As a rule, people in medical professions didn’t embarrass easily, but the thought of his neighbors discussing his…assets…did the trick. “His plan contains a fundamental flaw. He has to do more than pass out to get the kiss of life.”
The corners of her mouth tightened, pushing her lips into a sexy little pout, and his lip-biting fantasy returned in full force.
“I had no idea paramedics were so stingy with the mouth-to-mouth.”
“We like to play hard-to-get.”
Amusement danced in her eyes. “In that case, I guess I should be flattered by your offer.” She smoothed her fingers over his shoulder and down the front of his shirt, frowning slightly as her hand cam
e to rest in the center of his chest. “There’s a lot of chemistry here, but for both our sakes, we probably shouldn’t act on it.”
She’d read his mind. Why the relief her words should have brought felt more like irritation, he couldn’t say. She’d just come out of a relationship, and if he interpreted the theme of this morning’s music medley correctly, she wasn’t looking to get involved again soon. His default setting was “not looking to get involved.” Even if they were looking, getting involved with each other put a lot at risk. “We’re on the same page,” he said, and told the renegade in his jeans to calm down. “No complications.”
She nodded. “Agreed. No complications.” But her frown deepened. “Our families might expect an occasional display of affection.”
His right palm tingled with the phantom weight of her breast, and his left hand twitched at the memory of cupping her tight, round ass. “I’m sure we can muster up something convincing.”
“I don’t know. You’re blushing pretty hard right now just thinking about it.”
“I’m blushing thinking about my pervy neighbors speculating on my mouth-to-mouth skills.”
“If you say so.”
The allegedly logical part of his mind insisted she had a point. “You want a demonstration?”
She tipped her face up, shook her hair back, and he caught a flowery hint of shampoo or perfume, or maybe just her drifting under the antiseptic hospital smell.
“A dress rehearsal might be in order. I don’t mean to criticize, but the last time you kissed me, your technique needed work.”
He had no idea what she was talking about, but he had a strong and unwise desire to trace every curve of her teasing grin with his tongue. See if she tasted as sweet as she smelled. “I think you’re confusing me with someone else, Smith. We’ve never kissed before.”
“My mom’s got a photo that tells a different story.”
Another small step on her part brought her body flush against his. The move produced a swift inhale from her, and then her eyes rounded at the evidence of what he’d mustered up pressing against her stomach. He found both reactions extraordinarily gratifying. She rested her palms on his chest. Having her hands on him also didn’t suck. “Exactly how old was I in this alleged kissing photo?”
Her gaze traveled over his face and came to rest at his mouth. “Fairly young…and fairly naked. We both were. To be honest, if not for the nudity, I’d have a hard time telling us apart.” She licked her lips.
“Well, brace yourself, Savannah. I’m all grown up, and you’ll know which one is me, even with our clothes on.”
Eyes locked on hers, he lowered his head. Her eyelids drifted down, her body melted into his…
“Hold up there, Romeo. This here’s an ER, not a kissing booth.”
Chapter Five
Dammit. His better judgment needed to get a leash on his libido, or these next few weeks would be torture. Beau reluctantly dropped his arm from Savannah’s waist and stepped away as Delilah West walked into the exam room.
“That’s right. Back away from the blonde. You keep your lips to yourself for the next little while and let your brain have the oxygen.”
That drew his attention away from the mouth he’d been a hairbreadth from sharing oxygen with. He turned to the doc. “Seriously?”
She nodded. “’Fraid so. CT shows a little swelling. Are you scheduled to work tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Congratulations, you’ve got the day off, or go in and do administrative stuff if you’re like me and always have a stack of paperwork on your desk. After tomorrow, if you feel fine, you can go back in the bus.”
“Shit.” So much for downplaying the incident with the rest of the crew. By this time tomorrow everyone he worked with would know he’d gotten a concussion and a headful of stitches for Thanksgiving. He could already hear them talking trash and calling him Frankenstein. Heartless motherfuckers. All of them. He might as well save himself some trouble and get a middle finger tattooed on his forehead.