Chapter 1

"Slow down!" my best friend and cousin Keegan yells to me as I blow past her.

When you work as a surgeon, every second counts. Every patient on your table is someone else's someone you're there to save. As a surgical resident, my ass belongs to the hospital. And as a resident who hopes to eventually become a trauma surgeon, when I get a stat page to the ER, I run at a goddamn sprint.

It doesn't matter that I'm wolfing down a protein bar mid-stride or that I haven't slept in far too many hours. I have another five to go on this bitch of a shift that doesn't seem to be quite done with me yet.

"Can't! Stat page to the ER. Something about a car accident and a family."

"Oh," she remarks with the same trepidation I have in my gut. She knows what happened to my parents when I was six. She knows they died in this very hospital while I was unharmed in the back seat and how every freaking car accident that comes in makes my stomach feel as shitty as if I just ate a chili cheese dog and chased it down with a sixteen-ounce Guinness.

People always wonder how I manage to work here. The weird truth is it somehow makes me feel closer to them. Like they're watching over me here. This hospital is part of my story, the tragic part, and I work as hard as I can to change that around and rewrite it.

"Yeah. Oh." My head flips to my left, catching her out of the corner of my eye because suddenly she's beside me. "The storms outside are causing all kinds of pileups. Why are you running with me? You're an OB."

"Because I have to tell you about the hot new doctor."

I roll my eyes and dodge a gurney, only to come to a halt as I reach the bank of elevators. "I don't care about a new hot doctor," I puff out, trying to catch my breath.

The side of my fist pounds into the button and I hold my ribs, wheezing while I also try to finish off my protein bar because eating time is precious. I tuck a loose strand of brown hair that fell out of my messy bun behind my ear only to think better of it and yank the elastic out to quickly redo it since half my hair is now plastered to my slightly sweaty forehead as the protein bar hangs from my lips.

"Yes, you do," she assures me, her hands on her narrow hips, all business.

"Don't you have patients?" I garble around my last bite.

She waves me off. "None past five centimeters dilated. I swear, the storm is making every woman go into labor. But like I was saying, you totally will care because not only is the new doctor hot, but you'll also be seeing a lot of him." She gives me a devilish smirk. "Since he's the new chief of trauma surgery."

"What?" My head whips in her direction, my eyebrows pinched tighter than a nun's ass. "No way. I haven't heard about any new doctor in trauma, and that's the sort of thing to hit the gossip mill at full speed. Not to mention Wes would have told me about this."

Wes Kincaid is not only the current head of trauma, but he's also my mentor and friends with my uncles. I've known him my entire life. So again, he would have told me. Right?

She shakes her head. "It was hush-hush. Rumor has it the contract was just signed this morning. He's some hotshot from the Midwest. Maybe Mayo? Or was it Cleveland?" She tilts her head contemplatively before just as quickly waving that away. "I can't remember. I overheard my dad talking to Wes this morning, so you know it's no bullshit. But then I saw the new doctor earlier and whoa, holy hotness Batman. Like epic hotness. Like, I'd take you down in a cage fight over his hotness."

I stare dumbfounded at my friend. "I don't even know what to say. You're telling me I'm going to have a new boss soon? This isn't a small thing for me. You know that."

"Yep. But at least he's a hot new boss."

"You mentioned that already. About ten times now," I deadpan as I scrub my hands up and down my face, too tired to try and weed this out. "What's his name? This new hotshot you're already swooning over?" Just then the elevator doors open, and my phone vibrates against my hip. "Never mind. I don't have time. Tell me later."

I walk backward onto the elevator and hit the button for the ER, checking my phone as I do.

"Katy!"

"What?" I glance up at her just as the doors close to see her eyes wide with meaning as if she's trying to relay something to me. I tilt my head, following her as the doors come together, but they close before I can figure out what any of that is.

Weird.

But then again, so is Keegan.

I go back to the text on my phone.

Wes: When you're done with the patient in trauma two, come find me. I have something I need to tell you.

Wow. So I guess it's true. I'll have a new boss soon. And since I'm seriously hoping to secure a trauma fellowship here, I need this new hotshot guy to like me. Or else I'm going to be stuck trying to find an elite trauma fellowship elsewhere, likely outside of Boston, which considering all my family and friends are here, is far from my first choice.

"This seriously sucks."

"What does?"

"Ah!" I jump in the air and spin around, having been so preoccupied I hadn't realized there was someone else on the elevator with me. Only the second I start to get a good look at the man who was standing silently—and directly, I might add—behind me, the lights flicker and go out. The elevator makes a strange noise and then coasts to a stop.

What the fuck?

"Um." Fear ripples through me, and my instinct is to go to the panel and repeatedly smash the open button with my fist until the doors do just that. Or scream for help. Or generally lose my freaking mind. My lungs empty and immediately refill, but I can't seem to catch my breath.

"Don't move," the man demands urgently. "The power must have gone out. It's been going out all over the city today from the storms. It'll likely come back on in a second, or the hospital's generators will kick in."

"Right. And I should try not to panic, correct? Because I'll be honest with you, this is legit one of my biggest fears and a reason why I take the stairs whenever I can. Why didn't I take the stairs? It's only ten floors."

He chuckles. "Don't worry. We're perfectly safe. All modern elevators should have safety lights and the fan should keep going."

"I hate to be the one to point out the negative, but the lights are out, though bonus, I do hear the fan in the ceiling."

"Yeah, I'm noticing that. I take it this elevator isn't the newest?"

I snort. "It's been here since I was a kid, and I don't think it was new then. And not to be a total downer, but that generator you promised me isn't kicking in either."

He audibly sighs. "So it seems. Okay then. Plan B." I hear him move around, and then the screen of his phone lights up, illuminating his downturned face in weird shadows and a blue glow. "There we go." Turning on his flashlight, he flips the phone around and goes straight for the control panel which appears to be dead. "There has to be a maintenance or emergency number to call."

"How do you know so much about elevators?"

His head turns slightly in my direction, and I catch a hint of a smile before he turns back to the panel. "This is my third time being stuck in one."

"Third?!" I bark incredulously. "Who gets stuck in an elevator three times? Remind me never to get on an elevator with you again."

He laughs, the sound rich and smooth, and not the least bit ruffled. Unlike me. I'm a half-beat from hysterical. "When we get off this one, I'll be sure to remind you."

"I suppose I should be grateful you've done this as many times as you have and are alive to talk about it. And get stuck a third time." Before he can locate the number, my phone rings in my hand. "Even better than that number, it's my friend, Keegan."

I answer. "Hey, Keegs."

"Oh my god! There is no power. As in, the main generator isn't working and the backup generator is only powering the red outlets and necessary life-support systems. Please tell me you're not?—"

"Stuck in the elevator?" I finish for her. "I am."

"Holy shit. I'm calling Bruce. He'll know what to do."

"Sounds good. Thanks!"

"Don't go anywhere." Then she laughs awkwardly. "Sorry, I'm flustered. I have laboring women here with minimal monitors and my best friend is trapped in a freaking hospital elevator. I'll call you back."

She hangs up on me, and since it seems I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, I take a seat, scoot my butt until I find the wall, and press my back into it. Gross or not, I'm too exhausted and scared to stand anymore. "Did you hear any of that?"

"Yes," the stranger admits. "Your friend is a phone shouter."

I brush some of my hair back from my face and draw my knees up. "Don't I know it. Bruce is the head of maintenance. Keegan knows everyone because her family more or less owns this hospital—well, and a few others in the area—but her family has been working here as doctors and nurses forever. Lucky for us, she's also my quasi-cousin, so she'll get this sorted even if my last name isn't Fritz like hers is."

"Quasi-cousin?"

"Don't ask. It's a long story. I should probably let my boss know where I am."

I text Wes, informing him I'm stuck in the elevator and that I won't be able to get down to the ER to check on the patient in trauma. I hope the patients are stable. It was a stat page, and that makes me uneasy. Plus, if any of them require surgery or other intervention, the elevators aren't working.

Thankfully, he replies immediately to let me know he's there covering, that the patients are, in fact, stable, and that help is on the way soon since Keegan already put out the alert.

"Good news. My boss says help is on its way. I'm Katy, by the way. I might keep talking because talking is keeping me from fully losing my shit over the fact that I'm trapped in a pitch-black elevator in a hospital with no power."

"It's nice to meet you, Katy. I'm Bennett," he says, taking a seat beside me, pointing his flashlight up at the elevator ceiling which gives me enough light to see him.

And when I do, I gasp. Out loud. Which admittedly isn't my proudest moment, but it can't be helped. At least I don't cover my mouth with my hand or point like a loony at him. But still. Holy shit.

Bennett Lawson. Bennett fucking Lawson.

It's a good thing I'm sitting down, or I'd likely pass out. I haven't seen him in a long time—seven years to be exact—but the way my already wildly beating heart is now hammering in my chest, you'd never know it's been that long.

He was chief resident when I was a third-year medical student.

But more than that, we shared a very drunken, very hot kiss one night at a party. A kiss I'm positive he doesn't remember even if it made my toes curl. He left the next day for a fellowship across the country, and that was that.

But before the hot kiss, I idolized him. He was so smart and amazing with a scalpel. Undoubtedly, he was the best teacher I had as a med student. Residents, especially chief residents, never take time with med students, certainly not third-year med students.

They're the lowest on the totem pole of the medical hierarchy. The scut puppies.

But Bennett Lawson taught me. He brought me into the OR and worked with me on cases. I learned so much under him.

The only memorable thing about me was possibly that kiss in a dark corner where no one could see us. We'd been talking a lot that night. I didn't even bother to flirt. He was a lot older than me, and again, I was only a medical student.

I told him the truth about why I wanted to be a trauma surgeon, explaining how my parents had died when I was just a little girl, and I was in the car with them when it happened. I remember I went to the bathroom, and when I came out, he grabbed my hand and dragged me into that corner, threaded his hands up into my hair, and then kissed me.

After a few minutes or so, he pulled back and murmured against my lips, "For luck." And that was it. He was gone.

But now he's here, in my hospital, and after what Keegan told me about Wes bringing in a hotshot trauma surgeon, I have a gut-sinking feeling he's my new boss. And judging by the complete lack of recognition in his eyes, I was correct in my assumption that he doesn't remember me at all. I do my best not to be disappointed by that.

I'm stuck in an elevator with my new boss, who also just so happens to be the man I made out with seven years ago. Talk about bad luck and timing.

"Are you okay?" he asks, taking note of the fact that all the blood has drained from my face and I'm making weird noises in an elevator as I blatantly stare at him.

I blink and look away. "Yes. Um. Just… nervous. Confined spaces aren't my favorite, and stuck elevators even less so." At least that's not a lie.

He smiles and I die a little. Keegan—as usual—wasn't wrong. Just looking at him I know exactly why everyone is swooning. His shorter on the sides and slightly longer on top dark, wavy hair flops in an almost Superman way on his forehead, making his startlingly blue eyes and black lashes that frame them stand out even more against the harsh flashlight. His smooth, sharp jaw was obviously hand-chiseled by God, and when he smiles like he is now, angels weep at the sheer perfection of his white teeth and fantastic chin dimple, giving this man a slightly boyish appearance.

"Don't be nervous," he says softly, though there is an obvious hint of humor in his smile and glittering eyes. "Despite the weird situation and lack of lighting, we won't plummet to our deaths or anything."

I shake my head at that, turning on my flashlight and setting it down on the floor so it also shines up. "You must give motivational speeches for a living. You're very comforting and inspiring, Bennett."

He laughs, rubbing a hand across his sharp jaw and bringing his knees up so he can rest his forearms on them. "Sorry. That probably wasn't the right thing to say. The last time I was stuck in an elevator, I was with two three-hundred-pound offensive linemen, and I was their quarterback's doctor. That time, I was worried that was a possibility. I'd happily be stuck alone with you over them anytime."

"Same. Definitely same. Though I won't tell my cousin Mason that. He's a quarterback, not a lineman, but still." I stare down at my hands, closing my eyes. Jesus, I need to shut up with the nervous talking.

"You have a lot of cousins," he notes, not commenting on my inane babbling.

"Yet another long story, but most of them aren't blood."

He reaches out, grasping my chin and lifting it until my eyes are back on his. "Are you doing okay?"

No. Definitely not. Not with his large, warm hand on my face making butterflies drunkenly zip through my stomach and chest. I lick my lips and manage a nod.

"Good. Keep looking at me. It'll help."

Is he kidding? That's making it harder to breathe, not easier.

He stares directly into my eyes for a beat, smiles, drags his thumb along my jaw, and then releases me, but I can't tell if that extra touch was an intentional move or not. "What kind of doctor are you, Katy?"

"How do you know I'm a doctor?"

"Your badge tells me so." He points a lazy finger at it. "It also says surgery."

And my last name, so now he knows it, and obviously, that did nothing to jog his memory. Again, I try to remember it's for the best if he doesn't remember the last time he saw me.

"I'm a trauma surgeon."

His head tilts in my direction, and his eyes dance about my face. "Funny, so am I. And we happen to be stuck in the same elevator together. That's an odd coincidence."

"Well, you know what they say about coincidences, don't you?"

His lips twitch. "No. What?"

"They're coincidental," I deadpan.

He laughs at my corny joke and inches in closer to me. "So they are." He angles his head the other way, giving me a knowing smirk. "You didn't seem surprised I was a trauma surgeon too."

I shake my head, unable to stop my Cheshire grin.

"You know who I am, don't you? Even though you're not supposed to yet."

I fold my knees and lean forward, twisting so I can see his face. "Yep. That same phone-shouting cousin of mine was telling me about you before I got on the elevator. In addition to knowing everyone in this hospital, she also knows all the gossip before everyone else does."

"Ah." He shifts, extending his legs and crossing them at the ankles. "That explains the wild look she was giving you."

"A look I clearly missed since I didn't even register you were on the elevator with me. I thought I was alone."

"Instead of on an elevator with your new boss," he plays, shifting in even closer to me until his leg almost touches mine and his shoulder is only a few inches away. "I'm sorry you found out that way. I believe Wes was planning to tell each of his fifth-year residents individually before the announcement was made."

I shrug. "It's fine." It's actually not fine. Wes knows I plan to try and get pregnant on my own in the coming months, and he was on board with it. Who knows how Bennett will take to that or if it'll affect my chances at the fellowship I'm after? "He texted me right when I got on the elevator. I suppose panicking in an elevator isn't the best first impression a trauma surgeon can make on her new boss."

"The first time this happened, I panicked too. I think that's a pretty standard reaction." He leans in, his lips twisting into a wicked grin. "And trust me, Katy, you've already made a perfect impression on me."

My belly flutters, and I have to remind myself that he's simply being polite. Nothing more. "I likely should take this time to suck up to you. Tell you I'm the best trauma surgeon in the program. But that's not exactly my style."

He dips his head, almost as if he's telling me a secret, his mouth near my ear. "You don't have to. I already know you are. Wes speaks very highly of you. He tells me you're his ace."

I inch in too. I can't seem to stop it. The energy flowing between us is too electric, too delicious to resist. Even if I know I should. "Rumor has it you're a hotshot from somewhere in the Midwest."

"I came here from the Mayo Clinic."

A smile curls up my face. "You're not denying you're a hotshot."

"You're not denying you're an ace," he retorts, playing with me.

"Nope. I'm the best."

"Of that, I have no doubt," he maintains, tipping his head down and inching forward. His shoulder brushes mine, and my breath catches. I'm positive he hears it. "Still, I'll refrain from making a final determination until after I see you in action in the OR."

The air drifts out of my lungs as he tucks a strand of wayward hair behind my ears, making warm tingles skate across my skin and raising the hairs on the back of my neck. His touch is so unexpected, so intimate, it shocks me, making my heart lurch in my chest.

Like his hand on my chin or the brush of his shoulder, just as quickly as it was there, it's gone, his hand returning to his lap, but his magnetic gaze hasn't left mine, making the air in the elevator feel thick and intense.

But worse than that, he smells good. Not like the hospital—which is what I'm positive I must smell like—but like tea tree oil and musk. Like sandalwood and spice. Like men's bodywash, which in my humble opinion, is more delicious than cologne.

I'm not thinking about the fact that I'm stuck in an elevator or that he's my new boss. I'm thinking about that night so long ago. The one where he pulled me into a corner and kissed me like my mouth was everything he had been searching for his entire life.

And it needs to stop. Now.

That was a long time ago, and I'm not that girl anymore. Moreover, I refuse to ever be her again. My career and the things I'm trying for mean too much to me, and with him now running the trauma department, he holds my future in his hands.

I move to pull back, suddenly realizing our proximity when the lights pop on and the elevator bounces before it starts moving again. I shoot up to my feet, and he does the same, albeit at a slightly slower pace.

"Looks like the power came back on. And we survived without plummeting to our deaths," I tease awkwardly, my voice high-pitched. Mercifully, the elevator chimes, and the doors open. "Thank you for, well, I don't know. Making it so I didn't panic too much. I have to go check on my patient. See you around, Dr. Lawson."

I move to escape, needing to flee and get my head back on straight where it belongs when he reaches out and grabs my arm, stopping me. He steps in behind me, his mouth close to my ear, and he whispers, "It was nice spending time alone in the dark with you again, Katy. See you around."

He releases me, and I stagger out of the elevator, stunned speechless.

Son of a bitch. He does remember me. And our kiss.