by Tamryn Ward
He nodded and answered calmly, “Yes.”
Feeling like she wasn’t getting her point across, she fisted his shirt in her hands and gave him a little shake. “People die from it.”
“You’re not going to die. I promise.” He turned his head to glance out the front window. “The ambulance will be here any second.
She felt drool dripping from the corner of her misshapen mouth and had to force herself not to begin crying.
He found a tissue in his pocket and dabbed her face, wiping away the wetness.
“Embarrassing,” she mumbled.
“No. Don’t be embarrassed. You can’t help it. I should have checked the flowers for bees. Who would’ve thought? It’s a little late in the season for bees.” He glanced out the window again. “They’re here,” he said on a sigh, the sound in his voice revealing exactly how nervous and worried he had actually been. He stood to open the front door and let the paramedics in. They entered, hands full of equipment, took one look at Jane and said, “Sir, we’re just going to get her loaded and head for the hospital. Can you follow us?”
“Sure.”
One of the paramedics quickly led Jane to the ambulance and helped her up onto the gurney inside. Jason followed, and the last thing Jane saw before the paramedic closed the ambulance’s rear doors was his worried expression.
“Okay, I need you to lie down,” the paramedic said as he wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her arm and inflated it.
Jane shook her head and wrapped her hand around her throat. “Can’t swallow. Choke.”
“We’ll take care of that right now.” He released the pressure from the cuff, took the measurement and pulled it off her arm then checked her pulse. “What’s your name?”
“Jane…I mean Monica. Monica Starke.”
“Okay, Monica. I’m going to give you some medicine.” He quickly gathered a syringe and a vial of clear fluid, filled the syringe and stabbed her upper arm, injecting the medication into her muscle.
She winced as the medicine burned her flesh. “What’s that?”
“Something to stop the reaction, I hope. It should work fairly quickly.” Hoping he was right, Jane counted heartbeats as she waited to see if the medicine would help. She got to two hundred—her heart rate was mighty quick at the moment—before he asked, “Feeling better yet?”
“I’m not sure.” She noticed her speech sounded a little less garbled.
“It looks like it’s working. Can you lie down now?”
Jane took a trial swallow and was relieved when the little bit of spit she’d forced down made it past the knot in her throat. “I think so.”
“Good.” He helped her position herself on the gurney and strapped her in.
She tested the tightness of the belts by trying to lift her hips. She wasn’t going anywhere. “Are the restraints really necessary? I promise I won’t go berserk or anything and I’m not an escaped convict.”
“I believe you, but we want you to be safe.” He adjusted the tension on the one across her chest. “How’s that?”
“Nice and cozy,” she joked, finally starting to feel a little less panic-stricken and more like herself. The heat on her face was cooling to a light simmer versus a raging boil.
He grinned and it was only then that she realized how young he looked. Not that she was old or anything, but he was a child--couldn’t have graduated junior high. Since when did they hire children to be paramedics?
“I realize this might sound a little disrespectful, but are you sure you’re qualified to do this job?” she asked as she watched him record her vitals on a piece of paper.
“I’ve had all the necessary training.”
“But, no offense, you look like you’re twelve.”
Smiling as he checked her blood pressure a second time, he said, “I hear that all the time.” When he finished, he pulled off the cuff. “I assure you I’m older than I look.”
“That’s a relief, not that I have anything against kids. I like them just fine. Just wouldn’t want to have to rely on one to save my life.”
“You’d be surprised how adept children can be. Just the other day, we picked up a mother who’d given birth at home. Her six-year old daughter delivered the baby.”
“No kidding?”
The rest of the way to the hospital she rode in silence, ruminating the irony of having been stung by a bee and having to spend her first official date with Jason in the hospital emergency room.
When they arrived at the hospital, the paramedics wheeled her inside, rattled off all the pertinent information and then gave her a smile and a “good luck” before leaving her in the care of the hospital staff. A nurse, who looked no older than the paramedic had, double-checked her blood pressure, pulse, and temperature—like she couldn’t trust the paramedic to have gotten it right—and then gave her a gown to change into and left, saying, “The doctor will be with you shortly.”
Jason arrived soon after. He didn’t have flowers this time but he did give her a great smile. “You look better. What did they do?”
“Gave me a shot of something. You mean to tell me you didn’t like my new look? I was thinking of paying a plastic surgeon a visit and making it permanent. I’ve heard they can implant rolled-up pigskin into your lips to give them that just-been-stung-by-a-bee look. What do you think?”
He stood just inside the curtain that partitioned off her area from the next one. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I prefer the natural look.”
“To each his own.” She shrugged then added, “How about this get-up?” She smoothed the lovely—gag!—blue hospital gown over her chest. “Isn’t it sexy?”
He nodded, waggled his eyebrows suggestively and purred, “Incredibly.”
Oh! That reaction did some great things for her heart rate. Did he have a thing for playing doctor? If only!
“Really?” she asked, her imagination running wild and delving into territory she probably shouldn’t have let it. In her mind’s eye she could see herself lying on the bed, a crisp white sheet the only thing between her body and his fingertips… Um hum. He could give her a thorough workup anytime.
The heat returned to her cheeks.
He chuckled. “No, I’m teasing. I swear. Don’t look so worried. I just didn’t want you to feel bad.”
“Oh believe me, I wasn’t worried but I was beginning to wonder. By the way, you can come closer. I swear I’m not contagious.”
He took two steps closer but still stood outside of her reach. “Sorry, I get a little nervous in hospitals. I always feel like I’m in the way.”
“In the way of what? There’s no one in here but you and me. I doubt a doctor will show up for at least a couple of hours.”
“That long?”
“Yeah. Why? Do you need to cancel some reservations? By the way, I’m really sorry for wrecking everything tonight.”
“It’s not your fault. I was the one who brought you bug-ridden flowers. I almost killed you.”
“How silly. Flower homicide. Just think. There might have been a scandal and you could have been pegged the Infamous Flower Murderer.”
He chuckled, the low rumbly sound rippling through her body in waves of arousal, and looked at his wristwatch. “I need to make a call.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket.
“I don’t think you can do that in here. You should probably go outside.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back.”
No sooner was he gone than Doogie Houser, MD entered. Man, either she was getting old (no way!), or hospitals and medical facilities were hiring kids still in high school. “Hello,” Dr. Houser said, offering his hand and a friendly smile. “I’m Dr. Herner. What brings you to the emergency room today?”
Feeling a little smart, since he was holding her chart in his hand and therefore knew darn well why she was there, she said, “Well, I thought it would be interesting to see what would happen if I got stung by a bee and almost died from anaphylactic shock.” If there was one thing that irritated her,
it was when someone asked an obvious question when they knew the answer.
His smile wasn’t so bright anymore. “I see.” He flipped the top sheet of her chart and read something then lowered it again. “How are you feeling now, madam?”
“It’s Miss Starke. Much better, thanks. Can I leave?”
“No, not yet. Your symptoms could return. We’ll need to keep an eye on you for a while. And we’ll give you some medicine to help keep the symptoms under control.”
“More medicine?”
“Yes.” He pulled a couple of rubber gloves from the dispenser on the wall and put them on. “Can you show me where you were stung?”
She pointed at her head. “Here.”
He parted her hair and looked. “Mmmm. The stinger’s still imbedded in your skin. We’ll need to remove it.”
“Yikes.”
He walked around to a small cabinet against the wall and pulled out a tongue depressor.
“What’re you going to do with that? You going in through my throat? Shouldn’t you give me something to knock me out first?”
He looked at her, silently questioning whether she was really stupid enough to think he’d really have to do that or not. She grinned just to reassure him. Clearly not appreciating her attempts—as lame as they may be—at breaking the ice, he shook his head and parted her hair again, searching for the stinger. “This won’t require surgery, I promise.”
“Good. I…uh, ate a little snack a couple of hours ago. I’ve heard it’s dangerous to go under general after eating.”
“By any chance did you have a few drinks with that meal?” he asked as he worked on her head, scraping her scalp with the wooden stick.
“Not unless you count diet cola as a drink. I’m perfectly sober, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Just wanted to make sure. We need to know if you have any substances in your bloodstream before we prescribe medications.” He thought she was stoned! Just because she’d cracked a few stupid jokes?
“Sure you do.”
He stepped back, dropped the stick in the trash and removed the gloves. “All right. The nurse will be in to give you that medication. Do you have any questions?”
“Yeah, just one. When do I get to leave?”
“In an hour or two. We want to make sure you won’t have another attack. Your reaction was severe. You wouldn’t want to leave and have another one.”
“True.” She turned her head when she heard Jason’s voice outside the curtain. He was evidently speaking to a nurse.
“Can I go in?” he asked. Within a heartbeat he was standing beside the doctor.
Dr. Herner introduced himself and asked, “Are you Mr. Starke?”
“No, there is no Mr. Starke, at least none that I know of. I’m Jason Foxx, the guy responsible. Brought her a bouquet of flowers infested with bees. How’s she going to be?”
“She’ll be fine. We’re ordering some blood tests and medication to prevent the symptoms from returning. She’s a little bit anxious to leave so I hope you’ll be able to convince her to sit tight for a while.”
“I’m starving,” she interjected.
“I haven’t been able to convince her of anything but I can try,” Jason answered the doctor, ignoring her comment.
“That’s all I ask.”
“Can I eat?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t be so cruel as to let her starve.
The doctor turned his attention back to Jane. “It’s probably not a good idea for you to eat yet. We’ll let you know as soon as you can. Okay?”
“Why did I know you’d say that?” When she nodded, he smiled, pulled the curtain aside and stepped through.
“The nurse will be in shortly to give you that medication and draw some blood,” he said just before turning away.
“What’s the blood for?” she called out, hoping to catch him before he disappeared for the next six hours. Blood tests meant a longer wait. The hospital lab was notoriously slow. “I had an allergic reaction. What more do you need to know?”
Glancing over his shoulder, he answered, “Just trying to be thorough, Miss Starke.” And then he closed the curtain.
She looked at Jason and shook her head. “We’ll be lucky to get out of here by morning. I think they’re running a drug test on me to make sure I’m not stoned. Can you believe it?”
“They are not.”
“Then what else could it be? Who heard of a blood test for an allergic reaction?”
“Maybe they want to make sure it was the bee sting that caused your attack and not something else.”
She sighed, wishing she was a million places besides stuck in a hospital. In Jason’s bed was at the top of her list, even though she knew that even if she wasn’t in the hospital, that was one place she couldn’t visit, at least not with a good conscience. “This stinks.” Those two words summed up a whole lot more than the present situation.
He walked closer, and she curled her legs up to let him sit on the foot of the bed. He rested a hand on her knee. It felt warm, even through the cool sheet covering her legs. Her heart stuttered a few irregular beats in her chest when he gave her leg a subtle squeeze. “Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think.”
Giddy, even though it was an innocent touch, certainly not very erotic, she held in a shudder of delight and expectation. Was it time to play doctor? “Do you know something that I don’t?”
His crooked grin gave her the answer she wanted. “Maybe.”
Fighting another shudder of pleasure, she asked, “What?”
He lifted his hand, and she nearly screamed with bitter disappointment. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, would it?”
“But I want to know.”
“You’ll know soon enough.” He stretched his arms overhead, the motion setting all those scrumptious muscles on his arms, shoulders and chest rippling and flexing under his snug T-shirt.
He had to know what that was doing to her.
She swallowed a groan. This just plain wasn’t fair. Not only was their evening ruined, but she was trapped in a six by eight cubicle with a man who could practically elicit an orgasm with a smile and a how-do-you-do.
Damn you, Monica. Why couldn’t your zillionaire jewelry broker be ninety years old and ugly?
Why did he have to be so good-looking, and kind, and generous, and sexy, and…tempting. Jason Foxx was nothing but six-foot-something of extreme temptation. And she couldn’t do a darn thing but charm him with her wit.
It was like having fasted for a month and then sitting down to a mountain of your favorite ice cream and not being able to eat it.
Couldn’t I have just one little taste?
Chapter Eight
Uncomfortable, Jane shifted her weight, resting it on her other hip. “Thanks for hanging around and keeping me company. This isn’t exactly a rockin’ place to spend your Friday night.”
“At least the company’s good.”
She couldn’t drum up an appropriate answer quickly and was grateful for the interruption when the nurse arrived to draw her blood and administer her medication. But she quickly retreated to the world beyond the pink curtain, leaving Jane to try to untangle her tongue. “Sorry,” she finally managed after several bloated minutes of torturous silence. “I guess I’m not much of an entertainer.”
“Actually, since I’m the healthy one, I should be entertaining you.”
Images of not-so-wholesome forms of entertainment flashed through her mind. “Good! What’s in your repertoire? Do you sing? Dance?”
“Nope. Can’t sing a note.”
“I happen to know you’re a fine dancer.” She lifted her arms and folded them behind her head, using them as a makeshift pillow. “How about showing me some of your moves?”
A hint of a blush stained his cheeks. “I can’t dance without music.”
“I can sing for you.” She bellowed out a few lines of Prince’s International Lover in her best falsetto, including the little high-pitched ohhs and ahhs for effect. It see
med fairly appropriate.
Unfortunately, Jason didn’t seem to agree, at least it seemed that way based on the disgusted look on his face, which did nothing to detract from his charm. “What is that?”
“International Lover by Prince. A 1980s classic in my opinion.”
“Not in mine.”
“Okay. I can give you an alternative. How about…Like a Virgin? She sang the first line in her best Madonna impersonation. The lyrics were accompanied by a half-hearted attempt at some seductive dance moves, well the best she could manage in a hospital bed.
Clearly not impressed, he scowled and shook his head. How could a man look so cute scowling? “That isn’t much better.”
Feigning insult she dropped her arms to her sides. “Well, pooh! You’re making this difficult. My repertoire is limited, you know. I don’t frequent karaoke bars.”
“That’s okay. I wouldn’t want a nurse or doctor walking in and catching me shaking my groove thang. It might be a bit embarrassing.”
But I’d sure love it. “Take my word for it, if they’re female, they’ll appreciate the view. You’d probably get a standing ovation and a few dollars tucked in your drawers.”
He grinned, the sparkle in his eyes doing a host of heavenly things to her insides. “As pleasant as that sounds, I think I’ll find a less embarrassing way to pass the time.”
“Like make love to me?” Shoot! Did I just say that aloud?
“In here? You’re kidding right?”
No. Well, maybe. Well, no. “Of course I am.” She leaned closer and whispered, “But don’t you wonder if anyone’s ever tried such a thing? The doctors and nurses leave you alone here for hours…with nothing else to do.” She nudged his backside with her toe and winked. “What do you say? Come on?” she said, knowing full well what his answer would be.
“No way.”
No surprise there. But how much willpower did Jason Foxx possess? Willing to give it a small test—how much would that hurt?—she pulled at the tie holding the back of her gown closed. “I’m not wearing any undies. Easy access.” She lowered her voice, aiming for a seductive whisper, “Wanna see?”
“No.” His ears were turning redder by the minute and she had to concentrate really hard to keep from cracking up.