by Holly Jacobs
As he slunk into a local florist to send the woman some flowers, he wondered just what on earth was wrong with him?
He comforted himself by hassling the salesclerk, insisting on seeing the flowers they were going to send. They'd gone through three different bouquets before he'd settled on the daisies because they were cheap, not because they were the cheeriest of the lot.
And of course the hospital hadn't released the lady's name so he simply addressed it to the emergency room pregnant lady. And he didn't sign the card, so no one would ever know he'd had a second aberration in his character in one day.
Yeah, this was just a small hiccup in his surliness. He was over it now. He wasn't going to waste any more of his time or thoughts on the redhead and her baby. He was back to being himself.
SLOWLY PAIGE CAME BACK to herself in a fuzzy sort of stage where she knew she was Paige Montgomery. Or maybe she only knew because someone kept calling her name as if to remind her. She wished they'd just shut up and let her rest.
The voice became more insistent. "Paige, open your eyes for me."
She wanted to shout No, but couldn't seem to find the energy. The voice kept calling her until finally it seemed easier to just give in and open her eyes. The light was blinding, so she squinted. She could make out a very chipper-looking female face.
Awareness brought with it an acute sense of pain. As she looked at the very cheerful, smiling woman, Paige wanted to wipe her chipperness away and—
Even in her foggy state, she cut off the thought. It wasn't like her. Paige worked hard at keeping all her thoughts positive. Pollyanna Paige, people called her. She liked her nickname. Smacking the chipper lady wasn't positive in the least. Not one bit Pollyannaish. To make up for the surly thought, she tried to concentrate on what Miss Chipper was saying.
"Good. I thought you were about to wake up. That was some scare you gave us."
Not only was the face chipper, the voice attached to it was, as well. Though it grated, Paige forced herself to offer the woman a small smile.
"What happened?" It took all her energy to ask the question. The woman was listening to her heart and held up a finger, indicating she'd answer when she was done.
So Paige tried to dig through her clouded memory and answer her own question. The last thing she remembered was wearing that pregnancy belly and feeling as if she was really going to have a baby.
No, that wasn't right.
There was more.
She remembered a man's voice talking to her. She'd wanted to answer him but couldn't. Then he was yelling at her not to have her baby in his cab. And then he was holding her. Despite the blinding pain, Paige remembered it felt good in his arms.
Suddenly, she remembered more than his voice. She remembered him.
Riley Calhoon.
Riley was her hero?
The pain must have made her hallucinate. Riley was no one's hero. She couldn't decide if she should laugh at the absurd notion, or cry because he wasn't.
The nurse removed the stethoscope. "You're at the hospital. It was your appendix. The doctor said it was a good thing you got here when you did. If it had burst you might have. . .well, as it was, you made it here in time and you'll be fine."
Her appendix? That explained the pain. But Paige found she had something more pressing on her mind than a useless organ that was now gone.
"Riley Calhoon, the man who brought me in, is he still here?"
The nurse looked past Paige. Out of the corners of her eyes she could see machines. The woman eyed them then scribbled notes onto a chart.
"The man who brought me?" Paige prompted, surprised at how weak her voice sounded to her own ears.
"I don't know." The nurse stopped her scribbling and really looked at Paige. "I could check for you, if you like."
How had she thought this lady was annoying? It must have been the drugs, and they must be wearing off, because Paige now thought the nurse was very nice.
"Would you mind?" she asked.
"Sure. As soon as someone comes in and relieves me, I'll check." She set down the chart and straightened imaginary wrinkles in Paige's blanket. "Now, you just lie back and rest."
"How long am I going to be in here?"
"At least a few days. You had a close call, you know." She gave the blanket another little tuck.
No one tucked in Paige's blanket anymore. Not since she was little. It was kind of nice. Despite her pain, this time her smile was genuine. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. I'm Stella, by the way. I was on break when they brought you in, and I ran outside with the gurney, so I've been with you since you arrived. I'll be watching out for you. You just call me if you need anything. Here's your bell." She placed the small buzzer in Paige's hand. "You're not to try to get up yourself. The doctor will be in to talk to you soon."
"You'll check on Riley. . .I mean, the man, right?" she asked.
"I'll check on it first thing."
Paige felt as if the taxi had run over her, but despite her pain, she lay back in bed, her thoughts centered on a certain cabbie with dark hair and a sexy-as-sin scowl. She wondered if he was always as crabby as he'd like everyone to believe, or if beneath that glower there was more than most people suspected.
Already a half dozen questions were spinning in her mind. What was Riley doing driving a cab? And what was Erie's self-proclaimed biggest cynic doing rescuing a pregnant lady?
He hadn't recognized her. Of that, she was pretty sure. If he had, he'd probably have left her on the street, pregnant or not. He still bore a grudge toward their mishap-ridden past.
The door opened, and instead of the nurse, Aunt Annabelle rushed into the room. "Oh, honey, the hospital called your parents, and since they're so far away, they called me. They're trying to get the first flight out of Florida. The doctor finally said I could come in, but I can only stay a moment. I was so worried."
Aunt Annabelle was a five-foot-nothing mass of energy, and just seeing her made Paige feel better. "I'm sorry I worried you all. I'm all right. Tell Mom and Dad to just stay put. They're settled into their condo for the winter, and there's no reason to come home."
"But it was a close thing, they say."
The nurse came back into the room. "I'm sorry," she said. "The man simply handed you off to the E.R. orderly and left."
"Thank you."
"What man?'' Aunt Annabelle asked.
"I brought a shot for the pain." The nurse had Paige's covers pulled back, her thigh exposed and wiped, and had plunged the needle in before Paige could respond.
"What man?" Aunt Annabelle asked again.
The medication was starting to tug at Paige, take her drifting beyond the pain, but even as she floated in her drug-induced haze, Riley Calhoon's face floated along with her. "Riley," she murmured.
"What about Riley?"
"He's a hero." As soon as she was able, Paige intended to let the world know it.
2
"MY HERO!"
Two weeks after his uncharacteristic bout of heroism, Riley had almost put the incident behind him. But that H word gave him a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, not that anyone could know. He just had to play it cool.
Pasting his annoyed-to-be-interrupted expression on his face, he looked up from his surprisingly good turkey sub and he immediately patted his pocket to make sure he'd brought his antacids. He was pretty sure he was going to need them.
The last time he'd seen this woman he'd needed more than antacids, he'd needed his head examined. . . literally.
Riley knocked on the pink front door. Pink? Who had a pink front door? Obviously Annabelle's niece, Paige, that's who. And the fact that she did didn't bode well for the rest of the evening. After all, a pink door?
The pink monstrosity opened and Riley's blind date smiled at him. She was about five-six and had short brunette hair, and brown eyes that were almost black. She looked familiar, and it wasn't any resemblance to her aunt. There was something about her. . . .
"
You must be Riley. Come on in. I'm so glad to meet you finally. Aunt Annabelle has been trying to get us together for months. But I've been so busy, and obviously you have been as well. She fell in love with you when you did that series on the retirement community and interviewed her, you know. She said if she were fifty years younger she'd date you herself. Since she's not, she figured setting us up on a blind date was the next best thing.''
She stopped talking and stared at him expectantly, as if she was waiting for some response, but after that breathless gush of words, Riley wasn't sure how to respond.
"Annabelle's a nice lady," he tried.
Where did he know this woman from? It was going to drive him nuts until he figured it out. He hated puzzles.
She smiled, as if he was a student who'd just passed some test. "Yes. She is nice. Why don't you have a seat."
Now that she was done talking, Riley had a chance to really look at the room. It was chaos. A mishmash of bright, loud colors and. . . well, stuff was the best way to describe the stacks of books and piles of papers that littered almost every possible surface. He didn't know where he'd manage to find a seat. To be honest he didn't really want to try. He'd promised Annabelle he'd take her niece out, simply because it seemed to mean so much to her. But he planned on making it the quickest date in history.
"We really should go, if you're ready?"
"I'll be ready in a— Oh, watch out!"
As she spoke, it hit him where he knew her from—Paige Montgomery from WMAC. Pollyanna Paige. Gag. Right after that realization, something else hit him. . . literally this time. It hit him right in the back of the knees. As they buckled, Riley fell to the floor, whacked his head on the coffee table and felt a huge weight on his back.
Something was moving.
"Oh, Cuddles, what did you do?" Paige hollered, and suddenly the weight was removed.
Cautiously Riley rose, rubbing his aching head. He probably had a concussion. Didn't people slip into comas with those?
"I'm so sorry, Riley," Paige said.
He stood slowly, and looked at the mass of disreputable-looking fur in her arms. "What is that?"
"This is Cuddles. I just rescued him last week, and he doesn't have any manners yet. He, uh, tends to attack strangers. The poor FedEx guy was his first casualty. Luckily, Cuddles doesn't have any claws. And given time I'm sure he'll be a well-mannered, nice cat. He just needs a chance."
Cat? The mangy gray-furred beast was smirking at Riley with its one good eye.
"Are you ready to go?" Paige asked.
Resigned to his fate, Riley simply nodded, and immediately regretted it when the tempo of the throbbing in his head sped up.
Riley rubbed his head at the memory of that horrible introduction to Paige Montgomery.
What was she doing here now? More important, what was this business about him being a hero?
Paige slid into the chair opposite him, without waiting to be invited, and any hope Riley had of a simple cursory hello vanished.
Resigned to his fate, he asked, "What brings you here today?"
"I thought about calling you and thanking you," she said in the breathlessly fast way of hers, "but I didn't know quite how to say it, so I thought I'd say it in person. I went to your office, but they said you were at lunch, so I asked where, and they said here, and. . .well, here I am to tell you in person. Thank you. I wish I could have thought of a more eloquent way to say it, but sometimes the less said the better. Short and to the point, that's my motto. And my point is, thank you."
It had been six months since he'd seen Paige—well, except on the news, but that didn't count—and he could easily have gone another six without the pleasure.
"Thank you for what?" he asked cautiously. He'd learned on their one date from hell that being this close to Paige Montgomery was dangerous for not only his sanity, but for his safety.
"For saving my life."
"It's been a long time since our date, and if you've decided that I saved your life by not asking you out a second time, then you're welcome. Actually it was more self-preservation than anything, but maybe in saving myself, I saved us both." As a hopeful afterthought, he added, "Thanks for thanking me though. It was nice seeing you."
She didn't take the hint and leave. He'd strung together that entire breath of words and she was still here. Paige might be the most optimistically happy person he'd ever met, but she wasn't the sharpest marker in the box.
His waitress interrupted them, speaking to Paige, "Can I get you something?"
"Oh, how about a—"
"No," Riley interrupted. "She's not staying."
The waitress shrugged and walked away.
"You were rather rude to her, don't you think?" Paige asked. There was censure in her tone.
Riley shrugged. "No, I wasn't rude to her. Abrupt maybe, but not rude. I am about to be rude to you, since my subtle attempt to get you to leave failed. You're not ordering because you're not staying. I prefer eating alone."
"And I'm sure you have plenty of opportunities," Paige said, then took a deep breath. "Sparring with you wasn't why I came today. And I didn't want to thank you for not asking me out a second time. After all, if I had wanted a second date—which I didn't—but if I had, I would have asked you. It's not as if I was waiting by the phone for you to call and ask me. After that first date, a second one would have been tempting fate. I know I'm optimistic by nature—I know people say I live in a Pollyanna world—but even I didn't see the point of going on another date with you."
"If you're not talking about our date, what are you talking about? Not that your explanation is going to clear things up. I didn't learn much on that date, but I did learn that when you're around, people had better beware, and I also learned that you don't make a lot of sense. You know that, don't you?"
"I make plenty of sense. You just don't pay attention. I hollered at you to watch out for Cuddles, but did you listen? No. Just like a man. You think you know everything and would never admit that you don't. But I'll admit it when I need to. I don't know everything about anything, and obviously not everything about you. I underestimated you. There's more to you than a pessimistic reporter. You're a hero. A true-blue, ride-to-the-rescue, white-knight hero. I want an interview with you so I can tell the world about it. Heroes are rare these days, and deserve all the acclamation we can give them."
The term white knight started acid churning around the part of the turkey sub in his stomach. He should have known that he wouldn't get to enjoy the perfect sub without something, or someone, spoiling it.
Riley opened his pocket, took out his antacids and popped two in his mouth before he said, "Hero? I don't know what you're talking about." And he didn't want to know, but he was sure she'd tell him.
"Yes, you do. You might not drive cabs for a living, but that was one crazy ride to the hospital."
Of all the things he expected her to say—though he'd learned Paige rarely said what was expected—this wasn't even in the running. He choked more on the fact that she knew about his one small character aberration in the taxi than on the antacid tablet that had lodged itself in the back of his throat.
"How did you find out about that?" he asked between coughing spasms.
"It was me."
Mentally he tried to picture the scene when he'd dropped off the pregnant woman at the hospital, but he couldn't remember anyone other than the orderly and a blond nurse when he'd left. "Where were you? At the hospital doing another one of your crazy, non-news stories?"
Instead of telling him where she was at the hospital, she asked, "What do you mean, non-news?" Her tone sounded dangerous.
Or at least it would have been dangerous if it had been anyone other than Erie's sweetheart, Pollyanna Paige. Dangerous for her was rather like watching a kitten show its claws, which wasn't intimidating in the least. Not like Cuddles, the killer attack-cat.
As a matter of fact, Paige was sort of cute, all ruffled and riled.
"Paige Montgomery, with WMAC, w
here nice new matters," he mimicked. "Gross. That's not news. That's saccharine designed to sweeten up and warm the hearts of your viewers, not inform them about what's going on in the world."
"I do inform. And educate. And—"
Suddenly remembering where this conversation had started—and positive he didn't actually think Paige was cute—he interrupted her and said, "You still haven't told me how you found out about the pregnant woman."
"I was the pregnant woman."
"Listen, it doesn't take a reporter to see that you didn't just give birth." No. Paige Montgomery might be a walking health hazard, but she was packaged right. Oh, so very right. Long, lean and—
"I was in disguise. It's part of my About Town series. I disguise myself and find random acts of kindness throughout the city. You weren't just kind, you were a hero rescuing me like that. The doctor said if my appendix had ruptured, my prognosis would not have been good. It didn't rupture because you acted promptly, and that saved my life."
Riley felt his cheeks heat up, almost as if he was blushing. Only he didn't blush. Real men didn't blush. His father had made a point of seeing to it Riley Calhoon was as real as a man came.
The only explanation for the heat in his cheeks was that Paige was simply raising his blood pressure. His blood was being forced into his head, where it was going to back up and cause a blood vessel in his brain to rupture and give him a world-class stroke.
First acid indigestion, now a stroke. And that was just today. If he counted their one and only date, the evidence would show that for someone who had a reputation for being nice, Paige was certainly not very nice to him. She was out to do him in. Her and that horrible beast she called a cat.
She gave him a soft little smile, obviously not the least bit concerned that she was giving him a stroke, and said in a soft, warm, sighy sort of voice, "You saved my life."
"I did no such thing."
"Oh, yes, you did. You know it, I know it, and I want the entire city to know it. That's why I want to interview you. 'Erie's Hero,' I'll call it."
"You've got to be out of your mind. I'm not doing an interview with you. I didn't save your life."
