Taming Her Navy Doc by Amy Ruttan Page A

his fault Liam had died.
    Thorne couldn’t do that to anyone else.
    So these emotions Erica was stirring in him scared him.
    He’d been alone almost a decade and managed. What he needed to do was get control of himself. Then he could work with her.
    No problem.
    Yeah. Right.
    He headed into the ICU, sliding the isolation door shut behind him. Erica glanced up at him briefly as she continued to write in Ryder’s chart.
    “Captain,” she said offhandedly, greeting him.
    “Commander,” Thorne acknowledged, moving to the far side of the bed to put a distance between them. “How’s he doing?”
    “Stable.” She said the word in a way that made Thorne think being stable was sufficient and in some cases—especially this one, where it wasn’t even as serious as other wounds—stable should’ve been enough.
    “Any sign of infection?”
    “No.” Her cheeks flushed briefly.
    “Well, that’s good. If the wound becomes infected and he doesn’t respond to antibiotics we’ll have to amputate.”
    She looked at him. “You have an obsession with ­amputation.”
    “Can you blame me?” And even though he knew he shouldn’t, and even though he knewshe already knew his leg was gone, he bent over and rolled up his scrub leg. “Titanium.”
    Their gazes locked and his pulse was pounding in his ears. He waited to see if she would admit to it. On one hand, he hoped she would and on the other hand, he hoped she wouldn’t, but how long could they keep up this facade?
    “I know,” she said quietly without batting an eyelash, before she turned to her chart.
    Thorne was stunned she admitted to it. When they’d first met again here in Okinawa she’d acted like she didn’t remember him, just as he’d pretended he didn’t recall her.
    He smoothed down the scrubs over his prosthetic leg and then straightened up. The tension in the room was palpable. Usually, tension never bothered him and he thrived in high-stress situations, but this was different.
    Against his better judgment, and under the guise that he wanted to see Corporal Ryder’s charts, he moved behind her. Which was a mistake. Her hair smelled faintly like coconuts. He was so close he could reach out and touch her, run his fingers through her short honey-colored hair. He resisted and instead took the chart from her, flipping through it.
    “Just a fever, then?”
    “Y-yes,” she stuttered. “Yes, a fever. Thereshouldn’t be a reason why his vitals are just stable, because they were just that. One small change…”
    Thorne stepped away from her. “I understand. As long as there isn’t infection.”
    He didn’t look at her, but he got the sense she wanted to say more, and he wanted her to say more.
    “You know,” she whispered, her voice shaking a bit with frustration.
    Good.
He wanted her to hate him. It would be easier.
    Hate me.
    “Yes.” He handed her back the chart. Thorne knew she was annoyed. It was good that she was, maybe then she’d avoid him. If she hated him, then he’d be less tempted to want her. There would be little chance of them ever being together, which was for the best.
    Yeah. Tell yourself another lie, why don’t you?
    “Looks good, Commander Griffin. Keep me updated on any changes in the corporal’s status.” He turned and left the ICU, trying to put a safe distance between the two of them.
    The hiss of the isolation room’s door behind him let him know she was following him. Why did he think she wouldn’t follow him? From the little he knew of Commander Erica Griffin, heknew she wasn’t the kind of officer to take anything lying down.
    He was in for a fight.
    She grabbed his arm to stop him. “I don’t think we’re done talking, Captain Wilder.”
    They were standing right in front of the busy nurses’ station, where a few nurses stopped what they were doing. Even though they weren’t looking their way, he could tell they were listening in earnest.
    Not many officers stood up to him.
    “Commander, I don’t think