Hot Single Docs: Giving In To Temptation: NYC Angels: Making the Surgeon Smile / NYC Angels: An Explosive Reunion / St Piran's: The Wedding of The Year. Lynne Marshall
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desire. “Crazy, isn’t it?”
“Crazy good?”
“Definitely.”
* * *
Before dawn, Polly woke up tangled up in John’s arms and legs. The word “crazy” occurred to her again as she disengaged, used the shower, dressed and snuck out before John woke up. As it was her weekend off, she couldn’t be seen sneaking out of the on-call room by any of her co-workers arriving on Saturday morning for the day shift without stirring questions. Fully dressed, hair damp and on her shoulders, she tiptoed outside, but not before glancing over her shoulder at John, who slept peacefully, then she quietly latched the door.
Lying there, listening to Polly shower and dress, John played possum when she left. Truth was he didn’t know what to say to her. They’d amazed each other with great sex half the night, finally collapsing from exhaustion in each other’s arms only a few short hours ago. He’d never let go so soon or so easily with anyone in his life until Polly the people-pleaser had arrived on his doorstep.
He scrubbed his face to help him wake up. What the hell should he do now? It was so out of character for him to screw an employee. The thought of running into her on the ward would be awkward as hell after everything they’d done to each other. How could he keep professional with her now?
He wasn’t looking for a relationship. She was too damn young for him. Too sweet for her own good. Too wild and crazy in bed for a man still pining for his wife. He would be just as bad for her as that jerk she’d come to talk to him about. Why did the thought of Polly being with another man make his blood boil again, especially now that he’d made love to her? What right did he have to feel possessive of her? Wasn’t he as bad as that guy after the way he’d brought her here to the on-call room for the sole purpose of making love until the burning she caused inside him finally stopped?
Thinking about her this morning, he realized the desire for her hadn’t come close to burning out. But it had to. John Griffin didn’t have gratuitous sex, especially with someone vulnerable like Polly. Or someone he worked with. He sat at the side of the bed, ran his fingers through his hair as he stood and headed for the shower. What about Lisa?
There were too many questions, but only one answer seemed to solve them all. He’d avoid Polly as much as possible, and once he worked out in his head just what the hell had happened last night and why, he’d explain to her that it was unethical and could never happen again. She’d have to understand.
That was his plan, and he’d have to stick to it, because he wasn’t about to change his just-getting-by personal life for a flighty young thing like Polly Seymour.
* * *
Polly got on the subway heading for the Lower East Side. Not knowing what to say to him, she hadn’t been able to get away from John fast enough. What had gotten into her? Granted, he’d taken her to the on-call room after giving her the most incredible foot massage of her life and, well, they’d taken the natural course from there. And wow. She hadn’t held back, and neither had he. Never in her life had she done such a thing, had sex with a man she hardly knew. A man she worked for!
Sitting on the hard seat of the subway train, she wondered if everyone in the car, which was thankfully only a handful, could see her flush until her ears burned. She rested her head against the cold window and stared out at the quickly passing darkness. She wasn’t about to act needy around Johnny Griffin. No. That would turn him off quicker than her kisses had turned him on. She’d have to ride out this awkward situation, see where John took it. As far as she was concerned, it was up to him to approach her. After the way she’d made love with him, the man at least owed her a thank you.
Allowing her mind to drift back to the night before and some of the amazing things that had occurred, she remembered that “thank you” swung both ways. Holy cow, did it ever.
* * *
On Monday morning Polly arrived at work with trepidation. Her palms tingled and her stomach clenched at the thought of facing the head of Orthopedics. Doubt upon doubt had cropped up over the weekend. Was having sex in the on-call room how Dr. Griffin initiated all the new nurses?
In her heart she knew that wasn’t true. He loathed interacting with his staff, and after a week on the job she hadn’t heard any rumors about his personal life...just that he was a loner who preferred the kids on the ortho ward to adult company.
Surprised to see that Annabelle had already been discharged, she took report on all new patients. Today she’d be nurse to four pre-teens in various sizes and shaped casts in a group ward.
In the middle of taking vital signs she heard John’s voice outside. Nerves unfurled through her center, making her hands shake. Still unprepared to face him, she prayed he’d stay out in the nurses’ station area and not come into her room.
The deep, masculine tone carried over the usual noise of the ward as he spoke to Brooke. “Tell your nurses to get their kids ready by nine.”
Polly was still getting used to the non-stop activities of Angel’s Children’s Hospital. They even had an on-site radio show in the lobby, and often the kids were the subjects of interviews. The play therapists didn’t allow the patients to zone out on video games or too much TV. They kept them interacting with other patients with games and challenges where everyone could participate. If a child was too sick to leave their room, they’d come to them.
Volunteer grandmothers and grandfatherly types regularly came for one-to-one bedside reading, and the children ate it up. Especially with the man who looked like Santa on his day off in a Hawaiian shirt and golf cap reading Harry Potter cover to cover.
Polly snuck a look outside her room just in time to see John turn and walk back toward his office on the far side of the hospital wing. Though not a tall man, his broad shoulders reminded her how strong he was. A quick flash of him naked and carrying her to the bed in the on-call room had her cheeks burning.
“Why’re you red?” the girl with waist-length black hair and a full leg cast asked. “Do you have a fever or something?”
“No. I’m fine. Don’t you ever blush?”
“Not unless I’m embarrassed. Are you embarrassed?” Her insightful, inquisitive eyes made Polly’s skin crawl.
“Maybe a little.”
“Why?”
Polly glanced around the brightly decorated four-bed ward, where stenciled sports equipment and swaths of primary colors made the white walls pop, as she searched for either a dodge or a believable answer. One thing she’d quickly learned working with kids was they could tell when someone wasn’t being straight with them.
“I just remembered something I did over the weekend.”
“Did you get hammered?” The young one’s bright black eyes suddenly seemed far too mature for twelve.
“No. And how do you even know what ‘hammered’ means?”
“My sister goes to college.” She tossed half of her hair over her shoulder, in a gesture that advertised she knew everything about being a grown up and drinking too much in college.
As if that explained and closed the topic, Polly let the subject drop, but not before she noticed John Griffin’s signature on the girl’s cast and she felt her cheeks flush again. Did the man sign every single cast on the ward?
As promised, at nine o’clock sharp a raucous brass quartet blustered onto the ward playing circus music, as if a parade would follow. Polly had gotten each of her patients into wheelchairs and rolled them to the center of the ward just in time. One of her girls wasn’t the least bit interested in the music, instead staring at her cell phone, until the trombone player swung by and hit a low note by extending the slide right under her chin. It shocked and delighted her and Polly laughed along with the patient, especially when the girl glanced up and saw a good-looking college guy, and her eyes brightened.
In mid-laugh, Polly glanced up and caught John’s gaze from across the room.