More Than Words: More Than, Book 3 (5 page)

“It was quite an email, Doc. We can’t ignore that.”

“Of course we can’t. And I don’t want to.” His tone dropped, his lips softened and his mouth looked downright kissable. “I’m looking forward to the next one.”

Molly blinked. Her breath came in short, sharp pants, sending chills up and down her spine, and her heart raced like crazy. Hormonal, excited and relieved were not the only things she felt. No, there was a whole host of other emotions swirling around in her chest.

Okay, Molly. Focus. Stop thinking and respond to Sam. He’s waiting for you to say something.

“You really want another email from me?”

Sam nodded. There was his smile, back again, tugging at his lips, making him look sinfully sexy. And sensual. And beautiful…

Wait. Concentrate.
Clarify
. “Another dirty email?”

“More than I want my next breath.” His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, his eyes darkened with desire and his pupils dilated. “There are all those contagious symptoms, Miss Molly. We need to explore them. Find out why they’re suddenly affecting both of us.”

For a second, Molly forgot how to breathe. Forgot there was even air in the room. Surely Sam had sucked it all into that blistering look of his?

She melted. Her legs gave way and had the chair not been beneath her, she’d have landed in a boneless puddle on the floor. His expression rendered her speechless.

One thing Molly had never been before was speechless.

Sam shifted from one foot to the other, as though he were suddenly in physical discomfort. “Never mind contagious. With the way I feel standing here looking at you, I suspect this may be the beginning of an epidemic.”

And there were the shivers again, racing up and down her spine, making the office seem electric. “S-Sam…”

His chest heaved. “I like the way you say my name.”

Molly blinked. Electricity zipped through the quiet rooms.

“Say it again,” he urged in that hoarse whisper.

The sound scraped over Molly’s skin, giving her goose bumps. Honestly, that was a bedroom voice. A whisper reserved for lovers.

“Sam.”

Uh-oh.
Her voice sounded equally bedroom-ish. And wasn’t that completely inappropriate for work? Molly shook her head, trying to clear the fog. “Okay, look. This is exactly why I didn’t want you to bring up the letter. Now instead of us working and focusing on your patients, like we should be, we’re talking about you and me and symptoms neither of us should be feeling and erotic things I wish you’d do to me. And that is all just wrong.”

“Nothing wrong about it that I can see,” Sam disagreed.

She threw her hand up in the air again, showing him her palm. “No, now you cut that out right now, mister. Er, Doctor.”

“So, we’re back to this?”

“No. We’re not back to anything. We’re going to set a few limits so I can actually get some work done. Otherwise I’m going to get so distracted you’ll wish you’d accepted that letter of resignation. Now, about those limits…”

He raised an eyebrow in question.

“One, there will be no talk, at all and whatsoever about the emails.”

“Bu—”

“No. No arguments. I can’t do it. I can’t discuss them with you. It’ll make work hours way too awkward, and frankly that’s not fair to either of us or to your patients.”

“Okay, you have a valid point. I’ll agree to it on one condition.”

“And that is?”

“You don’t stop the emails. And let me warn you, Miss Molly. I’m greedy. I want one a day, at least, for the rest of the week.”

Ack!
“A-and then?”

“And then we can reassess. Depending on the symptoms, we may need to increase it to two a day. Or more.” He shrugged. “Time and treatment will tell.”

Two a day? Heck, she could fill his inbox with erotic emails about him. Tingles raced up her back. Anticipation shot through her veins. “Fine. You have a deal.”

“Good.” He stuck out his hand. “Let’s shake on it.”

Uh-oh.
She eyed his hand warily. Molly made it a practice never to touch Sam. Nestled in the very act was temptation. If she touched him once, even with a little handshake, she feared she might never stop touching him.

“What?” Sam challenged. “You won’t shake my hand? Don’t tell me. That’s the second limit you’re going to set.”

Pshaw.
Absolute nonsense. Of course she could shake his hand. And she did. Only the second he folded her palm into his, she regretted it—kind of. His hand was large, capable and warm. And her hand fit in it perfectly. The feel of his fingers against hers sent a wave of pleasure through her.

If his hand felt so good, how would the rest of him feel?

She wondered if he’d mind if she checked. If he’d be happy to stand there while she ran her hands all over that scrumptious body of—

Damn it, Mol. It’s just a handshake.

She gave his hand a firm shake and pulled away.

Phew. Thank heaven that was over. But now her palm tingled like crazy. “Okay, limit number two…”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t call you Sam. You’re Dr. Sherman, and that’s that.”

“That’s ridiculous, Molly. You called me Sam twice, a few minutes ago.”

“I did. And then I almost jumped you. I can’t go around behaving like that in your rooms. It’s unprofessional.”

“You almost jumped me?” Sam’s grin was huge and smug. Oh, and so damn sexy, Molly melted all over again. She blushed too, if the fire in her cheeks was anything to go by.

“That’s the point, Dr. Sherman. I can’t go around behaving like that here. Imagine if I did, and a patient walked in.” She grimaced.

“Okay. How about a compromise?”

“What kind of a compromise?”

“During office hours, I’ll be Doctor. Outside of the office though, I’m Sam.”

Molly mulled the idea over and decided it was a good one. The only time she’d have need to address Sam outside of office hours would be in her letters, and then she’d call him Sam anyway. She could do it, easy-peasy. Besides, she never saw Sam anywhere but at the hospital. “All right. Agreed. It’s a deal.”

Out came his hand again.

“Really?” She squirmed, both with the need to touch him and the need to restrain herself. “We have to shake on this too?”

“Hey, a deal’s a deal. And a deal has to be sealed…with a handshake.”

Damn it, how did he manage to look innocent and mischievous all at the same time? He was altogether too good at those ambiguous looks.

She pointed to her watch. “Time.”

“Time?”

Sheesh, wasn’t she Miss Verbal this morning? “L-look at the time, Sa— Dr Sherman. It’s office hours.”

“What about the rest of our limit-setting?”

“We’re done. It was just those two points I had to get across. Now that we have, we’re okay to start the day.”

He regarded her with that beautiful, seductive hazel gaze for a long moment.

The world around her ceased to exist. All she could see was that gaze, and all she could feel was its magnetic pull calling to her. Every instinct told her to heed the call. To get up, walk around the counter and go to him.

The air was suddenly thick with potential, rich with all the possibilities that could be. The longer Sam stared at her, the more intense her need became, until finally Molly had no choice. No choice at all.

She blinked, snapping the connection.

Sam blinked too. And just like that, the moment passed.

She leaned over to get a file and handed it to Sam, heading right into receptionist mode—which frankly was easier than dealing with her hormones and this very seductive doctor. “The social worker was here ten minutes ago. She wanted to discuss Greg Avery’s case with you.”

After a few long, long seconds, where his gaze—still heated, but no longer quite so potent—held her pinned to her chair, he nodded. “Okay. If this is how you want to play it, this is how we’ll play it. Business as usual—during office hours.” He opened the folder and glanced over the first page. “Can you get her on the phone for me when I’m in my office?”

“Sure.” Phew. Crisis averted.
For now
. “Has Greg woken up yet?” She didn’t ask to keep his attention diverted. She was genuinely interested. Mickey had been unconscious for thirty-eight hours after the accident. Sam had spent a long time explaining the ramifications of a closed head injury and losing consciousness. The longer Greg remained comatose, the smaller his chances of making a complete recovery.

Mickey, fortunately, had not suffered a brain injury. Her spine was a different story.

Sam shook his head. “Nope. But I have him lightly sedated. Don’t want him thrashing around until we’ve established the extent of the injury to the brain.”

“Still think it’s a case of abuse?” Grateful her hand held steady, Molly passed him a pile of paper slips, each with a phone message written down.

“More with every passing hour.” He held up one of the notes, asking about it.

And finally the morning became another regular day at the office. They ran through the rest of the notes, with Molly jotting down all of Sam’s requests. Then he headed off to his office, leaving Molly to catch her breath. And she would have done that had the door to the rooms not exploded open.

Chapter Four

A man tumbled into the waiting area, looking around in desperation. Worry clung to him like dark shadow.

“Where is he?” he demanded.

“Where is who?” Molly kept her voice calm. The man was so distraught, she feared he might have a full-blown panic attack where he stood.

“My son, Greg.” He lurched to the counter, dragging a suitcase behind him. His eyes were bloodshot, his clothes badly wrinkled and his hair a mess. “I need to see him. Need to know he’s okay.”

Greg’s father. That explained his distress.

“He’s downstairs. Why don’t you give me your name, and I’ll get Greg’s doctor to have a word with you about him?”

“Ethan. Ethan Avery.” He grabbed the counter, his knuckles white. “Is he okay? Is my boy going to be all right?”

Molly’s heart clenched. The man had spent the last twenty-four hours flying halfway around the world, knowing his child was seriously hurt. How had he gotten through the trip without losing his mind? “He’s been admitted to the children’s Critical Care Unit.”

“How do I get there? To Critic—” His voice broke. “How do I get to Critical Care?”

Molly didn’t need to answer. She gestured to Sam, who was already walking towards them. “I’ll take you.” Sam offered the man his hand. “I’m Sam Sherman, Greg’s neurologist.”

Ethan shook it. “I’m Greg’s father. His
real
father.” His expression blackened, and he clenched his free hand into a fist. “Unlike the worthless son of a bitch who put him in hospital.” For a second Molly thought he might punch the wall or counter, but then his expression changed, going from enraged to bleak and despairing. “Please tell me my son’s okay. Lisa gave me no information on the phone. She just said I should come straight upstairs and talk to you.”

“Let’s sit and chat a minute before we go see Greg.” Sam led Ethan over to the empty chairs. “Leave your bag here. Molly can stow it behind the counter for now.” He looked over his shoulder, confirming that was okay with her.

“Of course,” Molly agreed. She rolled the case into her office, setting it where the surfboard had been the day before, then slipped into the kitchen to let them talk.

She prepared two cappuccinos. One the way Sam liked it, and the other extra strong with two heaped teaspoons of sugar. The little boost might help Ethan Avery get through the rest of his day.

She placed a few Tim Tams from Sam’s stash on a plate and took it all through to the two men. Sam had told her umpteen times that coffee-making was not one of her duties, but Molly prided herself on recognizing necessary caffeine moments. Sam was going to need a coffee almost as much as the devastated dad.

Sam smiled his thanks. Ethan didn’t notice. His face had collapsed and tears streamed down his cheeks. “He did it,” Ethan told Sam. “Martin. The bastard Lisa married.”

“Did what?” Sam’s astute gaze was trained on Ethan’s face.

“Hurt Greg,” Ethan growled. “It was no accident. He’s been smacking my son around for months.”

Sam was super alert. “You know this for a fact?”

“Hell, yeah, I know it for a fact. I’ve laid charges against him. Alerted the daycare teachers to look out for signs. I even phoned DOCS. Jesus, I’ve filed for full-time custody, but everything in the system takes so damn long…” He swiped a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have gone on this trip. Shouldn’t have left Greg alone with them, put him in that kind of danger…”

“Beating yourself up won’t help,” Sam said practically. “I need you to be strong for Greg. Need you to be his anchor. If what you say is true, the police are going to be called to the hospital. DOCS is already involved. The case worker was here yesterday and is coming again today. We’re going to have to ensure you’re here at the same time, so you can report all of this directly to her.”

He picked up one of the cups Molly had set down and gave it to Greg’s father. “Drink this, have a biscuit and we’ll head downstairs. I know you’re anxious to see him.”