Intensive Care Crisis

by Karen Kirst

  Her steps slowed. “What is this?”

  Melanie slipped her arm free. “Go and see.”

  Julian, who’d been gazing at the cotton-candy sky above navy blue water, turned from the railing and straightened to his full height. He was dressed in crisp black dress pants and a gorgeous Hawaiian-style short-sleeve button-down. His dark hair was trimmed, the thatch on top short and spiky. He got more handsome every time she saw him.

  Wearing a smile she’d come to crave, he approached and placed a fragrant lei around her neck. “Aloha.”

  “I thought you and Brady had a basketball game tonight.”

  He brushed a kiss on her cheek and settled an arm about her waist. “That was what I wanted you to think.”

  “Is this for my birthday?”

  That wasn’t for two more weeks, but maybe he’d chosen to celebrate early in order to surprise her. She was learning he liked to do that.

  “Are you hungry?” he said, avoiding the question and leading her to a table straight out of an island fairy tale. White lights shimmered in glass containers. Pineapple shells contained vibrant blooms. Thick wooden platters sat atop green banana leaves.

  “I had an early lunch, so yes, I’m famished.”

  He poured bright liquid into a goblet and handed it to her. “This is POG juice, a blend of passion fruit, orange and guava. A staple in the islands.”

  The taste was sweet and light. “I’m a fan.”

  He chuckled. “I’ve asked the chef to prepare a couple of popular island dishes. The first is pipikaula, strips of dried and salted beef.”

  Audrey indulged in several bites before remembering Melanie. She searched the deck and area beyond. “I didn’t notice Melanie leaving. And where are the other customers?”

  “I reserved this space for us.”

  “You did? Impressive.”

  “Wait until you see what we have for dessert.”

  “What is it?”

  He pulled out her chair and, once she was comfortable, sat opposite her.

  “You’ll have to wait and see.”

  His smile held a touch of mischief and his eyes sparkled. Contentment settled deep inside, along with overwhelming gratitude. She thanked God for blessing her with this man.

  A young man served them one dish after another. The meal was sumptuous and unique. When he brought out the chocolate macadamia ice cream pie, she savored every bite.

  Julian grinned.

  “I could eat this every day.”

  He put down his fork and sank against his chair. “You like island fare?”

  “What’s not to like?”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that.” Reaching for a thick envelope tucked in between the flower arrangements, he handed it to her.

  There was no writing on it. She couldn’t imagine what it might be.

  “Open it,” he urged, the easy humor gone from his face.

  Audrey did as he’d instructed and stared at the boarding passes. “This is too much, Julian.”

  His expression earnest, he said, “I want you to see my home, to experience it with me. I also want the rest of my family to meet you.”

  Her heart did the hula. “This is the best birthday present,” she gushed, jumping up to hug him. “And this...” Straightening, she swept her arm to encompass the table and perfect view. “This is a memory I’ll treasure.”

  “The tickets aren’t for your birthday.”

  “They aren’t?”

  He left his chair, took her hand and went down on one knee. “Audrey, you taught me the meaning of true courage. You showed me what loving selflessly and without reservation looks like.”

  She lifted her trembling hand to her mouth. “Oh, Julian.”

  His eyes brimmed with pride and joy. “I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

  “I will,” she said through a smile and tears. “I love you, too.”

  He produced an elegant, round-cut diamond ring and slid it onto her finger. Then he pulled her into his arms and delivered a toe-curling kiss that stole her breath away. When he lifted his head, he caressed her cheek.

  “We could have an island ceremony, if that’s what you want.”

  The thought of her and Julian exchanging vows amid sweeping seas and lush, island scenery pleased her immensely. “That sounds like a dream wedding.”

  “We can take some time to decide,” he said, lacing his hands behind her back. “I had the meeting with my doc today.”

  She gasped. “That was supposed to have been next week, right? What did he say?”

  “He gave me the option of joining a new team or being an instructor.”

  Ecstatic he wasn’t going to be forced to retire, she searched his face for clues. “And?”

  “The more I think about it, the more inclined I am to be an instructor. I’d be able to pass what I’ve learned on to new guys.”

  “You’ll be a source of wisdom and inspiration for them. I’m proud of you.”

  “You ready to be a marine wife?”

  She kissed him. “Does that answer your question?”

  “I can’t wait to start our life together.”

  She smiled up at him. “Didn’t you know? We already have.”

  * * *

  If you enjoyed this book, look for the first book in this series, Explosive Reunion.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Seeking the Truth by Terri Reed.

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  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for choosing to read this second book about US Marine Corps heroes. There’s a saying among authors that some books seem to write themselves. This happened to be one of them. From the beginning, Julian and Audrey proved to be fun, interesting characters to explore. I liked the idea of passing acquaintances whose paths might not ever cross, if not for extraordinary circumstances. I hope you enjoyed their story. Next up is Captain Brady Johnson.

  Find more about my books at www.karenkirst.com. I’m also on Facebook and Twitter, @karenkirst. You can also email me at karenkirst@live.com.

  Blessings,

  Karen Kirst

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense story.

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  Seeking the Truth

  by Terri Reed

  ONE

  The smell of sweaty bodies, garbage from some unseen refuse container and the musty odor of grease from the subway rails lay heavy in the stale August air. Noise bounced off the ceramic tiled walls covered with a dinosaur motif, unique to the 81st Street and Museum of Natural History subway station on the
Upper West Side of Manhattan.

  The place was crowded due to the Central Park Walkathon. People of all ages and ethnicities mingled on the side platforms. Most wore the green shirts of the walkathon, but there were many other obvious tourists, what with it being late summer, along with local subway passengers.

  Officer Carter Jameson kept vigilant for any sort of trouble as he and his K-9 partner, Frosty, an all-white German shepherd, moved from the uptown platform to the downtown platform and back again.

  A family of three stepped into his path. The father held an adorable curly-haired toddler in his arms.

  “We need to get to the South Street Seaport. Is this the right train?” the mother asked.

  “Doggy!” the little girl squealed, her arms reaching out for Frosty. She nearly tumbled out of her father’s arms to reach the dog.

  The father stepped back, securing his hold on the child. “The dog is working. We can’t pet him.”

  Carter appreciated the father’s words. “We are working, but we can take a short break if she’d like to pet him.”

  He looked down at Frosty and gave the hand gesture to sit, which Frosty immediately obeyed. “Play nice,” Carter said, giving the dog the verbal signal that at this moment he was off duty.

  Part of Carter’s role as an NYC K-9 Command Unit officer assigned to the transit authority was public relations. To let the citizens know they were there to protect and to serve.

  “You sure he won’t bite?” the man asked, a wary expression on his face.

  “Frosty is used to my six-year-old,” Carter assured him. “She uses him as a horse.”

  “That’s a cute name for a cute fellow.” The mother held out her hand for Frosty to sniff. Frosty sniffed, then licked her hand, his tail thumping on the hard concrete platform.

  “Doggy!” the girl cried again. The father kept her in his arms but squatted down for the child to rub Frosty’s coat.

  From the pocket of his uniform, Carter withdrew a sticker with the NYPD gold shield and squatted down next to Frosty. Holding out the sticker, he asked the girl, “Would you like to be deputized?”

  She clapped her hands.

  Peeling the back off the sticker, Carter placed the gold shield on her shoulder. “Now you are one of us.”

  “Thank you for taking the time with my daughter,” the father said as he rose.

  The words warmed Carter’s heart. He worked hard to uphold not only the code of the NYPD to protect and serve, but also his faith. Not that he and Frosty wouldn’t take the bad guys down in a heartbeat, but he’d do so with humility and as much kindness as possible.

  Frosty’s attention jerked to something behind Carter. The dog didn’t alert, but his eyes were fixated on whatever had drawn his focus. Carter could feel a presence hovering.

  He glanced over his shoulder. His gaze snagged on a pair of red pumps below well-shaped calves disappearing into a gray pencil skirt.

  The reporter?

  Two hours ago, his brother Noah, the interim chief of the NYC K-9 Command Unit, had called to warn Carter a reporter wanted to interview him regarding the upcoming national police dog field trials and certification competition, which would be held in two weeks. Carter and Frosty were favored to place high in the public demonstration competition.

  A burn of anger simmered in Carter’s gut. The way the press had hounded his family the past five months after the unsolved murder of his oldest brother, Jordan, bothered Carter. He had no patience for pushy journalists.

  Turning back to the family, he said, “This is the uptown train. The downtown tracks are beneath us. You’ll want to get off at Fulton Street. And then walk toward the water. It’s easy to find.”

  “Thank you, Officer,” the woman said.

  The father held out his hand, which Carter took. “We appreciate your help.”

  The family turned and walked away.

  Carter took a moment for a steadying breath. To Frosty, he murmured, “Work.”

  The dog’s ear perked up, indicating he knew he was back on duty.

  “Officer Carter Jameson?”

  The honeyed voice, with just a hint of an accent, tripped down his spine.

  Unnerved by the visceral reaction, he arranged his features into a neutral expression and turned around. “Yes. May I help you?”

  The beautiful woman facing him was tall with long brown hair that floated about her cream-colored, silk-clad shoulders. Brown eyes framed by long lashes stared at him, and her full lips were spread into a tentative smile.

  His gaze swept over her. She was dressed to impress, in her fancy blouse and gray pencil skirt. The red pumps were impractical. Though she had on a sturdy-looking cross-body type purse, not so impractical. The flowery notebook and pink pen in her manicured hand would have delighted his daughter, Ellie.

  She tucked her pen behind her ear before holding out her hand while gesturing with the notebook to the newsstand that sat in the middle of the platform. “I’m Rachelle Clark with NYC Weekly.”

  He grasped her hand, noting the softness of her skin and the crazy frisson of sensation racing up his arm. “I can’t say that I’ve ever read that particular one.”

  There were so many local NYC-centric newspapers and magazines keeping those living in the five boroughs up-to-date on the happenings, Carter couldn’t possibly read them all.

  She extracted her hand. “You don’t want to know what’s going on in your own community?”

  Tucking in his chin, Carter said. “I didn’t say that.” He narrowed his gaze. “I believe my brother told you I was working.”

  She had the good grace to grimace. “True.” Her smile reappeared. “However, he did tell me where to find you, so I took that to mean he wasn’t opposed to me asking you some questions.”

  “Did he now?” Carter would have to chew Noah out for throwing him to the wolves, or wolf, in this case.

  “How about this?” Rachelle said. “I can follow you around the rest of your shift. Just observe. I won’t ask any questions.” Her accent deepened into a definite Southern drawl. “I won’t say anything. Just think of me as a little shadow.”

  Yeah, right. An attractive shadow. Like having her dogging his steps wouldn’t break his concentration. He looked down at Frosty, who looked up at him with his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

  “We’ll take a break right now,” he said. “You have five minutes.”

  “No, no, no. It would do my article so much good if I could see you in action. Even if it’s just for a little bit. Then when you’re off duty, I can interview you.”

  Carter rubbed at the tension in the back of his neck. “Like I said, five minutes.”

  Her gaze darted to his partner then back to him. “He’s a handsome dog.”

  “He knows it,” Carter told her.

  She laughed slightly but didn’t reach out to touch Frosty. Carter wondered if she was afraid or being respectful.

  He strode away toward a locked closet built into the staircase, fully aware of his “shadow” following. He tried to ignore the hint of lavender wafting off the woman as he brought out water for Frosty, who lapped it up thirstily. He grabbed his own thermos and drank deeply, his eyes on the reporter watching him.

  She glanced around. “Was there a race today?”

  “For a reporter, you’re not very well-informed.” He barely suppressed his amusement when surprise and a bit of annoyance flashed in her chocolate-colored eyes.

  She recovered quickly and said through smiling lips, “I don’t cover sports.”

  He couldn’t contain the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “A walkathon for diabetes. Hardly a sport.”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you expecting trouble?”

  Only the kind tall brunettes posed. He shook his head, dislodging that thought. “No. We’re just patrolling as a
precaution.”

  “Right.” She made a note in that flowery book of hers. “I suppose the walkathon could be a target like last month’s Fourth of July celebration.”

  She was correct, but he didn’t comment. No need to give her any more fodder on that score. Two of his fellow K-9 Unit members and their dogs were there when a bomb detonated in a park on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Thankfully, no one was hurt.

  “Did that bombing have anything to do with your eldest brother’s murder?”

  Carter glanced to her sharply. “Your five minutes is up.”

  “No, it’s not,” she countered. She tapped the gold watch on her slender wrist. “I have two more minutes. How close are you to solving your brother’s murder case?”

  “I thought you wanted to talk about the field trials?”

  Her nostrils flared slightly but her smile didn’t slip. “I do. Are you and Frosty competing?”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “How many events will you participate in?”

  “All of them.”

  Her dark eyebrows drew together. “Which are...?”

  “Obedience and agility. Articles and boxes, which are timed. Apprehension with gun and without gun.”

  She wrote furiously in her notebook. “Could you elaborate on those?”

  “Not now.” He tapped her watch. “Time’s up. You can attend the public demonstration.”

  A new flood of people rushed down the stairs toward the train platform. Carter carefully watched the throng and Frosty for any signs of an alert as the dog inhaled the air in short little bursts and sniffed at each person as they walked past him.

  It was time to take his focus off the reporter.

  Carter put their stash away and closed the closet. “Back to work.” He let Frosty lead, his nose twitching in the air.

  Awareness shimmied down Carter’s spine with every step. He stopped abruptly and turned to face the woman on his heels. Her pumps skidded on the concrete floor, barely halting her in time to keep from bumping into him.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded.

  Her smile turned saccharine sweet. “There’s no law against sharing the same space as you.”