Only Yours. Сьюзен Мэллери

before stopping against the very hard floor, his body slamming into hers.

      Montana lay there, dazed. She couldn’t breathe. All she felt was dead weight on top of her and a warm tongue licking her bare ankle.

      The man got off her and knelt beside her.

      “Are you hurt?” he demanded.

      She shook her head, then managed to gasp in air. Fluffy moved closer and sat down, looking calm and well behaved. A trick Montana wasn’t going to fall for.

      The man reached for her. He ran his large, long-fingered hands up and down her legs and arms, then felt the back of her head. His touch was impersonal, but it was the most action she’d had in months. Before she could figure out if she liked it, she looked at his face.

      He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Eyes the color of green smoke, fringed by dark lashes. A perfect mouth, with a strong jaw. His cheekbone—

      “She’s fine,” he said, turning to speak with someone behind him.

      When he shifted his head she saw the other side of his face. Thick red scars grew from his shirt collar, along the side of his neck to his left jaw and cheek. They spiraled, creating an angry pattern that looked painful and pulled his skin.

      She had a feeling her shock showed, but he didn’t seem to notice. Instead he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.

      “Dizzy?” he asked curtly.

      “No,” she managed, now that she could breathe again.

      “Good.” He moved closer. “What the hell is wrong with you? What kind of irresponsible idiot allows something like this to happen? You should be arrested and charged with attempted murder. Do you know what kind of germs that dog has? That you have? This is a burn unit. These patients are vulnerable to infection. They are suffering with a level of pain you can’t begin to imagine.”

      She took a step back. “I’m sorry,” she began.

      “Do you think anyone here gives a damn about you being sorry? Your thoughtlessness is criminal.”

      She could feel his rage in every word. Even more scary than what he was saying was the way he was saying it. Not with a loud voice and a lot of energy, but with a coldness that left her feeling small and stupid.

      “I didn’t—”

      “Think,” he interrupted. “Yes, that much is clear. I doubt you think much about anything. Now, get out.”

      Embarrassment gripped her. She was aware of the other staff members hovering close by, listening.

      Montana knew that Fluffy’s running through the hospital was a bad thing. But it wasn’t as if she’d planned the event.

      “It was an accident,” she said, raising her chin.

      “That’s not an excuse.”

      “I suppose you’ve never made a mistake.”

      His gray-green eyes flashed with derision. “Have you ever had a burn? Touched a hot pan or the burner on a stove? Do you remember what that felt like? Imagine that over a significant part of your body. The healing process is slow and what we do here to help it along is excruciating. On this ward, an infection kills. So any mistakes I’ve made have no bearing on this discussion.”

      There was no point in telling him that the work she did was important. She often came to the hospital with therapy dogs. Those therapy dogs helped patients heal, especially children. But she suspected this particular man wouldn’t care about that.

      “You’re right,” she said slowly. “There’s no excuse for what happened here today. I’m sorry.”

      His mouth twisted. “Get out.”

      His complete dismissal stunned her. “Excuse me?”

      “Are you deaf? Get out. Go away. Take your damn dog with you and don’t come back.”

      Montana was willing to admit fault and take the blame, but to have her apology ignored was just plain rude. Being a screwup didn’t mean she was a bad person.

      “You’re a doctor?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer to the question.

      The man’s eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

      “You might want to take that stick out of your ass. It’ll make it easier to pretend to be human, which will probably help your patients.”

      With that she grabbed Fluffy’s leash, ignored the fact that the dog was licking the doctor’s hand and walked out of the burn unit, her head held high.

      On her way back to the kennel, she kept a firm grip on Fluffy, but no amount of holding could erase the fact that they’d both messed up big-time. Montana loved her job. It had taken her a long time to find out what she was supposed to do with her life. She loved training the dogs, and working with kids at the hospital and older folks at the nursing home. She’d started a reading program at all five local elementary schools.

      She could lose everything because of what had happened today. If the administrator called Max and insisted Montana not be allowed back in the hospital, her boss would fire her. A fair amount of the therapy work took place there. If she couldn’t go to the hospital, she wasn’t much use to him. And then what?

      She knew she only had herself to blame. Max had made it clear Fluffy wasn’t going to be successful in the program, but Montana had wanted to give the dog another chance.

      All her life Montana had been different. On her good days, she told herself she was a little flaky. On her bad days, well, the words were a lot worse than that.

      Regardless of the label, it appeared that nothing had changed. She was still incapable of getting anything right.

      ORDER WAS RESTORED on the burn ward in a matter of minutes. Simon Bradley dismissed the intruder from his mind and continued his rounds. His last patient of the morning was the most worrisome. Nine-year-old Kalinda Riley had been brought in two days before when the family’s gas barbecue had exploded. Kalinda was the only one hurt.

      She’d been burned over forty percent of her body. He’d performed surgery yesterday. If she survived, it would be the first operation of many. For the rest of her life, her existence would be defined by her burns. He should know.

      Her parents were devastated and frightened. They wanted answers and he had none to give them. The next few weeks would decide if the little girl lived or died. He didn’t like to guess or assume, but he also couldn’t escape the heaviness in his chest.

      “Dr. Bradley.”

      He smiled at Kalinda’s mother. Mrs. Riley was not yet thirty and probably pretty when she wasn’t pale with worry and fear. Kalinda was her only child.

      “She’s been quiet,” the mother continued.

      “We’re keeping her sedated as she heals.”

      “There was a dog here before.”

      Simon tensed. “It won’t happen again.”

      Mrs. Riley touched his arm. “She opened her eyes when she heard the commotion. She asked to see the puppy.”

      Simon turned toward Kalinda’s room. The child shouldn’t be that lucid. He would examine her, then look over her medications.

      “Did she say if she was in pain?” he asked.

      Later they would teach her ways to manage her discomfort. That’s what they called it. Discomfort. Not agony or torture or suffering. All the things a serious burn could be. Later she would learn about breathing and meditation and visualization. For now drugs would get her through.

      “She said she wanted to hold the puppy.”

      He drew in a breath. “It was an eighty-pound mutt that doesn’t belong in a hospital.”

      “Oh.”