He merely looked perplexed over how to handle the greeting. His brows came together with a quizzical stare when she seated herself. She’d almost lost her job because of him, and he’d been fighting for the right to have his son live in his home. Surely those were good enough reasons to part ways. He’d been put on the spot along with her, though she’d never been able to convince herself of that.
Their brief lustful experimentation—and that was all she could sum it up to be as they’d had such little time together—had cost them both dearly. Had it merely been the excitement of taboo sex with a nurse for him? To her, their friendship and physical closeness had meant much more. Did he feel anything at all for her?
Mallory tore her eyes away from him, reached for a chart with a trembling hand and pulled it toward her at the ward clerk’s desk. She’d have to do everything in her power to distract herself from him—it was the only way she could survive the moment.
She flipped open the chart with an aggressive clatter. If either was going to approach the other, he should come to her.
*
There’d been nothing tentative about JT’s feelings for Mallory. He’d fallen in love with her, pure and simple, and that feeling hadn’t changed in the four months since he’d last seen her. Mallory and Corey were the two reasons he’d pushed himself when he’d wanted to curl up and die from the after-effects of GBS pain. Remembering her face had given him strength when he’d struggled to take his first steps. The memory of their passion had driven him to get strong again so he could take her in his arms and be totally in control the first time they made love. He promised himself there would be a first time, and then a thousand times more. Though at this moment, by the look on her face, he wasn’t so sure she’d ever give him a chance to make things right.
That morning he’d wanted to clap his hands when he’d learned that one of his patients had been admitted to her ward, and had looked forward to seeing her all the way up in the elevator. Any excuse to see her again would do. Only thinking of himself, he’d been foolish enough to forget the pain he’d caused her.
There she was, looking visibly shaken by him invading her territory. And could he blame her? She’d floated outside the patient’s room like an unsuspecting apparition with striking red hair and great legs. He’d been in the desert too long and she was the cool long drink he needed. Yet when she’d looked at him with such confusion, anything but certainty had registered in his mind. His hand gripped the pen too hard when he signed his name in the chart, making it look like a forgery.
Get a hold of yourself.
What could he say to her?
People who didn’t give a damn about either of them had kicked Mallory out of his life, and he’d allowed it to happen.
But today was not the time to sort things out between them. Now was the time to re-establish his medical credentials in his regular medical practice, especially since he’d given up the medical directorship. The news would be made public before the end of the week.
Last month, after hearing of Samantha’s engagement plans, he’d called Joel Hersh, who’d agreed to run against Wayne Berger for the medical directorship. When the vote had come in from the heads of all of the departments, it had been unanimous. So much for a wedding bonus for Wayne Berger.
Rumor had it that Samantha was now reconsidering their engagement, which meant she’d cling even tighter to Corey. JT’s lawyer was the best his family wealth could buy. Though his son was still at stake, and he had to be careful.
JT offered a faint smile for the love of his life. Bear with me, he wanted to say, trust me, things will work out. She didn’t return it. Instead, she sat down and grabbed a chart.
Somehow he’d make it up to her. When the time was right, he would find her. They would be together.
Just not yet.
A young nurse stuck her head out of a patient’s room. “I need a doctor,” she called out. “Stat!”
*
Jenny’s call for help snapped Mallory out of her state of shock. She jumped to action and ran for the crash cart, just in case a code blue was imminent, and pushed it into the patient’s room.
JT was already at the bedside, listening to Jenny’s barrage of info and examining the patient.
“The night nurse didn’t say anything unusual about this patient,” Jenny said. “I came in to do vital signs and discovered he can’t talk and his right side is flaccid.”
“What’s his name? What was he admitted for? What are his vital signs, blood pressure, heart rate, and oxygen sats?”
Using every ounce of control she could muster, Mallory stood quietly at the bedside, waiting for orders, and ready to step in if Jenny panicked. She’d find a way to stop her trembling hands even if it meant sitting on them. She dug them into her smock pockets and watched the doctor she remembered from years before back in action.
“Jorge Torres. He was supposed to have routine gall-bladder surgery two days ago, but they had to open him up when complications developed with the laparoscopic procedure. His last blood pressure was taken at 4 a.m. and was 165 over 98. I was just coming in to do 8 o’clock vital signs. His respirations are regular.” She wiped the corner of the patient’s mouth then put the blood-pressure cuff in place on his arm. “It’s 170 over 102.”
Deciding she couldn’t just stand around and be useless, Mallory applied the pulse oximeter to the patient’s finger and waited for it to register his oxygen level. Keeping busy so as not to watch JT another second, she set up the suction machine on the wall at the head of the bed, and used an oral suction device to remove the excess saliva from the patient’s throat.
“Mr. Torres, do you know where you are? Can you shake your head?” The patient gave a lopsided nod. JT examined the head for any recent injury with gentle, caring hands.
“OK, his sats are fair, 94 per cent,” Mallory said, removing the small device and stepping out of the way again. If only she could hide in the shadows.
JT took hold of both of the patient’s hands. “Squeeze my hands, Mr. Torres. As hard as you can.” The familiar look of genuine concern covered JT’s face.
Mallory watched as Mr. Torres gave his best attempt to squeeze back, one hand noticeably weaker than the other.
“That’s fine, Mr. Torres,” JT said, gently replacing the patient’s hands on the bed.
The patient tried to talk, but it came out all jumbled. His brown eyes took on a look of bewilderment and fear as they scanned the room and watched the strangers around his bed, as if he wasn’t sure where he was or what was going on.
“Mr. Torres, I’m Dr. Prescott, an internist. I’m going to check the vessels in your eyes.” He removed the ophthalmoscope from the wall and carefully looked deep into one of the patient’s eyes, then the other. He removed the stethoscope from his white jacket and listened to the patient’s heart for several seconds, then palpated both carotid arteries before listening to them with his stethoscope for any unusual sounds.
Deep in concentration, he moved to the patient’s bilateral pulses, methodically checking his arms at the inside of the elbows, his wrists, both sides of his groin, behind his knees, and finally his ankles and feet.
“We’ll need a CT scan stat to rule out infarction,” he said without looking up. “Order stat labs, CBC, a chem panel, coags, troponin and cardiac enzymes. Do a twelve-lead EKG. And, Mallory, let’s get an IV going. Normal saline. If there’s no history of congestive heart failure, run it at 150 ccs an hour. Give him some nitroprusside and titrate his diastolic to less than 90.”
Refusing to let her emotions override the patient’s priority, Mallory snapped into nurse mode and wrote down his requests, then handed them to Jenny, who ran out the door to process the orders.
Glad to have a reason to leave, she rushed out after her for the IV tray, solution, tubing, and intravenous catheter from the nearby supply cart. Willing herself to keep her mind focused on the patient, not the doctor, she quickly returned.
“We need to rule out everything fr
om hematoma to neoplasm to ischemic stroke.” JT spoke to her like a familiar colleague. Nothing more.
Be still, hands. I’ve got to get this IV started. Mallory pretended only the patient was in the room, though she felt JT’s intense presence as she tied the tourniquet. He had the courtesy to back away and let her work without his scrutiny. Thank heavens, because her hands wouldn’t co-operate and she needed to shake them out and regroup before inserting the needle. Once she had the IV in place and running, she walked to the foot of the bed and thumbed through the patient’s chart. “It says he’s an ex-smoker, he’s got high cholesterol and is on blood-pressure meds.”
He nodded. JT stood, resting both hands on his cane, watching the patient, deep in thought.
Still jittery, she found the stick-on ECG pads and connected the twelve leads on the patient’s chest, arms and legs, then set up the machine to record his heart waves. When she’d finished, she handed JT the results, avoiding his eyes.
“Thank you, Mallory,” he said, his voice calm.
She muttered, “You’re welcome,” and distractedly removed all the sticky patches, coiling the leads and putting them back in place on the portable machine. Anything rather than look at him.
“His heart looks OK. But I want to make sure we don’t have any surprise respiratory complications. Mallory, can you open the crash cart? I’m going to intubate him.”
She nodded and quickly moved to the large red cart, yanking the plastic lock off with a twist and flipping up the bottom flap before opening the drawers.
“Give me an 8 millimeter endotracheal tube.”
She handed him the curved laryngoscope, after checking to make sure the light worked, then a guiding stylet, some lubricant and a syringe, careful not to touch his hands. Where was Jenny? Couldn’t she come back and relieve her?
Using his long fingers like the expert he’d always been, JT had the airway in place in seconds.
“Let’s give him oxygen through a T-tube.”
Mallory found the set-up in the crash cart and applied it, thankful to have tasks to keep her preoccupied with something other than the man who’d broken her heart right there in the room with her.
“Mr. Torres.” JT patted the man’s arm and looked him straight in the eyes. He always leveled with patients. “We’re going to send you for some tests so we can figure out what happened to you. I suspect you’ve had a stroke, but we need to make sure with a CT scan. I’ll have Nurse Glenn contact your family so they can come in to be with you. We’ll do everything we can to resolve the circulation obstruction in your brain. In the meantime, I’m going to move you to the ICU, and if the CT scan rules out hemorrhage, we may put you on some special clot-busters. But I’ll let the ICU guy make that decision.”
Once the patient had nodded in understanding JT glanced toward Mallory. She quickly flicked her gaze to Mr. Torres.
The laboratory technician arrived, identified the patient and set to work filling vials of blood. She pretended to be fascinated with the procedure, rather than acknowledge JT’s lingering presence. No sooner had the lab tech left than the orderly appeared to take the patient for the computerized cranial tomography study.
That left Mallory and JT alone…together, in the hospital room…no longer able to avoid each other. He leaned on his cane and watched her with dark cautious eyes.
Frantic to keep control, and unable to tolerate his stare, she studied the floor, her heart pounding in her chest. She tried to clear her throat, but it had gone bone dry.
He broke the strained silence. “How are Morgan’s studies going?”
“Fine.” She nodded her head and stared at her clogs.
“Thank you for your help, Mallory.”
How could she find her voice to answer? Her eyes fluttered when she tried to look at him.
“Oh, it was nothing. You had everything under control. But you’re welcome.”
Her attempt at sounding nonchalant fell flat.
“It’s good to see you. You look great.” Unlike her, he sounded calm, cool, and in control.
It drove her nuts. Here she was feeling as though the world was dropping from beneath her feet, and he was offering casual bedside doctor-nurse banter. Jenny had come back into the room with a large hospital bag, and Mallory had to go along with it. “Uh, um, you do, too.” She busied herself by gathering the dirty bedlinen and chanced a glance upward, connecting with his intense eyes again. Adrenaline poured into her system like icy water. Forcing her mind not to go numb, she kept her mouth moving, though she wasn’t even sure what she said. “I’m so happy to see you’re walking.”
“Yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Some overly zealous nurse wouldn’t let me give up.” He leaned both hands on his cane again, and watched as Jenny left the room with the soon-to-be-transferred patient’s bag of belongings. “I’ll always remember that.”
So he did feel something. Maybe not as much as she’d like, but at least it was something. A flicker of hope almost made her smile. She didn’t. Did she dare tell him that she’d never forget him either? No. He didn’t deserve to hear it.
“Nurse?” A timid voice spoke from behind the curtain divider. It was Mr. Torres’s hospital roommate.
It snapped her back to work. “Yes?”
“I need to use the bedpan.”
“Oh.” Mallory took one last excuse to glance at JT. She lifted her brows and tilted her head, offering a bitter-sweet smile.
“I guess I’d better go dictate some doctor’s notes,” he said, resignation in his voice but smiling anyway.
She couldn’t resist smiling back, feeling her long-lost connection with JT cautiously coming back to life.
*
The knock on her door came just before midnight. She was still up, watching the late night shows, as she was unable to sleep, mindlessly petting Prissy who sat on her lap. JT had been on her mind every second since she’d seen him that morning at work.
The pounding frightened her, but the sound was so urgent she couldn’t ignore it. From around the corner in the living room she looked down worriedly at her sheer nightgown before asking cautiously, “Who is it?”
“It’s JT. Let me in.”
Her heart quaked in her chest and left her flailing for composure. She ran her hands through her hair and glanced down at her barely concealed body. Heat rose to her cheeks and melted her center.
“Let me in!”
She walked on wobbly legs the last few steps to the door, unlatched the chain and bolt lock and opened it.
Without being asked, JT blew in like a whirlwind, closing the door behind him before sweeping her off her feet. There was no doubt why he’d come.
His strong arms reached for her waist. He lifted her up and sat her on the nearby small entry table against the wall. His lips claimed hers just as quickly. Instead of thinking how angry she was at him, out of reflex her hands flew to his neck and pulled him closer. It had been too long and she kissed him back, eager to feel his mouth against hers.
His hands moved all over her, skimming, caressing, kneading, pulling her closer and closer still. Each touch ignited a flame beneath her skin.
No time for thoughts or explanations, only desire.
His hot breath covered her ear. “I couldn’t stay away another second. I tried. I swear I tried.” He kissed the shell of her ear and buried his face in her neck. He easily found her chill spot again at the crux of her shoulder. “God, you feel good.”
He kissed her until she couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t want him to stop. He tasted wild, like pure passion. His hands had easily found their way under her nightgown. Cold from the night air, they found the heat of her breasts and she shuddered. He cupped and lifted her, sending shock waves across her chest. He moaned and covered one of her nipples with his mouth, over the sheer fabric.
She sighed and pushed against him, willing him to pull her nightgown over her head and silently begging him to take off his clothes. As though he’d read her mind, off her nightie
came. He shrugged out of his jacket. She pulled at his shirt, desperate to get him out of it. She worked the buckle of his belt and drew him closer once she’d accomplished her task.
The warmth of his torso against hers sent chills fanning out over her body.
She looked into his eyes and saw a fire so out of control it scared her, until she realized he’d come for her, and only she could put it out. She cupped his behind and sucked a flat, tight nipple into her mouth, heard him moan, then felt the strength of his erection between her legs.
She’d dreamed about this moment a thousand times, but nothing came close to this raunchy reality. The smell of male pheromones caused a quickening in her core; she was ready for him.
With her nerve endings flowing like lava, and his firm embrace taking control of her senses, she shimmied toward the edge of the table and opened for him. He lunged with the fury she’d seen in his eyes. With her back to the wall and the wall of his flesh before her, she grabbed onto him for dear life, allowing him to sweep her away to the place deepest inside her. She throbbed and ached with his attention. She gasped and clawed, wrapped her legs around his waist and begged for more. He heaved and pushed and brought her to the brink before she could think one sane thought.
Her first release rolled over her faster than she’d ever dreamed possible. The second built slower and deeper, tensing and straining every muscle she possessed. He thrust at a constant rhythm and she pressed and tightened against his strength. Up and up, soaring above the flesh, she let go with a guttural gasp. He thrust several more times, growled, and quickly followed her lead with nothing less than a primal explosion.
She held on to his shoulders and buried her face in his damp neck and hair, inhaling everything about him. He found her lips again and gave sizzling hot, damp kisses. She returned each and every one, marveling at the taste of salt and satisfaction.
He kissed her forehead, her eyes, her nose. “I’ve needed you for so long.”
She kissed his chin and Adam’s apple. “You’ve got some major explaining to do,” she said, breathy and content.
In His Angel's Arms Page 11
