Resisting Her Rebel Hero (10 page)

“Lots of reasons,” she murmured, drinking in his clean masculine smell. “One of which is that we’re now working together. I don’t sleep with colleagues.”

“Glad to hear it,” he drawled, smoothing a hand down her back to her hip to press her closer. “I would have really hated punching Monty’s lights out.”

Cassidy grimaced and pushed away from him, feeling off balance like she’d entered an episode of
some adventure game show
dressed in a designer suit and four-inch heels. “That’s disgusting.”

“Besides, neither of us is married.” He paused as though a horrible thought just occurred to him. “Are you?”

Cassidy gaped at him. “No!”

He shrugged but looked ridiculously relieved. “Then what’s wrong with enjoying each other?”

“While you’re here, you mean?”

He frowned and leaned back so he could look into her face. “Is that a problem?”

Sighing, Cassidy told herself she wasn’t disappointed. She’d known from the beginning she was nothing more than a temporary distraction.

“I’m not built for temporary, Sam, and everything about you says your bags are packed and all you need is one phone call.”

His hands dropped and she could see the truth in his eyes. Her heart squeezed, though she didn’t know what she’d expected him to say. Deny it maybe?

Fortunately a voice from the doorway stopped her from humiliating herself further.

“Cassidy, Mrs. West is... Oh.” Janice paused as if she sensed the tension in the room. “I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes wide and curious. “I didn’t realize you were busy.”

“We’re not,” Cassidy said briskly, reaching out to snag the stethoscope she’d tossed onto the desk the previous night. “I was just on my way. Is Mrs. West in exam room one?”

“Yes, Doctor,” the nurse said, wide eyes bouncing between Cassidy and Sam. “Hank Dougherty is waiting in two.”

“Thank you, Janice,” Cassidy said, looping the stethoscope around her neck. “I’ll be right there. In the meantime, can you please hunt up a lab coat for Major Kellan and inform the staff that he’s filling in for Dr. Montgomery?”

Janice beamed at Sam, and Cassidy could practically hear the woman’s heart go pitter-pat. “I heard.” Janice grinned excitedly. “Welcome aboard,” she gushed.

And giggled when his “Thanks” was accompanied by a crooked grin.

Taking that as her cue, Cassidy headed for the door, desperate to escape before he remembered what they’d been discussing. His voice, dark as midnight and rough as crushed velvet, reached across the room and stopped her in her tracks. “I’m not him, Cassidy,” he called softly, and her fingers tightened on the doorframe. She chanced a look across her shoulder.

“Not who?” she asked past the lump of yearning in her throat. A yearning she didn’t want to analyze too closely.

“I’m not what’s-his-name? Lance Full-of-bull.”

“Today is senior citizen clinic day,” she said briskly instead of replying to what was largely rhetorical anyway. “Hank Dougherty needs hip replacement surgery but he needs to get his smoking under control first. Don’t let the old codger con you into thinking he’s quit.”

* * *

Removing the stethoscope from her ears, Cassidy smiled reassuringly at the anxious young mother hovering close. “Chest is all clear,” she announced, “but this little butterball has a bad fever and her ears are inflamed.”

She reached for a tongue depressor. “Open your mouth wide, sweetie,” she cajoled gently, “I want to check if the bad germs got into your throat.”

The child gazed back with huge, tragic eyes and held out the stuffed toy she was clutching. “Elmo first,” she rasped, looking on intently as Cassidy examined Elmo’s throat and made some doctor noises. “Do you think you and Elmo have the same bad germs?” Cassidy asked, holding out a new depressor. The little girl nodded and obediently opened her mouth.

“Uh-oh,” she said, with an exaggerated look of dismay. “Just as I thought. Have you two been sharing a toothbrush again?” Jenny giggled around the thumb she’d instantly shoved in her mouth and shook her head. “That’s good because Elmo needs his own toothbrush.” She tapped a little button nose and lifted the child into her arms. “And you need to suck on something other than that thumb. How about a magic lollipop?”

“Magic?” Jenny rasped shyly around her thumb.

“Uh-huh. One that’ll chase away all those bad germs,” Cassidy explained, reaching into a nearby cabinet. “And make your throat feel better.” She held out two antibacterial lollipops. “There,” she said, handing the little girl to her mother. “One for you and one for Elmo.” Returning to her desk, she slid a handful of M&Ms into a small clear plastic bag and wrote “Elmo” in permanent marker on the front.

“This is for Elmo but your mommy’s going to have to get your medication from the pharmacy,” she explained to the wide-eyed child. “Elmo is pretty bad at taking his medicine. I want you to be a big girl and show him how it’s done. Can you do that for me?”

Jenny nodded solemnly as her mother smiled at Cassidy. “Thank you so much, Dr. Mahoney. You’re really good with children,” she said. “Are you a pediatrician?”

Cassidy shook her head. “I specialized in ER medicine. And it’s Cassidy.”

“Thank you, Cassidy. And welcome to Crescent Lake.”

Smiling, Cassidy sent the child a little wave over her mother’s shoulder as the two left her office, and had only a couple of minutes to gulp down rapidly cooling coffee before her next appointment arrived.

A clearly harassed Cathy Howard entered with a rowdy, tow-headed toddler and sank wearily into the nearest chair. Little Timmy Howard had been one of her first patients.

“Did I ever say I wanted him bouncing around again?” Cathy asked Cassidy with a grimace. “I would give
anything
for just
one
minute of peace.”

Cassidy rounded her desk and looked into Timmy’s big blue eyes, catching the wicked sparkle that would one day drive girls wild. Grinning, she swooped on him before he could escape, and plopped him down on the bed.

She laughed as he tried to wriggle free. “Come here, you little monkey. I want to listen to the engine inside your chest and see if all your spots have gone.”

Timmy gurgled and pulled up his shirt, exposing his little pot belly. “See,” he said, tucking his chin onto his chest and peering down at his tummy. “Gone.”

“Are you sure?” Cassidy sounded dubious. “I think I see one here.” She tickled him, making him squirm and chortle. “And here?” The noisy raspberry she blew on his tummy made him squeal and try to squirm away, but she held him firmly. “What about here?” He gave a great big belly laugh and caught her face in his hands before planting a big wet kiss on her nose.

Cassidy laughed and brushed white-blond curls off his face. “I bet you do that to all the girls,” she teased, lifting him onto his sturdy little legs. He wrapped his chubby arms around her neck and bounced happily while she listened to his chest. Satisfied that he had no after-effects of the virus, she lifted him into her arms.

Turning to hand him to his mother, she came face to face with Sam. Her heart jolted and she sucked in a startled breath. They hadn’t been this close since she’d told him she couldn’t get involved with him.

“Oh. Major Kellan, you...you startled me.”

“You got a minute, Doc?”

Belatedly noting his shuttered expression and the grim set of his mouth, Cassidy felt a prickle of alarm. A quick examination revealed blood staining the gray T-shirt beneath his lab coat and her skin went ice cold.

“Samuel—?”

“You finished up here?” he interrupted, flashing a quick look over her shoulder at the room’s occupant. “Hey, Cath,” he greeted the other woman with a quick smile of familiarity. “How’s Frank?”

“Hi, Sam,” Cathy Howard greeted him back, her eyes alight with avid curiosity. “He’s great. Thanks for asking.”

“You need to come with me,” he said to Cassidy, lowering his voice and backing into the hallway. “
Now
.”

Dropping a quick kiss on Timmy’s curls, she handed him to his mother. “Cathy, Timmy seems fine,” she told the other woman, her attention on Sam’s tense back. “If you’re worried about anything, don’t hesitate to bring him in. Keep him quiet for another day or two and be sure to give him a multivitamin and plenty of fluids.”

She murmured a hasty goodbye and hurried after Sam, calling out to Janice at Reception that they had a code blue. Fortunately it was the midafternoon lull and she was certain Fran could handle the few patients that remained.

Cassidy hurriedly caught up to Sam, her pulse a blip of anxiety as she searched for injuries.

“Where are you hurt?”

His black brows came together over the bridge of his nose. “What?”

She drew level with him and gestured to his gray T-shirt and jeans. “Blood. Where are you hurt?”

He frowned down at himself. “It’s not mine. A logger’s just been brought in. Bad weather caused a cable to snap. He was in the way.”

“Where is he?”

“OR. I can handle it if you’re busy.”

Almost running to keep up with his long strides, she sent him a sideways glance. “Fran’s got the clinic. What’s his condition?”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. His short reply, “Bad,” sent an icy chill skating down her spine.

A white-faced Jim Bowen was already lying on the operating table, his shirt and jacket wet with his blood. Heather Murray was at his side, holding a pressure bandage over the wound, while a middle-aged man held his shoulders and talked quietly to him. Another younger man hovered nearby, looking like he was on the verge of passing out. His relief when he saw Sam turned to confusion when he spotted Cassidy.

“I thought you were getting the doctor?”

Sam’s brow lifted and he sent Cassidy a wry smile. “I did,” he drawled. “This is Dr. Mahoney. She’s an ER specialist from Boston.”

Ignoring the skepticism in the young man’s eyes, Cassidy moved towards the patient, noting his gray-tinged skin. She lifted her head and caught Sam’s gaze. “Heather, could you please show the gentlemen out and get Spruce Ridge on standby. Major Kellan and I will handle this until you return.”

Cassidy barely noticed the men leaving as she quickly shed her lab coat and pulled on a surgical gown. Tossing another to Sam, she liberally sprayed her hands and arms with disinfectant before grabbing two pairs of surgical gloves from a nearby dispenser. She shoved her hands into one pair and waited while Sam disinfected. There wasn’t time to scrub.

With swift, economical moves, Cassidy cut Jim’s shirt away while Sam inserted the stent and hooked up a saline drip. For several minutes they worked together in silence, cleaning the patient’s chest and arm, positioning electrode disks and hooking him up to the heart monitor.

Cassidy clipped on the saturation probe and frowned as thready, irregular pulse beats blipped into the silence. Jim had clearly lost a lot of blood and was going into shock.

“He’s going to need an orthopedic specialist,” Sam said, tying Cassidy’s face mask and shoving her hair under the surgical cap as she gently eased pressure on the dressing to assess the extent of the damage.

Jim’s arm had almost been severed at the shoulder and the instant she released the pressure, blood gushed from the jagged wound. “Can’t wait,” she said briskly, reaching for a clamp. “We’re going to have to repair this artery first or he won’t make the orthopod.”

“Heather,” she said briskly when the nurse returned, “find out his blood type and get the status with Spruce Ridge changed to code blue. What’s our blood status? He’s going to need at least six units.”

“Four in total,” Sam said from the refrigerator, “and they’re all O positive.”

They shared a look and Cassidy made a split-second decision she hoped she wouldn’t regret. “We’ll use them all and substitute the rest with blood plasma.”

Sam’s brow rose up his forehead. “And if he’s AB negative?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

CHAPTER TEN

C
ASSIDY
 
STARED
 
IN
 
dismay at the ominous storm front that had rolled over the mountains while she and Sam had been in the OR. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the helicopter pilot presently running towards them was alone. He wasn’t even Medevac. A Forestry Services chopper had responded to their emergency.

Just great.

“Where’s the Medevac crew?” she yelled, pushing her whipping hair off her face. The icy wind roaring down the mountain held more than a hint of snow and she had a feeling the storm was closing fast.

“You’re it,” he yelled over the noise from the engine and rotors. “Landslides and bad weather’s already caused a major pile-up on the interstate to the northwest. They’re stretched thin at Spruce Ridge General and when your call came through, all Medevac were engaged. You’re lucky I was in the area.”

“I’ll go,” Sam yelled, leaping into the helicopter with familiarity and an ease born of a well-conditioned body as he grabbed the collapsible gurney and pulled it inside. He slid it into place and hung the saline bag on an overhead hook before strapping the stretcher to the floor.

Cassidy felt her stomach clench into a tight ball of terror at the thought of flying through a blizzard. She’d heard stories about the late spring storms that often tore through the Cascades and wasn’t looking forward to flying into it.

Swallowing her fear, she sucked in a lungful of cold air and shook her head decisively. Grasping the open door, she pulled herself inside before she could change her mind. “I’m the responsible physician at this hospital, Major,” she yelled. “He’s my patient. I can’t let him go until I sign him over to another practicing physician.” And when his dark gold gaze lifted and clashed with hers, she added a little more sharply, “My responsibility.”

For a couple of beats Sam held her gaze then he gave a curt nod. “Fine. But I’m coming with you.”

Ignoring the relief that slid into her stomach, Cassidy shook her head. “Not necessary. I...
we’ll
be fine. I know you have other...plans.”

He sent her a puzzled, narrow-eyed look that said he didn’t know what she was talking about but wanted to demand an explanation. All he said was, “Be right back,” before leaning forward to talk to the pilot, who was fiddling with the panel of overhead instruments. After a couple of beats the pilot nodded and Sam clasped the man’s shoulder. Moving to the open door, he flashed an inscrutable look in her direction then jumped from the helo to lope across the helipad towards the building.

The rotors picked up speed and Cassidy swallowed hard.
Oh, God.
She hoped he hurried back before she changed her mind. Besides, she’d overheard a couple of nurses discussing meeting up with him later, which meant he was probably cancelling their date—or rescheduling.

And since he’d made it clear he wasn’t in the market for anything long term and
she’d
made it clear she wouldn’t get involved with a colleague, there wasn’t much left to say.

Was there?

So why did she feel on the verge of tears? Why did she feel as though she’d just eaten a gallon of double-cream ice cream? Was she just having a panic attack at the idea of flying through a storm in a helicopter? Or was the queasy feeling in her stomach something else? But since she refused to consider the “something else” and wasn’t some damsel in distress who needed to be rescued by a big, strong man, she didn’t know where that left her.

She checked Jim’s vitals in an effort to calm her nerves, tugged at the straps holding the gurney in place and fiddled with his shoulder dressing. After an anxious look in the direction in which Sam had gone, she flicked at a few bubbles in the IV line, hooked up another unit of blood, and then
re
checked his vitals, aware that with every passing second their window of opportunity for flying out was narrowing.

Finally, when her anxiety was at fever pitch, Sam reappeared. Without a word, he tossed her a thick parka, extra blanket and rucksack before leaping into the chopper. He pulled the door closed behind him, abruptly shutting out the worst of the rotor roar and the first snowflakes.

Cassidy bit her lip and slid onto the bench seat, pressing a hand to her roiling belly as he leant forward to tap the pilot on the shoulder. Without turning, the man lifted his hand in acknowledgement and in the next instant the engines screamed.

Cassidy dug her fingers into the bench seat beneath her. The craft shuddered and she squeezed her eyes shut in an effort not to freak out as the chopper lifted with a sickening lurch and the ground abruptly disappeared beneath her feet.

Biting back a whimper, her grip on the bench tightened until her knuckles ached and her fingers turned white. Something dropped around her shoulders an instant before Sam’s heat enveloped her. He pressed his solid shoulder close as a big, calloused hand covered hers. Once he’d pried her fingers loose, he engulfed them in a firm, warm clasp.

With his rough palm sliding against hers, he laced their fingers together and gave her a comforting squeeze. Cassidy tightened her grip when what she really wanted to do was climb into his lap and hide her face against his strong, wide chest. She’d die of mortification later, she told herself, when her feet were once again firmly on solid ground.

His cold lips brushed her ear. “You can open your eyes now,” he yelled, and she shook her head, unwilling to see the masculine amusement gleaming in his eyes.

God, she’d missed looking into those gold eyes...missed
him
more than she’d thought possible.

She felt his mouth smile against her temple and shivered as hot and cold goose bumps broke out across her skin. She was unsure if it was fear, the dipping temperatures or...or a desperate need for his touch—and terrified it was a combination of all three. For some reason his proximity always seemed to trigger a confusing mix of emotions that left her reeling.

“
Babe
,” he said against her ear, and Cassidy could hear the smile in his voice before he gave her earlobe a gentle nip. This time she had no trouble identifying the origin of the shivers racing over her skin. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised deeply. “I’m a SEAL. You’re absolutely safe.”

Cassidy turned to yell at him for calling her babe, only to find him less than an inch away. His gaze was hot, intense and a weird sensation of vertigo sent her stomach plummeting. For the second time in as many minutes her world tilted, and she was fairly certain it had nothing to do with being suspended above the earth in a flimsy aircraft.

Every thought fled save the sudden jumble of emotions she struggled to make sense of. Blood rushed from her head. Her lungs constricted and she was forced to acknowledge that she wasn’t just hanging in space with a thin layer of metal between her and the jagged peaks below. Her heart was too—for an entirely different reason.

It quivered in her chest and before she could pull back from the edge or rip her hand from his and retreat to the opposite bench—
hell, throw herself from the helicopter
—in an effort to protect herself, he lifted her hand to his lips and—
Oh, God
—pressed a kiss to her white knuckles.

A sob rose in her chest.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he repeated, with a reassuring smile that promised everything she’d told herself she didn’t want and he couldn’t possibly mean. And when she simply shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, he cupped her jaw in his big, warm hand. He waited until her lashes rose before adding, “SEAL’s honor.”

Cassidy’s heart clenched—his expression, and the heartfelt assurance, appearing more meaningful than a kiss. She sucked in a shuddery breath, suddenly terrified about what it could mean and blurted, “If we go down I’m going to kill you,” as she battled with the shocking truth.

He laughed and her chest tightened painfully.

Oh, God.

She could no longer hide it from herself. She wasn’t just fighting feelings for him. She was in love with Samuel J. Kellan, US Navy SEAL. A man who kept himself locked up tight, a man who didn’t return her feelings, even though he wanted to be with her.

For now.

He’d wormed his way under her defenses and had settled next to her heart while making it perfectly clear she was a distraction. He didn’t do long term and thinking she could matter to him was insane.

“Hey...” Sam’s deep voice was laced with concern “...why the gloomy face?”

She dropped her lashes to hide her chaotic thoughts and bit her lip. Right, like she’d tell
him
. He already knew how to make her respond to him. She would rather die than have him guess how she felt.

Her pulse fluttered. He was such a beautiful man, strong, honorable and honest. He hadn’t lied or made promises he knew he couldn’t keep, and she couldn’t imagine him taking a woman hostage after he’d been caught doing something illegal and realized he could no longer sweet talk his way out of it. He wasn’t Lance Turnbull. He’d proved time and again that he could be counted on. That he was someone worthy of love. That he was worthy of her love.

Only thing was: he didn’t want it.

She gave a wild little laugh and hoped he thought she was freaking out about flying. “You ask that when we’re a thousand feet over the Cascades—in a tin can?”

His eyes crinkled and his mouth curled into a quick grin that had her breath catching in her chest. For the first time since that night in the jail cell he looked relaxed and...carefree.
Happy,
even.

“Isn’t it great?”

Yes, it was, she admitted silently, but not the view out the window. With a sudden flash of insight she realized that he missed his team, his dangerous job. And she wondered for perhaps the hundredth time why he chose to be stuck in a small mountain hospital, treating runny noses and hypertension, instead of jumping from aircraft, yelling “
Hoo-yah
” as he took out the enemy. And if, for just a fleeing moment, she wished she’d been responsible for the dazzling pleasure lighting his gold eyes, Cassidy reminded herself that kind of thinking would only lead to heartache. Heartache she knew—with abrupt certainty—she would never recover from.

She loved him but would keep her heart safely hidden. For now she would simply enjoy the warm, masculine scent of him and the press of his body against hers, knowing it would soon be gone.

“You’re insane,” she yelled, and rolled her eyes when his quick answering grin flashed with wicked recklessness. And when his eyes dropped to her mouth, her blood turned hot.

An odd expression crossed his face and his eyes darkened. “Yeah,” he agreed, wrapping a hand around her head to tug her close. Expecting his usual fiery mastery, Cassidy was stunned when his mouth touched hers gently in a kiss that was as sweet as it was unexpected.

And before she could remember that this was a very bad idea, she was sliding her hands up to cup his hard, beard-roughened jaw. She opened for him, tentatively touching her tongue to his, while she fought the aching need squeezing her heart.

He tasted of hot, untamed man and for once in her life Cassidy wanted to leap off the edge, uncaring where she landed. There was only
this
—this wild, exciting moment with this wild, exciting man.

Tilting her head to give him room, she traced the strong line of his jaw with questing fingers, ignoring the tiny voice of reason in her head that warned she was heading for disaster. She didn’t care. She just wanted to feel what was suddenly the most significant kiss of her life.

If this was all she’d have, she would take it. But she had to remind herself they weren’t alone. With supreme effort, she broke off to say, “Sam, we should stop,” hoping he would make it easy for her, and hoping with equal intensity that he would not.

* * *

With a savage growl Sam leaned his forehead against hers and sucked in a ragged breath. His heart thundered in his chest like he was having a coronary, yet he felt more alive than he had in a long time. More intensely aware of his surroundings—as though electricity flowed across his skin and connected every atom in his body to the universe. To her.

Pulling back an inch, he stared into misty green eyes heavy with arousal and emotions he couldn’t begin to identify, and wondered briefly what had made this kiss so different.

He was thirty-four years old, and he’d just had the hottest, wildest kiss of his life in a cold, noisy helicopter a couple of thousand feet in the air—with a woman who wasn’t interested in a relationship and then kissed like she was searching for his soul.

Reminding himself that his time in Crescent Lake was running out—that this was just a fantasy interlude before he returned to his real life—Sam caught her mouth in a brief, scorching kiss. “Later,” he growled, sliding his gaze over her face as though committing the soft confusion in her eyes to memory.

Damn
, but she was so beautiful.

Suddenly her eyes widened and she pulled away so abruptly he cast around for the threat before he realized she was dropping to her knees beside Jim.

“He’s crashing,” she yelled, pulling at the straps securing the stretcher. Cursing himself for forgetting where they were, Sam leaned over to release the safety clip as Cassidy tore off the blanket to expose the patient’s chest. She checked his pulse and immediately began performing CPR as Sam grabbed a headset to bark at the pilot.

Learning they were less than five minutes out of Spruce Ridge, he instructed the pilot to radio ahead with their ETA and to have a resus team waiting at the helipad. He tossed aside the headset and dug into his rucksack for the supplies he’d thrown there earlier.

He ripped off the plastic needle cover with his teeth and plunged the syringe into the vial of atropine. With a smooth one-handed move that might have impressed Cassidy if her patient hadn’t been in trouble, he drew back the plunger.

“Get that into his vein,” she ordered sharply, before stopping the chest compressions to begin mouth-to-mouth. The following minutes were filled with the urgency only experienced by medics concerned with saving a life, and by the time they landed and rushed him across the helipad, Jim Bowen’s pulse was once again steady.