown as the memory of last night came back. Nathan sneaking into her house, their wild encounter, falling asleep wrapped in his arms…

Nathan.

Oh, God. Nathan was still here, cooking breakfast. He had spent the night. With Matty home. Catherine glanced at the clock on the nightstand. seven a.m. She bolted out of bed and searched for a robe as muffled voices floated through the closed door.

She found them in the kitchen, standing next to each other by the stove. Nathan was holding a small frying pan filled with beaten egg above the flame, manipulating it with a spatula. Chopped onion, tomato, cheese and ham were piled in small bowls on the counter next to him. He was talking in a quiet voice to Matty, telling him how to judge when the egg was ready, helping him add the different ingredients.

Catherine stared in shock. Nathan Conners was in her kitchen, teaching her son how to make omelets.

Matty turned and saw her in the doorway, a wide smile splitting his face. “Hey, Mom. Look who came over this morning. We’re making breakfast for you.”

“I…I see that.” The words tumbled from her mouth as Nathan faced her, a hunger in his eyes she knew had nothing to do with the food he was cooking. She clutched the robe more tightly around her as her skin warmed under his gaze. “I, uh…I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I was in the neighborhood and decided to stop by.”

“Yeah, Mom. I heard the doorbell ring and you were still sleeping and I wasn’t gonna answer it until I saw who it was then I let him in. And now we’re cooking.”

Catherine raised her eyebrows, her hearing overloaded at Matty’s rush of words. Nathan shrugged, a barely noticeable motion of his shoulders as if to say…she wasn’t sure what. All she knew was that for some reason Nathan had left — or at least pretended to leave — so he could make a surprise visit. To cook for her and her son.

The gesture was touching, surprising. And terrifying. She wanted to ignore the liquid warmth that ran through her. Just like she wanted to ignore the softness in Nathan’s eyes and the small grin that touched his lips.

It was too much to handle this early in the morning.

“I’ve got coffee ready for you here.” Nathan pulled a mug from the under-the-counter rack and poured the steaming brew into it. She watched as he added just enough cream and sugar to suit her taste, all without asking. He stepped around Matty and handed her the mug, their hands momentarily touching. She mumbled a thank-you and sipped, closing her eyes as the first jolt of caffeine kicked in.

So he knew how she liked her coffee. Big deal. He probably saw her fix it herself a hundred times. At least a dozen. Or maybe just once or twice. It meant absolutely nothing.

Nathan set three plates on the table and motioned with a grand gesture for everyone to sit down and eat. Omelets, bacon, toast, juice…it was an impressive spread. And more than Catherine usually fixed for breakfast. She ate most of it in silence, watching the interplay between Matty and Nathan, enjoying the sounds of their playful conversation as they talked between bites of food.

Almost like they were father and son. Like a family.

The last bite of food hit Catherine’s stomach like a slab of concrete and settled there. She wrapped her hands around the mug of coffee, seeking warmth to thaw the chill creeping through her veins. Dangerous thoughts. Thoughts that could only lead to trouble. She didn’t want to think of their interplay, didn’t want to recognize the bond growing between them.

It was too late. The two of them were already like a family. Maybe the three of them were. Looking back, there were times when they all certainly acted like it.

Catherine gulped the hot coffee, hoping the heat would burn away the ridiculous thoughts swirling through her mind. It was too early in the morning for wishful thinking. Dreams were only supposed to happen at night, during the safety of sleep.

Nathan sat on the exam table, afraid to breathe as Brian Porter looked at his knee. He flinched when the doctor manipulated the kneecap from side to side, then cursed himself for the telltale movement when Brian looked at him curiously. The exam ended and then the only sound in the room was the scratching of pen on paper as Brian scribbled notes in his file. Nathan’s nerves stretched tight in proportion to the growing silence until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Well?”

Brian placed the clipboard on a small table and sat on the wheeled stool, studying Nathan in silence. “There’s swelling and tenderness with lateral movement. Your range of motion is good considering the condition of the kneecap. Your muscular strength is excellent, which will only help.”

“But?”

“But your kneecap is deteriorating.” Brian flipped through the oversize file in front of him, searching. He pulled out a set of X-ray films, glanced at them in the overhead light and chose two. He placed them on the lightboard, turned it on and motioned for Nathan to stand next to him. He pointed at the first one with a stylus he removed from his coat pocket. “This was the X-ray we took before your surgery. You can see some irregularities on the underside, small patches of roughness. The front was nearly smooth.” He tapped at the second film.

“This is from today. You can see the underside shows quite a bit of roughness. That shouldn’t be there — I smoothed it during your surgery. And if you look here, the front is beginning to show the same roughness. Not as much as the underside, but it’s there.”

Nathan squinted at the films in front of him, trying to pick out the patches Brian was pointing at. He had no idea what he was looking at. “So what’s that mean? You need to operate again, to go in and smooth them out? That’s something that could wait until the end of the season. Give me enough time to go through rehab…” Nathan’s voice trailed off, a funny feeling in his gut when Brian let out a weary sigh.