The Doctor's Secret Son

They’d spent an entire weekend together. A lot of it together together. Four years wasn’t so long ago that he’d forget a weekend that hot and heavy.

Then again, maybe he had hot and heavy weekends like that routinely.

She knew nothing about the man except that he was amazing in bed and had been a fellow volunteer at the CCPO. That year, the event had done a three-day walk. This year, the organization was sponsoring a weekend of family fun. On Friday evening, they were having a welcome event and a bubble-a-thon dance party open to all participants and their families. On Saturday morning, they were having a marathon, with various levels of participation. Some committing to a five K, some to the full marathon. Others committing to various distances in between. Then, in the evening, they were having sponsored Olympic-style games for the kids.

Now, as then, Chrissie had signed up to work the medical tent all weekend. Full of nervous energy, she’d dropped Joss off to Savannah early that morning, then made the drive so she could help organize the medical station and volunteer to assist with anything else needed prior to the families and fund-raiser participants starting to arrive.

Imagine running into Trace within minutes of her arrival.

Imagine, she had.

For four years she’d imagined this moment, coming face to face with the man who’d haunted her dreams and her reality.

Yet it wasn’t really as intense as it should have been. The sun hadn’t stood still in the sky. The earth hadn’t quaked. Lightning hadn’t streaked its way to the ground. Nothing. They were just standing in a tent, looking at each other, a man and a woman with a past while the rest of the world went on as usual.

No big deal. But her heart pounded like crazy and her chest wanted to heave from lack of air.

Probably had something to do with the look in Trace’s eyes when he’d spotted her that said he’d figured out exactly what he’d be doing this weekend, other than working the medical tent.

Or more like who.

Why, oh, why was everything in her screaming yes?

Other than her brain, that was. Her brain warned she’d best stay far, far away because to have anything to do with him would be risking everything.

He wasn’t that good in bed.

She skimmed her gaze over his body, noting on closer inspection that he was slightly leaner than she remembered, more tan, too. His loose CCPO event T-shirt and khaki cargo shorts did little to hide his broad shoulders and narrow hips. His left hand was still bare of jewelry and had no telltale tan line to hint at deception. Lifting her gaze back to his face, she took in his sandy-colored hair, strong aquiline nose, cleft chin, and toffee-colored eyes that were staring straight into hers with obvious interest. His smile widened and her thighs clenched in immediate response.

He had been that good, but she still wasn’t risking it.

She had too much at stake to play sexual escapades with Trace all weekend.

But boy, oh, boy, did the man tempt everything in her.

* * *

“It’s been a while,” Trace said by way of greeting when he closed the distance between them.

“Four years.”

Four years. Four long years where he’d seen things he’d like to forget, and she was just the woman who might accomplish that for him, even if only for a short while.

A short while sounded like heaven after the hell he’d seen, that he’d no doubt see more of when he returned to wherever they sent him this time.

“How have you been?” he asked, studying her. Other than the change of hairstyle and the few extra pounds she carried, she looked the same as he recalled. Better even. He liked the fullness to her breasts and hips that hadn’t been there four years ago.

His groin tightened.

Yeah, he liked her curves a lot.

His body’s instant reaction to her nearness made him feel like a Neanderthal. It hadn’t been that long since he’d been with a woman. But when he tried to think back to the last time he’d had sex, he struggled to recall exactly how long it had been.

A problem he intended to rectify, assuming Chrissie still felt the strong attraction they’d shared. Time certainly hadn’t faded a thing for him.

Sex just hadn’t been a priority recently. Life—life had been the top priority where he’d been. Helping those who desperately needed help and doing what he could with significantly limited resources had been a priority. Surviving tragedy, and healing, had been a priority.

“I’m great,” she answered, shifting her weight as if she was nervous.