Courtney's Baby Plan

“It’s not a sign of weakness to need—”

“I said no.”

She slowly put the cap back on the bottle, sensing that this was about something other than macho posturing. And, judging by the way he was holding himself even more stiffly than before, that he didn’t want her prying.

Which told her more than words could have said, anyway.

“Fair enough.” She set the bottle next to the others. “But you don’t have a choice about those,” she said firmly. She pointed to the two pills next to his plate. “If you want your bones to heal, you’ve got to beat back that infection once and for all.” She headed to the doorway. “I’ll go get Plato.”

Mason watched Courtney stride out of the room.

It was a helluva thing that he was almost more interested in the damn pill bottle within arm’s reach than he was in watching the particularly enjoyable sight of her shapely form moving underneath the thin pink fabric of her scrubs.

He swallowed the last of the first sandwich, leaned his head back against the pillows and closed his eyes. Too easily, the night they’d spent together came to life in his mind.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and opened his eyes again.

Since the moment he’d thrown McDougal’s daughter, Lari, to safety, he’d been in hell.

Coming to Weaver was just one more layer of it.

There was no future for Courtney with him, and she was the kind of woman who deserved futures. She was young and beautiful and caring and came from a strong, close family.

He was past young, scarred on the inside as well as the out, and the only family he knew—or who mattered to him—was the family of Hollins-Winword.

It was a fact of life that was easy enough to remember when he was a continent or two away from her.

But sprawled across a bed under her roof?

That was an entirely different matter.

“Plato, come meet Mason.”

He heard her voice before her footsteps and then she reappeared in the doorway with a gigantic Saint Bernard at her side.

“You didn’t get a dog.” Mason eyed the shaggy beast. “You got a damn horse.”

She grinned, bringing a surprising impishness to her oval face, and tucked her long, golden hair behind her ear. “He’s a big boy,” she agreed. Her fingers scrubbed through the dog’s thick coat and the beast’s tongue lolled with obvious pleasure. “But he’s a total marshmallow. He’s four and very well behaved.” She stopped next to the bed and gestured to the dog, who plopped his butt on the floor and looked across the mattress at Mason with solemn brown eyes. “Mason’s a friend, Plato.”

Mason stuck out his good hand and let the dog sniff him. Evidently satisfied, the dog slopped his tongue over Mason’s fingers and thumped his tail a few times.

Courtney smiled, then looked at the watch around her wrist. “I’ve got to get to work.” Her gaze skipped over Mason and around the room. She picked up the cell phone that Axel had left. “I’m adding the number at the hospital,” she said as her fingers rapidly tapped. “Plus my own cell number.” When she was finished, she set the phone on the nightstand. “But I’ll warn you—cell service isn’t always the greatest around here. There’s a landline in the kitchen, though.” She patted her hip. “Come on, Plato. Back outside.”

“Does he always stay outside?”

Courtney shook her head. “Not always. But I don’t want him disturbing you.”

Mason leaned forward a little, rubbing his hand over the dog’s massive head. “He’ll give me someone to talk to.”

She smiled slightly. “Well. He is pretty good company. I’ll pop back home when I get my dinner break, but it’ll be pretty late.” She headed toward the doorway. “Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything, though. If I can’t make it over, there’s always going to be someone who can.” She gave a faint wave and disappeared.

Mason looked from the doorway to the pill bottles on the bedside table to the dog, who was watching him as if he could read his mind.

“Don’t you worry, Plato,” Mason muttered. “Soon as I get these casts off, I’ll be out of here.”

And away from temptation.

He looked from the prescription bottle back to the empty doorway.

Both temptations.

“It sounds like the perfect opportunity for you.” Lisa Pope, the other nurse who shared the emergency room’s night shift with Courtney, leaned her elbows on the counter and smiled. “Keep an eye out for a patient while he heals up and collect room and board at the same time.”

Courtney didn’t look up from the medical chart she was updating and smiled a little wryly. “It does sound perfect,” she agreed. In theory.

“Sounds perfect,” Lisa prompted. She raised her eyebrows. “What’s the problem?”

Courtney shook her head. “No problem.” None that she intended to share.

Lisa leaned closer over the desk. At the moment, the Weaver Hospital’s emergency department was quiet. “He must not have a wife, or he wouldn’t need care. So is he handsome?” Her eyes danced wickedly.

“Whether he is or not is beside the point. He’s a patient.”

Lisa sighed noisily and straightened. “Honestly, girl. You are twenty-six years old, so beautiful that other women ought to hate you, and I swear you live the life of a nun. It’s practically criminal.”

Courtney gave a laughing snort. “Why does it matter to you? You’re besotted with your husband, and you know it.” Lisa and Jay even had a darling little girl, Annie.

Lisa lifted her shoulder. “Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean a little vicarious living is out of the question. So … handsome or not?”

Courtney gave a huge sigh and closed the chart. “Mason is—” She broke off, trying to find a good word to describe the man and failing entirely. “Handsome enough.” She settled on the adjective, just because it was expedient. Despite the scar on his face, he was a striking man. Not handsome exactly, because he had a certain aura of … darkness around him. “More importantly, he’s a patient.”

Lisa made a face. “Well. At least tell me you’re going to spend the extra money you’re earning on something more interesting than fresh paint for your house trim. For nine months, all you’ve talked about is that house of yours.”

A laugh started to bubble in the back of Courtney’s throat.

Nine months.

It was almost funny.

She looked across the counter at her coworker and friend and shrugged casually, hiding the squiggle of excitement inside her. “What can I say? It’s my home. I want it to be perfect.”

Perfect for when it wasn’t just her living there.

Then she waved her hands in a shooing motion as she turned her attention back to paperwork that needed to be completed ASAP. “Now, we’d better get back to work or the boss lady around this place will have our heads.”

They both grinned, because the boss lady who ran the Weaver Hospital happened to be Courtney’s mother, Dr. Rebecca Clay. But the grins didn’t last long because the doors to the E.R. slid open, and Courtney’s sister-in-law, Mallory, strode inside, shrugging out of her jacket as she moved. “Got a high-risk mom coming in by air,” she greeted as she moved rapidly across the tiled floor past the desk where Courtney and Lisa were. “They’re at least ten minutes out.”

Courtney was already following her. “I’ll call the team.” She didn’t even look back to see Lisa assume her seat at reception.