The M.D. Courts His Nurse by Meagan McKinney Page B

never happened.
    â€œMaybe I shouldn’t ask,” he said, lips brushing her ear, “but was your first time worth the wait?”
    â€œMmm,” she replied with a mysterious, hurt little smile. “Remember, Doctor, I have nothing to compare it with.”
    â€œThat disappointing, huh?”
    â€œWell, if you must know, I…I really have no complaints to register.” Even to her the words sounded forced and distant, but she was too afraid to relinquish her cover and blurt out the truth of what she felt.
    She glanced down. “Only a tiny bit of blood, too. Is that usual?”
    â€œConcerning the deflowering of virgins,” he assured her, “I can only quote my worthy nurse—I have nothing to compare it with.”
    â€œSo it was a first for both of us, huh?” Her lips, swollen from the passion of their kisses, tilted in another little smile.
    He kissed them, and she suddenly felt another stirring of desire. Yet at the back of her mind the seeds of doubt had already been planted.
    The passion of their lovemaking had been deep and undeniable, but, she reminded herself, it was almost accidental. They had bonded during a terrible emergency, then gotten mutually turned on by unintended physical contact during sleep.
    Sure, the secret truth was that she had probably fallen for him, and she was ready and eager to keep right on going. But caution was back in terrible force. Now, more than anything, she wanted to retain her pride. She had to be coldly rational and not let him or the experience with him make her fall. Their joining had been a heat-of-the-moment thing, no more. Tomorrow she had to show up for work and allow him the same benefit without being clingy and needful.
    They were not in love, she told herself. Hell, they hadn’t even been on a date. She had to keep things cool so she could continue with her job. So she wouldn’t get hurt.
    She looked at him, desperately wanting to be glib. Instead, his appearance made her smile.
    â€œWhat are you grinning about now?” he demanded.
    â€œA word I used to mispronounce—bedraggled. I used to say ‘bed-raggled’ instead of bedraggled. But bed-raggled is exactly how we look now.”
    He touched the wild, tangled mane of her hair. She noticed even his short coal-black hair was so mussed the part had disappeared.
    Almost grimly, he looked over her shoulder and heaved a sigh. “The light’s blinking like crazy on your answering machine,” he said with resignation. “I didn’t even hear the phone ringing. I guess it’s turned off.”
    â€œNope,” she blurted out.
    They both looked at each other in amazement.
    â€œI guess we were tired,” she offered.
    Unwilling to speak her thoughts out loud, she wished she could immerse herself in their lovemaking until everything mundane and ordinary was washed away again.
    But that wasn’t the real world. And the real world was intruding with each passing second, and with each flashing light on her machine.
    â€œMaybe you’d better check it,” he suggested. “They might be looking for me.”
    She wanted desperately to ask him if it would shame him to be found asleep in her small apartment, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment with a truthful answer. Memories of Brian assailed her. She knew she had to manage this incident so it turned out differently, but the only route seemed to be to detach, to assiduously remain uninvolved and without expectation.
    That meant she couldn’t let herself fall into bed with him again. Lovemaking was only going to lead to confession and ultimately rejection. She didn’t want the messiness of it. Her heart was tattered enough.
    Stoically she left the bed and quickly began to dress.
    He lay back and watched her, sensing the change in her manner.
    Standing, he slipped on his trousers as she crossed to the answering machine and poked the play button.
    â€œBecky, hon,”