Luke(21)

"No! Of course not."

"Is it because I moved past conventional medicine?"

"No." He looked into her beautiful eyes, into the still wary expression and wondered why this was so hard. Being honest had never been hard before. Hurting people's feelings had never been hard before. But the truth, that he had his life just the way he wanted it, that if he dallied with a woman these days, it was just that, a dalliance, and she wasn't the type of woman to be happy with that, seemed … lame. "It's complicated."

"Yeah." Her face fell and she turned to walk out the door.

"Faith—"

"It's best if I go."

He watched her hightail it out of his place, and struggled to remember how right she was. They needed to get over whatever this … this thing was, because it had no place in his life. She had no place in his life.

If only he could remember why that was exactly.

*

Saturday day morning dawned bright and early. Faith felt rested and ready to work. She told herself she'd had such a good-night's sleep because this was a Dr. Universe-free weekend. He was out of her life. She had no worries, no worries at all.

But then Guy called in sick. So did her receptionist. And Cat, too.

All three struck down with the flu, possibly the same thing she'd had earlier in the week. Faith talked to them each on the telephone, assuring them she'd be fine, that they needed to worry only about getting better. She reminded them to drink their echinacea tea and get lots of rest.

Then she got off the phone and looked at Shelby. "We're screwed."

"Maybe I should start calling the scheduled patients, cancel them."

That would go over great, just when they were starting to garner a steady clientele, just when—

The back door opened and, as if he'd been sent from heaven, in walked Luke.

"Morning," he said to their startled faces. When they continued to just stare at him, he lifted his covered coffee mug, still steaming, and looked at it. "I know it's not any fancy tea, and that it's store-bought, but a guy's gotta have his vices."

"Are you … here to work?" Shelby asked. "Because if you are, I'll kiss you, right here, right now."

"I'm here to work, yeah, if you don't mind. No kiss required."

"Mind?" Shelby laughed. "Do we mind, Faith?"

Did she? Ha! Luke was watching her, waiting, and the silence stretched out.

"Okay, she's not going to admit this because she's stubborn as hell," Shelby confided. "But I'll tell you. We're short-staffed and overbooked today."

Luke never took his eyes off Faith. "Really."

"Yeah, and another thing she won't tell you, if you hadn't shown up, we'd have had to turn away patients."

"Ouch."

"Ouch," Shelby agreed, then caught Faith's glaring expression. "Oops, would you look at the time? Better get moving."

Faith watched Shelby leave, then turned on Luke. "Okay, why are you really here?"

"Last I checked I was a doctor, willing and able to work."

"Yes, but you're not required to work here anymore, remember?"

"I remember." He slid his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. "I also remember I like to repay my debts."

"There's no debt."

"Yes, there is." He let out a slow breath and his shoulders dropped slightly. "Look, even though the newspapers exaggerated what I said, I spoke without the facts when I talked about this place. And if you think that's easy to admit, think again. I still believe in scientific and conventional medicine, I still believe that what I do, what the hospital does, can't be replaced by alternative methods of medicine. But I can admit…"

"Yes?"

"That what you're doing here has a place. That it's important to the people you see." He turned in a slow, frustrated circle, one hundred and eighty pounds of tightly coiled male. "And I did you a great disservice by so carelessly shrugging it off. People listen to us, they listen to me. So in light of that, I want to keep working here, for the rest of the two months, or whatever it is."

"Two months, one week."

"Two months, one week," he repeated slowly. "For that long, people can see I believe in what you're doing."

"Even if you don't believe?"

He winced. "Why can't you just be happy to see me?"

"Maybe I am," she whispered, and had the satisfaction of rendering him speechless.

*

It wasn't like before, working with Luke. Before, they'd not talked, not really. They certainly hadn't touched.

Or kissed.

But now, every time they passed in the hallway, brushed shoulders or hands, no matter how accidentally, it brought it all back.

The tension grew between them, tighter and tighter, until it became this tangible thing she could have reached out and touched.

Throughout the day, it only got worse. Going in to see a woman with severe arthritis, they'd accidentally bumped shoulders in the doorway. It had taken her breath. He'd taken her breath, so much she nearly forgot how to treat the woman's arthritis.

They saw a nine-months pregnant woman suffering false labor pangs thanks to the can of olives she'd consumed, and leaving the room together, they'd brushed hands…