seen.
Unfortunately, he turned then, and caught her in the act of ogling him. Not a word came out of his mouth, but no words were necessary, not when his highly vexed expression did all his talking for him.
She cleared her throat and tried to ignore the blush that crept over her face. Another redheaded curse. “You do understand the clinic’s already full—”
“Yeah.” He closed his eyes, then lifted his hands to his temples. The untied sweatpants shifted down an inch or so on his hips, revealing more flat belly.
A hot flash raced through her body. That pesky tropical virus again. It had to be.
“I don’t get it.” He sounded baffled. “Why do you even want me there? You know I’m into conventional, modern medicine. The good, old-fashioned, scientific stuff. So—”
“Actually, the alternative means of medicine that we use is the good, old-fashioned way, thousands of years old in some cases. So really, your ‘conventional’ medicine, at only a couple hundred years old, is the baby.”
His jaw ticked again. “I still don’t see what massage therapy, aromatherapy, acupressure, yoga and herbs have to do with me.”
“The alternative practices can be blended in with the more conventional ones, and with that, we can offer people something more. Something better.”
“But I don’t know how to treat people that way.”
“It’s just a way of life,” she said. “You’ll have plenty to offer. Mostly credibility at first, but…” She broke off when he put his hands on his hips.
Her gaze glued itself to his loose sweat bottoms, her breath blocking in her throat. If they slipped just another fraction of an inch or so—
“Look, I had a really long night.” His weary tone drew her eyes back up to his exhausted ones. “And I thought I had an extra few hours. I’ll hurry, but I don’t need an audience, so if you don’t mind—”
“Well actually, I—”
The door shut in her face.
2
CARMEN SHOWED UP IN LUKE’S inside hallway, having clearly just let herself in the back door. She blocked his path to the stairs with that look on her face that told him he was getting no peace until she spoke her mind.
“Gee,” she said. “Hard to imagine how a man with all your charm could still be single.”
Ignoring her, he headed wearily up the stairs. He’d been up all night, shifting through nightmares that forced him to relive losing six-year-old Johnny Garcia to the war zone that had become Los Angeles. “Just wake me in ten minutes, okay?” If he could catch a few more minutes, he’d be okay. He’d be human. He’d be able to remember that on most days he loved this life, loved what he did for a living.
“She was a sweet girl,” Carmen said, disgusted. “Coming to pick you up. And you chased her off.”
“She was a woman, not a girl.”
“So you did notice.”
Yeah, he’d noticed. Faith McDowell’s sexy softness contrasted with her cool voice and clear green eyes, and any red-blooded male would have noticed. She had long, curly hair the color of a fiery sunset and had worn a pair of scrubs decorated with smiley faces covered by a lightweight, open sweater that hugged her body, showing off creamy skin and lush curves. Disgusted with himself, Luke put a hand on the wood banister and started climbing.
He’d definitely been too long without sex if scrubs with smiley faces had turned him on.
But now, if he was very lucky, he could close his eyes for a few more minutes. Sleep was far more important than sex these days. Then he’d shower, grab some steaming, black coffee, and maybe, just maybe, feel sane again.
“How are you supposed to start a family someday if you chase off all the women?” Carmen called up the stairs. “Answer me that.”
He answered that with one concise muttered word.
Carmen tsked. “You were rude, and isn’t she your boss at the clinic?”
Yeah, and just what he needed, yet another politically correct bureaucrat telling him what to do. And yet…Maybe Carmen had a point. If he tried harder, added a smile, even turned on the charm he used to relax his patients…he might actually get his sentence reduced.
Luke pictured the woman’s wild, gloriously red hair bouncing in the morning sea breeze. The sparks in her eyes. He thought of the way she’d drawn in a huge deep breath just before she’d blasted him, as if she was so amazingly angry she could hardly think.
Nope. He doubted he could get her to reduce his “volunteer” time. She wanted his head on a platter—her platter. He’d written his own death sentence, damn it.
The doorbell rang.
“Ah, hell, what now?” He looked down at Carmen. “I’ve had five hours sleep in two days.”
Carmen’s entire face softened. “Yes, baby. You work too hard.”
“I just need a few more minutes of shut-eye. You can chase her off, okay?”
“What if it’s an emergency?”
“It’s not. It’s just Red, looking to take a piece out of my hide for being late.”
Carmen grinned. “She did seem to be a natural, temperamental redhead, didn’t she? You know, rumor has it you used to be able to soothe a woman. They say you even used to like women.”
He still did. In bed. But right now he was too tired to think of sharing his mattress, plus he doubted Faith McDowell would be interested anyway. She seemed to expect more out of a person than what he had in mind.
He didn’t have more. He gave it all to work and his patients, gave everything he had so that at the end of the day, there wasn’t anything left.
Maybe it was the way he’d been raised, with parents who’d rarely taken the time for him or his brother, Matt, pawning them off like unwanted luggage on everyone and anyone who’d take them. Maybe it was because it’d been so long since he’d taken a breather, he could hardly remember who he really was. He didn’t care.
He wanted sleep.
The doorbell rang again.
“Tell her I’ll be there soon.”
“Clearly, she needs you now.”
With a groan, he padded back down the stairs, glaring at Carmen, who unlike everyone else in his life, didn’t back down from him. “This is why I hired you, you know. You’re supposed to scare people away.”
“Stop being so curmudgeonly.”
Stopping in midstride, he stared at her. “Curmudgeonly?”
“It’s someone who’s grumpy, and—”
