strides long and strong.
Second, although she wouldn’t classify him as handsome, there was something compelling about his face. It was wide, with a prominent nose and deep-set, hooded eyes. A firm chin and mouth rounded out the picture. From a distance she’d been attracted, but it was seeing him up close that had cemented her interest. His eyes were spectacular. Dark amber in the center, shading to brown around the edge of the iris, they were serious and hinted at the kind of intelligence Liz always found appealing.
Heat rushed from her toes to the top of her head as her gaze was captured and transfixed by those unforgettable eyes, partially masked behind lowered lids. They gleamed, and she wasn’t sure what the glint in them was. Anger? Annoyance? Amusement?
Her heart went into overdrive, a mixture of irritation and mortification rushing through her in an instant.
Then all the years of training drummed into her by her mother and tutors arose to come to her rescue. Inner heat was replaced by cold tension, but she refused to allow it to show. Straightening her back and lifting her chin, she tore her gaze away from his companion and gratefully turned her attention to Gregory Hammond.
“Liz, I want you to meet our newest trauma surgeon, Dr. Cort Smith. Dr. Smith, this is Dr. Liz Prudhomme, one of our fine ER practitioners.”
Politeness dictated she look at Dr. Smith again, but it took considerable effort to make herself do it. Her brain was racing as fast as her heart, wondering if he was about to say they’d already met; if somehow he would make it clear their involvement had been of the intimate kind.
There were plenty of men who wouldn’t be able to resist doing so, just to up their reputations as ladies’ men.
But Cort Smith just stuck out his hand and said, politely, “How do you do, Dr. Prudhomme?”
Just the sound of that deep voice, so familiar and arousing, made her wish she were a hundred miles away. How could he be so cool, while she wanted to run for the hills? It was tempting to focus on his Adam’s apple or chin, rather than meet those compelling eyes again, but that would be the coward’s way out, so she met his gaze with what she hoped was a calm one of her own.
“Very well, thank you,” she replied, as she took his hand. A zing of electricity rushed up her arm, and she tugged her hand away as swiftly as she could without being rude.
The corners of Cort Smith’s mouth twitched, making Liz want to smack him.
“Dr. Smith starts his first full day tomorrow,” Gregory said. He seemed oblivious to the tension swirling between herself and Cort, which Liz swore was so thick she could taste it. “I hope you’ll take whatever time is necessary to point him in the right direction while he gets settled.”
She’d point him right out the door, if she had her way! But Liz only nodded, and decided the politic answer was best. “Of course.”
Thankfully, before the voluble Gregory could get chatting again, Stella interrupted.
“Dr. Prudhomme, I have the lab reports on Mr. Collins.”
“Thank you.” Her relief was almost strong enough to make her smile, but not quite. With a quick, “If you gentlemen will excuse me,” she hightailed it away as fast as she could without actually running.
Why did it feel as though the universe had decided her previously nice, orderly existence was too good to be true, and was throwing her curveballs left, right and center?
Cort watched Liz Prudhomme walk away, amazed at how unruffled she’d been by a meeting he’d found hard to face with aplomb. Besides a reddening of the tips of her ears when she’d turned and seen him, there had been no other discernible reaction to show she’d even recognized him.
After he’d caught sight of her at the door earlier, he’d tried to convince himself it wasn’t really the woman he’d spent the night with in Mexico. For the last seven months he’d been so hung up on the memory of that encounter he’d dreamt about her almost constantly, and had thought, erroneously, he’d glimpsed her in crowds at least a hundred times.
And she looked different, with her brown hair pulled back into a simple ponytail instead of in a sleek bob to below her chin. The streak of aqua she’d had framing one side of her face was gone too, but they were definitely the same strong features he’d committed to memory. Those mesmerizing, mossy-green eyes, almond-shaped and thick-lashed, had the same steady, controlled gaze that had attracted him before.
She wouldn’t be classified as beautiful by most people’s standards. Tall, solidly built, with strong shoulders and wide hips, she was anything but model skinny. From a distance, she would seem the perfect fit for the girl next door, or the sidekick in a romantic movie. But once a person saw her up close, Cort knew they couldn’t see her in either role.
Her face was too strong, with high cheekbones, lips a trifle thinner than were fashionable, and a chin that hinted at a stubborn, willful nature. Here was a woman unused and unwilling to bend and, although he admired strength of character, he’d always been attracted to a softer type. Until the night they’d slept together, and she’d proved strength when yielded for desire brought more pleasure than he’d ever imagined.
Yet even if he’d still been unsure whether it was her or not, once he heard her speak there could be no question. Despite its careful control, her voice was still rich and decadent, like Cherries Jubilee without the brandy burnt off, and hearing it had made goose bumps race along his spine. Realizing it absolutely was her had filled him with a mixture of disbelief, horror and unwanted excitement. Life would be a lot simpler if she’d stayed just a memory and attendant fantasy, not a flesh-and-blood person he had to work with.
And always remember how she’d run out on him that night without a word.
“Liz is a fine practitioner. One of our best diagnosticians,” Gregory was saying. “And although some of the staff seem to find her rather standoffish, we’ve never had any complaints from patients about either her standard of care or bedside manner.”
Standoffish? He could only hope she would be standoffish with him too. Against his will and best intentions, already the memory of having her, flushed and damp with pleasure in his bed was threatening to push everything else out of his head.
“And I have to warn you she will not stand for any nonsense when it comes to proper protocol.” Gregory started walking again, and Cort fell in beside him. “Not that she should, you understand, but she’s particularly unforgiving when it comes to our surgeons overstepping their boundaries.”
Ah, so she was at least one of the sources of the “friction” Dr. Hammond had spoken of earlier. He was searching for the correct way to ask for more information when a howling cry arose from down the hall. It was followed swiftly by a metallic crash and a shout. Instinct had Cort running toward the noise, following Liz as she disappeared, also at a run, around a corner.
She was closer to the commotion, but he had the advantage of longer legs, so he was only two steps behind her when she dashed into one of the cubicles.
Everything seemed to slow down, allowing him to take in the large man thrashing about on the bed, a security guard struggling to restrain him. Liz sprang forward just as the patient’s arm swung back, and Cort bit back a curse, knowing he was too far away to stop her from getting hit...
Liz twisted away from the flailing fist, the move so graceful and efficient Cort could hardly believe it, then she grabbed the patient’s
