Page 33 of Stone Vows

Fuck.

My uncomplicated life just got a lot more complicated.

Chapter Fifteen

I step into the elevator and turn around to watch the doors close. Then I study myself in the reflective chrome.

Shit.

What I see looks an awful lot like a guy going to a girl’s house for a date.

I showered. Shaved even. I used cologne for Christ’s sake. I can’t even remember the last time I did that. I have a bag full of Sal’s Chinese takeout that could feed an army.

Yeah, definitely crossing a line.

But is it a line I want to cross? I know nothing about Elizabeth. Except that she has three scars, hates oysters and has never been out of the country.

She could be anyone. A girl on the run. A criminal.

No. No way.

I can see it in her eyes. She’s no criminal. But she’s . . . something. A closed book, that’s for sure. I’ve never seen someone so strong yet so helpless at the same time.

And she’s not even my type. Gina—she’s my type. Elizabeth is so far removed from my type, she’s not even in the same damn ballpark. My girlfriends have all been scholars. Glass-ceiling types who won’t take shit from anyone.

But then again, Elizabeth doesn’t take shit from me. Every time I try to pry, she puts me in my place.

And she’s pregnant. Soooo not my type. I need a family as much as I need a hole in my head. And what the hell has she done to make me even think she’s the least bit interested?

Okay, so she smiled when I called her. Maybe she was just so glad it wasn’t her landlord or a bill collector that she had no choice but to crack her face in two with a smile that could brighten a room at midnight.

She’s not a brunette. There, that proves it. I’m only attracted to brunettes.

This is just a friendly dinner with a patient who needs friends. And by the time I reach her room, I’ve all but convinced myself of it. But then I stop in the doorway, my breath hitching when I see her.

I was wrong. Green isn’t her color, either. It’s pink. Definitely pink. But hell, she looks good in anything. Maybeeverycolor is her color.

She’s talking to someone, but I don’t see anyone in the room. Then I see her rub her belly and it dawns on me that she’s talking to the baby. I’ve never wanted to hear a conversation as much as I want to hear this one. And then, Holy God, I realize she’s not talking at all. She’s singing.

I lean in further and catch a few words, just enough to recognize the tune.

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night . . .”she sings sweetly.

Damn it if my dick didn’t just swell in my pants.

This is wrong, Kyle. You should turn around and go find Gina. Page her and meet her in the on-call room and fuck her brains out. Fuck all this . . . whatever this is . . . out of your system. She’s your goddamn patient. And she’s pregnant. She’s off limits.

But my feet are cemented to the floor and I strain to hear her soft voice sing that sweet melody.

Turn around, Kyle. Walk away.

I will my feet to shuffle backwards, inch by slow inch until I’ve backed up a few feet from her room. Far enough so I can’t hear her sing. I close my eyes and breathe. I can breathe better if I’m not hearing her sing. I convince myself to walk away. I can do this. I’m a doctor. I get called into emergencies all the time. Hell, maybe I can go downstairs and find a case to work on. Then it wouldn’t even be a lie when I tell Elizabeth I was working.

“Dr. Stone, you’re still here?”

Shit.

I see Elizabeth’s head snap towards the door as I look behind me to see Abby questioning me. Too late to get out of this now.

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