left work, and I thought you were on call for the transplant team in case a heart comes in for your patient, Mr. Marshall.”
“I’m on backup call, and the chances of getting called in are slim. Besides, I can hop a plane back here if necessary. What is it? A thirty-minute flight?”
Lacy nodded.
“I’ll call Laramie and tell him what’s going on.”
“If you’re certain.” She hated to put him to any trouble, but without him, she couldn’t get to West before noon, and Great-Gramma needed her now.
“Consider me your personal chauffeur.”
Three hours later, Bennett guided Lacy’s Toyota toward West, Texas. When Lacy told him that her great-grandmother was suffering chest pains, one thought held his mind—help Lacy get home as soon as possible.
He remembered his own nanna and how grief-stricken he’d been when she had died. The thought of what Lacy was going through prompted Bennett to drive her.
But the farther they traveled, the more he questioned the wisdom of his impulsive offer. Not that he minded going with Lacy. Not in the least.
The fact of the matter was, Bennett had a knack for rallying in a crisis. His calm head in the face of adversity had earned him the nickname Dr. Cool at Boston General.
No, what bothered him was the instant closeness he felt to Lacy. Sharing a tragedy could create a special bond between two people. An unintentional sense of connection.
If he wasn’t careful, he could get sucked into the emotionalism of the moment, and he might start believing the strange tugging in the general region of his heart had more to do with Lacy and not the situation at hand.
He had called Dr. Laramie and cleared his absence with the chief surgeon who’d taken him off the back up call list, but still, he would try his best to return to Houston if Mr. Marshall was fortunate enough to get a heart.
Outside, the moon had slipped behind a covering of clouds, leaving the highway bathed in darkness illuminated only by their headlights. At four thirty in the morning, there weren’t many cars on the road. Bennett’s window was cracked half an inch, and the earthy smell of fresh loam seeped inside the car.
As they’d driven, Lacy chattered anxiously, telling him that she’d been raised on a farm in West, a predominantly Czech community, and that most of her family still lived there.
Her grandfather, father, and brothers were farmers, she’d said. Her mother and sisters ran a general store in downtown West and her great-grandmother Kahonachek ruled the roost.
He sent a quick glance in Lacy’s direction. His emotions were in a peculiar scramble. He felt confused, worried, and worst of all, desperately attached to this woman. She lay against the headrest, her hair spilling over the seat in a golden cascade.
Bennett’s fingers itched to glide through those silken threads, and the urge to inhale the flowery fragrance of her hair overwhelmed him. Did she have any idea how beautiful she was? Did she possess a single clue how sharply his body responded to hers?
Before they had left her apartment, he had helped her pull a casual floral jumper the color of banana custard over the Cinderella-pink satin teddy. The playful outfit suited her much better than the racy dress she had worn to the Recovery Room, making her appear softer, more inviting, more fun.
He’d also wrapped her swollen ankle, cradling that delicate foot in the palm of his hand had almost been his undoing. He’d had the strangest urge to plant kisses all the way up that shapely leg to her thigh and beyond.
Now, every time he glanced over to check on that sexy little foot, he saw her cute toenails painted a provocative pink peeking over the bandage at him, reminding him of that moment in her apartment.
Her eyes were closed, but Bennett knew she wasn’t asleep. Lacy rested, taking long, slow, deep breaths, fortifying herself for what lay ahead. Mesmerized, he watched the rise and fall of her well-rounded breasts, then realized his own breath was coming in short, ragged spurts.
Compelled to comfort her, Bennett reached over and gently patted Lacy’s hand. The touch was like an electrical shock—intense, energized, startling. It was all he could do to keep from sucking in his breath.
Her eyes fluttered open. “Thank you for driving me,” she murmured, her downy voice breaking the silence that had endured for the past several minutes.
“What are friends for?” he asked.
“Is that what we are?” Her tone teased, but the look in her eyes was