Page 5 of Saved By the Surly Medic

He stands up, pushing the coffee table out of the way. Then he pauses. "Brooke, I appreciate you trusting me to take care of you. Can you lie down and let me examine your ribs?"

I appreciate that he truly wants me to be comfortable. "Sure. Thank you."

I stretch out on my back, trying to stop myself from wincing as I lift my left arm. Jonah kneels beside me, and I can sense that he's reluctant to pull up the baggy sweatshirt he loaned me. So I latch my right fingertips around the bottom, pulling it up so it's still covering my breast enough to be somewhat decent.

He swallows hard and clears his throat. "Thank you." His warm hands are incredibly gentle as he pokes around my ribs with a feather-light touch. I only jump hard once.

"I'm so sorry, but I'm going to have to run my finger along that spot again to make sure there's no fracture. I will not judge you if you scream or slap me."

"All good. Go ahead." My eyes fall closed, and my breathing stops at the strange, aching pain, but I manage to say silent.

"All done," he says quickly. When I open my eyes, he's smiling. "You're brave. I like that. I hate to do this to you, but you need an ice pack for a while."

Why do I feel unbelievably proud of myself for impressing him? Why do I feel so touched at the way he pulls the shirt back down, then bundles me back in the blanket?

I've kind of sworn off men and relationships in general since I've never seen one where the woman wasn't held back and restrained. Where her life wasn't stomped over to better his.

But even though I've only known him for an hour, Jonah makes me feel treasured.

I'm already addicted to his touch. To the way he looks at me.

To the way I feel around this smart, strong, rugged stranger.

3

JONAH

Ishuffle around the kitchen, preparing dinner as if lost in a fog.

What the hell is wrong with me? I'm usually a clear minded person. I have tasks to accomplish, I do them, I move on. But ever since the first second I took a good look at Brooke's face, it's like my brain is full of mist.

I could barely breathe while examining her ribs, my fingertips barely an eighth of an inch from the underside of her soft, full breast.

I've examined hundreds of women in all kinds of situations, and never had that reaction. Did I do anything wildly unprofessional? No. I was still totally focused on ensuring that Brooke was okay. Well, and making sure she didn't see the front of my jeans when I stood up.

But I've already been too familiar with the sweet little stranger on my couch. That's another thing… I've treated all kinds of people at my kitchen table, but it's never occurred to me to invite anyone to stay the night.

But I simply can't let her out of my sight. Of course I'm going to use the excuse of making sure she has all the help she needs, but in truth, I just can't stomach the thought of her going home, wherever that is.

Her eyes light up when I set a plate with three small burritos in front of her. Then I bring my own dinner over, along with a bottle of painkillers, sitting what I hope is a proper distance away.

Brooke directs her smile right at me, causing that cloudy foggy feeling to overtake me again. "This looks amazing. Thank you."

"Well, you need something you can eat one-handed without cutlery. The less you use your left side, the better."

She bursts out laughing, then grimaces as she nods. "Oh wow, I see what you mean. Definitely less left side movement. The bruising is settling in, I think."

"How about just one of the painkillers, then if you don't feel better in an hour you can have a second one?"

"Perfect." She swallows the pill, as I try not to stare at her inviting pink lips. "Having my own private doctor is pretty wild. I can't thank you enough, Jonah."

I've never accepted gratitude very well. It makes me feel…prickly. All I'm doing is my job. Although in this case, it feels much more personal.

"How about you thank me by picking a movie. And after dinner I'll make up the guest room for you." Brooke takes a few bites of her burrito as I set up the TV. "You shouldn't work for several days. Any stretching or lifting is going to slow your healing. I can call your workplace if you like, so that you don't get in trouble."

Damn, I love the way this woman smiles. "It's fine. I work for myself, actually."

"Doing what?"

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