Socialite...or Nurse in a Million?

by Molly Evans

  “The only real way to tell is by testing, right?” She licked her lips, her breathing shallow and rapid, and allowed him to pull her closer, until only inches separated them.

  “That would be the only proper scientific analysis.”

  Science couldn’t wait for the answer and neither could Miguel. He closed the tiny gap between them, brought her lithe body against him and pressed his mouth to her parted lips. Heat seared him everywhere he touched her. Her skin, her hair, her breasts burned into him, and her hips tight against him roused him further.

  It was the fresh, fruity taste of her that finally unchained the man-beast inside him. The taste of her silky tongue against his, infused with the freshness of the grape, blended with her own, made him want to throw away any personal ethics and strip her bare right then.

  Her arms wound around his shoulders and held him tight. Each move she made renewed the scent of her in his mind and turned the key to the primitive male held captive inside him. He hadn’t felt this moved by a woman in so long. She was precious and kind, and lovely beyond measure.

  And he didn’t deserve her. That was the problem.

  He ended the kiss and hugged her tight. Her breathing was just as rapid as his and he could feel the way their hearts raced in time, as if they beat as one in separate bodies. If he weren’t who he was and if circumstances had been different, they might have made a go of this thing simmering between them. But he wasn’t, and they couldn’t. It was that simple. The words if only echoed through his heart and his soul.

  “Grape?” she asked, and pulled back.

  “What?” he blinked and tried to refocus on her.

  “To finish the experiment, we need to eat a grape.”

  “Oh, yes. Right.” Putting more space between them, he sat in his chair. He took a grape and handed her one. “Cheers.”

  “I’d say it’s a hit and if it gets out, it might catch on worldwide.”

  He laughed. “You are such a nut.” Then the smile faded away. “This has been a pretty crazy day, hasn’t it?”

  “That’s the understatement of the year.” She pushed her hair back from her face. “I can’t think of a time I used up so much adrenaline in one day. I sure hope Carlos is going to be okay.”

  “Me, too.” They were both aware of the ramifications of what could set in. ARDS, adult respiratory distress syndrome, could also hit him and make his recovery slower or permanently change him.

  “I have to ask you, though, why did you send the family to the blood bank? The blood they donated wouldn’t be used for Carlos. It has to be donated ahead of time, but you knew that.”

  Unable to resist the allure of her skin, he allowed his hand to stroke her cheek. “I knew. Carlos was going to use a lot of blood during surgery and possibly afterward, but the family needed something to do. It was a good way to fill up the blood bank’s resources, too. I’m sure they were thrilled.”

  “I’m sure they were.” She nodded. “It was a good thing to suggest. If you hear of any changes, let me know, okay?” She stood.

  “I will.”

  “My brother is dragging me out to a formal dinner tomorrow night, so leave me a message if I don’t answer.”

  “Your brother? It’s okay to tell me if you have a date, Vicky. I don’t have any claim on you.” As his hands clenched, he tried to keep his face calm, keep the insane flash of jealousy hidden. He had no rights to Vicky. But, damn, he wanted them.

  “Really, it’s my brother Eddy. He’s the one married to his work and doesn’t take time for a social life. Once in a while he talks me into feeling sorry for him, so I go.”

  She shrugged, and he believed her. So many times in the past he’d been around women who thought nothing of lying to the man they were supposed to be involved with. That self-protective instinct had stuck with him over the years, but now he relaxed, trusting that Vicky was telling the truth. The warmth that hummed through him had nothing to do with fatigue and everything to do with the realization that she wasn’t dating anyone else.

  “I know you’re tired, but try to have a good time.”

  She stood. “I’ll try. If it weren’t so late I’d try to find him a date. After tonight I’m exhausted.”

  “Maybe the outing will perk you up. You never know.”

  “I hope it’s certainly less stimulating than today has been.” A yawn overcame her, and she covered her mouth with one hand. “I guess I should head home now.”

  Miguel walked her to her car, the warm feeling lingering in his middle and migrating upward toward his heart. He knew he could never make a claim on Vicky, but he was glad that she wasn’t dating anyone else. “I’ll see you on Monday.” He allowed himself to cup her face and bring her close for a small, chaste kiss. “Thank you for being there.”

  “You’re welcome.” She hesitated a moment, as if she wanted to say something, but didn’t. He could see the questions surfacing in her eyes, and he knew he couldn’t answer them. He didn’t know what the hell was going on between them or how it was all going to pan out. He just knew he wanted more than he deserved.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  MIGUEL knew he had to do it, that there was no one else who could do it. His hands and his insides trembled as he unlocked the door to the clinic late Sunday morning.

  The blood was still there.

  The floor was covered with Carlos’s blood.

  The door opened against the pressure of his hand and he stepped inside, trying to control his breathing, but his heartbeat was unstoppable.

  It was a mirror image of the night his brother had died.

  Miguel had been determined to get Emilio out of the gang, which had been just as determined to keep him. The leader, Juan, was a kid he’d known all his life and one that had been in trouble as long as Miguel had known him. The brothers had fought earlier in the day and Emilio had run off in a rage. It seemed that the forces of the universe had been at odds that day, as well. Nothing had come together to help him and nothing had helped him save his younger brother.

  Trying to ignore the rage building inside him, Miguel dragged the mop and bucket from the storage closet. He filled the bucket with steaming-hot water, added detergent and began the mop-up job. Back and forth, back and forth he went across the pool of Carlos’s blood, which had dried on the floor. With each stroke of the mop memories poured into him, reminding him again of how he had failed to protect his brother and failed his family. He was the oldest. He was supposed to take care of Emilio. Even though he was a successful physician now and his clinic thrived, part of him would always be a failure.

  If he hadn’t tried to control Emilio, tried to force Juan to let go of his brother, Emilio might now be alive. Emilio had come home to find Miguel when Miguel had gone to find Juan. The gang leader hadn’t been hard to locate. Miguel had known the neighborhood.

  Emilio had arrived just as Juan had been about to put a bullet in his, Miguel’s, back. Instead, Emilio had taken the slug that had been meant for him.

  Everything had happened in unreal slow motion. He’d heard Emilio’s warning too late. He’d turned, seen Emilio dive for Juan and they’d both fallen to the ground.

  Emilio hadn’t got up. In his mind, Miguel raced to where Emilio lay on the ground, a puddle of his blood pooling rapidly beneath him. The cheap white tiles on the floor had contrasted sharply with the blood.

  Fear of that kind had never touched Miguel before. He’d slid to the slippery floor beside Emilio and turned him over.

  “There! He’s out of the gang. Now get his carcass off my floor,” Juan had said.

  “He needs help!” Miguel had cried, with tears of rage in his eyes. “Call 911.”

  “Get out.” Two of Juan’s assistants had hoisted Emilio up and dragged him out to the sidewalk. Though Miguel had wanted to kill Juan with his bare hands, he’d knelt beside his brother and gathered him into his arms. Even though he’d barely started medical school, he’d known that Emilio was dying, and had cursed himself for not being able to
save his brother.

  “Tell Mama…s-s-s-orry,” Emilio had whispered, and then had closed his eyes for the last time.

  The power of the memory overwhelmed Miguel, and he had to stop, close his eyes and take a minute before the images, the memory of his failure faded away. If he hadn’t tried to force Emilio out of the gang, he might still be alive. But they would never know if he could have gotten out on his own.

  Returning to the task, Miguel cleaned up the last of Carlos’s blood, took the mop out to the Dumpster and threw it away.

  Miguel arrived at the trauma-surgical ICU at the University Hospital and let himself in through the staff entrance. He’d done his resident training there and knew all of the ins and outs, the hidden exits and corridors for the staff to get around without being seen.

  Although he knew and loved Carlos’s family, he was still too raw to talk with anyone right now. He just needed to see Carlos and find out his condition, maybe find out what the hell had happened to him.

  He opened the door from the stairwell and entered the SICU. Busy activity never stopped in a place like this. The lifeblood of the unit was the pace set, the energy, the ability for the staff to act immediately and save the next life that rolled through their doors.

  Breathing deeply, he tried to suck in some of that atmosphere, that energy, and realized that he missed it, that he’d once been part of a unit like this, been part of the team that lived and thrived on emergencies. For a second he soaked it all in and good memories of his time there flooded over him. He’d once wanted to save the universe one sick patient at a time, and trauma had been his chosen method until the clinic in his community had called out to him for help. It had been a call he hadn’t been able to ignore, but now he wished there was room in his life for more.

  “Miguel!” A male voice brought him out of his reminiscences. “What the hell are you doing here, buddy?” The tall man dressed in surgical scrubs headed toward him, smiling widely.

  “Jason!” Miguel held out his hand to the old friend striding toward him as a surge of warmth pulsed through him. “I sure didn’t expect to see you still here.”

  “Can’t pry me away.” They shook hands and moved to the side of the hallway to allow staff to move past them. “What are you doing here?”

  Miguel explained the situation with Carlos. “I’m responsible for the kid, and I need to know firsthand what’s going on with him.” It was way more than that, but he didn’t want to go into any more detail at the moment.

  “Just so happens he’s doing great. Extubated this morning, breathing well on his own, no signs of ARDS, so I’d say he’s on the mend, barring unexpected infection.”

  “That’s great news.” The tightness in Miguel’s shoulders loosened and the relief pulsing through him was nearly tangible.

  “He was awake a while ago, but I’m not sure now. Want to see him?”

  “It’s enough just to know he’s been awake.” The relief inside him was overwhelming.

  “I hear your clinic’s doing well. Still working for you?” Jason had always been observant and somehow had his finger on the pulse of gossip everywhere in this town.

  “Most of the time.” Miguel looked around at the bright lights of the unit and listened for a second to the rhythm beating a low hum. “I do miss this once in a while. I never realized how much until now.”

  “It’s always been in your blood.” Jason grinned. “All you have to do is apply and you can be back here in a month.”

  “The clinic—”

  “Will run just fine if someone else takes over for you. Someone who is heading toward retirement, not a young surgeon with a passion like yours.” He patted Miguel on the shoulder. “Carlos is in room fifteen. I’ve got to roll now, but think about it.” He fished a business card out of his pocket. “Call me and let’s go have a coffee.”

  “I will.” Miguel took the card and stuck it in his pocket, wondering if he really would. When he’d left the hospital to take over the clinic, he hadn’t thought he’d ever return. Now, taking in the sights and sounds around him, he wondered if that decision was written in stone.

  He moved toward room fifteen, anticipating what he’d see there. Seeing patients hooked up to tubing and drains was one thing, seeing a loved one in the same position was quite another. After just a quick look inside the room he could see that Carlos had his eyes closed, that his breathing was even and deep. The monitor displayed good vital signs and the tension in Miguel’s shoulders eased another notch.

  Dropping into the chair beside the bed, he let go of his emotional stranglehold and rested his face on his hands, his elbows resting on his knees.

  Minutes passed as he sat there, listening to the monitors and being reassured by the consistent rhythm. The nurse came and went, but didn’t disturb him. Jason must have given a heads-up to the staff that it was okay for him to stay.

  Footsteps entered then stopped close by him. He figured it was the nurse again, and he remained in his position, not wanting to talk to anyone just yet. The touch of a hand on his back startled him, and he looked up. Vicky stood beside him, concern etched on her face. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I came to see Carlos. The nurse couldn’t give me any information on the phone, so I came down to talk to the family and get an update.” She glanced away. “You didn’t answer your phone, so I figured you might be down here.”

  “I turned it off when I came in.” He’d actually forgotten about it. “Are you okay?”

  “Me? I’m fine, but you look like death warmed over. Did you get any sleep last night?”

  “Not much.” He stood and moved away a little from her. If he touched her, he was going to regret it. Although her concern for him was genuine, he couldn’t tolerate the honesty in her touch right now. “I’m fine. You needn’t be concerned about me.”

  A guarded look came into her eyes, and he knew he’d hurt her. “I’ll be concerned about whom I wish.” She cleared her throat and stood up a little straighter. “I’ve come about Carlos, so can you tell me how he’s doing? Priscilla said he was off the ventilator, so that’s very good news.”

  “Yes. He’s breathing on his own. I’ve been sitting here for a while, but he’s been sleeping the whole time.”

  “Sleep is restorative, and he sure needs it.”

  “Not…sleeping,” Carlos said in a voice that crackled with dryness and fatigue.

  Miguel spun around and leaned over the bed. “Hey, are you in there?” he asked, and placed his hand on Carlo’s forehead, needing to touch him, to have that connection to the young man who meant so much to him.

  “Yeah.” He licked his lips and his eyelids fluttered.

  Automatically, Vicky reached for the mouth sponge to moisten his lips and tongue. “Here you go. This ought to help.”

  “Do you know what happened to you?” Miguel asked.

  “Mugging.” He paused again. “Tried to help.”

  “Oh, Carlos,” Vicky said, and tears ran down her face. “I’m so very glad you’re still with us.”

  “That bad?” he asked, and looked at Miguel.

  “Yeah.” He didn’t have to say anything else. Carlos had been around enough to know what that meant.

  “Thanks.” He glanced at both of them.

  A sudden shock of pure joy shot through him. The kid was going to be okay. Somehow he knew it. “Vicky’s the one who really saved your life.”

  “I did not! Will you quit giving me all the credit?” The flush on her neck gave away her pleasure, despite her words.

  Miguel told Carlos what had happened and how the events had unfolded.

  Carlos groaned and closed his eyes.

  “Are you in pain? Do you need pain medication?” Vicky asked. “A tampon? You let her put a tampon in me?” He paused for a breath. “I’m never going to live that down.”

  “At least you’ll live long enough to not live it down, bro.” Relief continued to overwhelm Miguel.

  The nurse entered the room.
“Sorry, folks. Time to rest up again,” she said.

  “It’s okay. We’ve spent too long with him anyway.” Miguel clasped Carlos’s hand. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “I’m so glad you’re on the mend,” Vicky said, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “When you’re taking fluids, I’ll bring you some coffee.”

  “The good stuff.” A sideways smile lifted one corner of his mouth and his eyes drifted down.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  MONDAY morning was full of the blues. Everyone, staff and patients, at the clinic knew and loved Carlos. The mood was somber as they moved through their normal clinic duties without him.

  “It’s just not the same without that boy, is it?” Tilly asked during the silent lunch break in the staff room. There was an almost palpable heaviness in the air, anticipating word from the family, the waiting time.

  “No, it isn’t,” Vicky said, as her appetite for her sandwich fled. She returned it to its wrapper and covered it up. Nothing was going to make her take another bite of that unfortunate excuse for a meal that she had made. If she couldn’t make a proper sandwich, she was in sad shape. After the busy week, then the horrible incident with Carlos and then the very late night with her brother and his awful dinner engagement, no one would blame her if she was exhausted.

  “There’s a different vibe in the air when he’s here.” The older woman shook her head and looked away.

  Vicky knew there were tears in Tilly’s eyes. She’d heard the emotion in her voice and sympathized with her, but Vicky had had a bit longer to get used to the idea and to see Carlos for herself. Seeing him in person was different than simply getting a report about him.

  “How about I order us all something for lunch?” Vicky said, and tossed her sandwich bag in the trash. “This isn’t cutting it for me today.”

  “What did you have in mind?” Tilly asked, but the other staff in the lounge looked at her, too. Since she had suggested the idea, she was in charge of it.