Page 11 of Captivated

“Not my first encounter with the man, no. But the last time was in a professional setting, so apparently the horndog of a man lying in that hospital bed is the real version?” I ask as we walk across the tile to the other side of the ER.

Jess laughs. “Sounds about right. When did you meet him before?”

“He, uh, actually pulled me over when I was on my way to the interview for this job.”

“Nice.”

“Yeah, and he seemed that way that day too. Let me off with a warning when I went the wrong way down a one-way street. Seriously, I just don’t see the point of roads like that, but that’s neither here nor there. Anyway, he was professional, understanding…”

“Easy on the eyes?” Jess sends a look my way and I can’t help but mentally reply with a yes—but I don’t dare voice that opinion out loud. Truth be told, I was taken aback by just how handsome the man was when he removed his sunglasses and met my eyes with his. I can still feel the lump in my throat that formed when my heart picked up speed at the sight of him—dirty blonde hair cut short and neatly styled on his head, light blue eyes with flecks of yellow that rimmed his pupils, his strong and muscular body highlighted by the tight fit of his uniform, his stature that demanded control and respect, but was contradicted by the kindness of his eyes.

It was the first time I had reacted to a man that way since I met Mason—and that realization was terrifying when I think about how little I knew about the man I was supposed to marry.

But then tonight I got to meet the other version of Deputy Williams—Cash Williams, who apparently has a sexual prowess to rival that of a porn star with the way women were blowing up his phone. I know it was unprofessional to read his text messages, but they popped up on the screen every time one came through—and the notifications were so distracting that I finally had to silence the phone so my ears would stop ringing. Luckily the phone wasn’t locked by a password so I could silence it, but not before glancing down to some racy words laced full of sexual inuendo.

“He’s not bad to look at, I suppose, but I’m definitely not interested. Say, who is Misty Chambers?” I ask, noting that most of the messages that came through on his phone were from the same number. In each message, she was sure to clarify that it was her.

“Ha! She’s the female version of Cash, actually. The fact that they’re talking doesn’t surprise me. They deserve each other,” she chuckles.

“She seems hell bent on getting his attention, that’s for sure.”

“If you know what’s good for you, Piper, don’t let Cash Williams charm his way into your pants, alright? I’ve avoided that ride, but some girls aren’t so lucky. Word is that he’ll blow your mind in bed, but that’s all he’s good for. In fact, he leads every hook-up with those exact words. But still, you know women. They hear one thing but think another. I can’t tell you how many girls have been victims of his game.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I have no interest in going there. I just can’t believe he had the audacity to hit on me while I’m on the job and after his phone was blowing up the way it was,” I scoff.

“I can. That’s what he does. The man is a player, always has been, and probably always will be. He can flirt like it’s a professional sport and charm the pants off of women left and right with those eyes and that smile. But he’s just like every other good-looking man—he knows it and uses it to his advantage,” she says as we arrive at the closed curtain around one of the bays she was assigned to tonight.

I glance over at her and can’t help but see the resentment on her face. Seems Jess has some experience with being used if my intuition is correct. But I don’t want to prod, because then she’ll expect me to share in return, and I’m trying hard not to go there.

“So,” she begins in a whisper. “This is why I need your help. It appears we have a situation on our hands with the misplacement of a sex toy.” She flicks her eyes to the curtain and then back to me, widening them in surprise.

“Oh boy, okay,” I chuckle then cover my mouth.

“Yup, the tales of the job you can never be prepared for,” she winks and then pulls back the curtain, where Jess and I calmly assure a twenty-something girl that at one point in our lives, we all end up with a vibrating cock ring lodged deep in our vaginas. Heartwarmingly, her boyfriend is right beside her holding her hand while we extract the rubber ring that got caught on her IUD.

By the time the toy is safely located and I’ve tended to a few more patients, I make my way back to Cash’s room. After he was checked out in the ER, he was moved to a private room where he would stay through the night for observation. He was my patient when he was brought in by ambulance, and since I have a slow moment during my shift, I take responsibility for checking in on him again. That’s my justification as I make my way back, knowing there are other nurses on this floor that can tend to him now, but my conscience won’t let me rest until I know he’s alright since I encountered him first. Yeah, that’s it—that’s the only reason I feel the need to check on him.

Not wanting to immediately step into the lion’s den, I peer around the open doorway and steal a look at the man lying in the bed, still sexy as sin even in a green and white dotted hospital gown. His lips are slightly parted as he stares out the window into the black sky slowly starting to illuminate as the sun begins to rise. His hands are laced together in his lap, showcasing those sexy forearms full of sinew and corded muscle leading to strong hands displaying long and thick fingers.

As I watch him sit there, pondering God knows what, I take a moment to study the hard line of his jaw, the taught muscles of his biceps, and the curve of his lips that are impossibly unfair for a man to have. Cash Williams could be a GQ model with how beautiful he is. But he also has this ruggedness to him that increases the testosterone filtering out of his pores, only exacerbated now by the cuts on his face from the shattered glass and the few stitches atop his eyebrow—such a contrast to the preppy, slender men I’m used to encountering back home, adorning blue blazers, khaki pants, and sweater vests like they’re going out of style, which I’m pretty sure they have.

I hear Jess’s warning loud and clear, yet there’s something about him that I find intriguing. Usually if a man is a man-whore as Jess says Cash is, there’s a reason. Either he was hurt once before by love or he just hasn’t found a woman worth settling down for.

What the hell are you thinking, Pfeiffer? You don’t care about this man’s love life or lack thereof!You are here to hide, stay safe, and keep your head low until everything settles back home. The last thing you need is a distraction in the form of a sexy-as-hell deputy with emotional baggage.

I straighten my spine, slide my curiosity to the back of my mind, and muster up the courage to walk back inside his room and check his vitals.

“How are you feeling?” I ask as his head spins at the sound of my voice.

“Fine. A little woozy, but not too bad. Definitely better now that you’re back,” he smiles seductively as his eyes track my every movement. I swear, the heat of his gaze is burning a hole through my scrubs.

“That’s to be expected. Has the doctor come by and spoken to you yet?” I move around the room, ignoring his comment and arriving at the computer stationed next to the IV machine and monitor.

“He just left actually… says I have to stay until the afternoon at least because of the concussion, just to be on the safe side. It’s not ideal, but at least I get to see you a little more.” The rasp of his voice coats my body in a wave of excitement that is unparalleled to anything I’ve ever experienced from a man before. If my body’s reaction to his desire to spend time with me is any indication, I’d say I have an unexpected problem on my hands.

This is not good, Pfeiffer. You’re having too strong of a reaction to this man. You need to stay away from him. You came here to be safe, get away from the chaos that your life became. A hunky man who can sweet talk you like a professional is an unwanted distraction. He’s a man-whore, remember? A player.

“Well, lucky for me, my shift ends in about an hour, so sorry… maybe you can call one of your other girlfriends to keep you company,” I say without looking in his direction, because I don’t want him to know that his stare is having an effect on me, that his voice makes me want to clench my thighs together, or that underneath the padding of my bra my nipples are hard.

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