The Nurse Who Saved Christmas (3 page)

“I’m not a cynic,” he denied, but the more he talked, the more convinced she became that he was.

“I’m a realist,” he clarified. “For most, Christmas is a major stressor with trying to come up with the perfect gift, trying to figure out how they’re going to pay for that gift, and how they’re going to fight the crowds to make sure they get their hands on that perfect gift.”

“You’re so negative,” she pointed out, wondering what had given him such a slanted view of her favorite
time of the year. “I see Christmas as at time when you get to search out that special gift to bring a smile to someone’s face. A gift meant just for them from you that signifies who they are and how much you appreciate having them in your life.”

“It’s about rushing from one place to the next,” he went on, as if she’d never interrupted his tirade. “Never quite satisfying family and friends with how much of your time you can allot for the festivities they planned without any consideration for your busy schedule. It’s about high emotions and family bickering and—”

“Bah, humbug,” she interrupted, pulling out a chair at the table and sitting down beside him, positive she was staring at a complete stranger. Who would have thought the wonderful emergency doctor was such a Scrooge? The caring man who’d been as devastated by the deaths of two patients as she had? “Say what you will, but that’s not what Christmas is about. Not to me, and you should be ashamed for being so…so…Grinchy!”

He eyed her for long, silent moments, studying her as if she were an oddity. Then, as if he’d not just dissed her favorite holiday, dissed her favorite childhood memories of perfect Christmas moments, his lips curved into a crooked smile. “If it’s any consolation, I really like Christmas fudge.”

Taking a deep breath, relaxing the tension that had tightened her neck muscles, Abby sighed. How could she stay annoyed at him when he gave her that boyish look that made her toes curl in her shoes?

“Good thing I didn’t know all this about you when I asked you to be Santa,” she said, smoothing out the
edge of a plain red and green table placemat. “You, Dr. Kelley, are no Santa Claus.”

“You asked me to be Santa because you couldn’t get anyone else to agree.” Still showing wry amusement, his gaze pinned hers. “Admit it.”

An unexpected giggle rose up her throat. “Okay, you’re right. Everyone else I asked claimed to be busy.”

“Such classic examples of Christmas goodwill and cheer.”

“They were probably busy,” she said defensively, although she doubted any of them could match her holiday season schedule. Every year she took on as many projects as she could fit in.

“Sure they were.” He popped the last piece of his fudge into his mouth. “But if they’d known they could maneuver their way into your kitchen, you’d have had to beat Santa-wannabes away with stockings filled with coal.”

“I’m guessing you’d know a lot about those stockings filled with coal.” At his mock look of horror, she smiled. “You should’ve tried my mother’s Martha Washington candy.”

Memories of standing on a chair beside her mother, carefully dipping rolled candies into melted chocolate, her mother smiling down at her, praising her efforts, filled Abby’s heart. How she longed for a family to spend Christmas with.

Dirk reached for a second square of fudge. His sooty ashes swept across his cheeks as he bit into it. Was it shameful she’d like to see that blissful look on his face while he tasted her lips? Yes. Yes, it was. They’d agreed
anything physical between them was a mistake. She’d agreed when he’d said that.

It had been a mistake. Hadn’t it? Or had agreeing with him been the mistake?

Because looking at him, being here with him, denying the way she wanted him when she wanted him so badly sure felt like the bigger mistake.

“I
F YOU’RE
more into peanut butter, there’s always peanut-butter balls and homemade peanut brittle,” she rushed out, trying to redirect her mind away from the direction it was headed.

Eyes wide, his gaze lifted to hers. He looked like an eager little boy.
Like he’d looked that morning when he’d devoured her mouth.

He placed his hand over his heart. “I’ve died and gone to heaven. You’re right. I was too easy. I should have asked for peanut brittle.”

She laughed out loud at his look of ecstasy.

Just as quickly her laughter faded as more memories of another time, another look of ecstasy had been on his handsome face.

When he’d been standing just inside her front door, awkwardly saying goodbye but making no move to leave. The only move he’d made had been to bend and gently kiss her lips.

Then he’d kissed her not so gently.

Oh, Lord, how he’d kissed her.

And kissed her.

No, she couldn’t keep thinking of
that
morning. Not
with him here, alone, in her house, just the two of them and the bed where he’d made love to her.

No, not love. They’d just been two colleagues dealing poorly with a very stressful night in the emergency room.

Her gaze tangled with his and his good humor faded just as quickly as hers had. Was he remembering, too? Recalling that the last time he’d been in her house, he’d never seen the kitchen but had had an up-close-and-personal tour of her bedroom?

He stuck the remainder of his fudge in his mouth, stood and brushed his hands over the faded jeans he’d changed into in her guest bathroom after his shower. When he’d swallowed the mouthful, he took a step back. “I put your Santa suit on the sofa.”

His words managed to pull her from memories of Dirk’s last visit to further in the past. Her father’s Santa suit. When Dirk had asked her about what he’d wear, she’d instantly offered her father’s suit.

“Thanks for the fudge and for the loan of the suit.”

“It was the least I could do as you filled in for Santa.” True, but had anyone else agreed to play the role, she would have bought a cheap Santa costume from a department store. For Dirk, she’d dug out the treasured suit that had belonged to her father.

“Thanks all the same.”

“If you hadn’t agreed, I’d have had to play Santa.” Not that her father’s suit would have fit her, but she’d have made it work somehow. “I think the kids might have been scarred for life.”

His gaze raked over the ample upper part of her body.
“You’re probably right about that. You’re no Santa.” He tossed her earlier words back at her.

Abby didn’t know whether to be offended or flattered. Either way, heat crept into her face.

“I’ll get a dish for you to take some home.” She stood so rapidly her chair almost toppled. Pulling out a Christmas patterned storage tin, she placed a generous piece of plastic wrap inside, arranged as much as would fit of the fudge and cookies, and put the lid on. “There you go.”

He’d moved over next to her, standing near the cabinets. His body heat radiated toward her, luring her nearer. “I feel guilty, coercing you to make this and then taking most of it.”

“You should feel guiltier if you left it here,” she teased a bit nervously, playfully elbowing him, the contact shooting stars through the pit of her belly.

His gaze dropped to where she’d touched his arm then his brow rose in question of her comment.

“If you left it, I’d eat it,” she clarified, not lowering her gaze despite how her blood pumped through her body at warp speed and made her feel as if she needed to call time out so she could catch her breath.

Again his eyes ran over her features, taking their time and not seeming to mind the bumps and valleys along the journey. “That would be a bad thing?”

“I’m a woman who is constantly on a diet,” she admitted, sucking in her waist reflexively as his gaze traveled lower. Not that holding her belly in would do much good.

“You have no reason to be on a diet.” When his eyes met hers, they were blue fire, hot, lust-filled.

A thousand carolers began to sing in her soul, louder and louder until she might explode from the sheer beauty of it, until she was sure the sound must be able to be heard in heaven itself.

“No reason at all,” he repeated, his gaze burning hotter. “You’re perfect just as you are.”

Um, right. Perfect. If you liked a woman who was busty and hippy, with a little extra thigh thrown in on the sides. But she couldn’t look away from Dirk, because he was either the most talented fibber in the world or he meant what he said. And, darn, if those carolers hadn’t gone up another octave in the pit of her belly, making every individual cell vibrate in a happy dance.

“I, uh…” What could she say when he was looking at her as if a slightly fuller figure really was perfection? She shoved the fudge at him. “Thank you, but I’m glad you’re taking it, all the same.”

He looked as if he wanted to say more, but must have decided against doing so as he took the candy, stared at her a few moments, his gaze going from fire to almost a sad smoldering. “Bye, Abs. You working tomorrow night?”

Abs.
He really shouldn’t say her name like that so carelessly! Holding her breath, she nodded.

“Are you planning to go to the hospital Christmas party this weekend?” Had he winced while asking that? Or after the words had left his mouth?

“Of course,” she answered slowly, watching the play of conflicting emotions dance on his face. “I’m on the hospital’s Christmas committee and helped put the party together. Are you going?”

“I hadn’t planned to, but…” He paused, looked as
if he needed to loosen his collar even though his black T-shirt was far from restricting at the neck.

“But?” she prompted, her eyes focusing on a bead of sweat she’d swear was forming on his brow.

He took a deep breath, as if he was about to embark on a dangerous quest he really didn’t want to go on but had little choice. “If you’ll go with me, I could probably tolerate it this once. When I didn’t RSVP, the hospital administrator came by.” Dirk sighed, looking almost as uncomfortable as he had when he’d been playing Santa. “He said it wouldn’t look good for the newest member on the medical staff to not show for the hospital’s biggest employee social event of the year.”

Not the most enthusiastic invitation she’d ever received, but happiness spread through Abby.

Dirk had just asked her on a date to the hospital Christmas party.

Not that he really wanted to go, but he’d asked her to accompany him. On a date.

“I’d love to go to the Christmas party with you.” There wasn’t a man alive she’d rather attend with. Being at Dirk’s side would make the party all the more special, made everything all the more special.

Would he please turn around a moment so she could happy-dance around the kitchen?

Dirk had asked her to the Christmas party! Their morning hadn’t been a one-night stand after all. Er…a one-morning stand after all.

“Okay. Great.” He sounded relieved at her answer.

Had he thought she’d say no or was it the Christmas party itself stressing him? Either way, Dirk had just asked her to go on a date.

Thinking this just might be the best Christmas ever, she bubbled with good cheer and found herself wanting to tease a smile out of him. “Do I need to have my father’s Santa suit dry-cleaned or will you be providing your own wardrobe for the evening?”

He snorted, his mouth creeping up at the corners as she’d hoped. “You worry about what you’re going to wear, Li’l Miss Christmas Spirit. I’ll take care of my suit.”

“So long as it’s not green with pointy toes, Mr. Grinchy.”

He laughed. “Deal.”

They stared at each other long moments, so long Abby couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking, couldn’t help but wonder what had prompted his invitation. Was it possible that she wasn’t the only one with visions of more than sugar plums dancing through her dreams? Could he at this very moment want to whisk her off her feet and carry her back to her bed and have a repeat? Why bother going to the bedroom? Kitchens were always good for cooking up something hot.

He cleared his throat, coughed, shook his head a little. “See you tomorrow night at the hospital. Thanks again for the fudge.”

With that, he took his goodies and left.

Abby wrapped her arms around her apron-covered waist and danced around the kitchen while singing along with one of her favorite Christmas tunes.

She was going to the hospital Christmas party with the most amazing, sexy, wonderful man she’d ever met.

God, she loved Christmastime and if she wasn’t careful, she just might end up loving Dirk, too.

“Bay one has a probable UTI,” Abby told Dirk when he stepped out of the exam area where he’d just been seeing a patient in. “White blood cell count is twelve thousand, with neutrophils slightly elevated. There’s a trace of blood and plus four bacteria in the urine. The patient reports tenderness in the abdomen and in the mid-low back.”

Dirk nodded, without glancing directly at her.

Abby sighed. He’d seemed a bit distant tonight. She’d been dreaming of dashing through the snow like lovers with him ever since he’d issued his invitation to the Christmas party. Okay, before then. Way before then. She’d been dreaming of Dirk since the morning they’d ended up in bed together. Hadn’t she known not to get her hopes up after the way he’d
dashed
out of her house after they’d made love? But she just couldn’t seem to help herself where Dirk was concerned.

Reminding herself that she was a registered nurse, a professional, and on the job, she followed Dirk into the bay, telling herself to keep her mind—and eyes!—off the man in front of her, even if he did look fab-u-lous in his hospital-issue scrubs.

Obviously, he didn’t spend his days inside, baking. Not with the taut definition in his upper arms, the strength in his neck and shoulders, the taper of his waist, the… Abby gulped.
Focus! He is not a Christmas package waiting for you to unwrap him. He’s a highly respected emergency physician.

But she’d really like to unwrap Dirk.

Focus! Focus! Focus!

“Hello, Mrs. Youngblood,” he greeted the thin lady with streaky brown-blond hair and pinched facial
features. “The nurse was just telling me about your lab results. It appears you have a serious urinary-tract infection. Tell me what’s been going on.”

Dirk examined the patient while the lady told him of her symptoms, when they’d started and how they’d gotten much worse during the night to the point she’d decided she couldn’t wait until morning to check in with her primary care provider.

“No history of kidney stones?”

Mrs. Youngblood shook her head, her expression easing very little. “My husband has them, but I never have. Are they contagious?”

“No. You can’t catch kidney stones from another person.” Dirk pressed on her thin abdomen, attempting to palpate organs. “Any vaginal symptoms?”

“I don’t think so,” she denied, her hand guarding her belly as Dirk examined her. “It just really burns when I urinate. And feels like my bladder is going to turn inside out when I go, too.”

“Have the medications given since you’ve arrived helped?”

“Yes.” Although you sure couldn’t tell it by the woman’s grimace. “When I first got here I was miserable. The pain hasn’t completely eased, but I’m a lot better.”

Dirk washed his hands then turned to his patient. “I’m going to write a prescription for some antibiotics. You’ll need to follow up with your primary care provider within the next couple of days.” He began writing out orders. “Do you need a note for work?”

The woman shook her head. “I work from home as a medical billing clerk.”

“Great.” Dirk turned to Abby, meeting her eyes for the first time since they’d entered the room, and he smiled.

A real smile that reached those gorgeous blue eyes and pierced right into her heart.

Relief flooded Abby. Did he have any idea as to the lethalness of his smile? Probably. She soaked up every drop of his potency, letting the intensity of her emotions flow through her veins.

“Mrs. Youngblood,” he said, his gaze flicking back to his patient. “The nurse will get you ready for discharge. If you have any additional problems or get worse before morning, I’d suggest you return to the emergency department for a recheck.”

An hour later, the emergency department was in full swing. Every bay was full. Both physicians and the nurse practitioner on duty were at full stretch.

Abby adjusted a breathing mask over an asthma patient’s mouth and nose, preparing to administer a beta-agonist medication via a nebulizer to rapidly open up the restricted airways.

“You may feel a little shaky and jittery after the medication starts working,” she warned her patient. “The process that causes the bronchial tubes to dilate also speeds up the heart rate. Don’t let the reaction alarm you as that’s a natural and expected response to the medicine.”

She turned on the nebulizer and waited to make sure the patient’s wheezing slowed before she stepped out of the bay to check on her next patient.

Dirk was with him—a morbidly obese man who’d woken up with a sharp tightness in his chest that took
his breath. They’d started him on meds immediately on arrival, done tests, including an EKG that showed left ventricular hypertrophy and a possible blockage. They’d stabilized him while awaiting the results of his cardiac enzyme tests.

“I read your chest X-ray, Mr. Lytle. Your heart is enlarged, showing signs of your high blood pressure and congestive heart failure, but that shouldn’t have caused you to wake up with chest pain. I don’t see anything acute on the films, but your troponin level is slightly elevated. That’s a myocardial muscle isoenzyme that elevates when the heart isn’t getting enough oxygen. I’m going to admit you to the cardiac-care unit for close observation. The cardiologist on call has been notified you’re here and will be by soon. He’ll schedule you for a cardiac catheterization, likely for in the morning. That way, if there are any blockages, he can repair them immediately.”

Abby began to prepare to have the patient transferred to the cardiac-care unit while Dirk answered the questions of the patient and his wife.