“Vaughn?” Abigail gently covered her hand with his.
But he still couldn’t speak. How could a beautiful young woman—a soon-to-be mother with a wealth of responsibilities on her shoulders—want to go anywhere near him?
Yet there she stood. With unmistakable longing in her eyes.
Tonight, he didn’t stand a chance in hell of walking away.
* * *
Abigail wasn’t sure how the image touched a nerve. But she could see that it had.
Vaughn was different tonight even before she’d shared the drawing with him. Remote. Polite but withdrawn.
Showing him the sketch had allowed her to glimpse behind that aloof mask, however. To darker emotions she knew he wanted to keep hidden. The moment happened so fast, she wondered if she’d seen it at all.
“Is everything okay?” she asked again. “I know art is highly subjective. And I only did a quick likeness, so I understand if it’s not—”
“It’s perfect. I mean—” He set aside the folder with the picture aside, laying it on the breakfast bar. “It is special to me because you made it.”
She didn’t want to push the issue. Her ego as an artist wasn’t bruised since she knew the value of her work. But it was difficult not to ask a follow-up question when she simply wanted to understand this man better. Know what made him tick.
And yes, what made him pull away so hard.
“I’m glad you like it,” she said finally, even though it came out too brightly. “And I didn’t mean to keep you when you’ve had a long day.”
He stared at her with an inscrutable look in his eyes. His whole body shifted, restlessly, even though his feet didn’t move toward the door.
“I lost a patient this afternoon, Abby.”
The words dropped into the room like a stone in a lake. Sinking. Sending ripples through the air that she could feel long after the sound faded.
If the mere idea of it made her ache with empathy, she couldn’t imagine how he endured the pain of it.
“I’m so sorry.” She clutched his hand, needing him to feel her presence. Her caring. For whatever that was worth. “It never occurred to me. I knew something was off—”
“I don’t like to share it.” He shook his head like he could deny her that empathy. “It’s not your burden to bear. I picked this path. The good and the...”
He didn’t finish the sentence. His eyes closed slowly.
“You chose a career that’s a noble calling. A selfless one.” She couldn’t imagine doing his job. Choosing to wade into critical situations armed with education and experience, but knowing that wasn’t always enough. “Most people couldn’t carry the weight of life or death on their shoulders, but we’re grateful to those who try.”
She stepped closer to him, spanning his shoulders with her hands. Lightly squeezing her certainty into him as she flexed her fingers.
“The kid has been in the OR before.” Vaughn’s voice rasped drily. “One of my first major surgeries after I returned to Royal. He’d been shot then, too.”
Abigail pressed her cheek against his chest as they stood together.
“You gave him a second chance then. He was fortunate that time.”
“Afterward, he joked about it. Said he was getting out of his town while his luck held out. Moving somewhere else. Starting over.” Vaughn’s chin rested on her head, some small tension seeping away enough for him to relax into her. “He seemed like a decent kid.”
“I’m sorry.” She wrapped her arms around his waist. Breathing him in.
For a long moment, they stood together in her quiet kitchen with only the sound of Vaughn’s heartbeat in her ear. Behind her, the clock ticked. Her refrigerator hummed.
Slowly, she edged away enough to glance up at him again. Their gazes locked. And something shifted between them. A tangible flicker of heat licked over her as the look in Vaughn’s eyes changed.
She tried to ignore it since she was offering compassion, not indulging in the chemistry between them.
“Abby.” He breathed her name like it was something precious. Something necessary. He focused on her as if he was seeing her for the first time all evening, his eyes turning a shade darker.
His hands gripped her hips. Fingers flexing.
She might have been able to deny her own need, but not his. Not tonight.
She slid her hands to the soft cotton that strained against his torso and let herself feel the tense heat of him. The strength.
He kissed her and she felt the sudden tide of physical desire roll over her like a rogue wave. It all but took out her knees, sending her swaying into Vaughn’s arms so he could steady her. Hold her. Answer the plea for more with a demand of his own.
His tongue stroked hers, seeking, urging. She wrapped both arms around his neck, sealing her body to his, wanting the feel of his solid warmth against her.
Her sensitive, aching breasts molded to all that male strength and heat, sending a shiver through her. He lifted her, settling her on the kitchen table so he could step between her legs. A soft moan escaped her lips, a needy sound he sipped from her mouth with another kiss as he placed one hand on the small of her back to draw her hips closer to his.
His free hand traced the column of her throat, sending more sensations racing up her spine. Her skin tightened, tingling, wanting his touch all over her. When his fingers dipped lower, beneath the neckline of her scoop-neck T-shirt, he slipped a hand beneath one lace cup of her bra, palming her breast. Plucking one taught nipple between his thumb and forefinger in a way that sent liquid heat flooding through her.
Desire sharpened. Pushing her higher.
Her world was spinning and she felt dizzy with want. He stripped off her shirt and it wasn’t enough. She rolled her shoulders, shrugging off the straps of confining lace on her bra. Anything to be naked sooner. Faster.
So when Vaughn lowered a kiss to
