Coded Love (A BWWM Romantic Suspense)

by Tiana Cole

  “I’m sorry to hear about your cat. I know how you must feel. Sometimes they’re so much better than people. So accepting and loyal. Tell me about Damien,” I prodded him gently.

  When I left him half an hour later he was feeling more animated. I convinced him to get another cat. He was hesitant, saying that no other cat could ever replace his beloved Damien. But I argued that he wasn’t getting one to replace the cat he loved. Another cat meant a totally different personally and he may just fall in love again with it.

  “Thank you, nurse,” he called out before I left the room.

  I gave him my most sincere smile in response. I was feeling pretty good about my deed as I wrote down on the chart that ‘patient may need some psych evaluation.’ If it weren’t for this migraine that had begun to form in my temple, being a nurse could be one of the most fulfilling jobs in the world. That is…if the nurse wasn’t out drinking Satan’s brew the night before.

  I winced at the memory. The next patient was a young girl of 16. She was brought in last night thinking she had food poisoning. She was vomiting and said she felt dizzy.

  She was initially diagnosed with adenomyosis, or abnormal vaginal bleeding. Turned out she knew she was pregnant and went to some hole-in-the-wall clinic in town to have an abortion.

  I knew that meant we had to monitor her for sepsis or blood poisoning. I sighed at the thought. Why didn’t she just go to the nearest drugstore and gotten hold of birth control pills? That would have spared her the trouble she was in now.

  The patient was sleeping when I came in. Her mom, who I mistook for an older sister, was distraught and wanted reassurance that her daughter was going to be fine. I told her she would be. I couldn’t help but add that she should bring her daughter to a medical practitioner who could educate her about pregnancy prevention.

  “Are you saying my daughter is some kind of a slut?”

  Whoa. I pacified her as I gave her a breakdown about her daughter’s condition. Blood poisoning could cause death, I told her. And if she didn’t want her daughter to go through the same situation in the future, taking birth control pills were her best option.

  After a few minutes she admitted she herself never had any kind of information about birth control when she was a teenager. She had her daughter when she was just 17. I stayed around for a while until I was certain that the mom was alright.

  She ended up asking for a referral for a practitioner they could consult after her daughter was discharged. Good idea, Mom. I’d done her a favor.

  As I headed for my last patient I tried to collect what little energy I had left. My headache was now a full blown migraine as I imagined elves drilling a hole in my head. Last one, Sienna. Just make it through this and then you can rest. I needed that boost as I plodded towards the elevator to get to the upper floors. I glanced at the chart to get an idea about the patient.

  John Smith, 32 years old, single. Nothing written under occupation. What could be more common than John Smith… unless it was an alias? I smiled at the thought until I realized I was headed for the floor where most VIPs were confined.

  It was never discussed in public because hospitals were supposed to care for all patients equally and without bias, but we all knew that there was a special floor where celebrities were typically accommodated. We referred to this floor as the BHH – the Beverly Hills Hotel. There were five huge rooms on this floor and they were more luxury suites than hospital rooms. Hmmm…this was intriguing.

  “Vehicular accident, probable soft tissue damage, back and neck injury, brain trauma, broken and fractured bones…” I read the doctor’s diagnosis with mixed feelings. Bad for him, but great for me. He should still be in morphine heaven and all that needed checking were his vitals. God, I hoped I didn’t need to go through another lengthy conversation with a family member. My compassion quota was depleted.

  I walked the hallway leading to the room, my feet hardly making a sound on the lush carpet. Even the walls were decorated with mirrors and paintings lit gently by wall lamps that cast a soft glow. There was nothing here to suggest that this floor was located in a hospital. Even the console tables separating the rooms were adorned with fresh flowers.

  I reached the door and opened it gently. The lights were down low. I heaved a sigh of relief as I noticed that the patient was alone in the room. Good. I can check on him in less than five minutes then I’m out of here.

  Or so, I thought.

  Chapter 3( Sienna )

  The suite was vast compared to the regular 250 square feet of the regular hospital room. Curtains were drawn tightly, leaving half of the room in darkness. The soft light of a bedside lamp cast a warm halo over the foot of the bed while the patient was blanketed in semi-darkness.

  The bed itself was a far cry from the industrial hospital bed with metal frames to keep the patient from falling. This bed was a king size grey and silver one, the kind found in five-star hotels, and it was tucked into the rearmost wall between wide bay windows.

  I moved softly, not wanting to rouse him, until I remembered he was heavily sedated. From the stillness of the shadowy figure lying on the bed, I knew he was fast asleep.

  I checked the chart in the dark to confirm. Nothing was written about the kind of sedative he was given. If the doctor gave him morphine to ease the pain then his breathing should be shallow. I moved closer to see the rise and fall of his chest.

  He was gor-ge-ous! Coppery blond hair over a chiseled face, thick eyebrows over pale pink eyelids, a patrician nose, high cheekbones, and a good solid jaw line. If a cleft chin was an imperfection, this man had the most perfect imperfection I had ever seen. The five o’clock shadow added an animal appeal. Even if he were comatose he would still be the most beautiful man I had ever laid eyes on.

  The arms and chest were hidden inside the blanket. I felt a sense of disappointment. I was assailed by an impulse to remove the sheets just to confirm that everything else below his neck was perfect too. I was embarrassed with my thoughts. I was a nurse damn it, not some sexual predator on the loose.

  Feeling guilty, I checked his pulse reading on the machine. 65 beats per minute. A little fast for someone sedated…but still within the normal range. He wasn’t connected to a heart monitor or any equipment for someone who was in a vehicular accident. I didn’t see a cast under the sheets either. That was strange.

  “Hey there, good-looking. Why are you here? You don’t seem to be in bad shape. Did you make that up? A lot of celebrities do, you know, make up stories to enter a hospital and hide from the public. Are you hiding from an insecure girlfriend? Do you have any broken bones…or a broken heart, maybe? I can fix that for you.”

  I realized I said the words out loud. Jesus Christ, I hope he didn’t hear me. Nah… he was still sleeping soundly. There was nothing else left to do but I felt reluctant to leave.

  I could stay a few more minutes and see if his condition changed. Who was I kidding? I could stare at that beautiful mug the whole night and not even care if I was about to drop to the floor from exhaustion.

  “I think I’ll stay a bit longer just in case you need me. I’ll just sit on that chair, and if you need anything, call me.”

  I knew I was acting foolishly. But who cared. I was suffering from a killer hangover and still came to work.

  I should be commended. Besides, there was no one around to hear me except him, and he was still in nirvana. And that couch looked soooo inviting. Yes, I would park my ass there and get me some rest. Why was I still standing so close to the bed? Because I was intrigued and couldn’t haul my ass away from him.

  I finally made it to the couch, afraid he might suddenly open his eyes and get a fright seeing someone watching him so intently. Either that or I would succumb to the urge to crawl into the bed with him. Ha! That would be a first. God, the couch was so comfortable.

  But even if there was some distance between us, I couldn’t keep my mind away from the mysterious stranger on the bed. What happened that brought him here to the hospit
al.

  I had a sense that his face looked familiar. Movie star… maybe? But I wasn’t an expert in that arena. So I wasn’t really sure. He could be a sports athlete. How tall was he anyway? Basketball player? Football? I didn’t know. I wish I did know, but his chart didn’t say much about him.

  God, I really should be on my way home now. My eyes felt so heavy. I closed them for just a bit. I must have dozed off because I was suddenly awakened when my head lolled down to my shoulder, startling me.

  I stood up and approached the patient again. I hated that I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to be near him.

  “Yup… still gorgeous,” I confirmed.

  But there was a furrow in his forehead like he was annoyed or irritated. Was he having a bad dream? I checked his pulse monitor. It was normal.

  The frown on his face bothered me somehow. What could I do to comfort him? Before I could even think about what I was doing, I extended my hand, and with my fingers I tenderly smooth away the crease that marred the perfect brow.

  The silken touch of his skin gave me a shock. It was like touching a live wire. If he was this intoxicating while asleep, I wondered what he was like when he had all his senses.

  I knew I shouldn’t but I couldn’t help myself and touched him again. I appeased my conscience, convincing myself that part of a nurse’s duty was to give some TLC to their patients.

  It must have worked because his face looked relaxed like a sleeping baby. But my feelings were far from maternal for this healthy specimen of manhood. If I didn’t know better, I would think that I was lusting after him.

  I wonder what it would feel like to be kissed by you. The thought flitted through my mind.

  I was horrified at my own shamelessness. I had never been this way with a male patient in all the years that I had been working in this hospital. Must have been all that alcohol still running in my system.

  I backed away from the bed feeling heat suffuse my face. I should really think about going home before I sexually molested this one. I turned away before my resolution vanished.

  I was almost at the door when he suddenly emitted a groan. I rushed back to his bedside to check if he had gained consciousness. His eyes were closed but he thrashed in bed, pulling away the blanket that covered him.

  “Please don’t do that,” I said gently, pulling his arm away and setting the blanket back into place.

  He struggled and tried to remove it again. I knew that a sedative often produced hot or cold sensations. “Are you feeling warm? I will pull the blanket down but I still need to cover you. Is that alright?”

  He stopped struggling long enough for me to pull the thinner sheet under the blanket. I reached across and tucked it under him. His exposed arms were long and muscular but not bulky, more like lean and compact. The wide torso exposed a smattering of chest hair that peeked through the v-neckline of his t-shirt. I was definitely enjoying the sight of all that naked skin.

  It was my job to make him comfortable I rationalized as guilt assailed me. But I was also glad to see that he had stopped struggling. The rise and fall of his chest indicated that he was sleeping normally. I backed away from the bed carefully until the back of my knee grazed the couch. I sat down as exhaustion set in.

  I stared at his sleeping profile from across the room. Questions went spinning inside my brain. Who was this man and why was he here? Was he really in a vehicular accident? I saw no bruises on his arms. Was there anything more seriously wrong with him? I knew that I would not hear the answers from him. He had begun to snore softly.

  I picked up a magazine, forgetting my earlier resolve to leave. I’d stay for a while until my strength returned. He was my last patient and Nurse Silva wouldn’t wonder if I suddenly went missing.

  I flipped open the magazine and started to read as the hypnotic whine of ambulances penetrated softly through the glass window. The article I was reading was starting to blur and before I knew it, the magazine fell with a soft plop onto the floor.

  My arms sagged wearily and my head slumped back against the couch. I fought the desire to doze off and even before I finish convincing myself that I was just going to close my eyes for a short while, I had already fallen asleep.

  If I hadn’t fallen asleep so quickly, I would have seen him stir and open his eyes—the most intriguing blue-green eyes ever created.

  I wouldn’t have been caught dead by him snoring away inside his room. This wasn’t my idea how our first meeting would be like. And had I known just how much of a celebrity he was I would have dressed in designer clothes with Louboutin pumps instead of the rumpled and creased scrubs I had on.

  I would have wanted some make-up on with hair nicely coiffed instead of strands covering half my face.

  I must have looked like some witch doctor that had fallen sleep in the middle of a séance. I would have wanted him to see me at my finest instead of pooped out of my mind with a slight dribble bubbling from the corner of my mouth.

  Chapter 4 (Gareth)

  I struggled to push back the wall that threatened to swallow me. I fought with it so many times and it always won. Damn it.

  I hated to admit it, but there was something nice about surrendering to the darkness that came with it. I felt weightless, floating in space, with no care in the world. It was actually comforting in some ways. But I didn’t like the way the darkness kept intruding into my mind.

  I formulated a plan inside my head since that was the only place I had some control over. I couldn’t lift my arms and the rest of my body felt like it wasn’t there.

  My plan was to allow the darkness to win while silently gathering my strength. If I had enough of that, then I would push that darn wall of blackness away and take control over my body once more.

  I frowned in irritation until cool gentle hands caressed my brows. That felt good. It reminded me of Mom. Was she here? She used to do that when I was a young boy having a fever. It always made me sleep. I think I’ll go back to sleep now.

  I was awake again. I couldn’t shake the feeling there was someone watching me. Although I couldn’t feel most of me, I knew there were places that hurt like hell.

  I was trying to remember where I was. Nothing. There was just this heaviness that kept pulling me back to oblivion. Why was it so goddamn hot?

  Something was constricting my chest as I summoned energy to get rid of whatever it was. I felt better after I managed to remove it. Someone was trying to cover me again. No!

  I felt exhausted, and when the blackness came once again, I surrendered without a struggle.

  When I emerged from the blackness, I knew I would win this time. It wasn’t a heavy presence like it was earlier.

  I could actually feel the rest of me now. I felt sore. Something told me I had been sedated. My eyelids fluttered as the blackness threatened, but I fought harder this time. If I could open my eyes, I’d be alright.

  I did it. I was looking at some stencil design until I realized I was looking at the ceiling. My eyes grew accustomed to the scant lighting as I followed the pattern down to the walls. I noticed a console table where a bedside lamp was lit.

  I realized my bed was facing that direction. I looked down towards my feet and noticed that I had a light sheet covering half of my body. My mind was getting clearer the longer I stayed awake.

  Memories came flashing back to me…

  “Gareth, I don’t think it’s a good idea. The track is pretty slick and the sausage kerb at the turn is still there. The boys will take it down tomorrow. Let’s wait until then,” my manager, Steve Truman, said.

  “Yes,” I replied with a grin, “tell them to replace it with net meshing. That should be a safer option.” Steve smiled in relief, thinking I had changed my mind. He didn’t know me well.

  My Volvo had just arrived from being serviced and I was raring to test its six speed gearbox. The company assured me that it had done comprehensive diagnostics and the car was in perfect shape. It should, considering the amount of money I paid them.


  “You’re still taking it for a spin?” Steve asked, aghast.

  “Yup, but don’t worry. I won’t push it beyond the speed limit. Besides, the airbags are the latest in technology. It’s not even out in the market yet.” I wanted to assure Steve that everything was fine. I could handle it.

  I knew it was his responsibility to ensure that nothing bad happened. Not with the Grand Prix just months away. I was his cash cow and we both knew it.

  Steve was a good guy but protective as hell when it concerned my career. He just signed a multi-million dollar deal for me to endorse a brand of tires.

  A European clothing brand wanted my services too. I let Steve do all the wheeling and dealing. I trusted him enough for him to warrant getting twenty percent of everything I earned.

  I really didn’t need all that money. I didn’t have to work a single day in my life. Dad’s trust fund ensured that I could spend my days living as a beach bum and never want for anything. I didn’t want people to think that of me.

  I loved cars next only to my first love – racing. That was the simple reason I did it. The excitement of having a powerful car respond to your slightest touch was exhilarating. It has brought me to all parts of the world. The money that came with the endorsement was just icing on the cake.

  I couldn’t complain. I had acquired things that most people would spend all their lives working for. An apartment in New York, a villa in Spain, a yacht at the marina, a Piper Saratoga, and my car collection, were fruits of putting my life on the line each time I entered the Formula One Grand Prix.

  “Gareth, take the Volvo for a test drive tomorrow. I’ll call the crew and make sure the track is safe. It’s dusk and you know how the light can fool the eye. Even with an expert like you.”

  I laughed at his concern and replied, “One turn around the track, Steve. Just let me scratch this itch.”

  Steve knew what that meant. It was a fever that most race car drivers suffered – the desire to hold the wheel and push the pedal to the metal. It was a fever that could only be appeased with speed. I opened the door of the Volvo as Steve scrambled and came rushing after me. He had a helmet in his hand. “At least put this on,” he begged. I decided to humor him and did as he asked.