Veiled Seduction (2 page)

Instead, she felt his hand fall from her face. When she looked at him, his eyes were closed again, his lashes making crescent moons against his cheeks.

“Mo?”

The whisper-soft word floated from the door. She glanced up sharply. The tall blond man in the doorway was blurry. “Mason…”

Mason Barrett was a fellow E.D. physician. He was also married to Sasha’s sister. If anyone would know what Sasha’s condition was, it would be him. If only she could speak past the hard lump in her throat.

He didn’t bother to wait for her to sort out her vocal cords. He approached on soundless feet and placed a hand on her arm. “Come on. Let’s talk outside.”

She dumbly allowed him to lead her outside, and he slid the glass door of the room closed. “Mason…”

“Shh. Come on now.”

Part of her wanted to run far away; another part wanted nothing more than to shrug off Mason’s arm, march right back into that room, and strip Sasha of his thin cotton green hospital gown so she could inspect him all over.

Mason’s face suddenly appeared before hers and she inhaled. He was on his haunches in front of her, holding her cold hands in his. When had she sat down? She looked around, noting the deserted doctor’s lounge with some confusion. How had she gotten all the way over here?

“Mo, breathe, honey.”

Breathe? She was breathing just fine. Wasn’t she?

The world tilted upside down when Mason slipped his hand around her neck and gently pressed her head down until she was staring at the floor.

“Take a deep breath. And exhale. He’s fine, do you hear me? He’s just fine.”

It was only then that she realized her breaths were coming in half pants. That was…unusual. She did not hyperventilate.

She was calm. She was collected. She…she really could not breathe.

She sucked in a deep breath, but it caught on the sob in her throat and she ended up choking. Mason rubbed her back lightly as she swallowed and tried again.

It took a few minutes to get her air back. She concentrated on dispersing that tight, achy feeling in her chest. With every second that passed by, a little more panic set in. God, what had Mason seen or heard? What was he thinking?

That this is a hell of a reaction from someone who’s a buddy, that’s what.

When she could easily inhale and exhale without feeling like a gorilla was sitting on her chest, she sat back up. Her body felt rigid and easily breakable. “I—I apologize. I don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t apologize. Probably the same thing that came over me when I saw him wheeled in.”

At some point during her little attack, he’d moved to sit next to her on the couch. She turned to look at him. Up close, she could see the lines of strain and fatigue all over his face, and a pang of remorse drowned out any lingering embarrassment. Mason was married to Sasha’s older sister, but more than that, the two men were closer than most other in-laws. They shared a friendship that went back years, to their childhood.

“Is he…?” She couldn’t finish the question.

Mason spoke quickly, bless his heart. “He’s fine. Straight clean gunshot through the muscle of his thigh. No major vessels, no broken bones. Barring any other problems, he’ll be out in a few days. Lucky bastard.”

Her eyes wouldn’t stop leaking. He turned away from her to grab a handful of tissues from the box on the end table and handed them to her. There was no way to hide her tears or her actions, so she didn’t bother, simply wiping away the evidence of her distraught state. “His head?”

“Slight graze. He has a nasty bruise on his chest where his vest protected him. That’s all, I swear.”

A shudder worked its way through her body. “He was the cop who saved those kids?”

“So I hear.”

“My God. He could have died.”

Silence. She looked up to find Mason staring at his hands resting on his knees. He flexed his fingers slowly and then looked back at her, his eyes diamond bright. “He didn’t. Thank God.”

She’d do that tonight, copiously. Lucky didn’t begin to cover it. She knew exactly what kind of damage a bullet could do to a person, the deadly little pieces of metal capable of wreaking a vicious trajectory through the body. Just one artery. That was all that needed to be nicked for a fragile human being to bleed out.

“I know he looks like he’s in rough shape, but you’ll see differently when he wakes up. He took some pain pills, and medications always hit him harder than most people.”

When he woke up? She thought of what she’d say to him, how she’d walk into his room and pretend like her world hadn’t tilted on its axis. True panic set in. “I can’t see him. Not yet.”

She hated to see judgment in the expression of a man she admired, not just as a colleague, but as a good friend. However, there was nothing but understanding in Mason’s expression. “I think that’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Your shift is up, why don’t you go on home?”

“I have some paperwork…”

“Look at your hands.”

She looked down at her lap, where she’d shredded the tissue into tiny pieces. A visible tremor ran through her fingers.

She glanced back up, a crawling sensation in her chest. She felt…desperately out of control, like everything was unraveling around her.

It horrified her. She couldn’t have been more mortified if she’d stripped her clothes and danced around Mason naked. She looked him dead in the eyes. He didn’t even try to glance away.

He knew, damn it. She didn’t know if her over-the-top performance just now had given her away, or if he’d known all along. “Don’t tell.” Her voice was high, plaintive. She could feel the slight burn of tears rising again.

His soothing, light touch on her shoulder kept her from making a complete fool of herself. “Never.”

She didn’t know why, but she believed him. Mason was a good man, a good friend.

“Go on home. I’ll call you with updates.”

Yes, home, where she could crawl into her small cave and work on rebuilding the wall of defenses that had kept her true feelings concealed from the man she’d loved from the moment she’d met him. Tomorrow, everything would be back to normal.

For the past few months, Sasha had thought of Maira more times than he’d ever admit. Generally, it had been during those hazy moments before waking or sleeping, when his subconscious took over, when he lacked the self-control and discipline he exercised while he was in her company.

So it was no surprise she was in his mind right now. He felt good, he thought with a mental smile. His body felt like it had been wrapped in cotton, his brain the same. He inhaled and settled into the softness of his dream world. God, it was like she was standing right next to his bed. He could smell her, that incongruously frivolous scent of lavender that he’d first thought of as out of place on such a quiet, dignified woman.

As if he’d conjured her touch, a slight pressure moved over his lips. Kisses? From Maira? Well, this was nice. He tried to respond, but all he could manage was the slightest of puckers. He fought the lead weights nailing his eyes shut and managed to pry them open.

She was crying. Why was she crying? Don’t. He couldn’t say it, but his brain could control his hand enough to brush his fingers against the wetness on her face. Stop. More moisture replaced what he took away.

She was saying things, words that made his heart tighten and made him want to smile. Then she was kissing him again. He closed his eyes and relaxed back into the pillow. Except for her tears, this had to be one of the best Maira dreams he’d ever had.

He frowned as her fragrance drifted away and fought to open his eyes again to call her back. It was difficult, though, and he finally just acquiesced to the hard mattress below him.

For the best. His increasing fascination with the genius doctor was getting a little out of hand.

Sasha awoke with a start and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling above him. He didn’t need to look around him. He could tell from the scent that he was in a hospital.

He inhaled, the odor of disinfectant and illness creeping into his lungs. Blech. There was no place he hated more than hospitals. Bad enough to be a visitor in one. Being the patient was about forty times worse.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty.”

He turned his head to the right to find Mason sprawled in the chair next to him. His best friend looked like he’d been run over by a truck that had then backed over to finish the job. Short blond hair stuck up in all directions on his head. A rough shadow of stubble colored his jaw. His blue eyes were bloodshot. The scrubs he wore were rumpled and appeared to have been slept in.

“You look like hell.”

A smile curved Mason’s lips. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

He was about to respond when the various aches in his body made themselves known. He winced and shifted, just then noticing the pretty young nurse standing on the other side of his bed, fiddling with a monitor. “I feel…” The memory of the shootout slammed into his brain, and he snapped his head around to Mason. “The kids. Are the kids okay?”

He thought he heard a small exclamation come from the nurse, but he kept his gaze on Mason, exhaling when his friend nodded. The relief was short-lived, though.

“No fatalities, but a couple are still listed as critical. One had to be transferred. The teacher’s in bad shape.”

He closed his eyes and turned his head. “Oh God.”

“You can’t blame yourself.”

He opened his eyes to find the pretty nurse looking down at him. Blonde, brown eyed and petite, she gazed at him with an odd expression on her face.

Sasha was about to make it clear that he blamed the jackass with the gun more than he blamed himself, when the young woman leaned over, her file clutched to her chest. “You were absolutely amazing. What you did was so courageous and brave and…really. There was nothing more you could have done.”

Sasha blinked. “Ah. Thanks.”

She stared at him, her lips parted, eyes expectant.

“Um. I appreciate it.”

Mason’s obviously fake throat-clearing brought the woman out of whatever trance she was lingering in. She jumped with a small sound and smiled. “No problem.” She straightened, glanced at one of his monitors, jotted something on the chart in her hand and turned her attention back to him.

Sasha knew he had a reputation for being kind of dense when it came to women, but even he couldn’t mistake the obvious invitation in her eyes. “Just let me know if you need anything. Anything at all. My name’s Karen.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Both men were silent until the nurse left the room, closing the door behind her. Mason succumbed first, chuckling. “I think I needed to leave you two alone.”

“Shut up.” He glanced at the weak morning sun coming through the almost closed blinds. “How long have I been here?”

Mason leaned forward and loosely linked his hands over his knees. “The shooting was yesterday. The pain pills we gave you conked you out pretty well.”

His next question was obvious. “When can I get out?”

“Few days. Maybe a week,” Mason said, and then held up his hand, as if to forestall the argument that Sasha was ready to launch. “No arguments. Your injury wasn’t that severe, but the edges of your thigh wound are a little red. We just need to make sure there’s no infection.”

“I’m leaving as soon as I can walk.”

“The hell you are.” Mason frowned.

“I can’t stay here.” It felt like there was an itch all along his body telling him to get the hell up and get out.

Mason’s expression softened. “Man, I know how much you hate hospitals. But this is for your own good.”

Their eyes met for a brief second before Sasha looked away. Yeah, Mason knew. When they’d been sixteen, his parents and Mason’s single dad had all been killed when the car the three of them had been riding in had been struck by a drunk driver.

His and Leyla’s mom and dad had died instantly. Mason’s father, though, had lingered in a coma for weeks before finally passing.

Odd, he thought, not for the first time, how a shared experience could affect people in different ways. In Mason, it had instilled a burning desire to become a physician.

Him? Sasha just wanted to stay as far away from hospitals as possible.

“It won’t be so bad, so get rid of the long face. You’ll have company,” Mason said in a cajoling tone.

A tear-stained face flashed in front of him, sweet and ravaged. He blinked, surprised. Hell, where had that come from? He spoke before he could think. “Is Maira here?”

Mason raised his brows and sat back in the chair. “Mo? Why?”

“Why do you insist on calling her by that ridiculous name?” Mo sounded like a stooge. Maira. Maira was perfect, all elegance and poise.

And he really didn’t know why the nickname suddenly bothered him so much.

“She’s a buddy. It fits her.” Mason shifted. “She had a tough day yesterday. I had to push her out the door last night and she’s off the schedule for the next couple of days. She might still stop by, but I frankly hope she doesn’t.”

Sasha frowned. His disappointment was all out of proportion, and the slight tinge of abandonment he felt was crazy too. She’s not gone forever. If she had a hard day, you should want her to stay home and rest, not come visit you. “The kids,” he guessed. Maira was a softie, and a sucker for children. His own niece adored her.

“Hmm. Anyway, I’m here, and Leyla’s coming right back. She just had to take Ash to a sitter.”

Sasha was instantly distracted at the mention of his sister and eighteen-month-old niece. As honored as he’d been when Leyla and Mason had named their firstborn after him, two Sasha’s got confusing pretty quickly. He’d started shortening her name, pronouncing it with a soft A, and everyone else had followed suit. “Ash could come.”

“No, she can’t. They’re limiting kids in the hospital due to the flu.”

“You work here. You can’t pull some strings?”

“You just want Leyla’s attention divided.”

“You got me. Please tell me I slept through my sister’s initial freakout over me being in the hospital?”

“Only part of it.”

Sasha groaned. “Great.”

Mason smiled, his dimples flashing. “I know you’ve been feeling a little left out since the baby was born. This is your chance to get some of that attention you’ve been craving.”

Sasha eyed his friend of two decades balefully. “Go to hell.”

“Aww, Sash, don’t be like that. We love all our kids the same. You have lots of TLC coming your way.”

His sister’s smothering was not the kind of TLC he welcomed right now.

Capable hands smoothing over his face, the soft pressure of lips…

Wait, what?

The quick flash of fantasy wouldn’t have normally bothered him. He was a man, and occasionally he daydreamed of kissing women. Sometimes women he knew. It was the realness of the vision combined with the sweet face he’d glimpsed that had him shocked.

He closed his eyes to hide his turmoil. He heard a rustle. Mason’s hand fell on his shoulder, startling him. “Rest. I’ll try to keep Leyla calm for a little while.”

Yes, keep Leyla calm. And while you’re doing that, track Maira down and send her to me. Why? Because I just had a freakishly vivid vision of her kissing and caressing me. Oh, and I also really have the urge to look at her face.

He contained his snort of self-derision until Mason left the room. Opening his eyes once he was alone, he stared out the window at the fabulous view of brown brick.

The pain meds clearly still had not worn off. Nothing else explained that little dream sequence.

Yeah, okay, he might have thought of Maira as something more a time or two—or forty—but he’d been careful to not do anything to disturb their relationship. They were friends. A couple of years ago, when she’d first started working with Mason, he might have even called her one of the guys.

She’s definitely not one of the guys.

No, Sasha reluctantly admitted. She definitely wasn’t.

Granted, she wasn’t all super girlie. Her hair was usually twisted up in a bun or tied off in a braid that went all the way to the small of her back. If she wasn’t wearing scrubs, which wasn’t that often, she was in jeans and a T-shirt.

The clothes were meaningless though, since they covered a body that…wow.

Holy Batman, what a body. He wasn’t proud of it, but he’d spent more time than a friend should sneaking peeks at that body.

She was tall, but she wasn’t skinny—statuesque? Was that the right word? Yeah, she had some substance to her, from her round hips to her full breasts. Her legs were miles high, and he almost swallowed his tongue whenever he caught glimpses of that flesh. Not only was she freakishly attractive, she was damn witty and funny underneath that poised and collected demeanor. There was no hidden agenda, no artifice in her. As a man who valued honesty above all else, he appreciated that.

Sasha rubbed his stubbled jaw. Damn, but she tempted him, far more than any other woman ever had. The problem was she was too young and too sweet and too good of a friend of the family for him to mess around with. Since he couldn’t mess around, that meant he wouldn’t touch her unless they had a shot at something serious. They had time, lots of time, to figure that stuff out. Right?

His lips firmed. Right.

However, he mused, as he tried to find a comfortable spot on the paper-thin pillow, that didn’t mean it would hurt anyone to try to recapture whatever realistic dream he’d had while under the influence. Not like she would ever know.