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His lips were pressed so tightly together Molly was surprised he could even get words out.
Dr. Dave coughed, the sound reverberating in the small room. “Jake, be reasonable. Dr. Flynn’s a prodigy. She graduated high school at thirteen. In addition to her medical degree she’s earned two PhDs.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “In what?”
“Art history and genetics,” Molly said, her tone equally frosty.
“Then I’ll be sure to call you the next time I need to know the DNA sequence for a Jackson Pollack painting.”
“Unfortunately for you, Mr. Pollack didn’t leave behind any DNA samples for testing. Although it might be possible to extract a specimen from his exhumed corpse, given the lack of oxygen and sunlight to denigrate the samples. In fact, the oldest actual DNA specimens hail from Greenland, extracted from beneath a mile of ice...”
Molly’s voice trailed off as she took in the dazed stares of the others in the room and her heart sank. Not again.
“Right.” Dr. Dave passed Bobby’s chart to her on his way to the door. “I’ve got other patients to attend this evening. Jake, you’ll have to leave if you won’t sign the releases. We discussed this.”
“I don’t want to be on camera.” Dr. Ryder scrubbed a hand over his face.
“Why not?” Molly asked again. “Perhaps if you voiced your concerns—”
“He just doesn’t, okay?” Bobby rose to the defense of his friend. “Can’t Jake be an off-screen consultant or something?”
The door opened and Neal stuck his head inside. “We need to get a move on, Mol. The network’s called me five times already, wondering when they’re going to receive initial footage.”
Molly hated to admit defeat, but things were getting desperate. If a compromise would get this guy to agree to the network’s terms then it was worth it—at least for now.
“Fine, Dr. Ryder. But you’ll have to work around my schedule. If I need access to Bobby you leave, no questions asked.” Molly extended her hand. “Deal?”
He didn’t move at first, and her hopes dwindled. Finally, Dr. Ryder grasped her hand, his voice sounding as reluctant as she felt. “Deal.”
“Good.”
Molly brushed aside the inconvenient flood of endorphins fizzing through her from his touch and handed him the patient’s chart. She did her best work when she had colleagues with whom to brainstorm, and tonight she needed to bring her A game.
“Before the crew comes in, what’s your assessment?”
Dr. Ryder thumbed through the pages, glancing at her with no small amount of suspicion. “Given the weird olfactory hallucinations, and the fact we’ve ruled out the other obvious choices, how about encephalitis?”
“The only elevated result on the CBC was a slightly higher than normal eosinophil level, which doesn’t point to a brain infection.”
Molly struggled to keep her voice steady. It wasn’t the case that unsettled her. It was this man. He was too big, too masculine, too...everything.
Gladys came to check the patient’s vitals. Molly wanted to question Dr. Ryder further, but his cell phone buzzed.
He pulled it from the front pocket of his scrubs, then scowled at the screen. “I need to get back to my department. Bobby, you’re okay with all this?”
“Yep.” The patient shifted on his bed, the plastic frame creaking under his muscled weight. “I’ll call you if I need you, Jake. And don’t hover. You just think you have to watch out for me because—”
“That’s not why.”
A look passed between the two men and the air in the room seemed to vibrate with a secret silent understanding.
Then Dr. Ryder headed for the door, calling to her over his shoulder. “May I speak to you outside, Dr. Flynn?”
Still trembling slightly from a jumble of unexpected confusing emotions, Molly took a deep breath and followed him out into the hall. She hated being this overwrought in front of people, especially her new patient, but this issue between her and Dr. Jake Ryder needed to end. She wouldn’t let him destroy her best chance to save her show, even if it meant putting up with his irritating sexiness for the duration of her shoot.
* * *
“What are your next steps?” Jake asked once they’d reached a secluded corner of the hall.
The words had emerged more harshly than he’d intended, given Dr. Flynn’s slight wince, but he couldn’t seem to help it. Bad enough that she’d walked around that accident scene looking like some Disney princess come to life—all big blue eyes and lush blond hair—making him itch to hold and protect her. The tightness in his chest intensified, though his frustration was directed more toward himself than anyone else. Even worse that the first woman he’d felt attracted to since Kellie’s departure was the media star Dr. Dave had invited to collaborate on Bobby’s case.
Irony at its finest, folks.
Trust wasn’t something Jake gave freely. He’d been burned too badly in the past. The truth was, he had a hard time believing in anyone these days, except his Army buddies and his tight-knit circle of friends. Intimacy required vulnerability, and Jake didn’t do vulnerable anymore. Besides, he was a successful trauma surgeon. With his crazy schedules and on-call nightmares it was difficult to meet people, let alone have any kind of life outside his profession.
That was the excuse he was going with anyway.
And maybe Molly Flynn was the best at what she did—if Dr. Dave was to be believed. That didn’t excuse her impassioned speech about her sterling integrity—which, crazily enough, had only increased his foolish awareness of her as a woman. All he’d been able to concentrate on when she’d talked was her sparkling azure eyes and soft pink lips. God help him, he was in trouble here. Because she was Bobby’s specialist and a TV sensation.
The last time he’d dealt with the press—after his commendation—he’d gotten way more than his fifteen minutes of fame. Worse, the glare of media attention had only intensified after his relationship with Kellie had fallen apart, with reporters poking and prodding into his wreck of a personal life like vultures at a roadside kill.
The last thing Jake wanted now was to delve into that shark-infested cesspool again, but he couldn’t leave Bobby without an advisor in his corner. The guy had risked his own life to save Jake—literally. No way would he turn his back on him, no matter how uncomfortable the situation, and releases be damned.
During his time in Afghanistan he’d spent hours on the front lines, patching up men and women and ally civilians who’d given their all for their country. He’d enlisted initially for the experience, and to uphold the family legacy—his father had served as a Special Operations Pilot during Vietnam. But six years with the Seventy-Fifth Ranger Regiment had made his fellow soldiers Jake’s surrogate family, his brothers and sisters. With them, he’d found a tribe of kindred spirits all addicted to danger and valor.
Day in and day out he’d vowed to protect every one of them with his life, if needed. The time had come to make good on his promise.
Rock—meet proverbial hard place.
“I’ve ordered a chest CT to rule out CSS,” Dr. Flynn said, jarring Jake from his thoughts. “If you’ll excuse me...”
“Wait.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, doing his best to ignore the heat of her body wrapping around him, beckoning him closer. “I think we got started on the wrong foot.”
“Yes, I think we did,” Molly said, her gaze glittering with obvious irritation.
She wasn’t going to make this easy. Then again, neither was he.
“Churg-Strauss Syndrome is a severe conclusion to jump to so quickly, isn’t it?” he asked, puzzled.
Dr. Flynn sighed, the rise and fall of her chest causing the front of her T-shirt to hug her small curves. Not that he was looking. Nope. Definitely not looking.
“It’s a remote possibility, yes, but it would explain all his symptoms. And I like to be thorough. Satisfied now, Dr. Ryder?”
Not by a long shot, sweetheart.
Sudden images of them tangled in his sheets, her long silky hair splayed around him, swamped Jake’s exhausted mind. He backed away, alarmed. He’d just met her, for goodness’ sake. Must be the lack of sleep. Had to be.
“Keep me posted on the results.” Jake handed Bobby’s file back to her, then headed for the elevators. “If you don’t, I know where to find you.”
The brief flare of awareness in her eyes made his own pulse kick higher. Apparently he wasn’t the only one affected by this weird connection between them. Good thing she’d be on the first plane out of here as soon as Bobby had recovered.
All Jake wanted was an empty bed and peace and quiet. Unfortunately he still had about an hour of documentation to finish and a few patients either to admit or discharge before he was off duty for forty-eight blissful hours. Hours when he wouldn’t have to see Dr. Flynn or deal with the odd blaze of emotions she stirred inside him, making him want to both kiss her and throttle her in equal measures.
It was crazy. And then there was that slight yearning that crept into her expression sometimes, like when they’d been standing in the hallway discussing the case—a hesitation that called to his inner protector. Dangerous, that, since it threatened those precious walls he’d built—the ones meant to keep his heart from getting torn out and stomped on again.
Honestly, it had been so long since he’d had a significant other he couldn’t remember what it was like. During the last few months before Kellie had left him things had been so strained they’d just been going through the motions. Even so, the last thing he’d expected had been her accepting a network job in New York City without even discussing it with him. Blindsided didn’t begin to cover how he’d felt at the time. How he still felt, in some ways.
Eighteen months had passed and it still hacked Jake off whenever he remembered. He’d thought they had something good together—something real, something lasting.
He guessed that just went to show what an idiot he was when it came to love.
Good thing he was brilliant in his career. Saving lives was what he did, who he was. Since his fiancée’s abrupt departure Jake had thrown himself into saving his patients, into making their lives better. It helped him forget about the loneliness, the doubts. Doubts that if he hadn’t been enough for Kellie, why should he believe he’d ever be enough for anyone else?
One more reason to stick with short-term flings.
No muss, no fuss, no commitment. No chance for heartbreak and disappointment.
Yeah, perhaps if circumstances had been different, and he and Molly had met at some bar on a lonely night, they might’ve shared more than a medical case. Jake might’ve let her get a glimpse of the man locked behind those staunch barriers...might’ve let that instant connection between them evolve into something more.
But not now. Now he’d consult on Bobby’s case, be his advocate. That was all.
The elevator dinged and Jake climbed on board, ignoring the niggle of regret that bored into his chest.
Once he reached the first floor, he headed to his office near the ER and the inbox full of patient files awaiting his attention.
Yawning, he took a seat and grabbed the top chart, scanning the lab reports and papers inside before making his notations. Work kept him busy and sane. Work also kept him distracted. The constant hustle and bustle was part of the reason he spent so much time here. The other part was the fact that he didn’t have much going on outside of this place.
Determined to stay on track, Jake worked his way through the stack of charts until they were finished, then grabbed his keys and did a final check on the condition of his patients at the nurses’ station. Once that was taken care of for the night, Jake headed home.
He climbed behind the wheel of his truck and cranked the engine, squeezing his tired eyes shut. Bobby’s words during that firefight in Kandahar were ringing in his head like a clarion call.
“We’ll make it, bud...”
And they would No matter what trials and temptations Dr. Molly Flynn might pose.
CHAPTER THREE
“JUST PUT YOUR arm around it!” Rob yelled to Molly from behind a swath of thick rope. “Pretend it’s that hot doc at the hospital.”
She gave her cameraman a peeved stare. Had her attraction to Jake Ryder been that apparent? If Rob and Neal’s smirks were any indication then, yes, it had. Ugh. She usually kept a tight lid on her emotions. One more casualty of her jet lag and post-break-up-from-Brian funk.
Fabulous.
Exhaling loudly, Molly did her best to snuggle up to the world’s largest broccoli spear—weighing in at an astonishing thirty-nine pounds—and flashed a TV-perfect fake smile for the camera. The thing smelled like dirt and towered above her, its fanned floret casting ominous shadows. She’d read that Alaska was famous for its abnormally large produce, and here she was, within breathing distance of the proof.
“Perfect!” Rob gave her a thumbs-up while Neal texted on his phone.
Remarkably, they seemed to have good cell service out here—better than she’d had on her drive in from the airport the night before.
“I want to grab a corn dog before we head to the next location. Mol, you want anything?”
She shook her head. They’d set out this morning to capture some of the local flavor before her case took precedence. Bright and early, they’d packed up her Range Rover to explore all the area had to offer. After stopping at a diner for breakfast, and taking some exterior shots at the must-see spots in Anchorage—the modern curved sculptures outside the Z.J. Loussac Public Library, the gorgeous Native American exhibits at Rasmuson Center, the rustic quaintness of the Oscar Anderson House Museum, the city’s oldest residence—they’d driven forty minutes north to the small town of Palmer and the Alaska State Fair.
She released the giant cruciferous vegetable and scanned the vendors there, selling everything from pretzels to enormous ice cream cones. The air smelled of sweet popped corn and deep-fried dough. Rob tottered off to get his corn dog and Neal linked arms with Molly, leading her down a path designated as “The Purple Trail” to buy something called a Doughnut Burger.
“C’mon. It’s guaranteed to make you gain ten pounds.” He gave her a wink and placed his order but she passed.
She tried to eat healthily, even while traveling. If she ever let herself go physically her father would be the first to comment, so it was safer to not go down that road to begin with—no matter how tempting at times like this.
After collecting his food, she and Neal took a seat at one of the many wooden picnic tables to wait for Rob. The two guys had been a couple since before she’d joined the network, though they kept their personal relationship out of the office.
“Are you sure you don’t want a bite?” Neal asked.
Molly eyed the thick caribou steak patty between two slabs of grilled glazed doughnut, ketchup and mustard dripping down its sides, with trepidation. She could almost feel her arteries clogging. “Uh...no thanks.”
“It’s so scrumptious.” Neal wiped his face with his napkin, speaking to her around a mouthful of food. “At least try a corn fritter with honey butter dipping sauce. They’re delicious.”
“I’m still stuffed from breakfast, really.”
Molly pulled her phone from her pocket and zipped through her emails while Rob took a seat on the bench beside Neal and slid a plate in front of her.
“I got you a funnel cake, Mol. My treat.” Rob grinned. “Extra powdered sugar.”
Frowning, she stared down at the greasy confection. Its yeasty aroma was enticing, despite its odd look. She’d heard of these things, but never tried one herself. Tentatively she pulled off a tiny chunk and ate it. The treat melted in her mouth, releasing its sweet, rich goodness.
Eyes wide, Molly blinked at her smiling crew. “That’s amazing.”
“Told you.” Neal winked, then nudged Rob with his elbow.
She gobbled down more of the sweet deliciousness before answering her buzzing phone without checking the caller ID, assuming it would be the hospital. “Dr. Molly Flynn.”
“Hello, dear. Did you hear about Martha?”
“Yes, Mother.”
Neal raised a speculative brow and Molly swiveled on her bench to face in the opposite direction. She and her older sister Martha weren’t exactly close, but that hadn’t kept Molly from escaping the dreaded Baby Aboard! email blitz.
“I heard.”
“Then you’ll help me plan the shower?”
“She’s five months along.” Molly squinted into the hazy morning sunshine.
“Never too early to plan, dear. Not if you want the best.”
And of course Martha would have the best. She always got the best—from prom dresses to husbands.
“We need to reserve a room and order flowers. Pick a caterer and a cake maker too.”
“It’s a baby shower, Mother. Not a wedding.”
A cute little girl dressed to perform in one of the fair’s many shows waddled by and Molly smiled. She’d always loved children, but having her own someday seemed farther out of reach than ever. Mainly because of the belief her father had instilled within her every day of her childhood—that if people saw her true fallible self, her imperfections and quirks, they wouldn’t love her, couldn’t love her. So she hid behind her slick professionalism, her media persona, never letting anyone get too close to the truth.
“Speaking of weddings—how are things with Brian?” her mother asked.
The question hit Molly like a sucker punch. For a moment she considered lying about their separation, but her mother would find out soon enough—if she didn’t already know. “We’re taking a break.”
“Break?”
“Yes.” Molly reached behind her and grabbed the remaining huge chunk of funnel cake, shoving it in her mouth without thinking. “He’s busy with stocks and bonds and I’m swamped with shooting in Anchorage for the next few weeks, so it’s fine.”
“I see.” Her mother’s tone suggested that she’d seen straight through Molly’s crap. “You can’t keep doing this, dear.”
“Doing what?”
“Putting your personal life on hold. You’re not getting any younger.”
Exactly what she didn’t need today. A baby pep-talk from her mother. When she was a teen, Molly had often wished she had the kind of parents that showed up in her favorite sitcoms. The loving, supportive variety, who never pushed their kids to do things they didn’t want and loved them unconditionally for who they were. But real life wasn’t like TV, and usually you just had to do the best with what you’d got.
Her shoulders slumped as the scent of fresh kettle corn drifted on the breeze. Molly’s lifelong imposed restraint buckled under the pressure and she all but tripped over herself on her way to buy a bag. After all, she should experiment while she still had the chance, right?
Molly changed the subject while she waited in line. “What are my duties for the shower?”
“Decorations. And I’ll see if your father knows anyone.”
“For what?”
“For you. When will you be back home, dear?”
“I just got to Alaska.”
Not to mention the fact the last thing she wanted was a blind date with one of her father’s legion of devoted clones.
Molly paid and thanked the vendor then returned to the table with her popcorn. “I’m not ready to date anyone else yet. Besides, there’s a colleague here who’s giving me issues.”
“Really? Is he attractive?”
“No.”
Yes. All she had to do was picture Dr. Ryder’s stormy gray eyes, his chiseled jaw and toned muscles, and molten heat spread outward from her core to sizzle through her bloodstream. It seemed the gorgeous man caused her problems even when he wasn’t around.
If only he wasn’t her new colleague.
If only...what?
No. That line of thinking was completely unacceptable. They were working together. Molly was only here temporarily. Dr. Ryder treated her as if she harbored a deadly contagious disease. It was all so irritating and annoying and incredibly intriguing.
Scowling, she shoved another handful of popcorn in her mouth. “What difference does it make? He’s a nuisance. Challenging everything I do, every order I give.”
“Perhaps if you tried charm instead of your usual abruptness you might get further.”
Molly checked her watch. If they were going to fit another location in before she went to the hospital, they had to get a move on. “I need to go.”
“Thank you for proving my point, dear.”
She felt her mother’s disapproval like a slap.
“I’ll call you next week with a list of supplies.”
“Fine,” Molly said, though the line had already gone dead. Talk about abrupt. Clicking off her phone, she turned back to her crew. “Have you guys decided on our last stop?”
“We have.” Neal gave her his devious smile—the one that always warned of mischief ahead. “You ready?”
She tossed her trash in a nearby bin, then followed her crew toward the exit. “Can I at least get a clue where we’re headed?”
“I talked to one of the ER nurses yesterday before you arrived,” Rob said. “She’s part of a volunteer mountain rescue group. They’re practicing maneuvers today. Neal thinks it might be a nice way to segue into the local medical scene.”
* * *
“Ready, Ryder?” shouted a man in an orange emergency jumpsuit.
“Ready!” Jake yelled back.
He was currently dangling off the north face of O’Malley’s Peak, wind whistling, while his training-partner-slash-victim for this rescue was strapped to a body board.
“Victim’s secure for lift.”
He sagged into his riggings to wait, enjoying the stunning views from this vantage point. Bright autumn colors dotted the landscape as far as the eye could see, and the city of Anchorage gleamed in the distance. Most tourists cleared out of Chugach State Park this late in the season, leaving it to year-round locals like himself until the first snows hit. Then this place would be packed again, with ice-climbers, skiers and winter enthusiasts.
And, like clockwork, some of those weekend daredevils would do something ill-advised, requiring intervention. That was why he was here. Plus, volunteering for the Anchorage Rescue Team—or the ART—helped him keep his rescue skills sharp. And, particularly this weekend, he hoped the training might help him forget about a certain blond doctor who seemed to haunt his every waking moment.
Dr. Molly Flynn was proving to be a challenge. In more ways than one.
Inhaling the crisp mountain air, Jake distracted himself by double-checking both his harness and the one around his pretend victim, then tested the ropes and carabiners for strength. He’d scaled these peaks since his teens, knew every nook and cranny by heart. He and his dad had used to come here when he was in high school, just to hang out and relax.
Those carefree days seemed a million miles away now, with his parents off traveling the country by RV for three-quarters of each year, returning to Alaska only during the brief summer months. In fact Bobby was really the closest person he had left in Anchorage.
If I lose him...
Jake’s muscles tightened with anxiety. The wind gusted harder and he grabbed the ropes near his victim’s chest to steady himself. He wouldn’t lose Bobby because he couldn’t lose Bobby. Just as he couldn’t allow himself to get involved with Dr. Flynn. It would be bad. Very bad. Besides, he didn’t trust her—would never trust her. Kellie had destroyed his ability to trust.
“You trying to cop a feel, Doc?” Wendy Smith—fellow ART volunteer, an ER nurse at Anchorage Mercy and today’s pretend victim—grinned up at him from the body board. “Been there, done that—not going back again.”
“Shut up, smartass.” Jake focused on the distant hazy peaks of Denali, doing his best to shake off his melancholy. He and Wendy had known each other since grade school. “You have a rare day off too, Clutch?”
“Don’t call me that. I hate it,” she said.
Half-Inupiat and all attitude, Wendy looked like a swimsuit model, swore like a drunken drill sergeant, and had grown up fast after her mother had passed away when she was only twelve.