by Scott, Laura
“My assessment is that this damage was absolutely intentional. What’s the deal? Do you know this guy, Markowitz?”
“No.” But he’d sure like to. The flower delivery had been annoying but basically harmless. Smashing a battery with a hammer turned the violence up a notch. “Can you fix it?”
“Yeah, shouldn’t be too bad. I’ll have to replace the battery, of course. Cleaning up the interior where the acid leaked all over will be the hardest part. Can’t tell you for sure what parts the acid may have ruined until I dig into the engine.”
“Do what you can, Vince.” Reese toyed with the carton of Chinese food. His hearty appetite had seemingly vanished. “Send the bill to me.”
“Sure, no problem.” Vince hesitated. “Do you want me to call Samantha to tell her what happened?”
“No, I’ll do it.” His stomach clenched at the thought. At least this proved his wanting to keep her safe was more than just an overreaction on his part. It was a necessity. “Just work on getting her car fixed as soon as possible.”
“Will do.”
“Thanks.” Reese hung up the phone. First, he’d shower, then go find Samantha. There wasn’t going to be an easy way to soften this blow. Better if he told her in person.
His hair was still damp from the shower when his doorbell buzzed long and loud. Wearing only his jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, he crossed to the intercom. “Who is it?”
“Samantha.”
“Come on up.” Surprised, he pushed the button releasing the lock on the outside door. What had brought Samantha over here? Had she somehow found out the news about her car from Vince?
He opened his apartment door, watching her walk down the hallway toward him. Like him, she was dressed casually in blue jeans. Although she wore a bulky jacket, he could see she wore another of those turtleneck sweaters, this one in bright green.
Why was he developing a weird neck fetish?
“Good morning.” He smiled. “Did you walk over from your place?”
“Yes, it’s not far.” Samantha didn’t return his smile—in fact, her pretty brow was furrowed. “I came over to get Vince’s phone number. I should have asked for the information last night, before you left.”
“Come in.” Reese gestured for her to come inside. “I already spoke to Vince.”
Her frown deepened. “That’s very nice of you, but I’d rather take care of this myself. It’s my car.”
What was this about? Had something happened to cause her change of heart? Reese stood awkwardly in his bare feet. “Are you hungry?” Stalling, he turned back toward the Chinese food he left on the table. “We can eat breakfast.”
“No, thanks.” Samantha remained where she was, standing near his doorway as if she’d bolt if given half the chance. “If you’d just give me Vince’s phone number, I’ll be out of your hair.”
He didn’t think she’d appreciate knowing he liked having her in his hair. And in his apartment. She was so beautiful, but he needed to keep his mind focused on the issue at hand. He noticed her firm stance at his door. With a sigh, he realized she wasn’t going to make this easy. “Samantha, I’m sorry to tell you like this, but your car trouble wasn’t an accident.”
Her wary gaze sharpened. “What do you mean?”
“Sit down. Please,” he added when she didn’t move.
“Dennis did something to my car, didn’t he?” She crossed her arms protectively over her chest.
“Yes.” Reese couldn’t see the point in lying to her. “He smashed your battery, and it leaked acid all over your engine. I authorized Vince to do the repairs. He’s going to get your car fixed as soon as possible.”
“You authorized Vince to do the repairs?” Her voice was dangerously soft.
He didn’t understand her strange reaction. Why wasn’t she more worried about her ex’s tendency toward violence? Instead, she seemed annoyed with him. She had been happy enough with his help last night. “Yes. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything.”
“No, you won’t.” Samantha glared at him, fury spiking her stormy gray eyes. Wow, had he ever seen her this angry? “Give me Vince’s number. I don’t need you taking control, or anyone else for that matter. What part of this don’t you understand? It’s my car. I want to take care of things myself.”
It took a minute for realization to set in. Clearly, her ex-husband had control issues.
And Reese had inadvertently stepped into the mess her ex had left behind.
7
Samantha’s entire body vibrated with suppressed fury. Why had she caved under the pressure and accepted help from Reese last night? She should’ve known better than to rely on a man. Reese was a bulldozer, just like Dennis. One tiny favor and he acted as if he owned her.
Oh, no. Never again.
She straightened her spine, prepared to fight. But instead of arguing, Reese simply went over to his phone, jotted Vince’s number on a slip of paper, and crossed the room to hand it to her.
“I’m sorry. You’re absolutely right. It’s your car. I should have asked Vince to call you first thing this morning.”
His quiet apology caught her off guard. Again. Why couldn’t he stay true to form? It was easier to resent him when he was being a jerk. And why couldn’t he put socks on his feet? She fought to keep her voice steady. “Yes, you should have.”
“You’re not helpless, Samantha. I know how well you take care of everything. You literally save lives every day. I just wanted to help. Kind of the way I help by flying you to places where you can do the most good.”
The earnest expression in his warm brown eyes made it difficult to hang on to her anger. His damp mink-colored hair curled around his ears. And his bare toes didn’t help either. Since when did she notice a man’s toes? With a sigh, she took Vince’s number and nodded.
“I know.” She turned to leave.
“Are you sure you won’t stay for breakfast?” His voice stopped her as she opened his door. “I can whip up an omelet if you’d rather have that over Chinese leftovers.”
“No, but thanks.” She lifted her hand in a simple wave. “See you later.”
She thought she heard him say something like, “Count on it,” before she closed the door behind her.
Sam lifted her face to the sun as she stepped outside. The warmth after several days of subzero temperatures felt wonderful. The walk from Reese’s building to hers wasn’t far, and she was proud of the way she didn’t glance over her shoulder every ten seconds, looking for Dennis the Menace.
Why had he smashed her car battery? Was this more of his need for control? He’d often used words as weapons, but breaking things was out of character, even for him. What would he break next? She couldn’t even begin to guess. Dennis wasn’t always ruled by logic.
Even with this new turn of events, she was still royally ticked at herself for having allowed Reese to take over her car problems last night. She should have insisted on standing up for herself. Thoughts of sharing more than a meal with him had obviously clouded her judgment. Well, no more. She would call Vince, making it very clear she was in charge of her car repairs and the bill. Reese was not. He was a nice guy, but if she didn’t maintain her independence, what did she have?
Loneliness.
For a moment, her shoulders slumped. How many times over the past year had she wished for someone to lean on? Her family was on the other side of the continent, and keeping close friends during a medical residency wasn’t easy. Every month she was shipped off to a new rotation with a whole new group of other residents. At least, that’s how the pattern had been until her most recent stint at Lifeline.
Lifeline didn’t change residents every month, mostly because of the lengthy flight training. Also, because she’d requested a double rotation. Ben Harris had been more than willing to juggle the schedule in her favor.
Had Dennis really contacted Ben because of her? She shied away from the thought. Dennis probably had a business appointment with Ben. It must be that his sales t
erritory had been changed to include Milwaukee. It was the only logical explanation. There was no reason to think a pharmaceutical sales rep had a special friendship with her boss. Frankly, she didn’t envy Dennis’s job. As a rule, most of the physicians barely tolerated sales reps. Most of them resented the high cost of pharmaceuticals and didn’t hesitate to let the sales reps know of their displeasure.
The fact that Dennis hadn’t made it through his residency only worked against him. He hadn’t been able to handle the pressure and had dropped out. She knew firsthand how much he resented all physicians for accomplishing something he hadn’t been able to do.
Her success had pushed Dennis over the edge. When she’d excelled in her residency training, she’d noticed his behavior had changed. And not for the better.
With a start, Sam realized she’d arrived at her apartment building. The weather was so nice, she was tempted to keep walking. Too bad she didn’t have her car, or she’d consider heading downtown to the lakefront. Wasn’t there some sort of Winterfest going on this weekend? How long had it been since she’d done anything for fun?
Too long.
But there was always laundry, and maybe cleaning. Oh joy.
“Samantha.”
Heart pounding, she whirled at the sound of her name. Her breath whooshed out of her lungs when she saw Reese standing a few feet behind her, his hands tucked into his coat pockets. “Don’t do that to me.” Her tone was sharp.
“I’m sorry. I called your name earlier, but you didn’t hear me.” His dark eyes held regret.
She forced a smile. Her jumpiness wasn’t Reese’s fault. “I guess I was deep in thought.”
He didn’t ask what caused her to become lost in her thoughts. Knowing Reese, he’d likely be able to figure it out. Amazingly, Reese knew more about her personal life than anyone.
“Would you be interested in going down to Winterfest with me as one friend to another? We’re both off work, and it’s such an unusually nice day, it seems a shame to waste it.”
How had he read her mind? Sam’s first instinct was to refuse, but the alternative of going back to her closed-in, sterile apartment held no appeal. “I have to call Vince,” she told him, which wasn’t an answer at all.
“I understand. I’ll wait.”
Still, Sam hesitated. She didn’t want to give Reese the wrong impression, but then again, she had made her feelings about relationships very clear. And he’d said friend to friend, so he’d obviously gotten the message. What could it hurt to go down to Winterfest with him? When was the last time she’d had the luxury of going out with a friend?
“All right.” She decided quickly before she could analyze things to death and find a reason to talk herself out of it. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be right back.”
A hint of a smile flitted across Reese’s features. “I’ll get my truck and wait for you.”
Sam nodded and quickly dashed inside. She called Vince but had to leave a message. Not a big deal since she knew very well Reese had already talked to him. With an unexplained excitement flickering through her veins, she spent a few purely adolescent minutes in front of the mirror, fixing her hair and applying lip gloss. Should she change? No, that would be too noticeable. Calling herself every kind of fool, she grabbed her purse and headed back outside.
When she jumped in the truck beside Reese, he flashed a warm smile. Maybe, with Reese’s help, she could forget all about Dennis, at least for a little while.
The lakefront teemed with life, people everywhere walking and jogging. Partially because of the Winterfest activities, including a giant ice sculpture contest taking place right on the shore of Lake Michigan. But more so, she guessed, because of the unseasonably warm weather. Not that temperatures close to forty degrees were exactly warm, but winter in Wisconsin was cold. Like really, really cold. Which made temperatures in the forties more than tolerable.
There was a huge banner announcing a Children’s Memorial Hospital fundraiser being held in a few weeks at the lakefront Art Museum. The tickets were expensive, although the money was for a good cause. Too costly for her personal budget, getting rid of Dennis had cleaned out her savings account. Still, she wondered if Lifeline would spring for them. She made a mental note to look into it before she and Reese wandered toward the ice sculpture display.
“Will you look at that?” Reese stopped in front of a guy teetering on a stepladder, intently carving his massive ice sculpture of a hot air balloon. “Very cool.”
Sam raised a brow. “Did you always dream of flying, even as a kid?”
Reese didn’t take his eyes off the hot air balloon emerging from the block of ice. “Yeah, pretty much. But mostly I was fixated on planes. All sorts of planes. I joined the Air Force straight out of high school just so I could learn to fly planes.”
“Planes, huh? So how did you end up flying helicopters?”
He turned toward her and shrugged. “Couldn’t afford to be picky. The Air Force needed chopper pilots, so that’s the track they sent me. Since I was learning to fly, I wasn’t about to complain. And I quickly learned to love the flexibility of the whirlybirds. You can’t set a big hulking plane down on a dime.”
She could easily imagine Reese in the military. He had a quiet strength that must’ve helped him endure the tough physical training as well as the constant rules and regulations. She wanted to know more—about his parents, his family, where he grew up. But before she could figure out a non-nosy way to ask, as they wandered amongst the ice sculpture displays, his hand smoothly captured hers.
Distracted by the gesture, the additional questions tumbled right out of her mind. She enjoyed the protective feeling of his hand around hers and knew she should consider pulling away. Wasn’t hand-holding a violation of the friendship agreement? His hand was nice, warm and firm without being too tight around hers.
For the life of her, she couldn’t bear to give up the slight contact.
He’d promised not to ask for more than she was willing to give, and she couldn’t help but believe Reese was the type of guy who kept his promises.
“What about this one?” she asked, pausing in front of a giant ice beetle. “What makes someone want to carve a bug?”
“I don’t know, but I like the race car over there.” Reese gestured with his hand to the sculpture up ahead. “It’s true to scale. I feel like I could jump inside and take a spin.”
“Men and their toys,” she teased.
“How about an early lunch?” Reese asked after they’d seen each and every ice sculpture. He gestured as they came up alongside a couple of fast-food vendors. “I bet you didn’t eat breakfast either.”
She hadn’t and knew her refusal to stay and eat with him had probably caused him to miss his breakfast, too, since he hadn’t wasted any time in following her. “Sure, but I don’t want to wait in line. I’d like to sit and look out over the water for a bit.”
“Tell me what you’d like, and I’ll bring it over,” Reese promised.
She made her selection—hot, spicy, Cajun chicken—and handed him a ten. He looked as if he’d argue but reluctantly took the cash. She ambled toward the lakeshore. The rhythmic sound of the waves crashing over the rocks was almost as soothing as Reese’s voice flowing through her headset in flight.
Squealing tires, followed by a loud thump-thump, made her turn with a frown. Screams split the air.
“Oh no, he’s hit. He’s hit!”
Before the woman’s screams fully registered, Samantha was running toward the group huddled by the side of the road. She quickly shoved her way through the crowd.
“I’m a doctor. Let me through.”
Like a parting of the sea, people moved out of her way. She instantly saw the victim, a man who appeared to be in his late twenties or early thirties dressed in jogging clothes, sprawled along the side of the road. Blood trickled from a wound on his temple, and the odd angle of his legs had her suspecting a pelvic fracture at the very least.
“Someone call ni
ne-one-one,” she directed in a stern voice as she knelt at the victim’s side.
“I did.” Reese materialized by her side. “Do you need help?”
“Not yet.” Samantha positioned the man’s head to open his airway. He wasn’t breathing. Before she could pull a small resuscitation mask from her purse, Reese handed her one.
“Here, I carry one at all times.”
Grateful, she took the mask and used it to give the victim rescue breaths. Then, following the ABCs just like they did in the ER, she checked for a pulse.
“No pulse,” she muttered before placing her hands over the sternum to perform chest compressions.
“I’ll breathe for you.” Reese positioned himself at the patient’s head.
Good thing the pilots at Lifeline were trained in CPR. Samantha concentrated on performing good chest compressions, counting out loud so Reese would know when to give a breath. They worked together in tandem as if they’d done this hundreds of times before.
“Pulse check,” Samantha suggested. “First with compressions.” This was a tactic she’d learned in medical school: when you could feel the pulse with chest compressions, it is easier to then stop the compressions to see if there was a spontaneous return of the victim’s pulse.
“Pulse good with compressions,” Reese informed her.
“Okay. What about now?” She halted her compressions, waiting while he kept his hand in the same place along the carotid artery. She waited a moment, knowing how easy it was to miss a pulse on a victim when your own was pumping in double time.
“No pulse. Continue CPR.”
Samantha nodded and began the chest compression routine all over again.
She and Reese performed several rounds of CPR before she heard the distinct wail of sirens. She wished for a chance to do a neuro exam on the patient, but if they didn’t maintain his oxygenation with the breathing and chest compressions, there wouldn’t be a neuro status to worry about.