Luke (8 page)

The door shut behind him, but when he turned, there was a definite gap between the wood and the jamb. He stared at it uneasily. "Put a chair beneath the knob," he said to the wood. "And I'll send someone to fix that lock tomorrow."

"Good night, Luke."

"A chair," he repeated, and stood there until he heard her do it, then with a long, pent-up breath, drove home.

You're a smart man, you figure it out.

But he didn't, not until hours and hours had passed, during which time he'd tossed and turned in his bed, watching the shadow of the moon play across the ceiling.

Finally, with the rising sun, he got it. She'd released him from his duties for the exact same reason he'd been so afraid to go back.

It was that undeniable something between them, a spark neither of them could ignore, and neither wanted. More importantly, there was a need.

He needed her.

He, Luke Walker, who did his damn best not to need anyone else,
needed
her.

* * *

A few sleepless nights later, Luke sat in front of his television with no idea what was on. His head hurt, his mind was full of things; work mostly, and the incredible miracles they'd performed at the hospital all week, and also his brother's upcoming wedding, which was now definitely set for summer.

He was Matt's best man, which was okay, even if a part of him was still baffled over how his brother could possibly want to sleep with the same woman for the rest of his life.

Damn, he needed ibuprofen. Too bad he was out of them. A doctor who couldn't heal his own headache. Sad.

Tomorrow was Saturday. A day he should have dedicated to one redheaded, temperamental, beautifully infuriating Faith McDowell because of his own big mouth.

But she'd politely set him free.

Which really, as Leo had said, should have sent him dancing down the hallways. And it would, if his head didn't still feel as if it was going to fall right off his shoulders.

When he heard the knock at his door, he turned off the TV. Maybe if
he was really quiet, whoever it was would go away. Far away.

Another knock didn't improve the pounding in his head, so he got up. The last person in the world he expected, and the one person on his mind, stood there wearing a flowery sundress and strappy sandals.

Faith McDowell, so tough and in charge of her world, had pink toenails and a dainty little silver toe ring.

"Hi." She let out a little smile. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"Nothing but a king-size headache."

"Really?" She cocked her head and sent him a sympathetic look. "I could fix that for you."

"You have ibuprofen? I'm completely out, and too lazy to go to the store."

"I don't need pills."

"Hmm." He eyed her. "You have fairy dust?"

"Maybe." She reached for his hand. "Let me get rid of the headache for you, Luke."

He felt the pull of her touch like a thousand watts as she led him into his own house. Did she feel it, he wondered as he followed her like an eager puppy, watching her slim, straight spine, her hips swaying in a way that made his aching head spin.

She craned her neck when he slowed his steps, and her hair wildly flowed around her bare shoulders. "Problem?"

Hell, yes. "No. No problem."

She sent him a smile from beneath lowered lashes that revealed nothing of her true thoughts. "Then what's the slowdown? You chicken?" she taunted.

Her voice was low, sexy, and he doubted that was intentional. Still, the teasing lightened his own troubled thoughts. "Hell, yeah, I'm chicken. There's a reason
I
always wear the doctor's coat."

"It'll only take a minute for me to make you feel better, I promise." She pushed him down to his coach and stood over him, her hands on her hips.

His eyes hungrily traveled up the length of her curvy, lush body. "Is it gonna hurt?" he asked, only half kidding.

"Not if you believe."

He nearly swallowed his tongue when she dropped to her knees on the floor beside him, head now level with the part of his body coming to hopeful attention. Complicating matters, she put her hand on his thigh.

From her shockingly innocent yet unbearably erotic position, with her hair brushing his knee, she smiled. "Put your hand on your thigh," she instructed. "Palm up."

"Uh…" He was getting more intelligent by the moment.

"Just try it," she said in that voice that brought to mind hot, wild sex on silk sheets by moonlight.
Just try
it.
He set his hand as directed on his thigh.

"Close your eyes."

"Faith—"

"Close 'em, doc."

At least she'd left off the Universe endearment. Slowly, feeling … strangely aware, he closed his eyes.

After a heartbeat, her finger ran over his, lightly, and he relaxed.

"Good," she whispered. "Let go. Let it all go."

Her voice was hypnotic, and he loosened up even more. Then, suddenly, he felt a pinch in the fleshy part of his hand between his thumb and pointer finger, and his eyes flew open. "Ouch!"

Faith shook her head and laughed. "Oh, please. I barely squeezed." She held the pressure steadily, her eyes holding his. "Let out your breath," she demanded softly, "Don't stop breathing… What do you feel?"

He felt her hands on his. He felt her soft breath on his arm, he felt her breast pressing into his leg, and suddenly he couldn't remember what she'd asked, though she was clearly waiting on an answer. "Um … what?"

She lifted a brow. "Is the pain eased?"

The dull throbbing in his head was indeed eased and he blinked in confusion.

She laughed. Just tossed her head back and laughed, the sound full and throaty, and so damned sexy he nearly tumbled himself down on the floor to be right next to her.

"Oh, Luke. If you could see your face." She was still grinning. "Such shock. What's the matter, you've never eased an ache without a little pill?"

"All you did was use a pressure point."

"Well, give the man an A plus. And welcome to acupressure, an alternative and effective way of healing." She shifted, preparing to stand, but for just a flash, a very dizzy flash, she stayed on her knees practically between his, a hand braced on his thigh, and all the blood in his head drained. A sound escaped him, one that sounded rough and … needy.

Suddenly wide-eyed, she stared at him. Licked her lips in a nervous, artless gesture that made him groan.

Startled at the second sound ripped from his throat, she went to move away, but he grabbed her wrist, halting her exit.

Her hand came up between them for balance, pressing against his chest, and for a long moment they just looked at each other. Slowly, he took her hands and linked their fingers, then moved their joined hands to the small of her back. Nudging her forward, into the V of his spread legs, into his hips, he let out another groan.

She relaxed her stiff body against his, and sighed. With pleasure? God, he wished he knew, because he was dying of it. With a purely physical response, he rocked against her.

A little sound escaped her now, one that managed to perfectly convey her bewildered arousal. Her fingers curled into his.

Then suddenly she stood, and he was staring at her nicely rounded ass as she moved away, toward the door.

"Faith? Where are you going?"

"Home.

"But…" Rising, he moved after her, and caught her at the door. "You never said why you came."

She nibbled on her lower lip, that nervous little gesture he found fascinating. "I wanted to thank you for the other night. You were being so kind and I…"

"Was being grumpy?"

That coaxed out a smile. "Yeah."

"You feel better?"

"I do."

They stood staring at each other for a long, awkward beat. Slowly Luke shook his head. "What?" Faith whispered.

He laughed. "Half the time you drive me out of my living mind, you know that? I mean we think so differently, we work differently, we do everything differently."

"And … the other half of the time?"

Shaking his head, he lifted a hand and traced her jaw. "The other half of the time you still drive me out of my living mind, but … not necessarily with irritation."

"Yeah, well, it's that other half we need to be careful of." She stepped back so that his hand fell away from her soft skin. "And that's the half we need to get over."

"Right."

She reached behind her for the door handle. With no little amount of wariness, she met his gaze. "I know why I need to get over it, but I was wondering … about you. Is it because I'm not an M.D.?"

"No! Of course not."

"Is it because I moved past conventional medicine?"

"No." He looked into her beautiful eyes, into the still wary expression and wondered why this was so hard. Being honest had never been hard before. Hurting people's feelings had never been hard before. But the truth, that he had his life just the way he wanted it, that if he dallied with a woman these days, it was just that, a dalliance, and she wasn't the type of woman to be happy with that, seemed … lame. "It's complicated."

"Yeah." Her face fell and she turned to walk out the door.

"Faith—"

"It's best if I go."

He watched her hightail it out of his place, and struggled to remember how right she was. They needed to get over whatever this … this thing was, because it had no place in his life. She had no place in his life.

If only he could remember why that was exactly.

* * *

Saturday day morning dawned bright and early. Faith felt rested and ready to work. She told herself she'd had such a good-night's sleep because this was a Dr. Universe-free weekend. He was out of her life. She had no worries, no worries at all.

But then Guy called in sick. So did her receptionist. And Cat, too.

All three struck down with the flu, possibly the same thing she'd had earlier in the week. Faith talked to them each on the telephone, assuring them she'd be fine, that they needed to worry only about getting better. She reminded them to drink their echinacea tea and get lots of rest.

Then she got off the phone and looked at Shelby. "We're screwed."

"Maybe I should start calling the scheduled patients, cancel them."

That would go over great, just when they were starting to garner a steady clientele, just when—

The back door opened and, as if he'd been sent from heaven, in walked Luke.

"Morning," he said to their startled faces. When they continued to just stare at him, he lifted his covered coffee mug, still steaming, and looked at it. "I know it's not any fancy tea, and that it's store-bought, but a guy's gotta have his vices."

"Are you … here to
work?"
Shelby asked. "Because if you are, I'll kiss you, right here, right now."

"I'm here to work, yeah, if you don't mind. No kiss required."

"Mind?" Shelby laughed. "Do we mind, Faith?"

Did she? Ha! Luke was watching her, waiting, and the silence stretched out.

"Okay, she's not going to admit this because she's stubborn as hell," Shelby confided. "But I'll tell you. We're short-staffed and overbooked today."

Luke never took his eyes off Faith. "Really."

"Yeah, and another thing she won't tell you, if you hadn't shown up, we'd have had to turn away patients."

"Ouch."

"Ouch," Shelby agreed, then caught Faith's glaring expression. "Oops, would you look at the time? Better get moving."

Faith watched Shelby leave, then turned on Luke. "Okay, why are you really here?"

"Last I checked I was a doctor, willing and able to work."

"Yes, but you're not required to work here anymore, remember?"

"I remember." He slid his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. "I also remember I like to repay my debts."

"There's no debt."

"Yes, there is." He let out a slow breath and his shoulders dropped slightly. "Look, even though the newspapers exaggerated what I said, I spoke without the facts when I talked about this place. And if you think that's easy to admit, think again. I still believe in scientific and conventional medicine, I still believe that what I do, what the hospital does, can't be replaced by alternative methods of medicine. But I
can
admit…"

"Yes?"

"That what you're doing here has a place. That it's important to the people you see." He turned in a slow, frustrated circle, one hundred and eighty pounds of tightly coiled male. "And I did you a great disservice by so carelessly shrugging it off. People listen to us, they listen to me. So in light of that, I want to keep working here, for the rest of the two months, or whatever it is."

"Two months, one week."

"Two months, one week," he repeated slowly. "For that long, people can see I believe in what you're doing."

"Even if
you
don't believe?"

He winced. "Why can't you just be happy to see me?"

"Maybe I am," she whispered, and had the satisfaction of rendering him speechless.

* * *

It wasn't like before, working with Luke. Before, they'd not talked, not really. They certainly hadn't touched.

Or kissed.

But now, every time they passed in the hallway, brushed shoulders or hands, no matter how accidentally, it brought it all back.

The tension grew between them, tighter and tighter, until it became this tangible thing she could have reached out and touched.

Throughout the day, it only got worse. Going in to see a woman with severe arthritis, they'd accidentally bumped shoulders in the doorway. It had taken her breath.
He'd
taken her breath, so much she nearly forgot how to treat the woman's arthritis.

They saw a nine-months pregnant woman suffering false labor pangs thanks to the can of olives she'd consumed, and leaving the room together, they'd brushed hands…

Faith's legs had tightened. So had her nipples.

Had he noticed?

Hard to tell, but she would have sworn on her life that his breathing changed every time he caught her staring at him.

Probably nothing more than regret that he'd come back. Yeah, that had to be it, because surely he didn't feel as she did, as if she were a firecracker with a lit fuse. She could hardly look into his eyes, afraid he'd see it. She certainly couldn't talk to him. In fact, she'd avoided being anywhere near him for over an hour now, thinking that would help.