Up by Five

Dedication

I have two types of people on my team: the cheerleaders—the ones who always tell me they love my stuff no matter what and make me smile; and the butt kickers—the ones who tell me “this is great but you can do better. Now do it”. You all know who you are…and I need all of you. Thanks for being here behind the scenes with me. Help yourself to more cookies. And wine.

And especially to Lindsey, who takes full credit for saying, “Conner’s book should be last”. You were right. Nothing new there. 

Chapter One

Life was way too much fun to want it to end at age thirty-one. But a death wish was one explanation for why Conner Dixon was walking the hallways of St. Anthony’s Hospital with a giant pink stuffed bunny.

The other, and more accurate explanation, however, was that Sara Gordon had had a baby girl last night.

Sara Gordon. The perfect woman. The woman Conner would do anything for. Including risking his life by showing up bright and early when her husband, Mac, was sure to be there.

Of course, Conner had made a point of showing up when her husband, Mac, was sure to be there.

Conner paused outside the door, adjusted the bunny’s ears and the bright-pink bow he’d made the saleswoman add before he left the store, and put on his biggest, most charming smile.

“Conner!” Sara greeted him warmly, as always.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Mac also greeted him as usual.

“Sara, you’re amazing,” Conner said. He stepped to the side of the bed and handed the bunny off to Mac.

Mac growled.

Conner grinned and kept his eyes firmly on Sara. Not that it was any hardship.

Conner knew football—he could throw a perfect spiral as the game clock was ticking down to nothing and his team was behind by seven. Conner knew how to save a life—he could intubate a trauma victim faster than any paramedic in the city. In a burning building. With gunfire overhead. And a tornado bearing down on the city.

But there was something Conner knew even better than football or being a paramedic.

And that was women.

“Eleven hours of labor? You’re a champ, girl. You’re gorgeous, as always, and thank
god
that little girl looks like you.”

“Dixon,” Mac said, his tone completely exasperated, “how did you know we were up here?”

Conner grinned at the second-best paramedic in the city. It seemed over the last few months, ever since Conner had helped rescue Sara from a fire at the youth center where she worked, that Mac had become less angry and more…irritated by Conner’s flirting.

That still worked for Conner. Yes, flirting with Sara was fun. She was sweet and beautiful and smart and sassy. All very important qualities in Conner’s opinion.

Sure, her being married—happily married to a
big
guy—put a bit of a damper on things. But Conner had never intended to get serious with her, married or not. Conner never intended to get serious with
anyone
.

But
Sara was married to Mac Gordon.

It had been an honest mistake. At first.

Conner had been a new paramedic and a newbie at hanging out at Trudy’s, the local tavern where most of the hospital personnel kicked back, and he’d made the mistake of hitting on her one night.

He would have dropped it then and there had he not realized that her husband, the man glowering at him over the top of Sara’s gorgeous curly, blonde head, was none other than Mac Gordon, the veteran paramedic who had been riding Conner’s rookie ass from day one.

Conner got it. Rookies needed to be broken in. He was fine with that. But he was also used to being the cock of the walk and it was clear that Mac thought that title belonged to him.

So Conner didn’t see anything wrong with messing with Mac’s head. A little.

Conner was a hell of a paramedic. He was driven, determined, smart and confident.

Mac Gordon wanted Conner on the team. He just didn’t
want
to want Conner on the team.

Which was very amusing to Conner.

Paramedic shifts could be long and boring. In many ways, boring nights for an ambulance crew were a good thing. But it left lots of time for bullshitting and pranks.

Conner had fit right in.

He shrugged. “I know people,” he told Mac.

“I know people too,” Mac said. “And I specifically told them to
not
tell you when Sara went into labor.”

Conner propped his hip against the railing of Sara’s bed.

He wasn’t serious about his attraction to Sara. He liked her. If she’d been single, he would have pursued her until he had her for a long, hot weekend. But they’d have broken up by now for sure.

He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

He heard Mac’s knuckles crack.

The thing was, Sara really was the perfect woman on paper. But that was exactly where Conner liked to have perfect women. He didn’t need them any closer. He might do something stupid like wanting to keep one around if given the option. And that would never work out.

But Sara was a fantastic cover. He could pretend to be totally infatuated with her while nothing could, or would, ever happen. However, in the course of having this “crush”, he had a chance to show any other women in the vicinity how sweet and romantic he could be.

Like when he’d taken the long route, past five different nurses’ stations, on his way to Sara’s room with the pink bunny.

That couldn’t hurt him.

“I guess you just don’t know them as well as I do,” Conner told Mac with a grin that he knew would make Mac nuts.

“He
better not
know them as well as you do,” Sara said.

Mac rolled his eyes. “I’m guessing I
do
know them better than he does.”

“Excuse me?” Sara asked, sitting up straighter in bed.

“Conner might ‘know’ whichever nurse called to tell him you were here, but I’ll bet he doesn’t know if she likes hamburgers or hot dogs best or if she has kids.”

No way did Mac know which nurse had texted Conner about Caroline Gordon’s arrival into the world.

“
You
know every nurse’s hamburger or hot dog preference?” Conner asked.

“I’ve been grilling burgers and dogs for every Employee Appreciation Day and hospital picnic for the last seven years,” Mac said. “And I pay attention.”

Conner narrowed his eyes. There were two Employee Appreciation Days and one annual picnic per year. Still…that was a lot of nurses.

“Seriously? No way you know that.”

Mac looked smug now. “Well, it’s not like I have to know
every
one of them. I know which ones are on your list, Dixon.”

“How?”

Mac lifted his left hand and shaped it into a fist. He raised the first finger. “They’re under the age of thirty-five, so that knocks several off the list.” He raised the next. “They’re single—” Mac’s eyes flickered to his wife. “You don’t
typically
go for married women.”

Conner coughed. So far he was right. But so what?

“So that knocks a lot off.” Mac’s third finger came up. “They have to be gorgeous. That narrows it down a bit.” He added another finger. “They have to be girlie—” Again he looked at Sara.

She smiled. Sara Bradford Gordon was definitely girlie.

Conner couldn’t help it. He liked girlie girls. Very likely for deep, psychologically troubling reasons he preferred to not delve into.

“And,” Mac said, lifting his fifth finger and pausing for a moment, “they have to be blonde.”

Conner straightened. Mac was right on. And that was creepy.

“How do you know that?” Conner asked.

“Like I said, I pay attention.” Mac crossed his arms. “And that leaves a much smaller list to keep track of.”

Sara frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. You’ve been paying attention to the hot dog and hamburger eating habits of this list of women you think
Conner
would go for?”

“Yes.” Mac scowled.

“Why?” Sara asked.

“Because I’m hoping to get him really interested in one of them.”

There was a beat of silence, then Conner hooted with laughter. That was awesome.

He leaned in and kissed Sara on the head. “I gotta go. You did good, Mrs. Gordon. Congratulations on your sweet baby girl.”

“Conner?”

He straightened and swung toward the female voice with a smile.

A smile that died immediately.

It was Katie. Ah, dammit.

“What are you doing here?” Katie asked, shoving a bouquet of flowers at Mac without even looking at the other man. Her gaze was glued on Conner.

“I’m visiting my friends who just had a baby,” Conner said, moving a couple of steps away from Sara’s bed. In case Katie decided to throw something. Which was likely.

Katie’s eyes narrowed. “You know Sara?”

“Known her for years,” Conner confirmed, inching toward the door.

What he hadn’t known, of course, was that Katie knew Sara.

He looked over Katie’s shoulder to Mac. Mac looked…entertained.

Of course he did. Mac could tell that Katie was a one-night stand gone bad.

Most men would be able to tell that.

“I’m just on my way out.”

“You didn’t tell me you knew Conner,” Katie said, turning her attention to Sara.

Sara glanced at him, then back to her friend. “I didn’t know that it mattered.”

“
He’s
the guy. The one I told you about.”

Sara’s eyebrows went up and she looked at Conner again. “Really?”

Something in the way she said it made Conner stop. What had Katie said? From the look of interest on Sara’s face and the faint pink blush on her cheeks, it had been good.

Conner straightened. Well, maybe this wasn’t going to be all bad.

He and Katie had had a hell of a night.

The next morning was another story.

“He’s the one who…” Sara trailed off suggestively.

“Yes,” Katie confirmed.

“And then…?” Sara asked.

Katie nodded.

Sara looked at him again. “Wow.”

Okay, this was
definitely
going well. He glanced at Mac. Mac was now frowning.

Awesome.

“But then he…” Katie said, also trailing off purposefully.

Sara frowned. “Yeah.”

Like some crazy teeter-totter, Conner’s smile faded as Mac’s grew.

“And then he never called,” Katie concluded, the strange, largely wordless female conversation ending.

Conner knew all about strange, partially wordless—or entirely wordless—female conversations. His four younger sisters did that shit all the time. Very often about him.

“Yeah,” Sara said again, turning her frown on Conner.

Hey. There had been pancakes thrown the next morning. Not by him. Never by him. He loved pancakes. And it had been a bitch to get that syrup cleaned up.

But the pancakes had been good. That had been sign number two that he needed to get Katie the hell out of his house. The adage about winning a man’s heart through his stomach did, indeed, apply to him.

Sign number one, however, had been that she’d cried. And he didn’t spend time with women who cried. Or yelled. Or had other less-than-happy emotions.

Well, okay, his sisters, but he freaking
hated
those emotions from them too.

Katie had been talking about how much sweeter Conner was than her last dickhead boyfriend, which had led to a rant about her last dickhead boyfriend, which had led to tears. Conner worked hard to always be better than the other men women dated. But that was hardly tear worthy. He’d given Katie four orgasms. Nobody should cry after four orgasms.

Which he might have mentioned to her. Just prior to the pancake-throwing episode.

And
now
would be a good time for him to go.

“Okay, well, congrats again,” he said, making a beeline for the door.

“Conner.” Katie’s voice stopped him.

He sighed and turned. Sometimes women just needed to get things out in the open. If she could rant and rave at him about his alleged assholeish behavior, maybe she’d feel better and this could be over.

“Ka—”

She didn’t connect with his jaw, nose or eye directly. But she caught him hard on the browbone with her fist. And the big-assed ring she was wearing.

Yeah, not an open-palm slap. A gripped-fist punch.

Fuck.

His head snapped back and he immediately felt the skin split open.

“Katie!” Sara gasped.

Mac chuckled.

Conner lifted a hand to where he was now bleeding. Awesome. He sighed at Katie. “Feel better?”

“Better. But not good.”

“You need to learn to throw a punch before you hurt yourself.”

Katie’s eyes narrowed and she stepped closer.

Mac piped up. “I’ll teach her.”

“Don’t ever call me again,” Katie said to Conner.

He hadn’t called in the first place. “I promise.”

“Congratulations, Sara,” she said over her shoulder. “I’ll come back later.”

“Bye,” Sara called.

Mac thrust a wad of paper towels at Conner. “Don’t bleed on my wife’s hospital room floor.”

“Dammit, that hurt,” Conner muttered pressing the towels to his forehead.