The Jinx: A Romantic Medical Comedy (Heartthrob Hospital Book 2) Page 4

  Correction. His ex-best friend.

  Then he had dislocated his knee by stepping into a gopher hole while carrying an anesthetized child to the post-op tent. And bingo! The doctor heading their team had insisted he return to Houston for rest and physical therapy before starting his orthopedic residency. He was coming home four weeks early and completely unprepared for seeing CeeCee again.

  “Is this the place?” Pedro asked.

  Jack propped himself up on his elbow and peered over the bed of the pickup. He squinted at the entrance to his apartment complex and spied a mass of haphazardly parked cars.

  Patio lanterns had been lit. Sounds of conversation, laughter, and splashing in the pool carried easily on the late-night air.

  “Yeah.”

  “Sounds like a party,” Pedro observed.

  Jack knew who was throwing the party. It had to be the same gregarious woman who instigated most of the River Run soirees.

  CeeCee Adams.

  Pedro parked, got out of the pickup, and came around to let the tailgate down. Jack ran a hand through five hundred miles of windblown hair, then scooted to the end of the truck bed.

  “You want me to help you to your door before I go to my girlfriend’s house?” Pedro asked. “She only lives a few miles from here.”

  “Nah.” Jack gestured in the direction of the cars. “My friends are here. They’ll help me.”

  “You sure?”

  Jack nodded. The truth was he didn’t want his friends and colleagues to see him limping through the complex, leaning on Pedro’s shoulder. He had gone to Mexico to help children, not to wrench his knee and return a failure.

  Pedro unloaded Jack’s duffel bag. “I’ll carry it for you.”

  “I can manage.”

  “Amigo, you can barely walk.”

  “Thanks, Pedro. I’ll be fine.” The slur in his voice denied his words.

  Pedro shook his head. “You one proud dude, Dr. Travis.”

  Jack pulled a wad of bills from the pocket of his jeans and passed them to Pedro. “For gas money.”

  Pedro hesitated a moment, then took the cash. He clasped Jack on the shoulder. “I hope you win her,” he said.

  “Win who?”

  “The senorita who has kept you so sad.” Pedro flashed a smile, then hopped in his truck and drove away.

  Even Pedro had seen through him. He wasn’t ready to face CeeCee when his heart was still so obviously stuck to his sleeve.

  Sighing, Jack shouldered his duffel bag and gingerly tested his knee.

  Ow! Ouch! Okay. Bad idea.

  Nine hours of sitting in the back of the truck hadn’t improved his circulation or his range of motion. He glanced around. If he could hop to the fence, he could use it to brace himself up to the sidewalk from there, he could slip through the apartments, using the buildings themselves as support and keep to the shadows so he wouldn’t be spotted by the partygoers.

  Good plan except the tequila had affected his equilibrium.

  He commanded his head to stop spinning. By some miracle he made it to the fence and clung there a moment, struggling to get his balance.

  He inched forward one painful step at a time.

  At last, he came to the end of the fencing. From his vantage point, hidden in shadows, he could see the pool area.

  Many of his colleagues from the hospital, decked out in swimwear, were there. Rock music filled the air along with the smell of barbecue and watermelon.

  CeeCee was throwing an all-out wingding, something she often did when she needed a pick-me-up. When she felt blue, she didn’t dress in sweats, hole up with sad movies, and guzzle gallons of Butter Brickle ice cream. She threw parties, and the bigger the better.

  Was CeeCee depressed? Could she be longing for him the way he was longing for her? His heart leapfrogged at the possibility. Jack spotted CeeCee’s friend, Lacy, sitting poolside kissing her fiancé, Dr. Bennett Sheridan. He recognized her other friend, Dr. Janet Hunter, serving drinks. He kept searching the crowd, and at last he found what he was looking for.

  CeeCee.

  Wearing the skimpiest aqua string bikini he’d ever seen. Her wet hair was slicked back off her face. She looked as fetching as a mermaid. With those honed curves, the woman could have posed for the cover of Sports Illustrated.

  She was leaning over a lawn chair talking to some man he didn’t know. The guy’s gaze was welded to her cleavage. Obviously, she hadn’t been pining away for him. He had misinterpreted the reason for her party.

  What did you expect, nimrod?

  Then a terrible thought occurred to him. What if the family curse story had just been an excuse to let him down easy?

  The guy in the lawn chair moved closer to CeeCee and whispered something in her ear. She swatted friskily at him, then threw back her head and laughed.

  Jack grit his teeth as jealousy turned to battery acid in his throat. Damn! He didn’t need to see that. He gulped and turned his head away.

  He had to get to his apartment. Before he did something really stupid like limp over to the pool and punch the guy’s lights out. Palm splayed on the side of the building, he eased forward and stumbled over a hibachi. The thing clanged loudly.

  “Shhh!” Jack cast a furtive glance back at the pool. No one noticed. Pushing the hibachi back in place with the toe of a charcoal-smeared sneaker, he struggled on.

  He finally reached his apartment and dropped his duffel on the front stoop, only to realize when he went to open the front door that he had given his only key to CeeCee. He would rather break into his own apartment than make show up in his current condition.

  He managed to stay out of sight from the revelers while prying the screen off his window. Now came the hard part, smashing the glass without drawing attention.

  “Pretty desperate, Travis,” he muttered.

  But he was desperate. He was also more than a little drunk, a lot jealous, and rather teed off at himself for not coming up with a better plan. Right now, however, he wanted nothing more than to collapse into the bed and sleep for twenty hours straight.

  With that objective in mind, he peeled off his T-shirt, wrapped it around a fist, and gave the windowpane a quick, hard jab.

  The glass fell inward onto his bedroom carpet with hardly a sound. Between the laughter, the splashing, and a raucous updated version of “Wild Thing,” he was sure no one in the pool area heard him. Tomorrow, he’d replace the pane; tonight his body thirsted for sleep.

  Slipping a hand through the hole he’d made, he fumbled for the latch. And felt something hard and cold press into his back. Something that felt suspiciously like the nose of a gun.

  CeeCee’s knees slammed together harder than loose shutters in a hurricane. When she had gone upstairs to fetch a fresh bucket of ice, she’d caught sight of someone trying to break into Jack’s apartment.

  Without thinking twice, she’d grabbed the flashlight from the kitchen drawer and ran downstairs to confront the prowler.

  She hadn’t stopped to think whether the intruder could be dangerous. She’d promised Jack she’d keep an eye on his place, and damn if she’d would allow a sneak thief to make off with his things while he was off saving lives.

  Besides, half of St. Madeleine’s doctors were swimming in the complex’s pool. If she needed help, she could throw back her head and scream bloody murder.

  “Hold it right there, buster,” she growled, pressing the butt of the flashlight into his bare back in hopes he’d believe she had a gun. “Put your hands over your head.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  CeeCee gulped. She hadn’t counted on that. “I’ll pull the trigger and blow you to kingdom come.”

  “I’d pay to see that trick,” he drawled. “Since I’ve never heard of anyone getting shot by a flashlight.”

  The voice sounded familiar. Very familiar.

  “Jack?”

  Slowly, the man turned, and CeeCee found herself staring into Jack’s deep-brown eyes. Except nothing else about the guy
felt familiar. He smelled of tequila, and Jack only drank beer, and rarely that. His hair was long, his beard scraggly. His bare, muscled chest was darkly tanned, and he was favoring his left knee. The guy might look like Jack, but he was five pounds leaner and had a thrilling lawless quality about him.

  The air of a very bad boy inviting her to a bedroom romp.

  The quality stirred an instant response in her. Their gazes locked and CeeCee found it hard to catch her breath.

  Her pulse bounced like busted bedsprings—boing, boing, boing. In that moment she realized what she’d found.

  One hot, sexy, motocross champion.

  CeeCee dropped the flashlight to her side and grinned. “Hey, everyone,” she shouted, waving to the crowd below. “Come on over and meet Jack’s identical twin brother, Zack.”

  Jack had never intended on lying to CeeCee. She’d simply assumed he was Zack, and before he could correct her, she’d tucked his arm in hers and leaned her lithe body against his bare chest.

  Her breast swayed delicately against his nipple. Her skin was velvet on his. She smelled of coconuts and pineapples and sheer blue heaven.

  A cold sweat popped out on his forehead. Suddenly, despite the tequila he’d consumed, Jack was stone-cold sober.

  “Hi, Zack,” she whispered in a sweet, sexy voice he’d never heard her use. A delightful voice that raised goose bumps on his arms and sent a shaft of pure desire arrowing straight to his groin. “You’re here way early for the charity auction.”

  “Uh-huh.” Overwhelmed by his reaction, he barely mustered the sound.

  CeeCee had never looked more beautiful. With that passion-red hair curling around her shoulders, her full lips tinted with a whisper of pink lip gloss, her damp swimsuit clinging to every curve, she resembled an ethereal water nymph.

  Mythical, magical, enchanting.

  Jack stared as if seeing her for the first time. Through Zack’s fresh eyes. He even heard his brother’s voice rumble through his head.

  Whew-ee, bro, she’s the bomb! Long legs. Perky breasts. Hair like liquid fire. Cheeky dimples. You’ve got yourself a sizzling-hot, stone-cold fox.

  Except CeeCee wasn’t his.

  And she was so much more than a “fox.” She was fun and smart, a delight to be around. She cried at sad movies and threw pennies in wishing wells. She smiled often and rarely held a grudge. She cared about others and gave unselfishly of herself. She had legions of friends and not a single enemy that he knew of.

  Well, maybe except for Lars Vandergrin, but who cared about him?

  CeeCee was perfection walking.

  And he wanted her desperately. Not just for now. Not for a night. Not for a four-week affair, but for a lifetime.

  “I’m CeeCee.” She flashed him a winsome dimple. “It’s wonderful to meet you at last. Your brother has told me so much about you.”

  Jack gulped, uncertain what to do next. He opened his mouth to tell her the truth, but then without warning, he caught himself replying in a voice as provocative as CeeCee’s own, “All bad, I trust.”

  Where the hell had that come from?

  She giggled. “Jack warned me you were an outrageous flirt.”

  “That’s me, outrageous.”

  “Hey, Zack!”

  The crowd from the pool had moved their way. Dr. Bennett Sheridan thrust out a hand in greeting. Bennett had been the resident overseeing Jack’s internship during his rotation through cardiac surgery earlier in the year. Bennett had his other arm draped around Lacy’s waist. “Great to meet you, buddy. Jack speaks of you often.”

  Awkwardly, Jack shook Bennett’s hand. Shame had him avoiding his mentor’s gaze. Other party guests, most of them people he knew from the hospital or the apartment complex, welcomed him, too, increasing Jack’s uneasiness. CeeCee’s mistake sewed him up. How could he get out of this without embarrassing them both?

  “Let’s go sit by the pool,” CeeCee said.

  He held back, feeling exposed walking around in nothing but his blue jeans, his bare chest on display.

  “My shirt.” He gestured toward the shattered windowpane. “I used it to break the glass. I er...forgot that Jack said you had his key.”

  “Don’t worry about going shirtless. It’s a pool party. No one cares what you wear. We’ve got food and drink and a wide selection of music. Let me guess, I bet you’re an indie rock fan.”

  Silently, Jack nodded. He didn’t care for indie rock, but Zack did.

  “Janet,” CeeCee hollered and waved at her friend across the courtyard who was manning the stereo system. “Put on Artic Monkeys.”

  Janet complied and “Do I Wanna Know?” beat from the outdoor speakers placed strategically around the pool area, and the song expressed Jack’s sentiments exactly. He wanted CeeCee to never stop hanging on to him, never stop gazing his way with adoring eyes.

  “And I bet you could go for a margarita on the rocks, right?” CeeCee beamed at him, her fingers wrapped possessively around his upper arm.

  Actually, he was thirsty for a tall drink of CeeCee and the last thing he needed was more tequila clouding his brain, making him do dumb things like keep pretending he was his twin brother.

  Speaking of which, this masquerade wasn’t right. He should come clean before things really got out of hand.

  But excitement showed in every feature on CeeCee’s delicate face and she was chattering so fast he could hardly make out what she was saying. He thought she might be lauding his motocross skills.

  Apparently, she was quite thrilled to meet Zack.

  Jealousy, the green-eyed beast, charged through him like an ambulance dispatched to the scene of a serious accident. Simultaneously, his gut clenched in disappointment. As himself, he had never induced this kind of enthusiasm in CeeCee.

  “Jack tells me you’re footloose and fancy-free.” She sent him a coquettish, sidelong glance. “A no-strings-attached kind of guy.”

  As opposed to Jack, a forever kind of man. The kind of man that CeeCee’s ridiculous family curse wouldn’t allow her to date.

  And then it hit him. A bolt from the blue.

  The answer to his problem with CeeCee. He’d been cast so deeply into “friend zoned” that CeeCee had stopped seeing him a viable sexual partner and the only way out of the zone was to change her entire perception of him.

  Owza.

  Why not become Zack? He wasn’t due at the hospital for another month. Everyone thought he was still in Mexico.

  Here, dropped right into his lap, was a primo opportunity to prove to CeeCee she could fall in love with a good, steady guy. Even if he had to use his brother’s persona to convince her. He might not be as interesting as his twin, but dammit, curse or no friggin’ curse, he knew in his soul he and CeeCee were meant to be together. If the only way she would give him a chance was as a sexy motorcycle champion, then he would become that man. Anything to win her.

  “Yeah.” Jack grinned wolfishly, playing his part to the hilt. “That’s me. The happy wanderer. Never in one place for too long. Fathers have been known to lock up their daughters when I roll into town.”

  “You’re scandalous.” Grinning, she swatted him lightly on the shoulder, causing his blood to pump like a faucet.

  “Don’t ever forget it, sweetheart.” He forced himself to remain nonchalant. In actuality, he was about to split right out of his skin.

  She was so close and smelled so nice.

  He was acutely aware of her long bare limbs and her lovely cleavage threatening to overflow her skimpy bikini top. In fact, Jack realized too late, he was drilling a hole through her with his stare.

  She blushed and ducked her head.

  Jack marveled. He’d managed to fluster the unflappable CeeCee. Amazing.

  “Let’s pour you a drink.” She took his hand and led him toward the makeshift bar set up near the diving board.

  He walked gingerly beside her.

  “Hey.” She stopped and peered at his leg. “You’re limping.”

  “Don’
t worry. It’s nothing.”

  “What happened?” Her eyes widened to the size of quarters. “A motorcycle crash?”

  That certainly sounded more macho than the truth, but he was still uncomfortable out-and-out lying to her, so he simply nodded.

  “Oooh,” she said, clearly impressed with his supposed recklessness. “Was the crash scary?”

  He shrugged, doing the strong, silent number.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “A little.” That was true.

  “Poor baby,” she murmured, her tone filled with compassion.

  He was torn, part of him wanted to act tough; another part of him wanted to milk her sympathy for all it was worth.

  What would Zack do?

  Zack wouldn’t be standing here gaping at her like some tongue-tied simpleton. Zack would take full advantage of the situation. Somehow, Zack would have her in his apartment giving him a rubdown in five minutes flat.

  A shudder knifed through Jack at the thought of CeeCee’s fingers gliding over his skin.

  “Well…” He lowered his head until his cheek was almost touching hers. “If you promise not to tell anyone, my knee is aching a lot. I’ve been traveling all day, and I’m ready for bed.”

  At least that was the truth.

  “Oh my goodness, I’ll bet it is. You must be exhausted. And here I’ve been yammering my head off.” She took a step away from him, and he noticed her chest was rising and falling in a quick, heady rhythm, unexpectedly matching his own. “Did Jack tell you I’m a physical therapist?”

  “He mentioned it.”

  She nodded, her fiery-red curls bouncing. “I could look at your knee if you like. Maybe massage it for you.”

  If he liked?

  Not to seem overeager and frighten her away, Jack barely lifted one shoulder. “I don’t want to take you away from your party.”

  She waved a hand. “Never mind. The party’ll be breaking up soon. Most people have to work tomorrow and anyway my friends Janet and Lacy are sharing the hostess duties.”