Crossing the Line

“Oh fiddlecakes,” she said, and reached for a second bottle.

“Fiddlecakes?” He sounded amused. “I thought the term was fiddlesticks.”

“Something my grandmother used to say. I spent a lot of time with her growing up. Both my parents did shiftwork.”

“Medical?”

“Cops.”

An odd expression she couldn’t read crossed Dante’s face. Then he surprised her by plunking down beside her on the ground. “Give him here.”

“What are you doing?”

“Let me hold him and you can hold the bottle.”

“You’re going to get mud on your suit.”

“I don’t care.”

“Really?” That surprised her. Mark would rather have his teeth pulled than sit on the ground in one of his tailored suits.

“It’s just clothing.”

That didn’t sound like any surgeon she knew. This guy was a horse of a different color. Elle cocked her head to study him. “Why are you getting involved?”

“Just give him to me,” Dante said, clearly not someone who liked explaining himself.

“How do you know it’s a him?”

“I had a good view of his backside while you had him tucked under your arm.” Dante took the fawn from her and held him in his lap with a firm grip.

His hand grazed hers.

The breath knotted tight in Elle’s chest, unable to find a way out. Hand tingling, she ducked her head and got up to retrieve the second bottle.

Together they sat side by side on the muddy forest floor, raindrops dotting their skin as they nourished an orphaned baby buck.

Her estimation of Dante Nash shot up a notch. She could tell he was a good doctor by the considerate way he held the deer. Gentle but firm. It was the kind of touch that would make any patient feel safe in his hands. She slanted a sideways glance at his face and discovered he was looking at her.

Their eyes met.

He winked.

A hot flush of sexual excitement raced through her. To Elle there was nothing sexier than a nurturing man. Quickly she dropped her gaze. No, no, she didn’t want this feeling. She did not want to like him. To want him. She’d just come out of a miserable divorce. This wasn’t the time for a relationship, and he, as one of her ex-husband’s friends, was not someone she should choose.

“You’re going to have to take him to the animal rescue center,” Dante said.

“I know.” Elle stroked the baby’s fur.

“Yet you’re getting attached anyway.”

She shrugged. “A fault of mine. Getting attached when I shouldn’t.”

“It’s not a fault. Just means you care.”

“Yeah well, it makes for a frequently broken heart.”

A long silence stretched between them, interrupted only by the sounds of the baby deer suckling. He finished one bottle and Elle started the famished youngster on another.

“Why’d you marry Mark?” he asked.

“What?” His question caught her off guard. She raised her head, stared at him again. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t get offended,” Dante said. “It’s just that you’re not Mark’s usual type.”

“No?” Of course not, Elle thought. Cassandra was Mark’s usual type—blond, beautiful and busty. Elle stared down at her own average-sized 34B bosom.

“You’re too smart for him.”

“You don’t even know me. How can you say that?”

“You have lively eyes.”

Elle snorted, but his words brought a heated rush of pleasure to her cheeks.

“Let me guess, you put Mark through medical school. Worked a full-time job, paid the bills and helped him with his homework.”

Dante was so right it hurt. “You know what?” Elle said. “That’s none of your business.”

“Touché,” Dante said. “He’s through.”

“Who? Mark?”

“No, the fawn.”

Indeed, the baby had sucked the bottle dry. Feeling an odd strangeness she couldn’t quite identify, Elle got to her feet and swiped at the mud on the knees of her scrubs. “My lunch hour is over. They’ll be wondering where I am.”

Dante stood up, the fawn cradled in his arms. “What are we going to do with him?”

Elle reached out for the baby. “I’ll call my sister-in-law. She’s interning for the vet at the end of the road. She’ll know who to call about disposing of the fawn’s mother and what to do about this little guy.”

Dante transferred the deer to her arms, their fingers brushing again in the process. Suddenly her heart was in her throat and she had no excuse for it.

“So tell me,” she said. “Did you satisfy your curiosity? Or are you still bored?”

He lowered his eyelids and gave her a sultry look. He raked his gaze over the length of her body, then went back to stare at her lips. He looked like a man whose appetite had just been whetted.

Then he said in low, provocative voice, “Not by a long shot.”