Reunited With His Runaway Bride

His voice cracked on some of the words before his arms wrapped tightly around her and his mouth came down hard on hers.

Bree curled her fingers into his scrub shirt and let herself feel every emotion in his kiss. The fear, the anguish. The frustration and anger and pain. Everything she’d felt, too, from the second she’d been able to focus enough to look across her car console. To see the mangled door pressing in on Emma. Everything she’d felt in the emergency room as everyone desperately worked to keep Emma alive. To deliver Will alive.

Everything she’d felt when they’d broken off the relationship that had seemed so foolishly perfect. Today’s intense emotions were confusingly tangled up with Sean and their past. From their instantaneous attraction and passion to the final argument six months ago, and that anger and frustration and pain had been nearly as unbearable as today’s.

Sean was holding her body so close against his, she wasn’t sure where he ended and she began, but his kiss began to change. It felt less about all those consuming emotions, and more about a deep relief mingling with the simple and profound connection they used to have. Softening into a tenderness that flipped Bree’s aching heart inside out, reminding her with excruciating clarity how good it had been between them. How delicious and wonderful and like nothing she’d ever experienced before.

“Bree.” His mouth barely separated from hers enough to whisper the word. “Bree.”

His fingers slipped into her hair, gently holding the back of her head as his lips caressed hers again so sweetly now, so leisurely, it weakened her knees and made her heart thud in slow, heavy strokes as the kiss changed again. Still sweet, still tender, but deeper now, stealing every molecule of breath from her lungs. Shaking, she slid her hands up his chest to cup the sides of his strong neck, to feel the warmth of his skin.

How could she survive without this?

Through her misty, single-minded focus on the feel of him and the taste of him, she became vaguely aware of a rhythmic sound, growing louder. The drone of an engine and the whup-whup of helicopter blades. Somehow, she managed to separate her mouth from his and open her eyes to see Sean’s lids lifting at the same time. His eyes were black, glittering like onyx, staring at her. His face was still tight, his jaw clenched. His chest heaved against hers as they stared at one another.

Bree took that moment to memorize his face, and, even as she did, inwardly mocked herself. Memorize it? Who was she kidding? Every curve and angle was forever etched deep in her mind and heart, and the vision of it appeared, unwelcome, all too often as it was.

Still, they just stood there, and she couldn’t make herself pull away, even though her preservation instincts told her she should. Reopen the wound on her heart? Their kiss and current closeness had made doubly sure of that, with some serious bleeding sure to follow.

The roar of the chopper landing on the helipad, the wind whipping her hair into her eyes and across both their faces, finally forced them to slowly separate. Sean briefly shut his eyes, and his chest lifted in another deep breath before he looked at her again, wordlessly grasping her elbow to lead her across the asphalt to the elevator.

Bree wanted to bang her head against the metal doors. She supposed a kiss between them should have been expected after all the big emotions of the day. But, oh, how she wished they hadn’t, because she didn’t need another ache inside her body to join the outer ones hurting plenty at that moment.

Sean stood in silence as he punched the button to the NICU floor and they didn’t speak as it lowered there. And what was there to say, after all, that hadn’t already been expressed one way or another? With that “another” way having left her legs still stupidly wobbling.

She followed him down the corridor, her attention instantly caught by how sexily disheveled his thick, dark hair was. Noting the width of his shoulders tugging at his shirt, how incredibly good the man looked in scrubs. The acrid hurt that he was no longer hers—had never really been hers—threatened to creep its way inside her internal organs all over again, and that really ticked her off.

Get over it. It wasn’t meant to be.

Resolutely, she turned her focus to the baby as they approached his incubator. A feeling of utter exhaustion began to seep through her, leaving every muscle a little limp. Between the accident itself, the crises of Emma and the baby in the ER, and the mixed emotions of being with Sean, she was physically and emotionally spent. Her next shift started in a mere six hours, and, if she was going to be functional enough to work, she had to get some sleep.

With any luck, it would be the deep kind of sleep little Will seemed to be enjoying. So still, he appeared to not even be breathing, but the steady beep of the monitors reassuringly showed he was fine. Which meant she had to spend only a few more minutes with Sean, and then she could say goodbye. If all went well, Emma would improve and be out of Intensive Care fairly soon, and Bree’s interactions with Sean would be brief and limited. Then, in eight days, off to Honolulu for her surf competition, new job and career advancement, and no more thinking about the man ever again.

And wouldn’t that be wonderful? Darned unlikely, too, since she hadn’t been able to accomplish that the past six months, and even more now that he was standing close by her side, hands in his pockets, looking down at little Will in the NICU bassinet. All too aware of the way his body radiated more warmth than the heat lamp glowing over the baby. Aware of the lines of his handsome profile, of the way his big body made her feel small, which didn’t happen often to a five-foot-nine woman.

She took a side step away from all that so she could breathe and focus. “He looks good,” she said, hoping he knew she was talking about the baby, and not talking to herself about Dr. Sean Latham. “They don’t even have him on oxygen anymore.”

“Yeah. He looks a lot better than he did when you first brought him into the world.”

“Does your mom know?”

“Haven’t been able to reach her. I contacted the cruise line to give her a message to call me, but I’m not sure how they’ll get her home. Might have to wait until the ship docks in a few days.” He turned to her, pinning her with those dark eyes of his. “Tell me about the accident.”

The accident. Last thing she wanted to talk about was that nightmare. But as her gaze met his somber one, she figured he deserved to know at least a few details about how his sister got hurt.

“I’d picked her up from the airport. Maybe you knew she was staying with me until your mother gets back from her cruise?”

“I didn’t know.” And it was clear he was pretty annoyed by that. “But go on.”

“Traffic was heavy. We were driving through an intersection when...when a truck going fast ran the light and crashed into her side of the car.” She closed her eyes and couldn’t go on. How long would the horror of seeing Emma so still in that wreckage stick in Bree’s brain?

Arms wrapped around her, folding her close against a wide chest. The feel of his hand slowly stroking up and down her back was ridiculously comforting. Comfort that had nothing to do with the two of them and their past and their earlier kiss. Comfort that was partly relief that he didn’t blame her the way she’d worried he might. That she didn’t have to blame herself.

“You don’t have to talk about it anymore. I already got the written report. Just wanted to hear your version. Which I knew wouldn’t include how you’d been pinned, too, after the impact pushed your car into one waiting at the light. How you kept insisting you were fine, telling the EMTs to take care of Emma. How they had to open the car up like it was a can of beans to get you out, and that you’re more than lucky you got away with only cuts and bruises.”

“I know. I just wish Emma had been so lucky.” Her voice cracked, and, even though she was trying to be tough and not embarrassingly emotional, she couldn’t seem to keep her head from dropping to his chest like a wilted flower that just didn’t have the strength to stay upright anymore.

His cheek rested against her hair and forehead, and Bree could have stood in the comforting cocoon of his arms, shutting out every concern in the world, forever. She wrapped her own arms tightly around his strong body and clung. The longer the moment lasted, the more she wanted to stay there, warm and safe. Then she managed to remind herself that warm and safe and forever weren’t an option, that she had to work soon, and her body needed rest more than her heart needed Sean.

Maybe if she said it often enough, her foolish heart would finally believe it.

“I’m heading home to get some sleep,” she said, somehow finding the strength to step out of his embrace. “I have to work in just a few hours.”

“Are you crazy? You’ve had a horrible day, you’re all banged up, and have to feel awful. Tell Kurz you’re taking a few days off.”

“I’m trying to get all my hours in now, so I can take off the last couple days to finish packing up before I move.”

A shutter came down over his face. “You know best. Take care of yourself.” He sent little Will a last, lingering look before turning toward the door without another word, only to be stopped by a nurse.

“Dr. Latham. I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “The doctor has given the okay to step your nephew down from the NICU to the nursery floor tomorrow, then release him the following day.”

“Release him?”

“Yes. He’s doing great. No adverse effects from the birth. Perfectly healthy, despite being three weeks early. He’s an awesome little guy, and will definitely be ready to go home.”

“Home?”

The look on Sean’s face would have made Bree laugh if the situation hadn’t been such a shock, and a very big problem. It hadn’t occurred to her to think about where the baby would go when he was given the green light to be released, even though it should have, and obviously hadn’t occurred to Sean, either. Emma would be recovering for a long time, and, even when she was stronger, she wouldn’t be able to care for an infant all by herself. Though her mother would be her rock, Bree knew. The woman who had Emma’s back and supported her no matter what.

Except her mother was on a ship in the middle of the Pacific Ocean at that moment, and who knew when she’d be able to get back?

“Yes, home.” The nurse was looking at Sean as if maybe he was a little dense, but Bree couldn’t blame him for his shocked reaction. With the baby healthy, his focus had turned to the seriousness of Emma’s condition. “I know his mother’s going to be in the hospital quite a while. How about I have the social worker get with you to give you information on day cares that take infants? Though you’ll need a nanny or nursemaid for at least a little while first.”

“Nanny?” His stunned gaze moved to Bree. “Nursemaid?”

Something about the way he was looking at her set off alarm bells in her brain. “No. Oh, no. I have work to do, I’m moving soon, and I don’t know a darn thing about babies.”

“Neither do I.” He reached to grasp her hand. “Which will make us the perfect team.”

She pulled it loose and stepped back. “No, Sean. I can’t. And we already found out we’re about as far from a perfect team as two people can get.”

“Okay, not a perfect team. But you’re a woman good at everything, and I need your help with Will.”

“Having ovaries doesn’t mean I know a thing about babies,” she said, trying to lighten the moment while staying firm on the subject. “Between you and a nanny, I know you’ll do just fine. I have faith in you, Sean.” She leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek to show him she meant it, and the feel of his warm skin covered with stubble nearly sent her lips sliding a few inches over to his mouth.

She pulled back, lips still tingling, and turned to practically run out the door. Part of her felt bad abandoning him, but her self-preservation was kicking in. She had to stay away from Sean Latham as much as possible until she was on her way to Honolulu, before her heart got banged up all over again.

CHAPTER THREE

BREE TAPED SHUT the last box of books on her floor, then sat back on her haunches, unable to struggle to her feet at that exact moment. Compared to the day of the accident, she felt reasonably rested as far as sleep was concerned. Getting there hadn’t been too difficult, since any emergency department doc was used to dealing with erratic hours, and days getting mixed up with nights. But the aches and bruises that seemed to have multiplied over every inch of her body, not to mention the relentless headache that stabbed her temples with any abrupt movement, were making it a little tough to get around.

“Okay, Granny, move.” As she pushed to her feet, the doorbell pealed through her apartment. She was expecting the landlord coming with end-of-lease paperwork, and her heart slammed hard into her ribs when she opened the door. No landlord standing there. It was Sean.

Sean, wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt and, astonishingly, holding little Will awkwardly cradled in one arm against his broad chest. An infant car seat rested by his feet.

At least, she assumed the baby was Will, though the little guy was unrecognizable. The tiny knit hat he’d worn at the hospital covered his head down to his eyebrows, and he was swaddled with a blanket up to his lower lip. Then again, there was no denying he was a Latham. The alert brown eyes staring at her from under that hat were already remarkably similar to Sean’s, and she knew at that moment the boy was going to be a heartbreaker just like his uncle.

Her hand tightened on the doorknob as she watched Sean slowly slip his sunglasses from his eyes to tuck them inside the collar of his T. Eyes that were looking at her with an expression she couldn’t quite figure out.

What was he doing here? Showing off his nephew before she left? Maybe his real goal was to show her how cute babies were, as if she didn’t already know. But cuteness didn’t have anything to do with not wanting any of her own. Not wanting a child to consume her life, whether Sean believed that wasn’t the way it had to be or not.

“Sorry,” she said. “This is a no-stork zone.”

“I don’t see any signs posted.”

“Maybe they got blown down in yesterday’s windstorm.” She folded her arms across her chest to show him he wasn’t making himself and the baby comfy. The uncomfortable comfiness—could there be such a thing?—that she and Sean had shared two days ago in the hospital had been more than she could handle already. “What can I do for you?”

Impassive brown eyes met hers for several heartbeats until he finally answered. “Help me take care of His Willieness until Mom gets here.”

“I can’t.” Hadn’t she already emphatically told him that at the hospital, and the three times he’d called her after? “I’ve got work. And, again, I don’t know anything about taking care of babies.”

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