dosage, and route he wanted it administered.
Please. No wonder all her co-workers thought he was God’s gift to the emergency department. Forget the man’s extraordinary good looks, which made a girl willing to overlook most flaws, but, seriously, how many doctors said please and thank you routinely? As well loved as Cassidy was, even the lovely doctor on maternity leave wasn’t known for pleases and thank yous.
Brielle didn’t want to like him, this older version of the man she’d once loved with all her heart. Didn’t want to have positive thoughts in any way, shape, or form regarding Ross.
She didn’t want to have thoughts of Ross, period.
Not good. Not bad. Not any.
Forcing him from her mind yet again, she nodded at the source of her annoyance and left the emergency room bay to carry out his orders. She’d just finished drawing up the injection when he stepped up behind her. Close. Too close.
She turned to tell him to back away, to leave her alone, but facing Ross was a mistake.
He was standing closer than she’d realized. So close that they practically touched. So close that when she looked up at him, she could see the flare of desire darkening the blue of his eyes.
She remembered that flare, that look that said he wanted her. Before he’d baled out on her, that look would have had her smiling, nodding, and them getting alone as quickly as possible.
A lump clogged her throat. She choked back a fresh wave of annoyance at how she remembered everything about him, how her body remembered every look and caress he’d ever bestowed on her. Stupid body!
He looked good, smelled good. It was all she could do to keep from deeply inhaling the musky scent of him. If she leaned just slightly towards him, she bet he’d feel good too. His lean body was as toned and fit as ever. Perhaps more so than when he’d been finishing his degree.
But Brielle didn’t lean. Instead, she focused on the image of the last time she’d seen him when she’d gone to Boston a few months after he’d left.
An image of that wonderfully built body of his pressed against a woman Brielle hadn’t known, but obviously Ross had, filled her mind. His lips had been firmly attached to the blonde stranger’s. When he’d pulled back, he’d smiled at the woman, slid his arm to her lower back and whispered something in the woman’s ear that had made her laugh and slap his upper arm.
Brielle hadn’t laughed, but she had felt like slapping Ross. And herself for being so stupid as to think going to Boston to tell him about her pregnancy had been the right thing for her to do.
He’d told her he wanted nothing to do with her or anything that had to do with her ever again. Why hadn’t she believed him?
She’d left somewhere between numb, angry, and so hurt that the airline stewardess had asked more than once if she was okay. Less than a month later she’d given birth to Justice, her obstetrician citing stress as the cause of her premature labor.
The memory of her Boston trip still held the power to almost bring her to her knees with pain, nausea, and weakness. It also gave her the power to resist the man standing before her, who was as sinfully tempting as the devil himself. Yes, she’d loved him once upon a time, but the flip side of the coin held her in its grasp much more firmly these days.
“Brielle,” he began, his voice low, his eyes searching as if he knew her thoughts had gone somewhere dark. He reached for her shoulders.
“Don’t!” She jerked back, clenching the medication-filled syringe between shaking fingers. “Don’t you dare touch me, Ross Lane. Don’t you ever touch me!”
She’d been louder than she should have been and Cindy glanced her way, frowning in confusion.
“Brielle.” Her name came out as a sigh. He said something more, but the roaring in her ears prevented her from understanding his words. Had he really thought he could just show up and step back into her life? Was that what he wanted?
Who cared what he wanted?
As far as she was concerned, Cassidy couldn’t come off maternity leave soon enough so that Ross could pitchfork his way back to the fiery gates that had spat him out.
She closed her eyes, squeezed them tight, hoping he would be gone when she opened them.
No such luck.
She sighed. “Please go away.”
He stared at her for long moments. “Is that what you want? For me to leave and just stay gone?”
Was it?
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “The emergency room would be chaos if you left.”
His lips twisted. “That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it. Go to dinner with me at the end of your shift so we can talk.”
“We’ve already been through this. I don’t want anything to do with you.” She fought back the bile rising up her throat. Had she purposely flung his words back at him? “What would be the point?”
“We could catch up on old times.”
“Aren’t you listening?” She glared up at him as if he wasn’t nearly as bright as she knew him to be. “I don’t want to catch up on old times with you.”
He shrugged. “I’m flexible. Go to dinner with me so we can make new times.”
She started to shoot him down again, but thought of Justice. This was her precious son’s father. A father he’d never met. Didn’t she owe it to Justice to see if Ross was man enough to do right by his son should she tell him of the miracle they’d created?
Was there really any choice a good mother could make other than to see what he had to say and then make any necessary decisions regarding her son’s future?
Ross watched the play of emotions dance across Brielle’s face. She’d never been good at hiding her thoughts. Time hadn’t changed that.
She was considering saying yes. He wanted her to say yes. More than any sane man should, he wanted her to go to dinner with him, to spend time with him, regardless of what they were doing.
“Please, Brielle. Say yes.” He didn’t like pleading with her, but with their past he figured he owed her that much. Hell, he probably owed her a lot more than that, but he wasn’t quite ready to grovel yet. “I want to spend time with you. Outside work.”
Emotions continued to battle for dominance across her face. She didn’t want to say yes. Not really. But he wasn’t blind. There was still something between them, a heat, an inner connection that time, or his foolishness, hadn’t eradicated.
“Let me take you to dinner. No pressure for anything more, I promise. I’ll grovel if necessary.”
Okay, so maybe he was ready to grovel. Groveling would be a new experience, but he’d learn to grovel with the best of them if it won him the chance of getting back in her good graces.
Her brown gaze lowered then lifted to his. “Okay, fine, I will go to dinner with you. But this means nothing, Ross. Nothing at all. I am not
