Luke (7 page)

The staff room was still lit, so someone hadn't left yet. As she stood there, Luke came out of the rest room, washing his hands.

"You're still here," she said inanely.

"Just leaving." In a startlingly intimate gesture, he shifted his weight closer to hers and lifted her chin. "You
have circles beneath your eyes."

"I … do?"

"You look beat to shit."

"Well, why don't you just say whatever is on your mind?" She let out an embarrassed little laugh and tried to turn away but he held her still for his inspection.

"All right. You look tired. You're not taking good enough care of yourself."

"I am so. I eat right, and I look after myself religiously."

"Yeah?" Still touching her face, his thumb slid over her skin.

Hit with a myriad of sensations from just his touch, she froze. He froze, too, all except his thumb, which went on another lazy circle. Eyes on hers, he shifted even closer.

"This," she said shakily, "is a bad idea."

"No doubt." But he gently slid his fingers into her hair and bent closer.

She leaned into him. "We should be running for the hills."

"Again, no doubt." His mouth was only a breath away. His eyes, clear and bold, never left hers.

And yet it was she who rose up on tiptoe and went to meet him halfway. Their lips met, clung for one long glorious instant before they both pulled back.

Stared at each other.

Let out two mutually shocked breaths.

At the sudden knock on the back door, Faith jumped.

"Expecting someone?" he asked.

She hadn't been expecting
him.
When she shook her head, he moved to the door and looked through the peephole. With a sudden oath, he pulled back and hauled open the door, grabbing a woman on the back step cradling her hand to her chest.

Faith recognized Luke's cleaning lady from when she'd gone to his house the week before.

"What happened?" he demanded.

The first litany that exploded from Carmen came in Spanish.

"English, English," Luke urged, reaching out to support her hand, which came away from her chest bloody.

"English?"
she sputtered. "How's this for English? Your damn fancy window in the living room was stuck open, and it looked like rain so I had to climb—" She sucked in a harsh breath. "Don't squeeze it, you idiot!"

With one arm around her, the other supporting her hurt hand, he moved past Faith and went inside. "Let me look at you."

"You must have painted that stupid window open," Carmen said. "Big surprise there, eh? Big hotshot doctor who can't hammer a nail? The wind started bringing in dirt—"

"Carmen—"

"And damn you, I'd spend the afternoon dusting—"

"Shut up. Carmen, this is Faith McDowell. Faith, Carmen."

"Nice to see you again. I'm not doing windows anymore, you thankless bastard," Carmen said, and beyond the temper in her voice, Faith heard genuine pain.

"If I'm so thankless why did you come looking for me instead of going to the E.R.?"

"Because they're crooks."

Still holding on to Carmen, he looked at Faith. "She needs stitches."

"Stitches? Well,
that
explains why there's spots spinning in front of my eyes…" Carmen clamped her mouth shut as the whites of her eyes flashed.

"Perfect," Luke grunted as she fainted, scooping up her lifeless body in his arms. "Lead the way before I collapse from the dead weight."

Humor. Faith hadn't imagined he had any. Racing ahead of him, flipping on lights as they went, she led the way to a patient room.

And over the next hour, as he stitched Carmen's hand, he showed Faith a lot of that humor as he dealt with Carmen's medical phobia in the most heartbreaking, tender way she could have imagined.

"Elevate it," she said to Carmen at the exact same time Luke did.

He looked at her. "I'm going to prescribe painkillers, too. Want to say it in tandem?"

"I'm not against painkillers," she said so primly he laughed.

"Wow. Stop the world. We agree again." Hands on his hips, he turned to Carmen and let out a long-suffering sigh. "I suppose you'll need a ride."

Carmen swore at him in Spanish, then sniffed.
"Si,
I took a cab here."

When Luke got her to the back door, he stopped and looked at Faith. "Thanks for letting me treat her here after hours. Just bill me. I've got to get her to my car now." He was supporting all her weight. "She's going to break my back."

Carmen used her good hand to hit him upside the head.

Luke grinned. "See? You're feeling better already."

Faith held the door open. "So … see you next Saturday."

His gaze met hers over the top of Carmen's head. The humor was gone now, and suddenly she braced herself. He was going to say he wasn't coming back.

Which, really, would be fine. More than fine. They rubbed each other the wrong way, they … also rubbed each other the right way.

"Next week," he agreed softly, and then he was gone, leaving her staring out into the night, wondering if she felt relieved … or terrified.

* * *

On Monday morning Luke was called into Leo's office at the hospital. "Good news," his friend boomed.

"Faith McDowell gave you a glowing recommendation. You must have made quite an impression these last two weeks, with all those hot oil therapies and healing touches."

Luke opened his mouth, saw the twinkle in Leo's eyes and relaxed. "Sure. Make fun. You're not the one having to give up two and a half months more of Saturdays."

"You don't either."

"What?"

Leo lifted a brow. "She released you. Said that while she was impressed with your grasp of alternative healing techniques—"

Luke snorted.

Leo shot him a long look. "You
don't need to fulfill the rest of your time at the clinic."

Faith had released him from his duty.

This was just about the last thing he expected. He waited for the elation. For the satisfaction. For the sheer overwhelming relief.

Leo laughed at his confusion. "I thought you'd be dancing in the hallways at the news."

"Yeah." Luke walked the length of the office and looked out the window. Dancing in the hallways? He would, but suddenly his stomach had fallen to a region somewhere near his toes. "Leo—"

Leo's pager went off. "Sorry, gotta run."

Yeah. So did Luke. The E.R. was full and they were short staffed. Over the rest of the day he removed two spleens, set a broken hip, stitched up a motorcyclist … and never stopped thinking about Healing Waters. Faith.

Why had she released him? She needed him, she'd said so. She needed his visible, public support. She needed the free additional medical staff. She needed … him.

He couldn't shake it, which was the only reason he stopped by the clinic after his shift instead of going home. It had nothing, nothing at all, to do with wanting to see her again.

No one answered his knock downstairs, but that made sense as the clinic was always closed on Mondays. Going around the back, he took the stairs, which were lined with potted plants. On her porch sat a comfy looking wooden swing. Her back door had a large window in it, lined with lace, which allowed him a clear look into her lit kitchen.

And what his clear look afforded him stopped his heart.

Faith, slumped on the floor.

Chapter 5

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L
uke fumbled for Faith's door. Finding it locked, he stepped back, then charged it with far less brute strength than he could have imagined, the door shuddered open.

She hadn't budged. She had her back to the cabinets, her arms around her drawn-up knees and her head down, and was far too still.

He dropped to his knees beside her. "Faith."

Slowly, as if it hurt to move, she lifted her head. Her face was ashen, and when he cupped her jaw in his shaking hands, she was damp with sweat. "Don't touch me," she said. "I'm getting sick."

He slid his hand through a tangle of long red hair. "The flu?" He stroked her hair from her face, felt her forehead. She was cool, even cold.

"It always happens when I let myself get run down. It's an old virus, and I felt it coming for two weeks. I'm all shaky and dizzy. Damn it."

He might have smiled at her petulant tone, if his heart wasn't still threatening to burst right out of his chest. "You don't have a fever."

"So?"

"So when did you eat last?"

Scowling at him, she pushed him away and made to get up, but he slid his hands to her hips and held her down.

She glared at him.

"Stay." Surging to his feet, he went to her refrigerator and pulled out a carton of orange juice. He brought it to her. "Drink."

"From the carton?" she asked with such horror he laughed.

"Just a few sips."

"I'd rather have some tea. You don't by any chance know how to make purple coneflower tea?"

"Huh?"

"Echinacea. It's used to boost the immune system, and also as an antibiotic."

Luke just stared at her.

"Oh, never mind." Leaning her head back against the counter, she tipped the carton up and took a swig. He watched a drop escape her lips and glide down her chin, gaining momentum and hitting a breast. For some oddly inappropriate reason, his mouth watered. He swallowed hard. "Still dizzy?"

"Yeah."

"Then keep your eyes open." He kept his gaze on hers. With his hands already on her body, it was the safest route, though it was a little shocking to realize he needed a safe route. "It'll help."

When she shot him a daggered look, he lifted a shoulder. "Hey, once a doctor…" He watched her take another sip of juice, and some color came back into her cheeks Satisfied, he leaned back on his heels and let out a breath. "Well. That was fun."

"Sorry." Leaning back against the counter, she studied the ceiling. "You can give me some room now."

Yeah. Yeah, he probably could. Clearly she didn't want him hovering any more than he wanted to hover, so he scooted back a bit.

Better. Definitely better.

Too bad he couldn't forget the feel of her in his hands, and doubted he would anytime soon.

"Did you break my door?"

"Easily. Christ, Faith, anyone could break in here."

"Well, lucky for me, no one but you wanted to." Staggering to her feet, she shoved her hair out of her face and sighed. "I feel a little better."

He opened his mouth to say something to that, something pithy he was certain, but she narrowed her eyes on him. "So why are you here?"

"I—" He blinked. Why had he come? He looked into her green, green eyes and tried to remember. "You told the hospital you don't need me anymore."

She stared at him, then let out a low laugh. "And that bothered you? I thought you'd be celebrating."

"Why, Faith?"

"Why? My God, Luke." She scrubbed her hands over her face and finally dropped them to her sides, looking tired, so very tired he had to fight the urge to move close again. To put his hands back on her and—

"Look, I'm not up for this." Still looking a bit too shaky for his comfort, she moved to the open door, and waited expectantly for him to obey her silent command and scram.

"Gee," he said. "I guess we're done talking."

"So done."

"Are you always cranky when you don't eat?"

"I told you, I have a vir—"

"Virus," he said at the same time as her, and shaking his head, he moved to the door and shut it. "So." He leaned into her, and yet again his pulse jumped, and so did hers. He could see it beating furiously at the base of her throat. "Is it really that you don't feel good, or was it the shock of attraction when I touched you?"

Her mouth tightened, but she remained stubbornly mute.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Thought so."

"You are the most egotistical man I've ever met."

"Egotistical?" He let out a rough laugh. "Faith, I put my hands on you in a purely nonsexual way and it jolted me to my toes. Is it 'egotistical' to admit that terrifies me?"

She bit her lower lip, a sexy little gesture that didn't help matters any. "Okay, maybe I felt it, too. A little."

"A little," he repeated. For a reason completely unknown to himself, he stroked her jaw. "What are we going to do about it?"

"Nothing, nothing at all. I'm too busy, and you … you're back to your own life, Dr. Universe. Thanks for the help the last two weekends, but your services are no longer needed or required."

Since he spent most of his life being needed in one form or another, this should have been a welcome break. She was right, he should be celebrating. "Fine."

"Fine."

Now he felt tense again. "You really feeling better?"

"Sure."

Yeah, and he was Santa Claus. "What did you last eat?"

"I had a nice big pasta salad for lunch, a good healthy snack of carrots—"

"Dinner, Faith. Something with protein."

"By dinner I was sick," she admitted. "I didn't want to eat."

"You need a keeper, you know that?"

"I've been on my own for a long time. For forever. I'm my own keeper."

"Well then, damn it, do a better job. Where's your family?"

"Africa, if you must know. They're missionaries. And before you ask, I have a sister, but she's in Europe. She works as a traveling midwife there."

So she was as alone as he was. "They're as dedicated as you."

"More. They give everything they have to their jobs, over everything else. At least I still manage to have a life."

"Really? When?"

She looked away. "Sometimes."

He didn't like the hint of sadness in her eyes, or the knowledge that her parents had put their work ahead of their children, much the way his own had. "And so you're completely alone." The way he was. Damn it, why had he started this conversation?

"I have the clinic."

Yeah, the clinic. Which brought them full circle. "Just tell me why you released me from my duties here."

"You're a smart man," she whispered, stepping back, away from his touch. "You figure it out."

"But—"

"Good night, Luke." With a gentle shove, she put him back out into the night.