Gone was the cocky, handsome boy who’d treated her with all the indulgent impatience of an older sibling. In his place was a man whose powerful cocktail of tightly coiled testosterone and simmering pheromones was even more treacherously compelling.
Even the expression in his eyes was different—sometimes intense, sometimes brooding but always distantly watchful.
This Nate might look like an older, hotter and harder version of the boy she’d once loved but somewhere along the line he’d acquired a darkness that made him more than dangerous, more than lethal, to women everywhere.
Over the sound of the chopper she heard him yell, “You falling asleep there, spider girl?”
Her eyes popped open and she looked up to see the red and white fuselage looming closer. A couple of visored men watched and controlled their ascent, reminding Frankie of a movie she’d seen about alien abduction.
“No,” she muttered. “I’m pretending I’m on a beach in Hawaii.”
He must have heard because his mouth kicked up at one corner and before she could fully grasp the sudden transformation, hands were reaching for them, pulling them in. The instant she felt the capture strap release, Frankie scrambled over to where a crewman was tending her patient and wondered what she thought she was doing, because she had a feeling that getting sucked into Nate Oliver’s force field again...would be an unmitigated disaster.
Fortunately, she was too smart to let that happen. Way too smart.
Her patient’s eyes were open but he appeared dazed and disorientated. “Focus on me, handsome,” she yelled over the noise of the engine, and quickly freed his arm to set up an IV. “You hang in there, okay?”
Looking up briefly to gauge their ETA, she noticed several pairs of eyes on her and became aware of the grins.
Frowning, she looked around and caught sight of Nate’s expression and by the firm unsmiling line of his sexy mouth, he wasn’t happy. But then again—apart from that flash of wry humor—unsmiling seemed to be his default expression.
At least when it came to her.
Her belly clenched.
“What?”
“Yowza, lady,” a crewman yelled, his wide toothy grin and smooth cheeks all she could see beneath the bug helmet. “You saved Sammy in the most awesome move I ever saw. Ever think of joining the circus?”
Sammy? she thought with a frown. Who the heck is Sammy?
Thinking maybe they were talking about her patient, Frankie drawled, “I’m allergic to rings,” laughing when she was rewarded with confused looks. She shook her head. “Never mind.”
No way was she explaining that one. She’d decided a long time ago that marriage wasn’t for her and guys seemed to think all a woman wanted was a wedding ring and a white picket fence.
Determinedly pushing aside unpleasant thoughts, Frankie willed the chopper to move faster through the air. The sooner they arrived at the hospital, the sooner her patient could be rushed into surgery. And she really needed to escape this inexorable pull Nathan appeared to still have on her double-X chromosome.
HOURS LATER FRANKIE dragged her weary feet through the ambulance bay doors into ER. The adrenaline had long since faded and she was feeling every strained muscle and ache as though she’d been through a marathon workout session.
Fortunately, the mud slide hadn’t been as extensive as everyone had feared and most people had managed to escape the worst of it. Those that hadn’t had already been admitted or treated and released.
It had probably been the longest shift of her career. Her jumpsuit clung wetly to her skin and her boots squelched with every step. There was also something wrong with her back that she could no longer ignore. She’d check it herself but one of her superpowers wasn’t the ability to make her arms bend the wrong way or her head swivel like an evil toy in a horror movie.
Fortunately, the ER was quiet after the earlier rush and she found the person she was looking for in the staff lounge, stuffing her face with one donut while searching through the bakery box for another.
Paige Carlyle looked as exhausted as Frankie felt. At the sound of the door opening, the petite doctor looked up guiltily—cheeks bulging like a chipmunk’s—as though she’d been caught doing something illegal.
“Those things will kill you,” Frankie announced, snagging the full to-go mug off the counter. She swallowed a large mouthful and grimaced. “And so will this.”
“Hey,” Paige objected around a mouthful of pastry, and snatched the cup away, cradling it protectively against her chest. “It’s hot, delicious and I need the sugar.”
“No, you don’t. You need some veggie juice and a nice long soak in a hot tub.”
Paige made a face at the mention of veggie juice. “Yuk, I’m not drinking pond scum,” she declared, gleefully washing down her donut with hot chocolate and making sounds that were a little too disturbing in Frankie’s opinion. Paige reluctantly closed the bakery box and slumped against the counter. “But a long hot soak sounds like heaven. My feet hurt and I haven’t been home in so long Ty’s probably forgotten what I look like.”
“Stop whining. It’s unattractive,” Frankie said with an accusing frown. “And so are your constant reminders that you have a sexy hunk waiting for you with home-cooked meals and daily massages.”
Paige’s mouth curved in a secretive smile and she made another sound that ratcheted Frankie’s irritation level a couple of notches. “You sound jealous,” Paige observed mildly. “Like you want a sexy hunk at home too.”
Frankie snorted. “Who doesn’t?”
“Well, I do know another unattached sexy hunk you might be interested in,” the doctor said craftily.
“Your brother? The air force top gun?” Frankie gave a dramatic sigh. “He’s hot and I just love a man in uniform.”
Paige gagged. “Yuk. No. I was talking about someone in another sector of the armed forces. Say...the Coast Guard?”
“Not interested,” Frankie said promptly. “And I can handle my own love life, thanks.” Or lack thereof, she reminded herself dryly. “You just concentrate on Terrible Ty.”
Tyler Reese had been Nate and Jack’s best friend until the summer they’d turned eighteen. Something had happened that had landed the three friends in a lot of trouble and it had been the last time Ty had been in Port St. John’s—except for Jack’s funeral—until an injury had threatened to end his surgical career. He’d returned to recuperate and had run into Paige on his first night.
Or rather into Paige’s flashlight, which had clearly knocked some sense into him because he’d left his life and big city career to move north.
Paige cleared her throat and stared at Frankie expectantly. “Is there something you need to tell me, Ms. Bryce?” she asked with excruciating politeness.
Frankie frowned at her friend’s tone. “No,” she said warily, and when the doctor just narrowed her eyes, she shrugged and couldn’t stop the sharply indrawn breath at the movement.
Paige must have seen something in her expression because she demanded, “What did you do?”
Of course Frankie answered with an affronted “Nothing,” hoping Paige would drop it because the doctor looked like she needed a break as much as Frankie did. She’d just go home, have a hot shower and fall into bed. She could deal with everything after about twelve hours of shut-eye.
Paige