by Terri Reed
Nick shook his head. “I don’t need to go to the hospital.”
“Nick!” A tall man wearing a long wool coat over a double-breasted suit and wing tips shoved his way through the crowd. “Are you hurt? Oh, man, tell me you’re not hurt!”
“No, I’m good,” Nick said and sat up.
“Sir, please, let’s get you onto the toboggan,” the ski patrol insisted.
Waving off the guy, Nick said, “No way. I can go on my own two feet.” He rolled to all fours and then rose.
A cheer erupted from the crowd.
Nick wobbled. Julie reached out to steady him, along with everyone else. “Stubborn man,” she muttered.
He grinned at her. “You don’t know the half of it.”
“You need to be checked out ASAP!” the well-dressed man exclaimed, looking a little green. “You can’t have an injury this close to the games.”
“I’m fine. Relax,” Nick insisted.
“I won’t relax until the doctors say you’re fine,” the man shot back.
Two skiers, wearing ski suits matching Nick’s, positioned themselves on either side of Nick. The Thunderbird logo graced the back of Nick’s ski suit, distinguishing him from the other two. The muscled man in black fell in step behind them.
“Come on, dude,” the guy on the right said. “Let’s get you to the doctor.”
They half carried him toward the Mt. Bachelor medical clinic tent set up nearby.
Julie blinked and forced herself to remember why she was there. She turned to face Bob and stared into the camera. “Nick Walsh, ladies and gentlemen. Undoubtedly one of the best aerial freestyle skiers in the country. Not many people could have dropped fifty feet in the air and walked away to ski again.”
She prayed that last bit was true. The country was counting on him doing the U.S. proud by medaling.
“Come on,” she said to Bob and followed Nick toward the urgent-care tent.
“Nick!” a woman in the crowd called out. “Nick, are you okay? It’s me, Kitty.”
Nick didn’t acknowledge the female’s cry.
Julie wasn’t sure which of the numerous women pressing up against the barrier had called out. A girlfriend?
“Get a shot of the crowd,” she instructed Bob.
As soon as he finished panning the crowd, she hurried around the corner of the urgent-care tent. She hustled so she was in front of Nick and his entourage.
Nick stopped, forcing his companions to do the same. “Jules, is that you?”
Surprise, closely followed by pleasure, rushed through her, heating her cheeks. “Hey, Nick.” She gave herself a mental shake. Do your job! She thrust the microphone toward him. “Do you know what went wrong?”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “That wasn’t meant to be a monoskiing trick.”
“Any idea why your ski came off?”
He tried to sidestep by her, his expression darkening. “I have ideas.”
Frustrated that he wouldn’t share, she moved into his path. “Will you be doing a second run?”
“No, I won’t tonight.” He zigged to go around her, taking his buddies with him.
Disappointed he wasn’t giving her more, she zagged.
His blue eyes flashed with annoyance, but his smile stayed in place.
“We’re glad you weren’t hurt,” she stated into the microphone.
“Me, too.” He tried again to move past her.
Knowing she’d have his attention during the interview and she wouldn’t be so easily dismissed, she acquiesced and stepped back. “I’m looking forward to interviewing you later.”
His smile faltered. “No interviews.”
“Nick Walsh. What a kidder you are!” she quipped into the microphone, trying to salvage the live shot and keep it on a positive tone.
Staring at his retreating back, Julie pressed her lips together. The interview had been arranged. She’d been assured Nick would cooperate. Obviously he hadn’t been informed yet.
Gathering her composure, she plastered on a smile and turned back to the camera. “Exciting turn of events tonight at the Festival of Snow. But thankfully Nick Walsh is unharmed. I will be interviewing him later for a special segment of Northwest Edition. Stay tuned.”
Julie made a cut motion with her hand, indicating for Bob to cut the feed, then ducked through the tent flaps. Inside the clinic tent, welcome warmth seeped through her, making her limbs tingle. There were several screens lined up to cordon off makeshift exam rooms.
A woman seated behind a table glanced up. “Can I help you?”
“Nick Walsh.”
“Excuse us!” An elderly man elbowed his way past Julie. “My wife is having trouble breathing.”
The woman jumped up and came around the table to help the man with the pale older woman. “Let’s get you settled over here.”
She glanced distractedly at Julie and pointed toward the farthest screen.
“Your husband’s behind curtain number three.”
Julie drew back. “Oh, I’m—”
The woman turned her back, cutting Julie off as she led the older couple toward an exam table.
Julie hesitated for a moment, not comfortable letting the woman believe she was Nick’s wife, but seeing no opportunity to correct her, she walked away in search of Nick.
Voices raised in argument directed the way. She stopped just inside the screen barrier.
“I didn’t pass out,” Nick said, his voice raspy with irritation. He’d removed his goggles and helmet and sat on an exam table. Though he looked older than the last time she’d seen him in person, he was still handsome, even when pale and grouchy. “I had the wind knocked from me, that’s all.”
“Doesn’t matter,” the well-dressed man insisted. “You’re going to the local hospital for a head scan. The doctor agrees. He’s arranging it now.”
“I don’t need the hospital!”
“We already know he’s not right in the head,” said one of the skiers who’d helped him from the arena. He had blond hair badly in need of a trim and a scraggly beard that was so popular with guys under thirty.
“The scan will only prove it,” the other skier, who had light brown hair and brown eyes, joked.
“What are you two still doing in here?” the well-dressed man snapped. “Get out there and do your jumps. I can’t have all three of you out of the competition!”
Slipping past Julie with curious glances, the two skiers beat a hasty retreat.
Nick shrugged out of the top layer of his ski suit. A dark purple bruise covered his left arm starting below his elbow, spreading up his biceps and disappearing beneath his Dri-FIT T-shirt. Julie gasped at sight of his injury.
The big man in black, who had his back to her, swiveled and blocked her path.
Nick’s eyes widened. “No, it’s okay. Let Jules through.” Then a slow smile curved his mouth. “I never turn away a beautiful woman. Especially one in head-to-toe pink.”
Heat crept into her cheeks, but she refused to respond to his comment.
The well-dressed man moved closer to inspect Nick’s bruised skin. “Is your arm broken? Please tell me it’s not broken. You can’t compete with a broken arm!”
“No, it’s not broken,” Nick said, bending his arm on a wince. His gaze zeroed on his manager. “Gordon, you need to find the ski—” Nick flicked a quick glance at Julie. He seemed to hesitate a moment before saying, “Check the binding.”
“Is that what caused the ski to fall off, a faulty binding?” she asked.
Gordon stared at her for a moment as if just noticing her. “How did you get back here?”
“It’s been a long time, Jules,” Nick said, drawing her attention. He held his injured arm close to his body and looked as if he were about to topple over.
Concerned, she moved to sit next him so she could grab him if he pitched sideways. “Yes. Yes, it has.”
“You two know each other?” Gordon asked, his gaze bouncing between them.
“Yep. Grew up to
gether.” Nick grinned.
She held out her hand to Gordon. “Julie Frost, Northwest Edition.”
Dawning realization widened Gordon’s hazel eyes. “Right.” He shook her hand. “Gordon Lewis, Nick’s manager. We spoke earlier.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Northwest Edition?” Nick asked. “As in the TV show?”
“I’ve been working there since college,” she said, which was technically true. She didn’t mention her official job title was production assistant. If all went well with the story on Nick, she’d be hosting her own segment by the end of the month.
“So Jules, how did you get back here?”
She grimaced guiltily as she answered Nick’s question. “The woman manning the table out there thought I was your wife.”
His eyebrows twitched. “Not that I wouldn’t mind, but you’re a reporter. I’d never date, let alone marry, a reporter.”
Bristling, she stared at him. “Excuse me?”
A doctor wearing a white lab coat over ski pants entered with a wheelchair. “Mr. Walsh, a transport will be here shortly to take you to St. Charles Memorial Medical Center.” He moved to inspect Nick’s arm. “Let’s get an X-ray of your arm,” the doctor said. “In the chair, please.”
Julie stepped back as Gordon and the doctor helped Nick into the wheelchair. The doctor rolled him out of the exam room, the big guy in black following closely behind. Julie figured he must be event security.
She turned to Gordon. “What will happen if there is a break in his arm or the CT scan shows a brain injury?”
“There would be no possibility of competing in the upcoming winter games.” Gordon ran a hand through his hair, clearly freaked out by Nick’s close call. “I can’t believe this is happening. We’re so close.”
“It’s been a hard year for Nick,” Julie stated quietly.
His weary gaze met hers. “For us all, Ms. Frost.”
“If Nick is knocked out of the running for a spot on the U.S. ski team, who do you think the committee would choose?”
Gordon shrugged. “There are thirteen skiers from the B and C teams ready and willing to step into his place on the A team, including the two skiers who were just here. And more behind them that would jump at the chance to be invited to join the U.S. ski team.”
Julie ached for Nick. She could only imagine how devastated he’d be if an injury this close to the games took him out of the competition.
“I take it you didn’t tell him about the interview,” she said, still smarting by Nick’s comment that he wouldn’t date or marry a reporter. Not that she wanted to date him—or marry him—but still...
Gordon winced. “I didn’t have time. But I will, once we know he’s okay.”
She let out a dry scoff. “I get the distinct impression he won’t be pleased.”
“Probably not, but he’ll do it. I’ll make sure of it.”
“What does he have against reporters?”
Gordon sighed. “After the way the media smeared Cody’s reputation with nasty accusations about drugs and alcohol usage causing his death, Nick’s not too trusting of the press.”
A twinge of unease twisted her tummy.
She hadn’t believed the reports of drug use leading to the accident that took Cody’s life and had thought the media storm had been unfair to a man who wasn’t there to defend himself.
It was important she convince Nick not to paint her with the same brush. Her promotion, her career, rode on his cooperation.
But did she have the skills necessary to succeed?
TWO
The doctor returned without Nick. Julie’s heart leaped to her throat. “Is Nick okay?”
Nodding, the doctor said, “There’s no fracture. Only a bruise, but that will heal over time. The transport’s here. The ski patrol is getting him onboard. Are either of you going with him?”
“I am,” Gordon stated.
Seeing an opportunity for a moment alone with Nick to pursue her story, Julie tapped Gordon on the shoulder. “Your other skiers need you.”
Gordon hesitated, clearly torn between his duty to Nick and his duty to his other clients.
“I’ll go with Nick,” she offered. “You come to the hospital as soon as you can. There’s nothing you can do for him right now anyway. Right?”
Clearly relieved, Gordon said, “I’d appreciate it. I’ll okay it with the EMTs. If Nick gives you any hassle, you tell him I said don’t.”
After hastily explaining to Bob where she was going and having his assurance he’d follow in the news van, Julie rushed to the ambulance. Since Nick wasn’t critical, only one EMT was present for the drive to the hospital. She climbed into the bay of the ambulance and sat on the metal bench.
The big guy in black stopped in the doorway. “Hey, what are you doing?”
Nick lay on the gurney. He blinked at her. “Yeah, what are you doing?”
“Filling in for Gordon. He needs to stay for your buddies.” She directed her answer to Nick rather than to the security guard.
“Mr. Walsh?” Big guy’s tone held a note of displeasure.
“It’s fine. Sit up front, Ted.”
Ted gave her a censuring look before closing the back bay doors.
“Why is event security going to the hospital with you?” Julie asked.
“He’s not with the event. He’s my personal security,” Nick answered.
Her interest piqued, she asked, “Personal security? Like a bodyguard?”
“Yes. Lots of athletes hire personal protection. Fans, you know.” He slanted her a glance. “I’m sure he’s not happy with you back here.”
“You don’t need to worry, I won’t bite,” Julie teased.
One corner of Nick’s mouth twitched. “I might.”
“I don’t think you’re in any shape to be a threat to me.”
“You never know.” He closed his eyes for a moment. His jaw tensed. “I wish the doc could have given me something for the pain.”
“He didn’t because they need to know if you’re loopy because you smacked your head, not because of meds.” She couldn’t resist smoothing back a lock of his dark hair from his forehead.
His eyes popped opened, his expression inscrutable.
Afraid of making the wrong move and messing up this opportunity, she tucked her hands into the pockets of her pink ski jacket. “Your arm’s not broken, which is good.”
As if she’d picked back up some sort of gauntlet she’d thrown down between them, he closed his eyes again and sighed. “Hmm, hmm.”
For a long moment, the sound of the ambulance’s tires crunching over the gravel put down on the roads to provide traction filled the bay. Julie was content to look at him. She hadn’t seen him in the flesh since high school graduation. And even then it had been from a distance.
“You look good,” he said, startling her. “Great smile. No more braces.”
“I haven’t had braces since I was fifteen.” Was that how he remembered her?
“Hmm. Long time ago.”
When she didn’t respond, he opened one eye. “You’re still here.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
He smiled and closed his eyes. “I meant Bend.”
“Yeah, well—”
“Hey! Watch out!” Ted yelled from the front of the ambulance.
The ambulance veered sharply. The tires squealed. Julie yelped as the force of the sudden swerve pitched her forward. She landed sprawled across Nick’s chest.
His uninjured arm came around her back, holding her tight. “Steady now.”
Gripping the sides of the gurney, Julie lifted her head, her face inches from his. “What was—”
“Hang on!” the EMT driver shouted.
The vehicle decelerated rapidly.
The force of the unexpected speed change threw Julie forward again until her face was buried in the crook of Nick’s neck. His good arm pinned her to his chest. The ambulance came to a sudden halt, the sound of crunching metal
echoing in her ears. The contents of the ambulance rained down on them.
“Mr. Walsh!” Ted’s frantic cry pierced through the echo of the crash ringing in Julie’s ears.
She lifted her head and stared at a wide-eyed Nick. “You okay?”
“Yes. You?”
“I think so.”
Every point of contact between her and his muscled chest and strong arm registered in her stunned brain. Warmth crept up her neck and flooded her face.
“You sure? You look a little rattled,” Nick said. “Like you could use some reassurance.”
“Yes. What? No, I—”
The back bay doors flew open. Julie jerked upright, pushing herself off Nick.
Ted loomed in the doorway. “Mr. Walsh?”
Nick lifted his head. “We’re good in here.” His gaze narrowed with a hard glint. “What happened?”
“Idiot driver cut us off. We hit a patch of ice and slammed into a telephone pole.”
“You think it was an accident?” Nick asked.
Julie slanted Nick a curious glance. Why would he think it wasn’t?
“Can’t be sure. Guy didn’t stop.”
Nick dropped his head back. “Get us out of here.”
“On it, sir,” Ted said and closed the doors.
“What’s going on?” Julie asked, feeling as though she’d somehow stepped in the middle of a scene without a script.
Nick closed his eyes. “I’ll explain later. Provided I make it to the hospital in one piece.”
“You will,” she promised and pushed his hair off his forehead again, feeling protective and attracted all at the same time. And why not? The man was gorgeous.
Granted, as a kid he’d always been cute, with his hair flopped over his forehead in a sort of roguish way that had made more than one young girl’s heart flutter.
Okay, her young heart.
The man before her was even more handsome than the boy he’d been. Time and years spent outdoors had etched lines on his face that enhanced his rugged good looks, making him appear mature and wild at the same time.
And yes, sent her adult woman’s heart pounding.
So not the appropriate reaction to be having for the subject of the story she wanted to tell. She would not, could not, let the attraction flaring within her have any room. He was so far from the type of man she needed in her life. Most important, if she wanted that promotion, she needed to put anything other than professionalism in a tight box and stuff it deep down in a place where it wouldn’t interfere with her career goal.