Her L.A. Knight

by Lynne Marshall

  Pleased with the turnout, she slowed down at the sight. All the tables were filled. Several hundred balloons were corralled in a net on the ceiling, waiting to be released when the charity grand total was announced later. Excitement buzzed in the air.

  Nurses loved any excuse to wear something other than scrubs or starchy white uniforms, and they’d showed up in full party regalia tonight.

  China savored the moment. She’d worked tirelessly on her days off to make this dream happen. Week after week, working forty hours on the evening shift in the Mercy Hospital emergency room, the point had been driven home: teenagers were careless drivers, causing the majority of accidents and ER visits. Statistics didn’t lie. She knew the facts firsthand. Her scars would never let her forget it.

  “China.” She recognized her sister Sierra’s voice and looked beyond a vast sea of sparkling white tablecloths adorned with colorful centerpieces. A fellow ER RN, Sierra sat close to the stage. “Psst. Over here.”

  Snaking her way through the large round tables, China tripped on a chair. Her weak ankle twisted and she slid off her shoe, but she caught herself before she fell on her face.

  Feeling like a klutz and thankful for the dimness, she scrambled to retrieve her strappy-heeled sandal. She made her way to her sister’s table in deep blush.

  “Where the heck have you been?” Sierra whispered.

  “You don’t want to know. Trust me.”

  “I was freaking out that you’d had an accident or something.”

  “I forgot my cellphone. Sorry I couldn’t call.” She smiled and patted her older sister reassuringly on the arm. “I’m fine. You look nice.”

  Sierra wore a flashy scoop-necked dress with lots of bobbles and dangly feathers, reminding China of her mother. Her wild mane of auburn hair competed with the metallic copper-colored outfit, but somehow, on her, it worked.

  “What happened to your hair?” Sierra screwed up her face, zeroing in on China’s straight black tresses. “Your bangs don’t even cover your scar.”

  Feeling suddenly more self-conscious, China tugged on them, as if they might grow on the spot. “It was Rigoberto’s idea of the latest fashion trend. Do I look like a total fool?”

  Sierra’s face softened. Smile lines crinkled around her dark green eyes. “Hardly. I’ve heard the Cleopatra look is coming back.” She made a sideways V with her fingers and scooped them across her eyes. “But where’s your eye make-up?”

  China moaned, thinking how ridiculous she must look.

  They’d been told they had the same eyes, though they were only half-sisters, same mom, different dads. Their exotic names reflected the taste of their green-eyed, hippy, free-spirit mom. Marriage had never been her thing, leaving the siblings fatherless, and to bond under challenging circumstances. But bond they had, and were fiercely protective of each other.

  Sierra pouted. “Aw, come on, you know I’m teasing.” She leaned one way, moved her head from side to side, then leaned the other direction and did the same, while checking her out. “I think I like it.”

  “Well, whew, I’m all better now,” China said. She screwed up her lips and looked upward, as if she might be able to see her own bangs. Her eyes crossed.

  A light flashed.

  Sierra, doing double duty as the hospital underground newsletter editor, had taken a picture. “Happy birthday!”

  “I’m going to kill you.” China lunged at her.

  Sierra whisked her camera safely away and slipped it inside her purse. “Too late,” she said.

  The lights came up in the room, distracting China momentarily.

  “You’ll pay for this, Ms. Paparazzi,” she said, turning her attention to the stage.

  “Welcome. It’s great to see everyone here tonight. I’m Rick Morell, and I’ll be your host.”

  China shook her head, thinking of what she’d managed to do for the love of her charity. The thought of a humiliating picture in the newsletter was a small price to pay. And besides, her mother and Sierra were always telling her not to be so uptight.

  Well, she’d lightened up enough to go out of her way to ask Mercy Hospital’s very own snake charmer to be master of ceremonies. Wasn’t that something?

  She couldn’t figure out why women went gaga around him. Good looks weren’t everything.

  It was no surprise that he’d taken her up on the offer to MC. The guy loved attention, especially female attention. He used the old heroics routine on a daily basis in the ER, always finding some way to impress the younger nurses. He wouldn’t miss an opportunity to strut his stuff in front of a room filled with women. It might drum up a few more dates.

  He looked slick in a three-quarter-length, Western-cut black tuxedo with silver-tipped bola tie. His thick brown hair touched the collar, and pointy cowboy dress boots completed the picture of rough and rugged masculinity.

  His lopsided smile was another story, pure charm all the way. Perhaps it was the terrific cheekbones and strong jaw. Or maybe it was the cleft in his chin, but she didn’t want to think about it.

  China refused to be drawn in by the alluring sparkle in his dark eyes. Some might call him sexy. Not her. She preferred something subtler than glitz and charm, and deeper than stylishly hot. And besides, he was out of her league, and she never intended to get involved with anyone again. Who needed to be chewed up and spit out more than once?

  But looking around the room, everyone else, including her married sister, seemed to have a different idea about what was sexy. Having now taken the digital camera back out of her purse, Sierra snapped his picture.

  China rolled her eyes when he smiled on cue.

  Get over yourself, buddy.

  Life was all about appearances, hadn’t he said that? Was she the only one in the room that had him nailed as a phony?

  She scanned the crowd again. Every female, and even a few men, sat staring at the stage, enthralled.

  Apparently she was the only one.

  “He’s what I’d call a ten,” Sierra whispered.

  “Yeah, a ten on a jerk scale.” China crossed her arms, daring him to impress her.

  Rick flashed another smile. “As you know, we’re here tonight for a worthy cause: to help teens realize there is more to driving than getting a license. Each year approximately 5,000 teenagers lose their lives behind the wheel of a car in the United States. Almost 31,000 people have died in the last decade due to teenage crashes. Sixteen-and seventeen-year-olds have the highest crash rate per mile of any age group. The crash rate increases five times over when a teenager drives unsupervised with three other teen passengers. Countless innocent people’s lives are ruined because of irresponsible young drivers.”

  He paused and surveyed the audience with a dramatic gaze.

  “Recently I’m sure you all read about the Brianna Cummings driving accident. I asked her permission to mention it tonight. Because of careless driving she almost didn’t make it to her nineteenth birthday. Now a month later, she’s had to have her nose fixed, and will have to undergo several other operations in the future to diminish her facial scars. I’m sure one day she’ll again be as beautiful as the heroine we all know from the hit television show, The Undead, but it will be a long process. The only bright spot in her story is she didn’t kill or injure anyone else.”

  The spirited crowd grew somber. Throats cleared, random coughs accentuated the quiet.

  “Teenagers may feel invincible behind the wheel, but a lifetime of guilt and consequences is a tough pill to swallow at any age when you’ve taken someone else’s life away.”

  China’s gut churned. She hadn’t given him that bit to say, he must have done his own research. And damn if he hadn’t hit the nail on the head, too. But he’d forgotten to add the part about spending the rest of your life trying to make up for it.

  She lifted a brow; he’d charmed the audience then struck like a snake with statistics and the ugly face of reality.

  He lightened the moment with a corny medical joke. “But moving on,
I have a question for you. How many nurses does it take to screw in a light bulb? One. And she’ll be glad to tell everyone else on the ward exactly how to do it, too.”

  China applauded along with the receptive audience sprinkled with a boo here and there. She eased back in her chair, relaxing for the first time since she’d left home. She’d made the right choice in Rick.

  “But I think you should hear more about why we’re here tonight from our very own crusading, ER nurse extraordinaire, China Seabury.”

  What? She stopped in mid-clap. No!

  “Come on up.” Rick motioned for her to join him.

  Didn’t he know about her stage fright?

  How could he? They’d hardly ever spoken more than five words to each other.

  Blood drained from her face and pooled in her stomach. She felt queasy. Before her accident, she had been captain of her debate team, but ever since that day she’d lost all the confidence she’d ever had for public speaking.

  Sierra patted her arm and helped her stand up. The room went silent, and China slowly realized they were waiting for her to join Rick on the stage.

  Sheer willpower moved her feet. Her hands trembled and she prayed she wouldn’t catch her long skirt on a chair. She knew her subject as well as her own name, yet right this second she wasn’t even sure of that.

  China made it up the steps, but her mouth went dryer than the desert when Rick pushed the microphone her way. Stunned, her eyes widened. He must have noticed her distress. His large hand guided her to the podium, and she caught a glint of concern in his gaze. She looked helplessly at him and her mind went blank.

  He licked his lips and retrieved the microphone. Clearing his throat, he smiled broadly at China, then at the crowd.

  “I guess I’ve surprised China.” Looking sympathetically at her and covering the microphone with his hand, he whispered, “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. I assumed you’d want to speak tonight.”

  Frozen in place, she couldn’t get her mouth to work. A whirling sound started in her ears. She willed herself not to faint.

  He tightened his grip on her arm, and slipped his hand around her waist. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he murmured.

  He held the mike for her. She moistened her lips, gulped, and forced a smile. “Um, I want to…th-thank all of you for coming tonight. You’ve helped make this a b-big success. But if you da-don’t mind, I’ll um turn the evening over to Rick.”

  A swell of applause helped her realize she’d made another good decision. Relief rushed over her as blood returned to her face. She’d survived. Steadying her legs, she left the stage with as much dignity as she could conjure up. Thank God she didn’t trip on her way down.

  Angry that he’d pulled a fast one on her, and wanting nothing more than to flee the building, she forced her head high. She walked placidly back to her table, doing her best not to limp, and sat.

  Rick watched China leave the stage. Her sleek black hair hung model-straight to her narrow shoulders with a new and stylish interpretation of bangs. The word “chic” came to mind. It looked so much better than the usual severe French twist she wore at work.

  He’d never noticed the pale white half-moon-shaped scar above her brow before. Instead of distracting from her appeal, it only added to her intrigue. This new glamorous look was a side of China he’d never seen before. Though he had fantasized about the possibility on several occasions.

  Normally, she had a creamy complexion, but tonight she’d gone ivory white, making her red lips even more inviting. Her jade-green eyes turned naturally upward, and they’d flashed a look of panic at him. Truth be told, he’d wanted her to faint, so he could catch her.

  So little Miss Competent had a vulnerable side.

  And the beauty of it all was she didn’t have a clue how deeply she affected him. Other guys at work had called her uptight and average-looking, but he thought they were nuts. Sure, she was wired tight, but he’d seen her smile a few times. Couldn’t they see her for what she was, serious and devoted to her job? Being the exact opposite of his usual lady friends, China fascinated him. Maybe it was time for his taste in women to mature. And maybe China was just the ticket.

  Something deep and dark lurked behind those striking green eyes. And if he played his cards right, he’d get the chance to find out what it was.

  Anchoring her to his hip at the podium had given him a rush when he’d caught the scent of exotic herbs with a touch of vanilla. For such a petite woman she’d felt deceptively substantial under his grasp. He’d like nothing more than to explore the rest of China, but he had a job to do.

  He tore his gaze away from her and flashed his most dashing smile at the audience. “I guess you’re stuck with me.”

  Whoops and whistles made him smile even broader. No need for the usual bravado. With little effort he had the audience right where he wanted them, eating out of his hand.

  Willing them to remember that he wanted to be Mercy Hospital’s next emergency room supervisor. He’d filled out his application for the soon-to-be-posted job just that morning.

  His gaze roamed the room and he found his father, the king of conditional love, in the crowd. At the sight of his stone-cold stare, Rick’s moment of glory dissolved into self-doubt.

  China seemed to be the moment’s golden girl, with her crusade for teenage drivers bringing Mercy Hospital loads of publicity and his father’s glowing seal of approval. She deserved every bit of it. Though he hoped his father’s opinion of China wouldn’t go down once he discovered she was dating his slacker son, because he had every intention of asking her out.

  Once China sat back down and drained half of the water in her glass, she felt better.

  Rick spoke in the background, but she couldn’t focus on his words. Everyone laughed at another dumb nurse joke.

  Sierra patted her on the shoulder. “Great job, sis.”

  China glared. “I’m going to kill him for doing that to me.”

  “Isn’t that overreacting just a tad?”

  “Not the way I feel right now, it isn’t.”

  “How was he supposed to know about your phobia about public speaking?”

  China tossed her head. Sierra was right, but she was damned if she’d cut him any slack. She glanced around the table at five other nurses, all grinning and staring at the stage. The chair next to her remained empty.

  Rick finished his speech by entreating everyone to eat and enjoy, and to be sure to open their wallets for the basket auction later.

  He swaggered off the stage and down the steps, strolling toward her table.

  China groaned and impaled her sister with another life-threatening stare. Ever the matchmaker, Sierra smiled and raised her eyebrows a couple of times. “I saved him a seat.”

  Instead of sitting, Rick pulled out the vacant chair, turned it around, and swung his leg over as if mounting a horse, using the back as an armrest.

  “So how are all of you lovely ladies doing tonight?” He glanced around the table, settling his eyes on China.

  The excited group of nurses obliged him by speaking over each other in response. China tried her best to sink back into oblivion. Raising money for charity really was a sacrifice.

  “We did good, no?” He smiled directly at her.

  “Yeah, yeah, rub it in,” she said.

  He lifted China’s wrist, felt her pulse and said, “You’ll live. A little stage fright is good for you.”

  The waiter approached with their meals. China slipped her hand free, aggravated by the subtle chills running up her arm, and Rick turned his seat back around to the table.

  While thinking horrible thoughts about how she’d like to crown him for making her go on stage, China forced on her diplomatic fundraising hat. “Well, I can’t thank you enough for helping out tonight, Rick. You certainly lived up to your reputation as Mr. Personality.” She snapped out her napkin a little more dramatically than necessary, and placed it across her lap.

  “Not a problem, China. I�
�m always glad to be of service.” He winked.

  Another surge of anger had China biting the inside of her mouth. How dare he flirt with her?

  Sierra spoke up. “Too bad we couldn’t auction you off as a date tonight. We’d have raised a few thousand more dollars.”

  China kneed her sister under the table.

  “Ouch.”

  “I think that’s a little politically incorrect these days, don’t you?” China said.

  “Hey,” Rick said. “Not if it’s all in good fun for the right cause. Heck, I’d have been willing.”

  Sierra pursed her lips and gave China an I-told-you-so gaze.

  “I’m sure you would have,” China said.

  She shook her head and glanced up in time to see the head of internal medicine approach their table. And for the first time she noticed Rick’s sunny disposition fade. His charming smile hardened to a straight line. His brown eyes grew cautious and dark.

  Dr. Morell, Rick’s father, extended his hand to China, gave a limp shake, and glanced around the table. He nodded at his son as though he were a mere acquaintance. Rick tipped his head the slightest bit in response.

  China realized how much they resembled each other, and had to admit the older man was still good-looking.

  “I wanted to compliment you on the exceptional turnout tonight. I trust the funds will be put to good use?” he said.

  “Oh, yes. I’ve been working with the police and fire departments on a program for the local high schools about responsible driving. I’ve even got a surprise guest lined up.”

  “Well, keep up the good work on behalf of Mercy Hospital.”

  He left abruptly without acknowledging his son’s contribution toward the evening’s success. A nagging age-old need to make right all the injustices in the world had China speaking before she’d thoroughly thought things through.

  “Rick, I am terribly afraid of speaking in public. But I’m sure you realized that on the stage. I’m a behind-the-scenes kind of girl. And, well…I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough for helping me out tonight.”

  Having recovered from his father’s snub, the old snake-charmer spark returned to Rick’s eyes. His smile brightened. “I can think of a few ways.”