Winds of Fortune (2 page)

“Okay, right.” As quickly as he had appeared, Randy was gone.

“I’ve got this, Tory,” Nita said.

Tory drew up short, one arm in and one out of her lab coat. Nita was a board-certified emergency room physician. She was trained to handle anything that might come through the door. Rationally, Tory knew that. Still, it was hard to leave. She had hired on temporary help before, but Nita was the first physician she had contracted for a possible long-term association. The only partner she had ever considered had been KT O’Bannon, the woman she had once considered the love of her life. But KT had left her with a broken heart and broken dreams. Then Reese Conlon had come along and mended her heart, but until now she’d never really considered sharing her professional life with anyone else.

“You might need an assistant,” Tory pointed out.

“If it’s that bad, the repair will need to be done in the OR and we’ll transport him to Hyannis. Otherwise, Sally can help me. Now I’d better get in there—and you have a party to go to.”

Nita disappeared down the hallway. Tory could either follow her, making a clear statement that she didn’t trust her to handle the problem alone, or she could go home where the people who loved her were waiting.

She hung her lab coat on a hook behind her door, and with one last glance down the hall toward the patient rooms, she left.

*

Nita pushed through the door into the procedure room and stopped short at the incongruous sound of laughter. Their clinic nurse, Sally, stood at the counter on the far side of the room setting up an instrument tray. Two young men in khaki work clothes and dusty boots, one seated on the stretcher and the other leaning against it, faced away from the door toward the petite blond nurse. Apparently no one heard her enter because the revelry continued.

“We need to make sure this gets fixed up right,” remarked the deeply tanned, curly haired Adonis who nudged the shoulder of a similarly handsome man whose right hand was wrapped in a bloody towel. “Otherwise, Joey’s sex life is going straight down the toi—”

“Oh I don’t know,” Sally laughed as she laid out gloves and irrigation solution, “it doesn’t look like any of Joey’s critical equipment is in danger.”

“That’s just the problem, he needs that hand to take care of his
main
business,” the Adonis smirked.

“Come on, Deo,” Joey said, “I’m in pain here.” He glanced over his buddy’s shoulder and, spying Nita, instantly looked chagrined. “Besides, there’s a lady present.”

“Oh, well, excuse me,” Sally said archly, rolling the metal instrument stand up to the table. “
Now
you two decide to get some manners?” She waved to Nita. “We’re all ready for you.”

“Thanks.” Nita crossed the room briskly. “I’m Dr. Burgoyne. What happened?”

“Joey here picked a fight with a table saw and lost,” the uninjured member of the pair replied, turning in Nita’s direction. Deep-set eyes so dark they verged on black did a slow survey of Nita’s face, flickered lower for an instant, then returned to lock on Nita’s. “Well, hello.”

Nita blinked, bombarded by a series of quicksilver images—wide, sensuous mouth; midnight curls tumbling onto a broad forehead; thick, almost straight black brows; and skin, she realized—not tanned—but a rich natural bronze. An Adonis, no doubt. But very much not a man. For one second Nita completely lost focus and everything else in the room receded from her consciousness except her awareness of this woman. How she hadn’t realized immediately that Adonis was a woman, despite the nondescript work clothes, she couldn’t imagine. Even partially turned away, her sharply-carved profile was just a little bit too exquisite to be male, despite its strength. And not even the well-developed shoulders and thighs could diminish the undeniably feminine nature of her body. The subtle swell of her breasts, the narrow waist, the slight curve of hip all screamed woman. Beautiful woman.

Nita felt her skin warming as the woman continued to stare at her with a mixture of amusement and frank appreciation. Nita knew the look. Not just beautiful, beautiful and arrogant. This one knew she was gorgeous and no doubt knew the effect she had on women. Women and men, probably. She was looking at Nita as if she expected Nita to melt. Nita mentally shook herself—that wasn’t going to happen. Not now, not ever again.

“Perhaps the
patient
would like to fill me in,” Nita said, dragging her gaze away from the dark hypnotic eyes. She knew she sounded irritated. She
was
irritated. And disturbed. Irritated at herself for even
noticing
how striking the woman was, and definitely disturbed for being intrigued—if only for an instant—by the admiring look in the woman’s eyes. Being stirred by
any
woman’s attraction was something she had thought she’d expunged from her mind and
body, but apparently she’d been wrong.

“If you could step back, please,” Nita said, “I need to see to your friend.”

“By all means,” Deo said with a slightly mocking tone and a sweep of her arm, “be my guest.”

Deo Camara wasn’t surprised by the doctor’s initial consternation. She was used to that. Strangers often took her for a guy, especially in her work clothes, or confused her with one of her many cousins. The anger that had quickly surged in the piercing, raw umber eyes was unexpected, though. What was even more unanticipated was that the doctor’s antagonism bothered her. She didn’t know the woman, so why should it matter what she thought? Annoyed at being off-balance, she shrugged and shifted a few inches, folding her arms across her chest and rocking back on her heels.

“Thank you,” Nita said dryly, edging around the stranger when she failed to make room. Apparently she was as rude as she was good-looking. She smiled at the patient. “Hi. Joey is it?”

“Yeah. Uh, yes ma’am.” He dropped his eyes and blushed.

“I’m going to need to examine your hand. Why don’t you lie down.” She looked to Sally. “Gloves?”

“Here you go.” Sally handed Nita a package of sterile gloves and then pulled on her own pair. “I’ve got a basin and sterile saline when you’re ready.”

Nita glanced over her shoulder at Deo, who still stood so close Nita could smell a faint mixture of salt air and sawdust clinging to her. For some reason that struck her as more alluring than a fine perfume. Nonplussed at the thought, she said edgily, “This will probably take awhile. You might want to have a seat out front.”

“I’m staying.”

“As you wish.”

Once Joey was settled comfortably with his arm extended on a narrow arm board canted out from the table, Nita removed the bloody towel from his right hand. As she worked, she was disconcertingly aware of Deo’s presence just behind her. She could almost feel the heat coming off her body.

“Would you step back just a little,” Nita said without turning, frustrated that her concentration was affected by a stranger this way.

“Sure thing.”

Nita didn’t hear her move, and she could
still
sense her nearness.
This is ridiculous
. Determined to banish the exasperating distraction from her consciousness, Nita focused on Joey and immediately her discomfort abated.

“This might be just a bit uncomfortable,” she said, gently supporting his wrist in her palm.

“It’s okay, Doc,” Joey said, his eyes fixed trustingly on her face.

The bleeding had slowed to a trickle, but his small finger drooped and angled unnaturally. Nita noted an irregular laceration through the layer of caked-on blood.
Saw blade.
Another laceration slashed across the mid-portion of his ring finger. She carefully repositioned his hand on a sterile towel.

“Sally, go ahead and soak his whole hand in quarter strength Betadiene for ten minutes and then irrigate the lacerations. In the meantime, give him a tetanus shot, a gram of Zinacef, and set up for an X-ray.” She patted Joey’s shoulder. “You’ve cut a tendon or two and nicked a nerve. Nothing we can’t fix. I’ll be back in a few minutes and we’ll get started.”

Pushing back from the table, Nita stripped off her gloves. She tossed them aside and quickly left the room, still strangely disquieted by her reaction to her patient’s friend. She didn’t get derailed by the attention of a beautiful woman. Not anymore.

“Hey!”

Nita turned and saw that the woman was following her down the hall. Her long strides were forceful, more power than grace, and her physical presence combined with her natural beauty made an eye-catching package. Despite her appreciation, Nita carefully kept her expression flat. “Can I help you?”

“He’s got insurance. Workman’s comp. Whatever he needs—”

“You can give all that information to our receptionist out front.” Nita hoped the woman wasn’t suggesting Nita might not do everything necessary for the patient. “My only concern is taking care of his injury.”

“Look. If he needs to go to a hospital or something—”

“My decisions regarding his course of treatment are not based upon his ability to pay.” Nita regarded Deo with annoyance. “I didn’t get your name.”

“Deo Camara. I’m his boss. And his cousin.” Deo thought about extending her hand, but for some reason she didn’t. She had the uneasy feeling she was acting like an ass chasing after the doctor, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. This woman was so cool and detached and
dismissive
. Maybe that was it. She wasn’t used to women just brushing her off. Usually she was the one that had to do the kissing off.

Nita took a breath and struggled to regain her professional composure. Deo could hardly help the way she looked. Her manners could stand some polish, but she was probably worried. “As soon as I complete my evaluation I’ll let you both know what needs to be done.”

“He works with his hands.”

“I understand.” Nita glanced at Deo’s hands, curled at her sides. They were the same dark bronze as her face, broad and strong, capable looking hands. An irregular white ribbon of damaged tissue slashed across the top of her left hand from the base of her thumb to the opposite side of her wrist. An old scar from what must have been a painful injury. Sympathetically, she said, “I can see you’ve had some experience with this kind of thing.”

Following her gaze, Deo stiffened and tightened her fist until the skin turned pale and the scar disappeared. “No.”

Nita’s immediate impulse was to apologize, because she heard not anger, but pain in Deo’s voice. Then a sudden realization turned her cold inside. She knew nothing of this woman except that she was beautiful and at the moment, in pain. A dangerous combination that she found all too compelling, and exactly the kind of woman she wanted nothing to do with.

“I’ll be in to see your cousin in just a few moments,” Nita said, then pulled a chart off the nearest door and quickly stepped inside.

Deo stared at the closed door, feeling the sudden silence in the hall like a weight on her chest. She had let a stranger stir her up, and worse, rouse banished memories. No one did that. She never let anyone close enough to risk awakening those unforgiven sins.

*

“Is Reese home yet?” Tory asked breathlessly as she hurried through the door into the sunny living room. She petted the concrete block-sized head of the Mastiff that ambled to greet her. “Hi Jedi.”

“Not yet.” Kate, a blond version of her dark-haired, blue-eyed daughter Reese, held out a squirming toddler to Tory. “And the birthday girl has been asking.”

“Hey, honey,” Tory said, taking her daughter. Reggie replied with a string of excited words, the bulk of which sounded like
ma ma ma ma ma
. Tory laughed. “That’s me. Well, one of them anyways.”

When she kissed Reggie’s forehead, the wind coming in from the open door to the deck off the living area blew her hair into Reggie’s face. Reggie promptly grabbed a handful and held it to her mouth. Reggie’s red gold locks were lighter than Tory’s own auburn hair and her eyes more blue than green, but everyone said they could see Tory in Reggie. Sometimes when Tory looked at her daughter, she was struck with helpless wonder at what a miracle she was. At the sound of the screen door closing, Tory lifted her eyes from her daughter to the other miracle in her life.

When she returned from Iraq, Reese had been thinner than Tory had ever seen her, as if the desert winds and searing heat and senseless, relentless death had carved away everything except what she needed to survive. But she had survived. And she had come home. Wounded, disillusioned, weary in body and soul. But alive. She had come home where she was loved and needed.

With her coal black hair trimmed neatly at her collar, her intense deep-blue eyes, and her imposing body in a crisp khaki uniform, Sheriff Reese Conlon radiated strength. But Tory saw what others didn’t. Though Reese insisted she was recovered, she was still too thin, and there were still too many shadows under her eyes and
in
her eyes. Tory knew Reese tried to hide them, just as she knew that she tried to hide the fact that she rarely slept an entire night—or even more than an hour at a time. She didn’t know if Reese would ever talk about what haunted her. Not all pain could be purged. Until the time came, if it ever came, when Reese asked her to share that pain, Tory would give her the only thing she had to give—herself, in every way she could.

Tory smiled at her lover. “Hello, darling.”

“Hi, baby. I’m sorry I’m late.” Reese tossed her uniform hat and car keys onto the counter that separated the kitchen from the living area, smiled at her mother, and strode across the room to Tory. She put her arms around her and the baby, kissed Tory gently, and nuzzled Reggie’s neck, making her laugh. “Hi, Champ.”