she’d felt when they’d broken off the relationship that had seemed so foolishly perfect. Today’s intense emotions were confusingly tangled up with Sean and their past. From their instantaneous attraction and passion to the final argument six months ago, and that anger and frustration and pain had been nearly as unbearable as today’s.
Sean was holding her body so close against his, she wasn’t sure where he ended and she began, but his kiss began to change. It felt less about all those consuming emotions, and more about a deep relief mingling with the simple and profound connection they used to have. Softening into a tenderness that flipped Bree’s aching heart inside out, reminding her with excruciating clarity how good it had been between them. How delicious and wonderful and like nothing she’d ever experienced before.
“Bree.” His mouth barely separated from hers enough to whisper the word. “Bree.”
His fingers slipped into her hair, gently holding the back of her head as his lips caressed hers again so sweetly now, so leisurely, it weakened her knees and made her heart thud in slow, heavy strokes as the kiss changed again. Still sweet, still tender, but deeper now, stealing every molecule of breath from her lungs. Shaking, she slid her hands up his chest to cup the sides of his strong neck, to feel the warmth of his skin.
How could she survive without this?
Through her misty, single-minded focus on the feel of him and the taste of him, she became vaguely aware of a rhythmic sound, growing louder. The drone of an engine and the whup-whup of helicopter blades. Somehow, she managed to separate her mouth from his and open her eyes to see Sean’s lids lifting at the same time. His eyes were black, glittering like onyx, staring at her. His face was still tight, his jaw clenched. His chest heaved against hers as they stared at one another.
Bree took that moment to memorize his face, and, even as she did, inwardly mocked herself. Memorize it? Who was she kidding? Every curve and angle was forever etched deep in her mind and heart, and the vision of it appeared, unwelcome, all too often as it was.
Still, they just stood there, and she couldn’t make herself pull away, even though her preservation instincts told her she should. Reopen the wound on her heart? Their kiss and current closeness had made doubly sure of that, with some serious bleeding sure to follow.
The roar of the chopper landing on the helipad, the wind whipping her hair into her eyes and across both their faces, finally forced them to slowly separate. Sean briefly shut his eyes, and his chest lifted in another deep breath before he looked at her again, wordlessly grasping her elbow to lead her across the asphalt to the elevator.
Bree wanted to bang her head against the metal doors. She supposed a kiss between them should have been expected after all the big emotions of the day. But, oh, how she wished they hadn’t, because she didn’t need another ache inside her body to join the outer ones hurting plenty at that moment.
Sean stood in silence as he punched the button to the NICU floor and they didn’t speak as it lowered there. And what was there to say, after all, that hadn’t already been expressed one way or another? With that “another” way having left her legs still stupidly wobbling.
She followed him down the corridor, her attention instantly caught by how sexily disheveled his thick, dark hair was. Noting the width of his shoulders tugging at his shirt, how incredibly good the man looked in scrubs. The acrid hurt that he was no longer hers—had never really been hers—threatened to creep its way inside her internal organs all over again, and that really ticked her off.
Get over it. It wasn’t meant to be.
Resolutely, she turned her focus to the baby as they approached his incubator. A feeling of utter exhaustion began to seep through her, leaving every muscle a little limp. Between the accident itself, the crises of Emma and the baby in the ER, and the mixed emotions of being with Sean, she was physically and emotionally spent. Her next shift started in a mere six hours, and, if she was going to be functional enough to work, she had to get some sleep.
With any luck, it would be the deep kind of sleep little Will seemed to be enjoying. So still, he appeared to not even be breathing, but the steady beep of the monitors reassuringly showed he was fine. Which meant she had to spend only a few more minutes with Sean, and then she could say goodbye. If all went well, Emma would improve and be out of Intensive Care fairly soon, and Bree’s interactions with Sean would be brief and limited. Then, in eight days, off to Honolulu for her surf competition, new job and career advancement, and no more thinking about the man ever again.
And wouldn’t that be wonderful? Darned unlikely, too, since she hadn’t been able to accomplish that the past six months, and even more now that he was standing close by her side, hands in his pockets, looking down at little Will in the NICU bassinet. All too aware of the way his body radiated more warmth than the heat lamp glowing over the baby. Aware of the lines of his handsome profile, of the way his big body made her feel small, which didn’t happen often to a five-foot-nine woman.
She took a side step away from all that so she could breathe and focus. “He looks good,” she said, hoping he knew she was talking about the baby, and not talking to herself about Dr. Sean Latham. “They don’t even have him on oxygen anymore.”
“Yeah. He looks a lot better than he did when you first brought him into the world.”
“Does your mom know?”
“Haven’t been able to reach her. I contacted the cruise line to give her a message to call me, but I’m not sure how they’ll get her home. Might have to wait until the ship docks in a few days.” He turned to her, pinning her with those dark eyes of his. “Tell me about the accident.”
The accident. Last thing she wanted to talk about was that nightmare. But as her gaze met his somber one, she figured he deserved to know at least a few details about how his sister got hurt.
“I’d picked her up from the airport. Maybe you knew she was staying with me until your mother gets back from her cruise?”
“I didn’t know.” And it was clear he was pretty annoyed by that. “But go on.”
“Traffic was heavy. We were driving through an intersection when...when a truck going fast ran the light and crashed into her side of the car.” She closed her eyes and couldn’t go on. How long would the horror of seeing Emma so still in that wreckage stick in Bree’s brain?
Arms wrapped around her, folding her close against a wide chest. The feel of his hand slowly stroking up and down her back was ridiculously comforting. Comfort that had nothing to do with the two of them and their past and their earlier kiss. Comfort that was partly relief that he didn’t blame her the way she’d worried he might. That she didn’t have to blame herself.
“You don’t have to talk about it anymore. I already got the written report. Just wanted to hear your version. Which I knew wouldn’t include how you’d been pinned, too, after the impact pushed your car into one waiting at the light. How you kept insisting you were fine, telling the EMTs to take care of Emma. How they had to open the car up like it was a can of beans to get you out, and that you’re more than lucky you got away with only cuts and bruises.”
“I know. I just wish Emma had been so lucky.” Her voice cracked, and, even though she was trying to be tough and not embarrassingly emotional, she couldn’t seem to keep her head from dropping to his chest like a wilted flower that just didn’t have the strength to stay upright anymore.
His cheek rested against her hair and forehead, and Bree could have stood in the comforting cocoon of his arms, shutting out every concern
