“Yes.” She hit the speaker button and dropped the phone on the desk beside them. “Can you still hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am. Do you know how old the patient is?”
“Harvey,” she said sharply. “His name is Harvey Hightower.”
“I’m sorry,” the operator’s voice was calm. “Do you know Harvey’s age? Approximate age?”
“Sixty-one,” she said. Josh was huffing even worse than she’d been from the effort of doing the chest compressions, and she waved him off before he ended up lying on the floor next to their boss. He moved his hands and she immediately replaced them with hers.
“Ma’am?” The phone crackled a little. “The paramedics are arriving on the scene now. If someone there would make certain they have access—”
“On it.” Josh pushed to his feet and ran out of the office, obviously all too glad for the escape.
Shea didn’t look away from Harvey’s face. It was drained of all its usual ruddiness. “Come on, Harvey,” she said breathlessly between compressions. “Give me a little help here.” She pumped with all of her might, huffing her hair out of her face. “Pax says...you should come for...dinner!” She heard footsteps running outside the office and looked over, expecting to see the paramedics.
But it was Pax, his dark eyes nearly black and his face pale. “I saw the paramedics outside,” he said roughly.
She’d been holding it together until then. But for some reason, the sight of him made everything inside her start to unravel. “He’s not breathing,” she cried.
He peeled off his leather jacket and tossed it aside. There wasn’t much room in the tight confines, but he solved that problem easily enough by grabbing the big man beneath his shoulders and dragging him around the desk. She scrambled along, trying to keep up the compressions. Her arms and shoulders were starting to ache. Pax moved her out of the way and took over.
She fell back on her heels, breathing hard. “How’d you beat the paramedics up here?”
“They were still unloading stuff. I took the stairs because they’d already commandeered the elevator.” He looked at her. “I thought something happened to you.”
She was shivering and, without thinking, she pulled his jacket over her shoulders. It was warm and smelled of him. “There are twenty other offices in this building, most with more employees than the Washtub!” Why would he automatically single her out?
“And only one of you.”
She was still trying to absorb that when they heard a clatter and looked up to see the emergency team arriving, gurney and all.
“We’ve got it now, sir,” the one in the lead said.
Pax immediately moved aside and held out his hand to help her to her feet. He pulled her out of the office and when he would have let her hand go again, she curled her fingers, keeping hold. She looked toward the elevator, but there was no sign of Josh.
“How well do you know the patient?” the medic standing outside the office doorway asked. He was obviously the one in charge of the details while the other three crowded around Harvey on the floor.
“I’ve worked for him for six years.” She gnawed the inside of her cheek, looking past him to the others. They’d pulled open Harvey’s shirt and were working rapidly. “He’s going to be okay, right?”
“We’re all doing our best to see that he is.” He wore a radio clipped near his collar and he spoke into it, relaying the vitals that his associates were calling out. A moment later, he was focused on Shea again. “Do you know what he was doing before he collapsed?”
She pinched her nose and shook her head. “He was sitting at his desk as usual around two.” After that, she’d been focused on her writing. “I should have heard something.” She looked at Pax. “Somebody should have heard something! He could have been lying there like that for two minutes or two hours!”
“The important thing is that you rendered aid when you did find him,” the detail guy said, bringing her focus back to him. “Does Mr. Hightower have any medical history that you know about?”
She shook her head. “He’s worked here every day of every week since I’ve been here. I’ve never even seen him sick.”
“Wife? Other family members we can notify?”
“No.” She clasped Pax’s coat more tightly with her fist. “I think he was married once, but it was over a long time ago.”
“And you don’t know of any other emergency contact?”
She bit her lip and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know. We only talked about work.”
“What about on his payroll record?” Pax suggested.
“Harvey was the payroll record,” Josh said, finally reappearing. “He was the only one keeping this place going.”
Shea frowned. “The publisher—”
“—pulled the plug two months ago. Just couldn’t keep up against the Internet anymore. Especially a small outfit like this. Profits were nonexistent for too long.”
“But he never said!” Bewildered, she looked again at Harvey lying prone on his office floor. Pax’s arm slid around her shoulder and he held her tight. “Nothing’s changed around here. He hasn’t let anyone go, nothing. How did you know, Josh? Did he tell you?”
“I came in late one night to run some background information and overheard him on the phone in his office. He obviously wanted it kept confidential that he was looking for other backers.” He shrugged. “Stress must’ve been too much.”
“Ready to transport.”
Pax nudged her to one side while the medics maneuvered the gurney closer to the doorway and loaded Harvey onto it. One was squeezing a breathing apparatus over Harvey’s mouth as they jogged with the gurney to the elevator.
“Where are you taking him?” Pax called after them.
“Virginia Mason,” the detail man informed as they stepped onto the elevator. The doors closed with a ding, and just that quickly, they were gone, the Washtub offices surreally quiet.
Josh retrieved his phone from Harvey’s desk.
“What took you so long to get back up here?” Shea asked him.
“Had to take the stairs. They’d locked the elevator on this floor. Probably so they wouldn’t get stuck waiting for it when they needed to leave.” He looked around at the disarray in Harvey’s office and sighed a little.
“The Tub’s really going under?” Harvey’s whole life was the paper.
“It’s what I heard.” He pocketed his phone and went to his cube to retrieve the backpack he used as a briefcase. “If you’re smart,” he advised on his way to the elevator, “you’ll start spiffing up your résumé, too, and get it out there same as me.”
The last thing she was thinking about was her job.
“What an ass,” Pax said the second he was gone. He pulled her close and kissed her forehead, his arms wrapping around her as she stood there shivering in his coat. “We’ll drive over to the hospital,” he promised without even needing to be asked. “And we’ll stay until we know he’s going to be okay.”
If he was going to be okay.
Her eyes burned and she let her head rest weakly against Pax’s chest. His warmth penetrated, strong and steady, and something—relief, comfort, peace—rolled through her. “What about the dinner with Erik and your client?”
“Erik’ll handle it. No worries there.” His arms tightened. “You’re going to be at the hospital with Harvey. And I’m going to be at the hospital with you. I’m not going to leave you.”
She closed her eyes tightly. Ever? But the word didn’t make it past her lips and more quickly than she was ready for, he’d moved her away from him.
“Where’s your desk?”
She gestured. “Corner.”
He walked over and saw the shopping bag sitting on the floor. He grabbed it, along with her purse and jacket. “Anything el
se?”
“Laptop. And that big manila envelope on the shelf is for Cornelia.” She didn’t know what was wrong with her, not going and getting her own things. It was just too easy to let him take care of it. Which he did more than competently. He slung the laptop bag over his shoulder, right along with the purse strap and the shopping bag into which he dumped Cornelia’s collection of letters. Then he tucked her shoulders under his other arm and walked back to the elevator. “Nothing to lock up, I take it.”
She shook her head and pushed the call button. “Security guards are on duty downstairs during off-hours. ” She looked up at Pax and laughed brokenly. “Just this morning Harvey was yelling and threatening to fire us all. Same as he’s done nearly every day I’ve worked here. He never said a word. Not a single word about what was happening. And Josh knew.”
“Guy’s a tool,” Pax muttered and ushered her onto the empty car when the doors finally slid open.
“Because he didn’t break Harvey’s confidence?”
“Because he cares more about his damn résumé than a man’s life.”
She leaned against him. “Harvey doesn’t even have any family. There’s nobody to call.” The emptiness of it horrified her. She looked up at Pax. “Nobody to worry about him. Miss him.”
He cupped her face. “Yes, he does.” He kissed her forehead. “He has you.” He smiled a little, his eyes like warm chocolate. “Cupcake.”
She chewed the inside of her lip. Her nose burned and her eyes tingled. “If he makes it through this, he can call me that all he wants.” She swiped her cheeks and stepped back when the elevator reached the ground floor. “It’s silly, you know,” she murmured as they quickly crossed the lobby, “but aside from my mother, he’s the only one who’s been in my life for more than a handful of years.”
“She married seven times, right? That kind of turnover doesn’t allow much time to get to know someone, I imagine.”
“No. The longest she was with any of them so far was two and a half years. That was with Ruben, and that’s counting both times they were married. If she sticks with Jonathan, though, she might beat that.” She studied Pax for a moment. He was still in the same clothes he’d had on earlier, though it seemed as if days had passed since then, rather than mere hours. “Come July, I’ll have known you for three years.”
He pushed open the lobby door and waited for her to pass through. “Independence Day,” he agreed. “At the Red, White and Blue Regatta.”
“Which you and Honey Girl won.” She remembered the day as if it were yesterday. He’d been as bright and shining as the sun, and looking at him with his arms around the two stunning women who’d been part of his sailing crew had just made Bruce’s recent jilting feel that much more acute. But Harvey had sent her with specific instructions to get a story from Pax, and so she had.
Strange how she could recall the details of that day so clearly when she could barely recall the details of the day her fiancé had dumped her.
“So where does that put me in the lineup of years?” Pax asked.
She pressed her tongue to the back of her teeth, gathering herself. She wondered why she’d never realized it before. “Second, actually.”
“Much as I always like to be first,” he gave her a faint wink, “I’ll concede the spot to Harvey for now. Now let’s get to the hospital and see how he’s doing.”
Chapter Twelve
When they arrived at the hospital, they soon learned that Harvey was in surgery, undergoing an emergency bypass, and nobody would be allowed to see him for some time.
Which gave Pax all the excuse he needed to get Shea to go to the cafeteria and eat something. It was still early in the evening, even though it felt like the middle of the night with everything that had gone on. The place was busy with staffers and visitors alike working their way through the lines with their trays. He spotted a small, unoccupied table and sat Shea down. She was still wearing his coat wrapped around her like a blanket and her eyes were huge in her pale face. He wanted to take her home and put her safely to bed, but he knew there was no chance of that happening.
He asked her what she thought she could stand to eat, and went to join the line. He’d called and spoken with Cornelia already and had sent a text message to his partner about the situation, but while he was waiting, he took out his phone again and made a quick call to Erik. Just as Pax had known he would, his partner had his back. He also offered to cancel the dinner meeting altogether and come to the hospital. He and Rory already had a babysitter for Tyler and they could come to sit with them while they waited for news on Harvey, but Pax told him not to. “I want to get Shea home as soon as I can,” he said.
“Right.” Erik understood that completely, possessing a healthy protective streak for his own new family. “Update me when you can.”
Pax pocketed his phone and moved along with the line, collecting the soup Shea had requested and adding an oversized club sandwich for himself. He bought a small bottle of milk and a large coffee and carried everything back to the table where she was waiting.
Her gaze immediately latched onto the coffee.
“No,” he said and pointedly moved it closer to him. “You had coffee this morning already.” She’d brewed a pot before taking her shower. He’d sat there drinking it, wondering what secret she and the women over at Cornelia’s place possessed that made it taste twice as good as anything he made. But mostly what he’d really wanted to do was join Shea in the shower.
The same way he’d wanted to every morning since she’d moved in.
She was giving him a look that was half consternation and half pout. “I just want a sip.”
“I’ll pour some in your milk then. Maybe you’ll actually drink it for once.” She generally ignored the milk bottle in their refrigerator, though he’d discovered that she could go through fresh fruit juice like a freight train.
“I don’t want coffee in my milk,” she argued. “I want milk in my coffee. There is a difference, you know.” But she peeled back the foil seal beneath the cap and nudged the short bottle toward him.
“You need to drink some plain first or there’s no room to add the coffee.”
She made a face. “I hate plain milk.”
So did he, but he wasn’t going to admit that right now. “Think about little Fig Newton then.” The doctor had told them the baby was about the size of a large fig and as he’d hoped, Shea’s expression lightened a little.
“A fig,” she murmured, holding up her thumb and forefinger about two inches apart. “Amazing there’s someone growing inside me who is only this big.”
He slid the soup in front of her. “You want him to be bigger already?”
“Good grief, not yet.” She picked up her spoon and dipped it into the bowl. “My pants are already too tight and I just blew Cornelia’s last paycheck on a bunch of bras.” She shot him a chagrined look as if she hadn’t expected to admit that.
“So that’s what the Victoria’s Secret bag was about.”
She looked back at her soup bowl and lifted her shoulder. “About a month overdue,” she murmured. “First thing that happened was my boobs got even bigger.”
He couldn’t help it. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Her eyebrow lifted and she made a face. “Spoken like a man who doesn’t have to cart around cantaloupes all the time.”
He grinned. “Not cantaloupes,” he corrected. “More like really, really perfect grapefruit.”
“I’m just a regular fruit salad here,” she said dryly. But her eyes had lightened a little more.
“Women still have it easier than men,” he went on.
She made a skeptical sound. “Please. In what world are you living?”
He unwrapped the sandwich and set a quarter of it on a napkin in front of her. “Seriously.” He waved his hand. “Yo
u all are able to keep what you’re feeling about certain matters a complete mystery while us poor slobs are standing out at attention announcing it.”
She gave him a deadpan look, though her eyes glinted with sharp humor. “Want to give away that particular ability?”
“Hell no.”
Her lips curved wryly. “Didn’t think so. Consider it fair exchange for the pleasures women endure being pregnant with men’s babies.”
He’d had plenty of pleasure making her that way, even as unintentional as it had been. “Are you sorry? About being pregnant?” The question came out without his thinking about it.
Her eyes softened. She shook her head. “I’m getting used to the idea of Fig Newton.”
And him? Was she getting used to the idea of him?
If things had gone according to plan, he’d have found out the answer to that for certain after dinner tonight. He’d intended to propose then.
Properly. So she’d understand he really meant it.
He’d even found a ring. One that matched the color of her eyes.
And if she turns you down again? What then?
“Newton Merrick,” he mused, focusing instead on what was, instead of what might not ever be.
She made a face. “Oh, that sounds just horrible.”
“It worked for Sir Isaac. But then again, Newton was his last name. For our child, everyone would probably shorten it to Newt. There’ve been some famous Newts.”
She made a reluctant sound. “Yes, but—”
“Well, we’ve got another twenty-some weeks to figure it out.”
“That doesn’t sound very far off, does it?”
“Not so much,” he agreed. He took the lid off the steaming coffee and poured a small measure inside the milk bottle.
She immediately put down her spoon and put the cap on the milk, shook it once, uncapped it and greedily tilted it to her lips.
“That is the way I first learned to drink coffee. My father would sneak a shot or two of coffee into Bea’s and my milk glasses when Mom wasn’t looking.”
ONCE UPON A VALENTINE Page 16
