Hot Bodies Boxed Set: The Complete Vital Signs Erotic Romance Trilogy
Page 47
Was this really what it was like to be pregnant? Weak, dizzy, and sick all the time? If so, Joanna wasn’t sure she wanted any part of it. And it wasn’t as if the baby would be joining a happy, loving home, either. Harlan was MIA most of the time these days, and whenever he was around, he was insufferable.
Joanna closed her eyes and shook her head. She really didn’t want to think about Harlan or the state of her marriage. Not right now. All she could concentrate on right now was not throwing up.
Joanna closed her eyes and tried to get some sleep. Just as she was about to drift off, however, the phone rang.
She groaned and rolled herself over to the other side of the bed so she could reach the nightstand phone. “Hello?”
“Joanna, hon, it’s Maryam. I’m sorry to bother you right now, I know they just discharged you. But we have a bit of a situation over here.”
Joanna rolled her eyes. She could only imagine what that meant. “Go on.”
“Well, I hate to say it Joanna, but it would probably just be easiest if you came back on over here.”
Joanna scoffed. “I don’t think so, Maryam. I can barely move.” And it was true. Joanna had never been so exhausted in her life. Her entire body felt as if it was made of lead.
“All right hon. I’ll just have to tell you straight out, then.” Maryam paused to clear her throat. Several times. Finally, she spoke. “Two orderlies found your husband passed out in his private office this afternoon. Naked. With a hard-on.”
Joanna sat bolt upright. In an instant, all the fatigue and nausea melted away. “What?”
“I think you heard me the first time, hon,” Maryam clucked. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I saw it myself. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. Luck would have it, I was the one who had to wake him up. I’ve never had to pull out the smelling salts for anything like this before.”
“Oh my God, Maryam. I—I don’t even know what to say.”
“I really don’t want to make things sound any worse than they already do, hon, but when I was reviving your beloved husband, my ladylike intuition told me that he had—well—engaged in sexual activity very recently. I thought you’d like to know.”
Joanna groaned as she felt the nausea gripping her body again. But it was nausea of a different kind. Instead of morning sickness, it was the realization that her marriage really was over. If what Maryam had said was true—and she had no reason to believe it wasn’t—Harlan had cheated on her. And on hospital premises to boot. While she was pregnant. And in the ER.
It was unforgivable.
“I’m not coming over there,” Joanna snarled. “No way, no how. You tell Harlan he can rot in hell. No way is he ever coming home to this house, either. We’re getting a divorce. And I’m keeping everything.” She slammed down the phone.
Joanna surprised even herself with that reaction. Maybe it was just the pregnancy hormones talking. Or maybe she was finally at the end of her rope.
She settled back against the pillows and began to sob.
****
Dana Johnson arrived at the Psychiatric ward bright and early the next morning. She signed in with the guard on duty, collected her security badge and panic button. Dr. Marx was waiting for her on the other side of the security door.
“Glad you could make it, Miss Johnson,” Dr. Marx greeted her as she came in. “It’s unfortunate that Mr. Hartzell can no longer join us.”
Dana just shrugged. She didn’t want to give too much away where Billy Hartzell was concerned.
Dr. Marx motioned for her to follow him. “I have found someone else to be your partner in these sessions, though. I think you’ll like him.”
Dana followed Dr. Marx down the stark gray main hallway of the psych ward until they came to a small room. The room was empty save for two metal folding chairs. “Craig will be joining us in just a moment,” Dr. Marx said.
“Craig?”
“Craig Miller. He’ll be taking Billy’s place in the experiments. We’ll still be getting started with them this morning, right on schedule.”
Dana’s stomach fluttered a bit. “But—what if I don’t like him?”
“Don’t worry, you will. I’ve known Craig for a long time. And he’s a part-time orderly here on the ward, so he already knows the patients very well.”
As if on cue, a huge, muscular man with a hard face and a crew cut lumbered in. “Hiya, Doc,” he said in a thick backwoods drawl. “Is this the lady?” He looked Dana up and down, and seemed to like what he saw.
“Yes, Craig, it is. This is Dana Johnson. Dana, meet Craig Miller. Craig was in the Marines before joining the hospital staff a few years ago, so I promise you that you’ll be perfectly safe when you’re in with the patients.”
Dana took one look at Craig and winced. She was sure the ex-Marine would keep her safe from the patients. She just wasn’t sure she would be safe with Craig.
Dana was having second thoughts. Maybe participating in these psychiatry experiments wasn’t such a good idea after all, cash bonus or no cash bonus. Dana heard one of her mother’s favorite sayings echo through her brain—nothing is ever free.
“Ummm, is it possible to do a trial run before we get to the actual experiment?” Dana asked meekly.
Dr. Marx sighed. “I’m afraid not. We’re on a strict timeline for these experiments, partially due to staffing constraints, but mostly because the application deadline for my research grant is next Monday and I’ll need to have the data in time to include in my grant request.”
Oh, so that’s how it was then. Dana’s opinion of Dr. Marx just dropped through the floor. He had made all kinds of overtures to her and Billy about how this work would be for the benefit of the patients, when it was really all about money. Well, two could play that game. Dana decided she would do the absolute bare minimum expected of her in order to get her cash bonus. That, and she hoped taking this little leap of faith into the snake pit just might help give her the confidence she needed to get Billy back. And hopefully, she wouldn’t die or get raped in the process.
Dr. Marx led Dana and Craig down another long, narrow hallway that was even darker and bleaker than the first. After several twists and turns, they landed at a reinforced steel door. The gray-bearded doctor took a heavy ring of keys out of his lab coat pocket, unlocked three deadbolts, and pushed open the door. “The patient had already been restrained for this first session, Miss Johnson, so you will be perfectly safe. But Craig will be here in case anything happens.”
The doctor led them both into the sad little room, which was really no more than a prison cell. A pathetic human being sat tied down and straitjacketed in a hard wooden chair in the far corner. Dana felt a surge of pity at the sight of him, and gasped when she saw that in addition to being tied down like an animal, he was also gagged. His whole body trembled and shook, and a line of drool had soaked through the cloth gag and ran down one corner of his mouth and underneath his knobby chin.
There was another empty chair in the corner of the room farthest from the patient. Dr. Marx motioned for Dana to sit in it. She did. Dr. Marx opened a small compartment in the wall and pulled out a worn leatherbound book.
“For today’s session, Dana, I would like you to read aloud from this book.” He handed it to her; Dana glanced at the cover and saw it was an ancient copy of Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities. Dr. Marx motioned over to the pathetic human being in the far corner. “Your patient’s name is Jerry. Jerry very much enjoys hearing books read aloud. Especially Dickens. We’ve read four Dickens books together, haven’t we, Jerry?”
Jerry didn’t respond. He took one look at Dana and cowered in terror, which left Dana baffled.
“Jerry has an irrational fear of attractive young women,” Dr. Marx explained, as if reading her thoughts. “It’s a highly unusual phobia. The doctors at the state hospital and I have been trying to discover the source of that fear over the course of several years of therapy, but so far, we haven’t been able to un
cover anything. That’s where you come in.”
Dana absently turned the pages of the old leatherbound novel. The pages were yellowed with age, and some of the corners crumbled underneath her fingertips. “How will reading to him help?”
“It’s all part of the immersion therapy process. Any exposure to the object of his fears—i.e., you—will help chip away at the phobia. By having you read him a book that I know he will enjoy, I hope to establish a rapport between the two of you. It’s an important first step.” He turned to Jerry. “Jerry, this is Dana. She’ll be reading to you an hour a day over the next few days. I want you to be on your best behavior for her. If you’re good today, I’ll see about ordering your favorite meal from the cafeteria today. How’s that sound?”
Jerry made a long low growl that sounded like a cougar’s, but spoke no words in acknowledgement.
“All right then,” Dr. Marx said, dusting off his hands. “I’ll leave you two to it. I’ll just be down the hall. You’ve both got your panic buttons if anything happens. See you in an hour.”
Dr. Marx left, shutting the heavy steel door. Dana shuddered as she heard all three deadbolts engage. She was trapped in here with a lunatic and a burly Marine who kept staring at her breasts.
This wasn’t at all what she’d bargained for. And it was too late for her to back out—at least for today. There was only one thing she could do.
She cracked open the book, and began to read aloud. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. . .”
****
Dr. Harlan Wilkinson lay stretched on a cot in the staff infirmary. He’d managed to put on some clean scrubs to hide his nakedness, but he was going commando since he hadn’t been able to find his boxer shorts after Maryam woke him up. He strongly suspected the dried-up old woman had swiped them as a souvenir.
Harlan was so exhausted from all his double-shifts in the OR that he’d passed out after jerking off. It was a painful reminder that he just wasn’t as young as he used to be. Ten years ago he could have worked forty-eight straight hours in a row and still spent a good six or seven more hours having sex with as much gusto as your average teenager.
No more. Now Harlan was the laughingstock of teenagers. A pair of pimply minimum-wage orderlies had found him naked in his office while sporting the biggest hard-on this side of Asheville. He’d never been so humiliated in his entire life. And word around the ward was his wife was passed out herself, had even spent some time in the ER. Fainting episodes must run in the family now.
Thoughts of Joanna instantly brought Harlan back to earth. He’d been so focused on his work lately he’d barely thought of her. And yet, when exhaustion and burnout threatened to cause a big accident in the OR, his wife had stuck her neck out to protect him from himself. And what had he done to thank her for it? Swore at her, yelled at her, then lusted after a cheap bimbo and jerked off in his office to get said cheap bimbo out of his system.
At least he hadn’t cheated on Joanna. But somehow Harlan figured that would be small consolation. His wife already had one foot out the door of their very brief marriage, and he supposed it wouldn’t take much at this point for her to take the next and final step.
The chief surgical resident had given Harlan clearance to go home as soon as he felt well enough. There were no major surgeries scheduled for forty-eight hours. The ER physicians and his chief surgical resident could handle any urgent cases that might appear in the meantime. He needed to go home and get some rest. Not to mention make one last effort to save his marriage—assuming he still had one to save, that is.
****
Dana had been reading Dickens for almost forty-five minutes. Jerry cowered in the corner, still terrified as a deer in headlights; his whole body shook hard enough to rattle his chair. Craig, her impromptu bodyguard, hulked over her, his body close enough to hers for Dana to know he bathed in Irish Spring and wore cheap Brut aftershave. Though he hadn’t laid a hand on her, Dana still felt violated in his presence. Craig was an intimidating man under any circumstances, and he wasn’t exactly making a secret of the fact he found Dana very attractive. He might not have touched her or even made a rude comment, but Dana felt she had a lot more reason to fear her bodyguard than she did the raving lunatic in the corner.
There were fifteen minutes left in this first hour of experimental therapy. At a minute or so a page, that meant Dana had fifteen more pages to read aloud in A Tale of Two Cities. Her mouth was dry now, and she could hardly get the words out. It irked her that Dr. Marx hadn’t bothered to offer her a glass of water or even a ten-minute bathroom break. She read the words off the page without comprehending them at all. She heard her voice from somewhere far away, her mouth and lips formed the sounds in the proper order. But her mind wasn’t part of the equation.
Craig inched his massive body just slightly closer to Dana’s, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Did he really think she didn’t understand what he was doing? Did he really think he could get away with manhandling her when he thought she least expected it? Or was she just being completely paranoid?
Dana fingered the panic button where it rested in her scrub pocket. She was even tempted to press it. But what would she tell Dr. Marx and his staff when they burst into the room to rescue her? That she’d had a very vague feeling of dread about the man who’d been assigned to protect her from the insane and woman-phobic Jerry, even though Craig hadn’t actually done anything to harm her? Somehow, she didn’t think that would go over very well.
Dana heard snoring from the far side of the room. Jerry had fallen asleep. So much for Charles Dickens. She snapped the book shut and sighed. “Let’s go,” she said and stood up from her chair.
“No.” Dana felt Craig’s huge, meaty hand on her shoulder, pressing her back down into her seat. “We’re not done yet. We’ve got fifteen minutes left.”
A slow tide of fear began to rise deep in Dana’s belly. It seemed she might have been right about Craig all along. “The patient is asleep, Craig. I don’t really think we’re going to be any more use to him right now.” She tried to stand again, but Craig crowded her and kept her in her chair. His body seemed to suck up all the air in the room.
“We’ve got fifteen minutes left,” the hulking ex-Marine said again. “And you’re staying right where you are until I’m finished with you.”
Craig made a move to grope Dana, but Dana would have none of it. No way in hell was she going to allow another man to do what Captain Masters had done all those years ago. She kneed him hard in the groin, then punched him square in the face. The huge man crumpled into a ball and landed on the floor, groaning. Dana stood up and pushed the panic button.
A moment later, Dr. Marx and two orderlies rushed in. He gaped in shock at Craig wallowing in pain on the floor. “What happened, Miss Jackson? Are you all right?”
“I quit,” she seethed, and shoved right past him.
Out with the old Dana Johnson, and in with the new. Today was the first day of the rest of her life.
****
Harlan let himself inside the house. The vast two-story entry foyer was dark, and every room in the vast sixteen-room mansion he shared with Joanna was silent. He wondered for a moment if she was even at home. But she had to be; her car was in the driveway, and the deadbolt wasn’t engaged when he came in. Joanna never left the house unlocked unless she was home.
Harlan climbed the stairs without turning the light on. Something deep in the pit of his stomach told him not to alert Joanna to his presence. He didn’t know exactly what, but something told him he needed to be protective of her, more so than he’d ever been before—as if now he had more to lose than he ever had in his life.
The upstairs hallway was dark, and the door to the master bedroom was half-open. He pushed it wide enough to pass through, and it squeaked ever so slightly. The master bedroom was even darker than the hallway—Joanna had pulled the drapes shut, blocking out the early evening light. She lay sprawled across the bed on top of the c
overs, fast asleep. There was a pile of used Kleenexes next to her head, and her sleeping eyes were red and puffy; Harlan could tell she had been crying. Because of him, no doubt.
Harlan sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs in the small sitting room just opposite the huge four-poster bed, and waited. He’d wait all night if he had to. He had to speak to Joanna, had to explain what had really happened that day, had to explain his true feelings for her. His marriage—even his whole life—depended on it.
Harlan had once lost all that was precious to him, and in the worst possible way. He swore that come hell or high water, it would never happen again.
Fifteen
Billy Hartzell was in his pickup truck, heading east. He didn’t know exactly why, but when he drove into Little Rock, something made him turn his truck around in the other direction. He was heading back to Statesville, heading back to the arms of the woman he loved. The woman he had met only two or three times, had touched only once—and yet, the woman he knew was his soulmate.
He had to get back to Statesville, had to make one last try for her. And he knew he might fail. Hell, he knew he would probably fail. But he also knew that if he didn’t at least give it a shot, he would regret it for the rest of his life.
He drove and drove for hours. Arkansas gave way to Tennessee; rolling hills and river bottoms gave way to tall wooded mountains. Soon he was back in the beautiful, mist-filled Appalachians, the glorious land that Dana Johnson called home. Though like Billy, she was originally from the red, muddy hills of Georgia, Dana was a backwoods mountain girl at heart. As Billy drove the twisting, narrow mountain roads he felt almost as if he’d won her back just by being there.
It wasn’t going to be that easy, of course. Billy figured that Dana probably hated his guts by now. Not only had his carelessness helped kill five people, he’d lit out of town without even saying goodbye. He hadn’t exactly been given a choice, of course, but Dana probably didn’t see it that way. If he popped back into Statesville, at least he’d have a chance to explain his side of things. She might not want to listen, but he had to give it a try.