Saved by the Doctor Read online

  Jennie from the hospital was on the other end of the phone. “Yes, that neurosurgeon the Stones made us wait for is finally here. He said you and Dr. Kerr can come too.”

  Jumping up and ending the call, I kissed Skye on top of his head then nodded at my mother, letting her know I had to run. Just a few blocks from Saint Christopher’s General Hospital, I’d rented a place so I could be close enough to work that I could head home and see my son whenever I had free time. “Gotta go, guys. Love you, Skye.”

  “Love ya, Mom,” he called out as I ran out the door.

  Decked out in baggy sweats, it only took two minutes for me to get to the hospital. I loved the location of my apartment. It made raising my son that much easier.

  Hours earlier, I’d been called in when an accident victim had been rushed in. He’d been in an auto accident—a collision with a truck—and had ended up with life-threatening injuries. Injuries his parents had halted treatment for.

  I’d seen some crazy things in my time at the hospital, but nothing anything like these people. Dr. Kerr and I had managed to stop some of the internal bleeding, but they wouldn’t allow us to do even one more thing to their adult son, who’d given them medical power of attorney for some odd reason.

  Mr. and Mrs. Stone were a real mystery to us all. Bringing in a surgeon from out of town to work on their son while everyone waited on pins and needles—it was unlike anything I’d experienced. Kerr and I had made bets that their insistence on waiting would be a significant mistake. But they had the paper to prove that they could make medical decisions for the unconscious man, so we had to abide by their demands.

  Hurrying to the scrub room, I didn’t take the time to wonder who this super neurosurgeon was or where he even came from. Pushing the door open, I spotted Dr. Kerr scrubbing up. “Hey, Jonas.” I looked around, but didn’t see anyone else. “They said he’s here.” I realized I had no idea if it was a he or a she. “Or is it a she?”

  “Reagan?” I heard a deep voice come from behind me, and for a moment it felt like my heart stopped. It was a familiar voice, one from a very long time ago, but one I would never forget. “Reagan Storey?”

  I turned around to find a face from my past, looking right at me. A face I hadn’t seen in person in six very long years. Gasping with surprise, I stared for a breathless moment. “Arrie?” I exhaled.

  Before I realized what I was doing, my body was flying to the man I’d had a short but intense six-month relationship with when I first got into the David Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA. As we hugged, my brain finally started working again, and it quickly reminded me of all the reasons I couldn’t get close to him again.

  I moved out of his strong arms as he looked at me in shock. “I can’t believe this.”

  “Me neither.” He’d changed a bit. More muscles. Longer, dark wavy hair. More handsome than ever. “Wow, Arrie. Just, wow.”

  Shaking his head, he cleared his throat. “Yeah. Well, I’ve gotta scrub up again.”

  “Oh, dang.” I shouldn’t have jumped the man. “Sorry. I didn’t think.”

  “No,” he said as he shook his head and went back to the sink. “It’s okay. I surprised you. You surprised me.”

  “Yeah.” I grabbed a clean set of scrubs then went to draw the curtain around myself to change as I kept talking. “So, you’re the neurosurgeon from the Mayo Clinic the Stone family has so much faith in. Who knew?”

  “I’m sorry about how they shut you and Dr. Kerr down.” I pulled the curtain back after getting dressed, and he scanned every inch of my body as I came to scrub up. “Wow, Reagan.”

  Smiling at the reaction he had to my curves—a lot had changed in six years—I said, “Yeah, I’ve filled out since you last saw me. And you’ve done a bit of filling out too, I’ve got to say.”

  Holding his sterile hands up to let them dry, he smiled at me, and I felt as if I could melt right on the spot. At least that hadn’t changed one bit. “We’ll have to catch up while I’m here. I’ll be around until my friend recovers.”

  Knowing that could take months with his friend’s extensive injuries, I felt a little apprehensive about that. “The whole time?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I can’t leave him. We go way back.”

  “How loyal of you, Arrie.” The smile wouldn’t leave my face.

  “Okay, let’s get in there, and you guys can fill me in.” Arrie led the way, and I headed into the OR right behind him, followed by Dr. Jonas Kerr, the trauma surgeon.

  The man on the table—the man Arrie had called his friend—looked terrible, and I saw the look of anguish on my old flame’s face. “He’s got a lot going on here, Dr. Dawson.” I decided it’d be best to revert to professionalism, using his medical title. It just felt like the right thing to do with all the nurses and other medical staff around us.

  Letting Dr. Kerr list off the different injuries that Mr. Stone had sustained, I zoned out, thinking back to the moment Arrie and I had met.

  Long, lanky legs walked past me as I bent over to pick up the three heavy textbooks I’d dropped. My folder had fallen too, spilling papers everywhere. Those were the only legs around and must’ve been attached to the body that bumped into me, so the fact that they didn’t stop to help pissed me off. “Yeah, keep on walking, I don’t need any help. Jackass.”

  A gust of wind blew my hair into my face. With my sight obstructed, I tripped over the book I’d meant to pick up, landing squarely on my ass. I huffed out a deep breath, wishing my day were over already.

  “Here you go,” a deep voice said softly.

  Pushing the hair out of my eyes, I saw the most gorgeous blue eyes shining back at me. Dark waves of tousled hair hung to his broad shoulders. When I looked down, I noticed the same blue jean-covered legs that had walked past me moments earlier. “Oh, you stopped to help.”

  “Well, when you hear yourself being called a jackass, it makes you think you should stop and lend a hand.” He reached out, and I took his hand. Lifting me with ease, he went on, “I’m Arslan Dawson. And you are?”

  “Embarrassed.” I dusted the dirt off my butt. “Thoroughly embarrassed.” Taking the books he’d picked up for me and the folder he’d managed to stuff my papers back into, I felt my cheeks heat. “My name’s Reagan. Reagan Storey. And thank you, Arslan.” I smiled at him as he tugged on a piece of hair that had fallen back into my face again.

  “Maybe you should think about putting these curls into a ponytail.” His hand moved to rest on my shoulder. “That way you’ll be less likely to have them in your pretty face, making you drop things. Just a little advice.”

  Trying to get a hold of myself after the tingle that ran through me simply from his hand on my shoulder, I asked, “What year are you in?”

  “My last one here,” he responded. I’d just met him, but I hated to hear that.

  “I’m in my first year.” My lips quirked up to one side in disappointment.

  “That’s cool.” Looking ahead, he asked. “Hungry?”

  “It is lunchtime.” My stomach started fluttering, like a bunch of butterflies had taken flight. I couldn’t believe this older guy—who was so much cuter than any other guy I’d ever met, and who was on his way to becoming a doctor—seemed to be asking me to eat lunch with him.

  “Hmm, let me guess. Salad and a bottle of water?” he asked, trying to guess what I wanted to eat.

  “Um, nope.” Then it was my turn to guess what I thought he might want to eat. “Cheeseburger and fries?”

  He laughed as we walked toward the food trucks. “Is that a question? Or are you trying to tell me that’s what you want to eat?”

  Well, that hadn’t gone as planned. I mentally kicked myself, wishing I’d had more experience flirting with too-cute-to-be-real med students. “Okay, let’s start over. I would like some street tacos. How about you?”

  “Sounds good to me,” he answered with a smile. Sniffing the air as we came up to the trucks, he looked at one of them. “I smell cilantro, which is great for
the cardiovascular system. And there’s a hint of lime in the air too.”

  Jumping in with my somewhat limited knowledge, I said, “Lime is an antioxidant.” Wrinkling my nose, I asked, “Right?”

  With a nod, he stepped up to the window. “Could I get two orders of fish tacos and a couple bottles of water?”

  “Coming up,” the guy inside the truck told him.

  That left us time to wait and talk, and suddenly those butterflies came back with a vengeance, fighting inside my tummy. Leaning against a tree, I tried to hide the sudden onslaught of nerves.

  One of the first things that had made me fall for Arrie was his ability to always seem at ease. And that quality had been on full display that very first day, as he’d leaned against the tree next to me, his hands casually shoved in his pockets as I placed my things on the grass by my feet. “So, where do you hail from, Reagan?”

  “Seattle.” Standing back up, I found him looking at me with great interest. “Well, Winthrop. It’s a tiny town outside of Seattle. But hardly anyone knows about it, so I tell everyone I’m from Seattle. And what about you, Arslan?”

  “The Upper East Coast. We have homes in New York, The Hamptons, Manchester, and a ski lodge in Colorado, too. But I went to school in New York.” I stopped breathing as he reached out again to take one of my errant curls, twirling it around his finger. “I like your hair.” Before I could take that all in, he looked right into my eyes. “And I adore your green eyes. Those freckles are just the cherry on top of it all.”

  I put my hand over my nose, where light freckles peppered my skin. “Oh, I hate my freckles. And my red hair.”

  “Your hair isn’t red, it’s auburn. There’s a big difference. And your freckles make you that much more adorable.” Smoothing the chunk of hair between his thumb and forefinger, he went on, his deep voice rumbling. “You must put something in your hair to make it feel this smooth.” Leaning down, he took a whiff of my hair, and I nearly passed out from sheer lust. “Mmm, coconut oil. Now I understand the shine.”

  “So, are you going to be a doctor or a hairdresser?” I joked.

  “A neurosurgeon,” he answered. “And what do you want to be, Reagan Storey?”

  Mrs. Doctor Arslan Dawson?

  Shaking my head to clear it, I answered, “I’m shooting to be a cardiologist. Who knows, maybe we’ll meet in surgery one day.”

  And here we were, meeting in surgery just as I’d predicted six years earlier. “Isn’t that right, Dr. Storey?” I heard Dr. Kerr asking me, drawing me out of my memories.

  “Sorry?” I hadn’t heard a thing as I’d been so deep in thought.

  Dr. Kerr gave me a stern look over his face mask. “The patient’s heart isn’t beating the way you want it to. You think there may be a tear in his aortic valve, or possibly the aorta itself.”

  “Oh yes.” I looked over to Arrie, staring into those deep pools of azure that had lured me to the man in the first place. “I heard dripping sounds when I examined him earlier—before we were told to stop. Otherwise, I would’ve gone in to make the repairs.”

  “Well, let’s not waste any more time,” Arrie said, then looked around at everyone else in the room. “Time to get this man going again.”

  Chapter 3

  Arslan

  The surgery went well enough, considering all of the injuries Lannie had sustained. There would be more surgeries in his near future as the swelling went down. My poor friend would be facing a long battle, and I felt terrible for him.

  After the surgery, there was more waiting. I went to the cafeteria to get myself some coffee and food to keep me going a while longer. Promising myself that I’d get to sleep in a real bed in a few more hours was also keeping me going.

  As I sat in a booth, sipping a coffee and nibbling on a sandwich, my thoughts quickly moved from Lannie to my reunion with Reagan. Things had been great when we’d been together, and I’d be lying if I said she’d been easy to forget.

  We’d met on campus one day and things had just clicked between us. We’d ended up spending most of our free time together after that initial meeting. Then we’d ended up spending most of our free time together in my bed. She’d pretty much moved in with me for the six months we’d dated.

  We’d parted ways amicably. Both of us had known what it took to become doctors, and we’d known we needed the freedom to achieve our goals. With so much ahead of each of us, we’d decided not to stay in touch.

  I recalled one of the last things Reagan had said to me before I’d left: “We’ll let fate decide if we ever get to see each other again.”

  She’d always been a big believer in fate, and it seemed it had made the decision after all. And after only six years. A bit long, but at least we were in the same place, at the same time, now. Why not spend some of that time together, the way we had back then?

  Memories of Reagan’s skin—how soft it had felt against mine when we’d been in bed, or on the beach under a blanket of stars—made my cock twitch. Her lips, full and pouty, would always give way to my kisses with ease. She’d become putty in my hands whenever I touched her with even the lightest of touches.

  She still kept her hair long, and that pleased me to no end. Playing with those silky curls had been one of my favorite things to do with her. We didn’t always have to be going at it when we were together—she and I had shared a level of comfort that I’d never found with anyone else.

  I wonder if she’s free.

  Reagan had to have someone in her life by now. A great woman like her, with so much going on for her, must be in high demand. But maybe things weren’t going so great for her and her current guy.

  There’s always room for hope.

  Having more time with the woman would be amazing. Our natural chemistry had led to some of the best sex I’d had in my life. I knew it could be that hot, or even hotter now.

  If she’s free.

  Her body had changed for the better, too. She’d been a skinny little thing back in med school—not that I’d been complaining back then. The years had been good to my little sparrow, as I’d called her from time to time back then.

  When she’d first walked into the scrub room, Reagan had been wearing loose-fitting pale green sweats that hid everything. When she’d changed into scrubs with a fitted waist, those curves she’d acquired had showed well. And I’d had a hard time controlling my 0bservant male member.

  Thankfully, my professional side had taken over, saving me from an awkward situation—I hadn’t had any witnesses to my attraction for Dr. Storey. Not even Reagan had seemed to notice the way she’d taken my attention so quickly and easily.

  From the first time I’d seen Reagan Storey all those years ago, she’d taken my attention completely. Once I’d seen her—after she’d called me a jackass for not stopping to help her—I couldn’t stop looking at the girl.

  I remembered that fateful day so clearly. I was on my cell, reading something I’d looked up for the class I had after lunch. I was so zoned out that I didn’t notice myself brushing up against anyone until I heard a sweet, disgruntled voice mumbling something about me being an asshole. I immediately put the cell away and went to help the poor girl.

  She’d tripped and fallen, and I helped her gather her things and then helped her up. Once I brushed all those gorgeous auburn curls out of her face, I was astounded by the beauty I found underneath.

  A week after our first meeting, she and I found ourselves on the beach at night. We’d taken a walk as the sun faded away, neither of us realizing how late it had become.

  The moonlight had reflected off her hair and face, taking my breath away. “God, you’re gorgeous, Reagan.” My lips barely touched hers.

  Her fingers trailed along both my arms, leaving goose bumps in their wake. Then I really went for it, kissing her hungrily, needing more than she’d given me thus far. With the beach empty and the night sky offering cover, I laid her down on the soft sand.

  That was the night we both stopped holding anything back
. We gave each other everything. Her hands moved over my entire body, caressing, clawing with desire and lust while exploring muscles she would eventually learn well. Her favorite muscles were my biceps. Reagan would sit with me, her hand on my bicep as I played with her hair.

  We’d been so happy and content back then, it was hard to remember why we’d ever parted ways. I’d never met anyone who understood me better than she.

  And I wanted that back. I’d missed her desperately for the first year after leaving to do my internship. Nights had sucked without her in my bed. I’d tried to move on, but no woman ever lasted in my bed for longer than one night. No one else had slept in my bed since.

  Somehow, Reagan had spoiled the experience—no one else’s body fit in front of mine so perfectly; only hers. And I felt, deep down, that she would still fit me that way—even with the new and improved curves.

  Closing my eyes, I replayed our last time together in my mind. The wind blew sheer blue curtains into the bedroom as I undressed Reagan slowly, wanting to relish this last time we’d have together.

  Her skin glistened with moisture as I pulled her dress away from her shoulders, letting it slide down her body to puddle around her feet on the floor. No words were spoken as we stared into each other’s eyes, both knowing that this all ended tonight.

  Our hearts pounded; harsh breaths mingled; juices flowed like wine all night long. I’d never had a sexual marathon like the one we shared that last night.

  “Hey, you,” came Reagan’s voice, shattering the images playing in my head.

  My eyes flew open as heat filled my entire body. “Reagan?”

  She slipped into the other side of the booth, coffee in hand. “Yep, it’s me.” Taking a sip, she looked at me over the rim, catching the smile that refused to leave my lips. “So, how’s life been treating you, Arrie?”

  “Great.” I pushed the other half of my sandwich to her. “Here, help me out with this.”

  Picking it up, she took a bite. “Yum, turkey and ham. And is that provolone cheese I taste?”

  “It is.” The urge to get up and sit right next to her—close enough that our thighs would touch—nearly overcame me. But I had to know a few things before I acted on any of those impulses. “And how’s life been for you, Reagan? Anything new or interesting happen to you in the last six years?”