Chapter 1
Lucas Quinn was twenty-nine, six-foot-two with broad shoulders and long limbs. The white lab coat looked tailor-made on him.
He was the elite surgeon, cold-tempered and a man of few words.
In the five years he'd been at the hospital, no one had ever seen him exchange a single unnecessary word with any female colleague on staff.
When a nurse brought him coffee, he didn't even glance up, only saying, "Put it there."
When a female doctor asked him out to dinner, he replied coldly, "I'm busy."
His world was all about surgery, research, and patients. Behind his back, the nurses whispered about his icy detachment.
Right now, Lucas was looking down at his phone, rounding the corner of the hallway with long, purposeful strides.
Just then, Emily Sweet hurried in from the other side. Neither of them noticed the other, and they crashed right into one another.
The medical record folder flew out, scattered by the wind, with white, pink, and blue papers fluttering all over the floor.
Emily lost her balance, her nose slamming right into a solid, disinfectant-scented chest.
Emily stumbled backward, but a hand shot out, catching her wrist with a grip that was both strong and unerringly precise, holding her steady like a vice.
That force pulled her right back, her forehead bumping against a warm collarbone. Lucas glanced down at the girl who had collided with him, struck by how petite she was.
"S-sorry, Dr. Quinn," Emily blurted out.
Lucas had never imagined a girl could be this soft.
"Damn," he muttered, his voice so rough that it barely sounded like him. Then he straightened up and headed for the operating room.
*****
The lights in the operating room went out. Lucas took off his mask, revealing an icy, almost emotionless face.
At twenty-nine, he was the youngest chief surgeon at Harmony General Hospital. His family ran a chain of private hospitals that practically covered the city, but he acted like a total ascetic. He didn't smoke, didn't drink, and kept his distance from women.
The girls at the nurse's station would whisper and place bets. Either he was gay, or he was some kind of surgical robot, totally lacking any human feelings.
That day, when the new intern nurse, Emily, was hurrying down the hallway with a stack of medical records, she tripped and fell right into his arms.
Lucas looked down. The girl in his arms was so tiny, her lab coat hanging off her like it was two sizes too big, though the buttons looked like they were about to pop.
That delicate little frame, paired with those almost exaggerated curves, she was like a piece of toffee wrapped in shiny candy paper, very soft.
She looked up in a fluster. Her face was delicate and round, her eyes like a startled fawn. Her lips pressed tight with nervousness, pink and almost translucent. "S-sorry, Dr. Quinn."
Lucas stayed silent.
The July sun was brutal, like boiling water pouring down, making one's scalp prickle.
On the eighth floor of Harmony General Hospital, the cardiac surgery hallway was always filled with the mixed scent of disinfectant and anxiety.
Nurses weaved through with their carts, footsteps quick and light, like a flock of sparrows fluttering down the corridor.
"Make way, please." A blur of white shot out of the elevator, clutching a mountain of medical records that towered over her head, only her wide eyes visible above the stack.
Her name was Emily Sweet, twenty-two years old, the newest intern nurse in cardiac surgery, two weeks into the job.
Emily was petite, five-foot-two, and among all the tall nurses, she looked so cute. Her figure was rather curvy, making it a little snug for the buttons of her white coat.
The fabric across her chest was pulled tight, curving enough to hint at something soft and plush underneath, and with every step, it seemed to jiggle ever so slightly beneath the white coat.
She was all delicate bones and tiny frame, but where it counted, she was anything but lacking. Her waist was cinched so slim that one could wrap one's hand around it, but above that, her curves could make anyone's heart race.
Today was Emily's first solo run delivering medical records. Her mentor had warned her. "Get them to the doctor's office before eight."
Now, it was 7:58.
At the end of the hallway, a door swung open. A tall figure stepped out.
Lucas was twenty-nine, stood six-foot-two, with broad shoulders and long legs, and his lab coat fit him like it was tailor-made.
His features were the kind of strikingly handsome with an imposing edge. He had a high brow ridge, a straight nose bridge, and a sharp jawline as if carved meticulously by his own scalpel.
He was the top surgeon, the coldest personality, and barely spoke a word unless necessary. In the five years he'd been at the hospital, no one had ever seen him say anything unnecessary to any woman at work.
When a nurse brought him coffee, he didn't even glance up, only saying, "Put it there."
When a female doctor asked him out to dinner, he replied coldly, "I'm busy."
His world was all about surgery, research, and patients. Behind his back, the nurses whispered about his icy detachment.
Right now, Lucas was looking down at his phone, rounding the corner of the hallway with long, purposeful strides.
Emily came rushing in from the other side. Neither of them noticed the other. Her folder of medical records exploded like confetti, white, pink, and blue papers scattering across the floor.
Emily lost her balance, her nose smacking right into a wall of muscle that smelled faintly of disinfectant.
Emily stumbled backward, but a hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with a grip that was strong and precise, steadying her like steel.
That force yanked her right back, her forehead bumping against a warm collarbone. Lucas looked down at the tiny girl who'd crashed into his arms.
'She's so small,' Lucas thought. The girl pressed against him barely reached his chest, like a flustered bunny bumping into a post.
She was yanked back by the momentum, landing flush against him. Despite the layers of lab coat and scrubs, Lucas could still feel something soft and full pressed tightly against his stomach.
Lucas's fingers froze for a moment. He dropped his gaze, and from this angle, he caught a glimpse of the smooth skin at her lab coat's open collar, her collarbone so delicate that it looked as if a single touch would shatter it.
Below, the fabric was pulled taut in a way that made his throat constrict, rising and falling with her rapid, anxious breaths.
He quickly averted his gaze, his Adam's apple involuntarily bobbing. Emily blurted out, "S-sorry, Dr. Quinn."
Emily thought she was finished. She'd heard all about Lucas the very first day she started in the department. Her mentor had drilled it into her. "You can mess with anyone in cardiac surgery, but never Dr. Quinn.
"He's a neat freak and a perfectionist. Not a single wrinkle allowed on his lab coat. If you see him, walk the other way, remember?"
But instead of avoiding him, Emily had gone and crashed right into him. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. I was running too fast and didn't look where I was going."
Emily was so flustered that she could barely string a sentence together, her hands trembling as she crouched to gather the scattered records. Her eyes were red with anxiety. Lucas didn't budge.
He stood there, looking down at the little nurse fumbling on the floor.
From where he stood, she was huddled in a tiny ball, her lab coat bunched around her knees like a mushroom soaked by the rain.
When she leaned forward to grab a paper, the fabric of her lab coat stretched tight across her back, outlining a waist so impossibly slim, and below that, the gentle curve of her figure.
He shut his eyes for a second, then crouched down. Picking up two test results she couldn't reach, he held them out to her.
Lucas crouched in front of her, tucked the test results into her arms, and then stood up, his voice back to its usual icy tone. "Don't run next time. There are stretchers and equipment in the hallway. It's no joke if you crash into something."
With that, he turned and walked away. Emily glanced down at her lab coat. When she'd crouched, the collar had gaped open a little too much, and the edge of her pale pink bra was barely peeking out.
Emily quickly clutched her collar, her face turning red. Did he see that? No way, right? He was looking at her face the whole time.
But the way he crouched down... Emily shook her head hard, trying to shake off all those crazy thoughts.
Lucas wouldn't do such a shameless thing. Emily reassured herself. She took a deep breath, got up, and hurried off to the nurse's station with the medical records in her arms.
At the corner behind her, Lucas leaned against the wall and rubbed his forehead.
He was twenty-nine years old, and it was the first time he had known a girl could feel that soft.
"Damn," he muttered, his voice so rough that it barely sounded like him. Then he straightened up and headed for the operating room.
The lights in the operating room flickered on. Lucas stood at the table, scalpel in hand, his eyes icy and razor-sharp, like the blade he was holding.
By noon, the surgery was done. As Lucas walked past the treatment room, he caught sight of Emily, tiny in her white coat, up on her tiptoes, reaching desperately for a bag of fluids on the top shelf.
No matter how much she stretched, she couldn't reach it. She went up higher, but still came up short. Her lab coat was pulled up as she stretched her arms overhead.
Emily was strung tight like a bow, her chest pushed out more by the pose, and her lab coat buttons looked ready to burst at any moment.
Lucas paused at the doorway, watching her like a little kitten stretching up for something out of reach, hopping and reaching, but still coming up short.
Emily was still wrestling with the IV bag when suddenly, an arm reached over her head from behind, snatching it effortlessly.
That arm brushed past her ear, carrying the crisp scent of disinfectant and his chilly presence. Emily went stiff.
She wasn't exactly hugged, but as his arm stretched over her head, the tall figure behind her loomed, his shadow wrapping her up completely.
Her back was nearly pressed against his chest, her head bumping right into his collarbone.
She was slotted right into his arms, like he'd wrapped her up without trying.
"This one?" His deep voice rumbled from above, his breath barely grazing the top of her hair.
Emily's neck flushed bright red. She stiffly tried to turn, only to realize she couldn't move at all.
He was so close that her nose nearly brushed his lab coat as she looked up at him.
Emily's breathing sped up. She shrank back, her back hitting the cold cabinet. She was trapped, nowhere left to go.
"D-Dr. Quinn, that's the one I needed," Emily stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I know," he replied.
But he didn't move away. Lucas's gaze lingered on her lips for a moment. Then he straightened up, stepped back, and handed her the IV bag.
"Next time you can't reach something, ask someone for help," he said, his tone cool. "Falling isn't a joke."
Emily took the IV bag, her fingers trembling, head bowed so she couldn't meet his eyes. "T-thank you, Dr. Quinn."
Lucas didn't say another word. He turned and walked away. He walked into his office, expressionless, closed the door, and grabbed the glass of water on his desk, downing a big gulp of icy water.
The icy water slid down his throat, but it couldn't put out that tiny, inexplicable flame burning in his chest.
He leaned back in his chair. Then, doing something so absurd he couldn't believe himself, he picked up his phone and pulled up the list of intern nurses in cardiac surgery.
Emily was 22 years old. Her start date was July 1st, and her internship was six months. In the photo, she was wearing her nurse's uniform, smiling softly at the camera, showing off an adorable snaggletooth.
Her face was round, and her eyes were round. She looked like a sugar-dusted bun fresh out of the oven. Lucas couldn't take his eyes off that photo for a whole minute.
Then he locked his phone and placed it face down on the desk. "Lucas, pull yourself together," he told himself. "She's your colleague, an intern nurse, only twenty-two years old. She is seven years younger than you."
He picked up the report again, forcing his attention back to the patient's scans.
Lucas slapped the report down on the desk, stood up, and walked over to the window. He pushed it open, letting the hot July air rush in.
At six in the evening, Emily finished her shift and changed into her own clothes. It was a white cotton tee and a light blue denim skirt.
She came out of the locker room, head down, scrolling through her phone as she walked toward the elevator. "Emily." A low voice came from behind her.
Emily jumped, turning around to see Lucas at the other end of the hallway, now in street clothes.