Heal Me

by Grady, D. R.

  “Nope,” he answered with a smile and rocked back on his heels, folding his arms behind him.

  “Liar,” she accused.

  “No, that one is true,” Fred inserted, reentering the conversation as he rolled his head one way and then the other.

  “Who asked you?” McCully demanded.

  Fred just smiled and returned to his stretches, no doubt trying to irritate McCully.

  Jenna made them leave the room then, so she could perform a more thorough examination.

  “You going to be okay?” he asked his friend in concern after Jenna shut the door.

  “What?” Fred asked, rolling his shoulders frontward, then back.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Sure, never better,” Fred answered with his usual aplomb as he folded an arm across his chest.

  “Well, you seem to be in some pain,” Owen felt compelled to point out.

  “Not really.” Mischief leaked from his voice.

  “Trying to make my partner feel guilty for your night spent in a chair by her bed?” he guessed.

  Fred just smiled.

  Jenna finished her examination and folded things back into her bag before TJ thought to ask, “So, I can go back to work?”

  “Maybe tomorrow,” Jenna replied with a smile. That calm, infuriating doctor smile.

  “What do you mean tomorrow? Today,” she argued.

  “Do you feel up to working today?” Jenna asked.

  TJ started to nod, but that sent tremors of pain through her already tender skull. “Yes,” she said primly, hoping Jenna hadn’t noticed her wince.

  Apparently, she had. “So, your head isn’t pounding, your stomach is feeling up to food, and you don’t ache in every part of your body?”

  Darn, but Jenna so had her on every one of those counts. For one of the first times in her life, she wasn’t interested in food. And her body did ache while her head throbbed.

  “I think Fred ran over me before he put me in the car. Or maybe he just tied me to the roof rack,” she said, feeling a pout coming on.

  Jenna, bless her, didn’t laugh, but TJ was sure she had to work to keep her smile from spreading into a full-fledged grin. “I doubt he ran over you. From all accounts, you threw him a big surprise when you virtually fainted at his feet.”

  “I don’t suppose I threw up on him?” she asked hopefully.

  Jenna laughed, but shook her head. “Not exactly on him, no.”

  “What do you mean by not exactly on him?”

  “I asked him to get some cold medicine into you, which he did, but you promptly threw that up. I don’t believe you threw up on him, though.”

  “Why don’t you think I threw up on him?”

  “I believe he got you to the powder room in time. Or the trash can. I didn’t ask, but I did notice he hadn’t changed his clothes, nor did he smell like you’d thrown up on him.”

  “Oh,” McCully answered, not certain how she felt about throwing up in front of the man. “So what exactly did you say I have?”

  “A case of food poisoning. I suspect you’ll feel weak tomorrow, but much better. That’s when you’ll feel like going back to work. You’re still recovering from the flu and you got this, so I suggest you stay home today.”

  “What about a watch dog. It’s probably not safe for me to stay here alone while the rest of you all have to go to work, right?”

  “Nope, I’ll be here,” Fred answered from the doorway.

  “Oh, that’s right, you don’t work,” TJ twitted him, feeling panic replace the alarm. Her breathing suspended and she started to cough.

  “See what happens when you’re mean?” Fred said mildly, and tapped her on the back. Which helped, darn him. She tried to glare at him, but Jenna was there, waving orange pills in her face, and a drink, so TJ took both and downed them. Her coughing subsided and she watched in resignation as Fred settled himself back into the chair he had vacated not too long ago. He carried a laptop computer with him, and she noticed there was another one on the bedside table.

  “Nerd,” she muttered as she turned her back to him and fell asleep.

  Jenna turned to smile at Fred as she watched him boot up both computers.

  “Are you okay here?” she asked, hoping he’d be fine, even though it had to be terribly boring watching a sick person all night and all day.

  “No problem,” he replied, sparing her a glance. Of course, she forgot to take into consideration that he was a computer nerd.

  Owen stepped through the door, and Jenna noticed he held the small folding table she kept for when she had lots of company. “I found this, will it work?” he asked Fred, who looked the table over with a glance and nodded enthusiastically.

  “Perfect.”

  “Is this okay?” Owen asked, turning to her.

  Realizing he spoke to her, Jenna answered quickly. “Yes, that’s fine. Whatever works for him. Fred’s doing us a favor by staying with TJ.” She smiled at him again in thanks, grateful he was so willing to help them out. Especially when their patient was less than nice to him most of the time.

  “No problem,” Fred answered again, and Jenna got the impression he was only half, perhaps even less than that, with them.

  “He’s happy here,” Owen verified for her, and Jenna turned toward the door with him.

  “Yes, I see that,” she answered and they exited the room, probably with Fred nor TJ any the wiser. “And we’re supposed to trust him to keep her safe?” she asked dubiously. The man seemed to crawl into his work.

  “Absolutely. He’s got the best instincts for danger I’ve ever seen.”

  “Okay,” she answered, hoping Fred would notice if someone came after TJ. While she wouldn’t normally worry about the female police detective, as the woman’s skills appeared to be stellar, right now she was in a weakened state.

  When they reached the first floor, Owen pulled her gently into her study and closed the door. Then he promptly enfolded her into his arms and laid a kiss on her like she had never experienced before last night. This kiss outclassed that one, even. Something she hadn’t thought possible.

  With a little gasp of pleasure, Jenna pressed herself against him and wound her arms around his neck, her fingers burrowing into his hair. He growled something she didn’t catch and crushed her against him, where an instinct instructed her to wind a leg around him. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, her fitted skirt prevented the motion. She did manage to slide a slipper clad foot up his calf though and Jenna heard him groan.

  He slanted his mouth across hers and she moaned. Her foot glided back up his leg and she wriggled, aiming for closer. They parted momentarily to readjust the kiss and her feet left the floor. A heartbeat later the wall pressed against her back. Owen stepped against her, pushing her into the wall, pressing her even tighter against his body. She gasped and moaned at the same time.

  Just as things began to get really interesting, a door slammed somewhere on the same level as them. The result was like a deluge of sanity. The smoldering quality banked in Owen’s eyes and she sincerely hoped the same could be said for hers. He stepped away from her, but settled a sweet, lingering kiss on her lips this time.

  Jenna melted. How could this man possibly shift from such exultant fire to such awe inspiring sweetness? Could he possibly be any more incredible?

  “Sorry about that,” Mark said from somewhere beside them and turning her head, Jenna noticed him standing in the doorway, not looking in the least repentant.

  “Yeah, like that’s believable,” Jenna snorted, glaring at her brother’s friend. She realized she didn’t care that Owen was still pressed tightly against her, both their glistening lips testament enough to what they’d been interrupted from.

  “Of course I’m sorry,” Mark replied and Colleen’s bright head popped up from under his arm. “What’s going on in here?” she teased.

  “Sorry, honey, this room is already taken, we’re going to have to find our own,” Mark answered for them, glancing down at
his fiancée with love in his eyes. Jenna’s heart flipped. How she craved seeing that very same expression in Owen’s eyes when he looked at her.

  “Try the laundry room,” he suggested, not moving away from her. Jenna curled up closer to him and offered her own advice, “And close the door behind you,” she instructed, pulling his head down to hers again.

  When he found himself humming on the way to work, Owen knew he was in trouble. He never hummed. He usually wasn’t quite coherent on the way to work. But then, he’d never experienced such heart stopping kisses like those he received from Jenna this morning, either. What a way to start the day. He had never cared one way or another what day it was, since he usually worked anyway, but today had been extra special because of Jenna Fields.

  His head still spinning from life with her, he started whistling, instead of the humming. Whistling seemed more masculine. Maybe lust had infected his brain, but he didn’t have to show the entire world this fact.

  Certainly, the minute he walked into the station, several of the detectives were going to realize something was up. Granted, it would be a relief to not have McCully bouncing at his side, bothering him to no end about Jenna and their relationship. Asking too many questions he didn’t have the answers to yet, nor wanted to think about.

  He missed her, though. Kind of like pet owners must miss their yappy little dogs when they took them in to be spayed or something. Then he thought of Fred around McCully and wasn’t certain that was such a good analogy. Because McCully definitely wasn’t spayed, and Fred certainly had all his parts, and the old dog was definitely sniffing around his partner. Maybe Fred hadn’t realized this yet, but Owen knew the signs. Probably because he himself exhibited all of them around Jenna.

  Turning into the parking lot, he slid into a space and turned off the engine. He grabbed up his lunch and some file folders and strolled into the precinct, careful not to hum or whistle. Man, he had it bad. Sedgewick, not surprisingly, was the first to notice his lunch bag.

  “Getting domesticated on us, O’Maley? What happened?” he started the taunts.

  “O’Maley brought his lunch today? Is he feeling okay?” another detective took up the gauntlet.

  “Hey, wait a minute! Aren’t you staying with some doctor?” someone else blurted out.

  “O’Maley’s doctor made him lunch,” an older detective chortled.

  Owen couldn’t help the grin that creased his face. “Yes she did,” he replied smugly, sauntering to his desk, and he started to whistle. These moron colleagues of his were mostly married, and probably missed the nuances of new love. If they wanted to live vicariously through him, fine with him. He wasn’t about to let any of them ruin his day. A fine day. Thanks to Jenna Fields.

  “Yo, O’Maley, I talked to your latest victim last night,” Carroll, another older detective, said behind him.

  Turning, he saw her wave a file folder in his face. “She regained consciousness?” he asked quickly, turning into detective mode from the love smitten fool in seconds.

  “Briefly. I asked her a few questions, but she was really groggy and I’m not sure she even knew who she was, much less what had happened to her.”

  “This is Carrie Snyder, right?” he asked, leafing through some of the files he brought with him.

  “The same.”

  “Glad you were the one to question her,” Owen admitted, knowing Lisa Carroll’s style, while gruff with her fellow detectives, was sympathetic and supportive with victims.

  “She didn’t tell me anything, though. I typed up a report, but I doubt it’ll do you much good,” she cautioned, handing him the pages.

  Nodding, he leafed through them. “Do you think she’ll know more when she wakes up again?”

  “Detective, I doubt she will wake up again,” Carroll warned.

  That quickly, his elation of the morning dissipated.

  “Dr. Fields, I think we have a problem,” Natalie said behind her, and Jenna turned around to question the nurse.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, her mind not entirely on her job. She kept reliving this morning when Owen enticed her into her study. She still went a little breathless when she remembered the way his mouth had slanted across hers and he raised her temperature to feverish heights. No man had ever made her moan so wickedly before, yet he managed in the course of a few precious minutes to make her do so, twice. How on earth had that happened? The blatant response her mind quickly conjured up was stalled by Natalie’s answer.

  “Remember the newest rape victim who was brought into the E.R. over the weekend?” she began, her voice trembling a bit.

  “Yes, I do,” Jenna replied, doubting she’d forget Carrie Snyder for as long as she lived.

  “She’s Tina Riley’s sister,” Natalie continued and Jenna’s giddy self fell away as this new information registered.

  “Oh no, Tina’s sister?” she repeated, sickened by the thought of one of their staff members having to live through such trauma. Tina Riley was a skilled physician assistant on their staff, capable and unflappable.

  “Yes. There’s something else, too,” Natalie admitted, looking really worried, and Jenna stared at the blonde nurse in trepidation.

  “What?”

  “Tina called, they don’t think she’s going to make it,” Natalie whispered.

  “Who? Who won’t make it?” Jenna questioned, already fearing the answer.

  “Carrie came out of the coma briefly, but she wasn’t coherent at all. And she’s gone further in now. The doctors there have given her less than a ten percent chance of recovery.”

  “Why?” Jenna felt like shouting, but managed to keep the question at a professional decibel.

  “They can’t determine what was given to her. So they’ve no way of knowing how to treat her. Tina’s there now. She’s been since the family was notified.”

  “Yes, and that’s exactly how it should be.”

  “We’ve got a heavy load today, and without Tina...” Natalie trailed off and Jenna realized what her assistant had been trying to tell her.

  “This means we’ll have to cover for Tina’s patients. Everyone else is behind already because I was out last week,” she figured.

  “Yes, I imagine so. The others are all willing to take on a patient, each, but that still leaves a couple who won’t be seen.”

  “I can see them,” Jenna said, thrusting a hand through her hair, wondering if this day only seemed like it’d end up being quite long. And sad.

  When his phone rang again, in the space of a few minutes, Owen scowled at the offending device. He just hung up with the strangest person he had ever encountered, and being a cop, that said a lot. Before that, he took a frantic call from their newest victim’s mother, demanding they find whoever was responsible for her daughter’s attack. How could you explain to a frantic, worried mother that cases weren’t usually that easy? How did you even begin to go about describing just the surface aspects of solving a case?

  Shaking his head, Owen scooped up the phone. “O’Maley,” he muttered into the phone, trying to scratch down notes from a call three people ago.

  “What’s going on?” McCully demanded in a voice he barely recognized.

  “Don’t you have better things to do today, like sleep or fight with Fred?” he demanded, trying really hard not to be thankful to hear her voice. He missed her. That must say unfortunate things about him.

  “I’m trying, but your obnoxious friend types like a woodpecker, so sleep is impossible,” she complained and he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. Leaning back in his chair, which squeaked ominously, he propped his feel on the lowest drawer in his desk and surveyed the ceiling.

  “So, obviously, you’re feeling better,” he began, trying to take her mind off Fred.

  “Obviously. There’s really no reason why I can’t be at work today.”

  “Oh, right, no reason. Other than the fact that you still probably have no desire to eat, and you’re also probably unable to keep awake for
more than fifteen minutes at a stretch,” he broke off when he heard her customary slurping in the background. “You’re drinking coffee?”

  “Yes, and I must say nerdboy here isn’t too bad a coffee maker. As a typist, he needs help, and probably as a human, but he doesn’t do too badly at coffee.” Owen figured from the direction her voice sounded, she made certain Fred heard most of what she said.

  “I’m amazed you’re drinking coffee. How in the world do you expect to sleep after drinking coffee?” he demanded, almost feeling sorry for Fred, because once she got a good dose of caffeine in her veins, she’d be hanging off the ceiling fan.

  “What?” she shouted in his ear, and Owen pulled the phone from his reverberating member to rub it before putting the receiver to his other ear.

  “Uummm, McCully, could you not yell in my ear, please.”

  “Sorry. Nerdboy here tells me this is decaf. Of all the nerve,” McCully explained and he could hear Fred rumble in the background. He thought he detected a note of humor in his friend’s voice, which was good. That meant he wasn’t ready to kill her yet. This was also good.

  “McCully, you just had food poisoning, on top of a nasty virus. Regular coffee contains caffeine which dehydrates. Don’t you think you’re already dehydrated enough?” Owen sought to ease her ire by explaining Fred’s actions. Of course, since the offender was Fred, he doubted anything would help.

  “I can’t believe he made decaf coffee,” she muttered, to him or to herself, he didn’t know, but took her lowered disgust level as a sign that she had begun to weary, for which he was grateful. Quickly he ran down the calls he’d taken today and she actually listened. She even asked a few pertinent questions and when he heard her stomach growl, he was relieved again.

  “Maybe you should eat something,” he suggested, hoping she felt up to eating. Jenna had assured him as soon as she felt able McCully could eat again and should be fine.