Page 3 of Storm's Embrace

He was perfect.

Eli cradled Matthew in one arm and brushed back the cap so he could run a hand over his soft brown hair, then stroked his fingers down over cool, rounded cheeks. A small smile touched his lips. His son was such a big boy—even at thirty-six weeks. And now the question of who he would look like had been answered—Josie.

He couldn’t tear his gaze away from his little face—memorizing every lash and dimple—not even at the quiet click of the door shutting when Stan and the nurse stepped out.

“You were so loved,” he murmured while kissing the tip of Matthew’s nose with trembling lips. Then he gathered his son’s lifeless body close and buried his head against him—sobbing over the precious life he and Josie would never know.

How was he going to tell her they’d lost their son?

Long moments later, a quiet knock sounded on the closed door, and he lifted his gaze and met Stan’s red-rimmed eyes as the other man slowly opened it. Eli’s arms tightened around his son, bracing himself for the words he knew would destroy the rest of his world as Stan crouched beside his chair.

“I’m sorry, Eli. Josie didn’t make it.”

1

Eight years later…

“Miriam!”

Miriam Perry paused her fingers on her keyboard and lifted her foot from the transcription pedal, muttering, “Ah, the dulcet tones of the handsome Dr. Eli Storm.”

How many times had they talked about this?

She frowned and glanced over her right shoulder at the open doorway. If memory served, it had just been earlier that morning. But, as usual, Eli more than likely hadconvenientlyforgotten. She huffed and refocused her attention back on her computer.

They—well, more likeshe—had decided, if the impatient Dr. Storm wanted to talk to her, he could call her on the interoffice phone system like everyone else on staff in his pediatric practice did. Either that or use that long-legged gait of his to walk the fifteen feet from his desk to his office door and talk to her in a normal tone of voice. But she wouldn’t hold her breath. He was a creature of habit. And, unfortunately, his habit when it came to interoffice communication—at least where she was concerned—was of the loud and obnoxious kind.

“Holler all you want,” she murmured, and then said in a low, sing-songy voice as she leaned forward to peer at the screen, “But I’m not budging.”

She let out a little snort and returned to his dictated letter of recommendation, muttering each time she lifted her foot from the pedal, “I will not snap… I will not snap… I…” She finished the last sentence and blew out a harsh breath. “Jeez, I really want to—”

“Miriam!”

Miriam jumped in her seat and her fingers jammed down hard on the keys at the short command coming from right behind her, her pulse racing. Was hetryingto give her a heart attack? She frowned at the jumbled letters on her screen and let out a frustrated sigh as she hit the backspace key a little harder than necessary.

She removed her earbuds once she finally got her breathing under control. “Eli,” she replied in an even tone as she slowly swiveled around in her office chair. Then she held in a slight gasp at what filled her vision.

Eli, up close and personal. Something that in no way helped her breathing situation.

How did he do it? Taking her from irritated to aroused in a split second.

He’d taken off his white coat, leaving her to admire what he’d had covered up underneath—white t-shirt pulled taut over a flat stomach and well-washed jeans molded to muscular thighs.

Casual Fridays are going to be the death of me one day.

She forced her gaze up to his. It wouldn’t do for him to notice her focus on his belt buckle—and areas below. And what were the chances he’d heard her little rant?

Pretty good, if the frown creasing his forehead was any indication. He raised one brow and fisted his hands on his waist as he continued to scowl at her from his six-foot-one height.

It was hard to tell if this was anI heard youscowl or one of the other various degrees of scowls he’d seemed to be sporting on his rugged face lately. His hazel eyes, lit with flecks of bright green, lowered to where she worried her bottom lip. Said scowl deepened and his stubbled jaw clenched to complete the wholeI’m on to youlook before he snagged her gaze again.

“I know you heard me.” His deep baritone held a hint of aggravation.

She pushed her feet against the floor to roll her chair back as far as possible, but only made it a few inches before hitting the edge of her desk. Did he have to stand so close? Or maybe he wanted her to get a crick in her neck.

“I heard you,” she said, giving him her best professional smile. “But I’m trying to finish this letter so I can leave.” Since they closed at noon on Fridays and it was going on one o’clock, everyone else had already gone home for the day. “So, give me a second.”

The recommendation was the last thing she needed to do before heading out and it wasn’t going to type itself. At least that was the reason she told herself why she needed to make the quick swivel back toward her desk. It had nothing to do with—

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