He sauntered toward her, exuding such raw magnetism that Tamara’s mouth ran dry.
When he reached her, she noticed two things at once: the color of his T-shirt brought out the piercing blue of his eyes, and his hair had gotten tousled when he’d put on his clothes. She had an overwhelming urge to reach up and slide her fingers through the thick, wavy locks to see if they felt as soft as they looked.
“Ready?” Victor asked her.
She glanced away quickly. “Sure. Let’s go.”
They left the locker room and headed down the corridor toward the nearest exit. The hospital was so quiet, the chaos from that morning’s school bus accident almost seemed like a distant memory. But Tamara knew she’d never forget it. She and Victor had saved a sixteen-year-old girl from dying today. No matter how many years she practiced medicine, or how many more lives she saved, Tamara hoped she’d never take a single miracle for granted.
As she and Victor neared the sliding glass doors that led to the parking lot, they saw that it was raining outside. No, not just raining. Pouring.
“Oh, no,” Tamara groaned, dreading the fifteen-minute walk to her studio apartment in the torrential downpour. “I didn’t bring my umbrella to work this morning.”
“I don’t think it’d do you much good,” Victor muttered grimly, his heavy brows furrowed as he observed the slanted sheets of rain falling from the night sky. “You’d be soaked to the bone by the time you got halfway home.”
“I know.” Tamara frowned, eyeing the helmet under his arm. “You probably wouldn’t fare much better on your bike.”
“Probably not.” But he looked like he wanted to try anyway.
She heaved a sigh. “This really sucks. I don’t even remember the forecast calling for rain.”
“I wouldn’t know. I never listen to weather forecasts.”
Tamara’s mouth curved wryly. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Victor cocked a brow at her. “Meaning?”
“Meaning that you—” The rest of her reply was drowned out by a sharp clap of thunder that rattled the building and made the overhead lights flicker.
She and Victor stared at each other.
“Looks like we’re gonna have to wait out the storm,” he said.
Tamara nodded reluctantly. “Looks like.”
Victor glanced around the quiet reception area, then said abruptly, “Come on.”
Tamara frowned at him. “Where?”
“Just follow me.” He started off down the hallway.
When she remained where she was, he glanced over his shoulder at her. “If anyone sees that we’re still hanging around the hospital, we’re gonna get drafted into pulling another shift.”
He was right.
“Say no more,” Tamara muttered, hurrying after him.
Chapter 2
They rode the elevator to the tenth floor, where they disembarked onto a vacant wing that was undergoing construction. The long corridors were dimly lit, and plastic tarp covered the dusty linoleum floors. With rain lashing at the windows and forks of lightning streaking across the sky, the empty ward had a decidedly gloomy atmosphere.
“We probably shouldn’t be up here,” Tamara said, her voice hushed.
Victor chuckled softly. “What’s wrong? You afraid that some bogeyman is lurking in the shadows?”
“Of course not.” A wry grin tugged at her lips. “But you have to admit that this would be the perfect setup for some cheesy horror movie. In fact, I’m pretty sure that Michael Myers has slaughtered more than his share of victims in deserted hospital wards.”
Again, Victor chuckled. “Don’t worry, cariño. I’ll protect you.”
Tamara forced herself to ignore the way her pulse skipped at the term of endearment, which he’d undoubtedly used without conscious thought.
As they walked down the empty corridor, their footsteps crunched against the plastic tarp, the sound echoing loudly in the silence. “Where, exactly, are we going?” Tamara asked.
“To find an open room.”
“What if there aren’t any?”
He slanted her an amused look. “Think positive.”
They rounded a corner and tried the first door. It was locked, as were the next twelve doors they approached.
Weary and frustrated, Tamara was about to give up and suggest that they head back downstairs. And then they came to an unlocked room near the end of another hallway. Laughing softly, they slipped inside like a pair of vagrants relieved to find shelter on a brutal winter night.
When Tamara automatically reached for the light switch, Victor warned, “Don’t turn it on, or someone might see us.”
“Oops, that’s right. I forgot.”
Not that they really needed the light. Since the curtains were open, rooftop lighting from an adjacent building poured through the window to reveal a small room occupied by a single bed, a night table and a chair tucked into the corner.
It wasn’t until Victor closed the door behind them that Tamara felt a moment’s pause at being alone with him. Not because she was attracted to him or anything, she told herself. She just didn’t want to be caught in a compromising position with him. Their chief of staff, Dr. Germaine Dudley, frowned upon intra-hospital relationships. The last thing Tamara needed was to be disqualified from receiving the research grant because she’d violated the hospital’s nonfraternization policy.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Victor told her.
She hesitated, then sat stiffly on the bed and shrugged out of her backpack.
Victor set his helmet on the table and dropped his duffel bag to the floor, then crossed the room to retrieve the lone chair. He dragged it over to the bed and plopped down with a grateful groan.
“Damn, it feels good to be off my feet,” he said, stretching out his long legs and rubbing his hands over his face. “Thank God one of these rooms was open.”
“Yeah.” Tamara glanced out the window. “The rain doesn’t appear to be letting up.”
Victor followed the direction of her wistful gaze. “Nope. Looks like we’ll be stuck here for a while.”
She sighed heavily. “Looks that way.”
Victor chuckled dryly, bending to remove his black boots. “Don’t sound so depressed, St. John. I’m sure we can get through a couple more hours without killing each other. Especially if we’re both asleep—which I intend to be pretty damn soon.”
Tamara grinned. “Good point.” After another hesitation, she toed off her sneakers, loosened her ponytail, then stretched out on the bed facing Victor. “We should probably set an alarm so we don’t oversleep.”
“Good idea.” Victor pulled out his cell and quickly programmed some numbers, then stuffed the phone back into his pocket. “All set.”
“Thanks,” Tamara murmured.
“De nada. Sweet dreams.”
“You, too.”
She watched as he propped his big feet on the table, folded his hands across his flat abdomen, leaned back against the chair and closed his eyes.
Tamara rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, willing sleep to come. But she was too keyed up to take a nap, and Victor’s proximity didn’t exactly help. It had