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  Her hands had somehow made their way up to his shoulders, her heels rising off the concrete so she could get even closer to that delicious mouth of his. They’d always been so good at this—kissing, coupling, fucking, whatever. Like two halves to a whole, when they came together it was magic.

  Ryan Hart was the best bad thing she’d ever done.

  But specific words stood out from that thought … bad and done.

  Regaining her addled wits, Tate shoved him away from her, widening the gap as far as the space between cars would allow. Both of them breathing heavily, they stared at each other, mouths damp, fingers curled into nothing in the absence of something physical. She nearly shivered at the loss.

  The man was dangerous to all parts of her body, not just her rusty libido.

  “I’m back, Tate. For good this time.”

  “I’ll alert the media.”

  He laughed. “I didn’t realize just how much I missed that smartass mouth of yours until I got a true taste of it again.”

  Tate picked up her backpack from where she’d dropped it beside her feet. “Savor it ‘cause there won’t be a next time.”

  Ryan reached out and brushed his thumb across her tingling bottom lip. “We’ll see about that.” He grabbed his helmet off the top of her car, tucking it under his uninjured arm. “Drive safe.”

  Growling under her breath, she unlocked her car door and climbed inside, locking it back the moment her butt hit the seat. Only now she wasn’t doing it to protect herself from some random attacker.

  Chapter Two

  There were flowers waiting for her when she arrived at the hospital the next day. Tate knew they were for her as soon as she spied them. She didn’t need to read the card Colleen shoved at her with a smug smile.

  It was an enormous bundle of gladiolas in every shade known to man. Realizing that Ryan remembered her favorite flower shouldn’t make her face hot and her blood pump faster through her veins. Tate scrubbed at her sternum with her knuckles like that would make the gooey feeling go away while she scowled at the gorgeous bouquet so hard it was a miracle they didn’t wither and die on the spot.

  “Aren’t you going to read the card?” Colleen asked.

  “Eventually.” When she was in a better frame of mind and not feeling so blindsided by Ryan’s gift.

  “If I were in your shoes, I’d strike while the iron’s hot on that one. He’s obviously still smitten with you, and he’s gorgeous. You would’ve thought Brad Pitt walked in here last night with the way all the women reacted. Some of the men, too.”

  “I really don’t understand all the fascination with Brad Pitt,” Tate said in an attempt to change the subject. “Sure, he was cute in Legends of the Fall, but nowadays he’s got a padlock around his dick and a brood trailing behind him. You know he probably smells like Play-doh and pissy diapers.”

  Colleen cracked up laughing. “I still wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers. And you don’t particularly care much for children, do you?”

  Tate turned her scowl on Colleen. “It’s not that I don’t like kids. Most of my contact with them is when they’re at their worst. I’m being barfed on, screeched at, or assaulted. Sometimes all of the above. Little jackasses are mean.”

  “Doesn’t your sister have a few?”

  “She lives in Detroit. I see them twice a year, tops.” When Colleen quirked an eyebrow at her, Tate said, “Don’t give me that look. We Skype every few weeks. I love my sister and her bratty kids, but I live to serve. I’ll still be paying off student loans when I’m ninety. The more I work, the sooner I can start saving money for my burial plot.”

  “Christ, Tate. You need to get a life outside of this hospital. That’s all I’m saying.” Colleen turned to walk away, then tossed over her shoulder, “Open the card.”

  Tate carried the card around for most of her shift, the weight of it nearly tangible in her pocket. She didn’t want to open it because she knew it would say something witty or charming, and it would whittle away at her resolve. Ryan was good at getting his way when he wanted something.

  The flowers she’d had sent up to one of the elder care floors where they’d make someone smile instead of frown in confusion. Needless to say she hadn’t slept much last night. The conversation she’d had with Ryan kept playing on repeat in her head, pausing on his apology and the statement that he was back for good.

  But where’d you go and why?

  And then there’d been the kiss. Hard to forget that, too. Ryan should have a hurricane named after him, blowing in from out of the wild blue yonder, upsetting the normal progression of life, leaving devastation in his wake. A category five for sure.

  On her dinner break, she gathered up enough courage to open the tiny envelope.

  “Thanks for the top-notch care, Dr. Reilly. The kiss made my boo-boo feel all better. I want to see you again.” And he’d written his phone number below the words.

  Abruptly she realized she was smiling, so she wiped the expression off her face and started to rip the card in half. She didn’t though. For some reason, she just couldn’t bring herself to destroy it.

  Things had always felt unfinished between them, even after he’d left her high and dry. In the back of her mind, away from all the anger and hurt, there’d been a persistent feeling something wasn’t quite right. Not with their relationship, but instead with Ryan himself.

  In the weeks before he disappeared, he’d grown quiet and less cheerful, as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders all of a sudden. He’d assured her over and over again it wasn’t her or them together, but there’d been no real explanation. Then he’d vanished like he was never there.

  Several times in the months that followed, someone called her from unknown numbers and she’d answer, only to hear silence on the other end. Tate had convinced herself it was him, but perhaps she’d simply seen too many melodramatic movies.

  After going on a few miserable dates, she’d given up in favor of concentrating on medical school. There’d been some brief flings to ease the dry spells, but nothing ever turned serious. And in truth no one had ever measured up to the bar Ryan set. Now she had to wonder if she’d been subconsciously still pining for him all these years. It sure as hell looked like it. That was a depressing thought. But if she stayed on her current path, she’d wind up an old maid with forty cats and no children to eventually find her dead, dried-up corpse. Colleen was right. She needed a life outside of the one that existed inside the walls of this hospital.

  Question was could she trust Ryan not to destroy her heart again if given the chance.

  ****

  Ryan checked his phone incessantly while he went about his duties at the restaurant. As Executive Sous Chef, he was second in command to Kevin Lattimore. He cooked of course, but he also oversaw staff, stocked food and supplies, helped plan menus, and made sure the kitchen was safe and sanitary at all times. In other words, he worked his ass off, but loved every minute of it. Well, most of it. Dealing with staff issues wasn’t always a picnic.

  Luck had played a large part in his getting the job at Bite, along with his cooking abilities.

  He’d met Kevin while working as a junior sous chef at a restaurant back in his hometown of Birmingham. When Kevin was planning to open his own place in Atlanta, he’d toured some of the best restaurants in the south, and that brought him to where Ryan worked. After having dinner, Kevin asked to meet the chefs. Ryan’s boss just so happened to have been off that night, so Ryan got the privilege of being introduced to Kevin, and hearing firsthand how much he’d enjoyed the food.

  The two of them hit it off instantly and wound up sharing a bottle of wine and conversation long after the restaurant closed its doors for the night. Ryan told him how much he’d loved living in Atlanta and that he hoped to eventually return there some day. Kevin must have been impressed enough with Ryan to remember him because when Bite became a success, he’d picked up the phone and offered Ryan a job. The timing was right for him to leave
Birmingham behind and make the move back to Atlanta. He hadn’t regretted the decision once.

  He also couldn’t deny that Tate was never far from his mind the entire time he’d been gone. All he had to do was catch a flash of red hair in a crowd or think he’d heard her laugh and his gut would hurt so acutely it would nearly double him over with regret.

  It hadn’t been his choice to leave her or school, but sometimes life takes your options away. It reminds you not to get too comfortable where you are because any minute the rug could be snatched out from under your feet, leaving you flat on your back and gasping for breath.

  The relief he’d felt when he found out she was back in Atlanta, too, working at a hospital here and still single, had been immeasurable. Like chance was finally on his side. It had meant pulling a few strings to get the information, but there were some majorly important people who were regulars at Bite, one being the Chief of Staff at Atlanta General. It might not have been the most ethical way of going about it, but Ryan didn’t really care. What mattered most to him was the end result.

  As far as the walls she’d erected around her heart, well, he’d find a way to scale those too. Two things Ryan had in spades were patience and stamina.

  Kevin walked up behind Ryan and put his hand on his shoulder. “How’s the arm?”

  “A little tender, but tolerable.” He’d followed the nurse’s instructions about how to clean and redress the wound. Chances were good he’d have a scar from it, but he’d hurt himself worse dropping his motorcycle.

  “Sure you don’t need to take the night off?”

  It was nice that Kevin worried about his welfare, but unnecessary in this instance.

  “It doesn’t hurt, Kev. Seriously, as long as I keep it away from direct heat for a few days, it’ll be fine.”

  “I’m just glad it wasn’t worse.”

  Ryan shrugged. “Accidents are going to happen. And that’s all it was—a freak accident. Seth swung around with a pot at the same time I reached for a bowl. It’s a commercial kitchen. It’s expected. You know that. How many times have you burned your hand or sliced a finger open?”

  Kevin winced. “More times than I care to count.”

  “Yeah, me, too, and I can tell you, stitches are a much bigger pain in the ass than this burn on my arm, so let it go.”

  “Okay, it’s forgotten. But if it starts to hurt or you need a break, take it.”

  “I will.”

  “So, did you see Tate?”

  If something good could come out of being injured, it was that it forced him to swallow his anxiety about seeing her again and drag his procrastinating ass into her ER for treatment. Her reaction had been in line with what he’d expected, perhaps slightly better considering she didn’t kick him in the nuts.

  Ryan nodded at Kevin’s question. “It wasn’t exactly a Hallmark moment.”

  “I hope that’s not what you were expecting.”

  “No, but I still had some ridiculous expectation that there might’ve been at least a few smiles on her part, maybe a rational conversation beyond the awkward hellos and doctor speak.”

  Kevin frowned. “She didn’t tell you to fuck off entirely, did she?”

  Ryan sucked in a deep breath, blew it out slow through his nose. “Well, maybe. It’s hard to be sure with Tate. She talks a big game, but that’s her protective mechanism for keeping people at a distance.”

  “I’ve got one of those at home now,” Kevin said wryly.

  “Holy shit, Elle moved in?”

  “Last weekend. It’s been an adjustment to say the least. My apartment looks like a bomb went off inside it. Except for the kitchen of course. She steers way clear of my kitchen. If I wasn’t so crazy about the woman, I would’ve strangled her by now.”

  A pang of jealousy hit Ryan. He was ready for that also—commitment and domesticity. Arguing over who drank the last of the orange juice and stuck the empty container back in the fridge, or who left wet towels on the bathroom floor. Fighting for the remote or sections of the newspaper over coffee in the mornings. Waking up with a warm, soft body curled next to him, a spill of glorious red hair across the neighboring pillow. God yes, he wanted it all. Bliss and belligerence. He knew where he’d find it, too. Now he just had to do a damn good job of convincing the other party.

  “I hurt Tate pretty bad,” he said.

  “Did you tell her what happened with your family?”

  “Not yet. I need to feel things out between us first, see if there’s even a flicker of hope left. I’m trying to remind her of the good parts of our relationship before I go and toss my family’s dirty laundry into the mix.”

  Even after all this time, bitterness still rose in Ryan’s throat when he thought about what his father did. How it had torn apart lives and families.

  He owed Tate the truth, but first he wanted to know if she could care deeply for him again before he told her everything. He didn’t want pity to taint her feelings. If he stood any chance whatsoever of getting her back, Ryan wanted the emotions to be genuine.

  “So what’s your next move?” Kevin asked.

  “I’m going to annoy the hell out of her until she gives in.”

  Chapter Three

  Ryan was going to annoy the hell out of Tate.

  It was clear now that was his ploy—exasperate her to the point of giving in and agreeing to see him. First, it had been the flowers; now it was food.

  Precisely at six-thirty the next evening, and the exact time she took her dinner break, three men dressed in black pants, black vests, and crisp white shirts, delivered enough food to feed the entire ER staff. But not just any food. No, he’d honored her heritage by preparing Soda Bread, Irish Stew, and some kind of extravagant apple cake for dessert. Even she wasn’t that knowledgeable about traditional Irish dishes.

  Tate couldn’t figure out how she could be simultaneously flattered by the lavish gesture and mortified by the subsequent razzing from her co-workers. Word had spread rather quickly about her handsome suitor, thanks to the hospital’s rabid gossip vine.

  “You’re Irish?” one of the other doctors asked, his plate heaped over with food.

  Tate stared at him dumbfounded, fighting against the compulsion to ask him how he ever became a doctor. But then again, some folks lived in their own little worlds, oblivious to what went on around them outside the scope of their job. Still, all you had to do was take one look at her—the hair, the eyes, the fair skin—and suspect there was at least some Irish blood in her veins. The last name pretty much sewed it up with a nice little bow.

  She pointed at her head then her badge with her fork before shoveling a bite of the stew into her mouth. And wouldn’t you know it was incredible—rich, tender, and perfectly seasoned. Maybe even better than her grandfather Reilly used to make, and that was saying a lot considering his recipes had been handed down through generations of Irish cooks.

  As soon as she finished eating she pulled on a sweater and stepped outside with her phone. She still had the card from the flowers with Ryan’s number on it.

  It rang several times before it dawned on her how dumb it was to call him at this hour. He was probably busy and didn’t even have his—

  “Am I wearing you down?” he asked, humor lacing his voice. There was a lot of noise in the background at first, but then she heard a door close and it faded away to nothing.

  “I’m not admitting to anything just yet. Except that you’ve mastered your trade and you’re making a lot of overworked people’s stomachs very happy at the moment.”

  “I can keep going, Tate. Or you could give in and agree to see me outside of the hospital. Drinks, dinner, a boxing match. You pick.”

  “A boxing match?”

  “I bet you’d love to take a few swings at me.”

  Tate succumbed to a real laugh for the first time since she’d laid eyes on him again, and answered honestly. “I would.”

  “Then let’s go five rounds. I’ll even let you tie one of my arms behind my back.
”

  That should not sound as dirty as it did. “Boxing’s not really my thing,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound husky with arousal over the thought of tying him to the bed and having her wicked way with him. It had been way too long since she’d gotten herself properly laid. Maybe even since Ryan left. That thought alone was like being dunked in an ice water bath.

  “No, it’s baseball.”

  “Used to be,” Tate said.

  Another pastime they’d enjoyed together, lazy Sunday afternoons watching the Braves play. Overpriced beers, cold hot dogs, and more fun than two people ought to be allowed to have together outside of a bed. Ryan would practically drag her out of her apartment, insisting she needed the fresh air and a break from studying. He’d been right, and they would have a blast. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to attend another after he left, even when she’d had the time and the offers.

  “Tate? You still there?”

  “I’m here.”

  “You don’t like baseball anymore?”

  Tate decided to continue being forthright. Maybe if she told him the truth, he’d feel compelled to reciprocate. “It’s not the same now, Ryan. It lost its appeal once you left.”

  “Jesus, Tate.” Even through the phone, she heard the regret in his voice, and it was starting to weaken her armor more than she cared to admit. “You can’t possibly know how sorry I am. If you’ll give me the chance, I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

  “I need to get back to work,” she said. “I just called to say thank you for the flowers and the food. They were both … really sweet gestures, and incredibly generous.”

  He sighed heavily into the receiver. “I’m not giving up.”

  She stood in the middle of the sidewalk, watching as late afternoon faded into evening, her heart a big sticky lump in her throat. “I know that, too.”

  “Then will you see me?” A pause, then, “Please.”