One Night in Buenos Aires. Sarah Morgan
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Just determined.” There was an aura of steel about her now. And, yes, determination showed in her eyes. That was the difference he’d been sensing in her.
“To what?” He really wanted to know the answer to that. Genuine curiosity had been roused in him and for the first time today he could set aside the pain.
Without answering the question, she unfolded her legs and stood. “Did you come in here for something or just to annoy me?”
“I saw you come in here and after the day’s events I thought you looked a little off.” That was okay. Looking after a coworker?
“Off? No. I’m fine.” Turning away from him, she began to scan the shelves as if looking for something. “Gauze, suture materials, IV supplies over here. Good to know.” She took a step to the next shelving unit. “GI supplies over here—oh, look, enemas. Never know when you need to get rid of some—”
“Stop it. You’re not fine. If you’re meditating in the middle of a shift, that must mean you’re upset about something. Possibly nearly getting assaulted not long ago?” He let the question hang in the air between them.
She gave him a glare then kept scanning. “Maybe we need to order extra-large enemas for special cases.” The glare she leveled on him left no doubt as to who she would use them on.
“Emily.” Chase intended to make her face him, make her turn around, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Then squealed like a girl and nearly dropped to his knees in pain. “Augh!”
“Don’t touch me, Chase.” Again, her speed defied logic. He had been unprepared for her ability to take his wrist in her hand, apply pressure and leverage to the point of pain, yet she hadn’t batted an eyelid. In fact, she looked calmer than she had since he’d entered the room. The control in her eyes impressed him and maybe scared him a little.
“Okay, okay, okay. Let go. Let go. Ow. Ow. I have to do surgery with that hand.” She released him and the relief was great.
“Unless you want to have both hands in casts, don’t ever try to touch me again.” The calm, serious look on her face was something he never wanted to see aimed at him again, as if she were contemplating squishing an insect.
He shook his hand, grateful she hadn’t really wanted to hurt him or it could have gotten ugly. Baffled, he looked at her as if seeing her for the first time, and maybe he was. Giving her a little space, he took a step back. “Where’d you learn all that stuff?” That was the change in her body he hadn’t been able to identify before. She was muscular and toned in a way that wasn’t from a weekly aerobics class. Yowza, she was strong.
Now she faced him fully, the brunt of her anger unleashed on him. “‘Stuff’? Seriously?” Though half a foot shorter than he, the power of her was unbelievable and gloriously arousing. “That ‘stuff’ saved my life more than once. That ‘stuff’, as you call it—” she tossed her head “—has kept me sane for the last three years, and that ‘stuff’ allows me sleep at night.”
She nearly trembled with rage, and he could see it unfold within her. Her blue eyes sparkled, her face was flushed and pink, her chest rose and fell quickly. She was beautiful, and he did not want to see it, to feel anything for her, to be the recipient of her rage. But he couldn’t help himself. He stood there in awe for a few seconds before he could speak.
“Are you okay?” His voice was a hoarse whisper that he barely recognized as his own. “Seriously?”
Then Emily blinked a few times, shook herself and let out a long, slow breath. “I’m fine. The meditation helped and now I’m ready to go out there and see if my lab results are back yet.”
She tried to move past him, but he placed his hand on her arm. She stopped, looked at his hand then up at his face, calm and cool. Hastily, Chase extricated his hand.
“If you wish to continue to do surgery without having it yourself, I suggest you don’t lay a hand on me again. Ever.”
“Sorry.” Point made.
“I’ll let you know about the labs as soon as they’re back.”
“O … kay.” Reaching out, he opened the door and watched Emily walk away.
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