Читать книгу It Started At Christmas... - Janice Lynn, Janice Lynn - Страница 10

CHAPTER ONE

“OKAY, WHO’S THE HUNK that just winked at you?”

At her best friend’s question Dr. McKenzie Sanders rolled her eyes at the emcee stepping out onto the Coopersville Community Theater stage. “That’s him.”

“That’s the infamous Dr. Lance Spencer?” Cecilia sounded incredulous from the chair next to McKenzie’s.

No wonder. Her best friend had heard quite a bit about the doctor slash local charity advocate. Was there any local charity he wasn’t involved with in some shape, form or fashion? McKenzie doubted it.

Still, when he’d invited her to come and watch the Christmas program, she’d not been expecting the well-choreographed show currently playing out before her eyes. Lance and his crew were good. Then again, knowing Lance, she should have expected greatness. He’d put the event together and everything the man touched was pure perfection.

And these days he wanted to touch her.

Sometimes McKenzie wondered if it was a case of women-chasing-him-toward-the-holy-matrimony-altar burnout that had him focusing on commitment-phobic her. She never planned to marry and Lance knew it. She made no secret of the fact she was a good-time girl and was never going to be tied down by the golden band of death to all future happiness. After his last girlfriend had gone a little psycho when he’d told her flat out he had no intention of ever proposing, Lance apparently wanted a break from tall lanky blonde numbers trying to drag him into wedded “bliss.” He’d taken to chasing petite brunettes who got hives at the mere mention of marriage thanks to unhappily divorced parents.

Her.

Despite accepting his invitation and hauling Cecilia with her to watch his show, McKenzie was running as fast as she could and had no intention of letting Lance “catch” her. She didn’t want a relationship with him, other than their professional one and the light, fun friendship they already shared. Something else she’d learned from her parents thanks to her dad, who’d chased every female coworker he’d ever had. McKenzie was nothing like either of her parents. Still, she could appreciate fineness when she saw it.

Lance was fine with a capital F.

Especially in his suit that appeared tailor-made.

Lance was no doubt one of those men who crawled out of bed covered in nonstop sexy. He was that kind of guy. The kind who made you want to skip that heavily iced cupcake and do some sit-ups instead just in case he ever saw you naked. The kind McKenzie avoided because she was a free spirit who wasn’t going to change herself for any man. Not ever. She’d eat her cupcake and have another if she wanted, with extra icing, thank you very much.

She’d watched women change for a man, seen her own mother do that, time and again. Ultimately, the changes didn’t last, the men lost interest, and the women involved ended up with broken hearts and a lot of confusion about who they were. McKenzie never gave any man a chance to get close enough to change her. She dated, had a good time and a good life. When things started getting sticky, she moved on. Next, please.

Really, she and Lance had a lot in common in that regard. Except he usually dated the same woman for several months and McKenzie’s relationships never lasted more than a few weeks at best. Anything longer than that just gave guys the wrong idea.

Like that she might be interested in white picket fences, a soccer-mom minivan, two point five kids, and a husband who would quickly get bored with her and have flirtations with his secretary...his therapist...his accountant...his law firm partner’s wife...his children’s schoolteacher...and who knew who else her father had cheated on her mother with?

Men cheated. It was a fact of life.

Sure, there were probably a few good ones out there still if she wanted to search for that needle in a haystack. McKenzie didn’t.

She wouldn’t change for a man or allow him to run around on her while she stayed home and scrubbed his bathroom floor and wiped his kids’ snotty noses. No way. She’d enjoy life, enjoy the opposite sex, and never make the mistake of being like her mother...or her father, who obviously couldn’t be faithful yet seemed to think he needed a wife on hand at all times since he’d just walked down the aisle for the fourth time since his divorce from McKenzie’s mother.

Which made her question why she’d said no to Lance when he’d asked her out.

Sure, there was the whole working-together thing that she clung to faithfully due to being scarred for life by her dad’s office romantic endeavors. Still, it wasn’t as if either she or Lance would be in it for anything more than to have some fun together. She was a fun-loving woman. He was a fun-loving man. They’d have fun together. Of that, she had no doubt. They were friends and occasionally hung out in groups of friends or shared a quick meal at the hospital. He managed to make her smile even on her toughest days. But when it had come to actually dating him she’d scurried away faster than a mouse in the midst of a spinster lady’s feline-filled house.

“Emcee got your tongue?” Cecilia asked, making McKenzie realize she hadn’t answered her friend, neither had she caught most of what Lance had said as she’d gotten lost in a whirlwind of the past and present.

“Sorry, I’m feeling a little distracted,” she shot back under her breath, her eyes on Lance and not the woman watching her intently.

“I just bet you are.” Cecilia laughed softly and, although McKenzie still didn’t turn to look at her friend, she could imagine the merriment that was no doubt sparkling in her friend’s warm brown eyes. “That man is so hot I think I feel a fever coming on. I might need some medical care very soon. What’s his specialty?”

“Internal medicine, not that you don’t already know that seeing as he works with me,” McKenzie pointed out, her gaze eating up Lance as he announced the first act, taking in the fluid movements of his body, the smile on his face, the dimples in his cheeks, the twinkle in his blue eyes. He looked like a movie star. He was a great doctor. What else could he do?

McKenzie gulped back the knot forming in her throat as her imagination took flight on the possibilities.

“Yeah, well, Christmas is all about getting a fabulous package, right? That man, right there, is a fabulous package,” Cecilia teased, nudging McKenzie’s arm.

Snorting, she rolled her eyes and hoped her friend couldn’t see the heat flooding her cheeks. “You have a one-track mind.”

“So do you and it’s not usually on men. You still competing in that marathon in the morning?”

Running. It’s what McKenzie did. She ran. Every morning. It’s how she cleared her head. How she brought in each new day. How she stayed one step ahead of any guy who tried to wiggle his way into her heart or bedroom. She ran.

Literally and figuratively.

Not that she was a virgin. She wasn’t. Her innocence had run away a long time ago, too. It was just that she was choosy about who she let touch her body.

Which brought her right back to the man onstage wooing the audience with his smile and charm.

He wanted to touch her body. Not that he’d said those exact words out loud. It was in how he looked at her.

He looked at her as if he couldn’t bear not to look at her.

As if he’d like to tear her clothes off and show her why she should hang up her running shoes for however long the chemistry held out.

She gulped again and forced more of those possibilities out of her mind.

Loud applause sounded around the dinner theater as the show moved from one song to the next. Before long, Lance introduced a trio of females who sang a song about getting nothing for Christmas. At the end of the trio’s set, groups of carolers made their way around the room, singing near the tables rather than on the stage. Lance remained just off to the side of the stage and was directly in her line of vision. His gaze met hers and he grinned. Great, he’d caught her staring at him. Then again, wasn’t that why he’d invited her to attend?

Because he wanted her to watch him.

She winced. Doggone her because seeing him outside the clinic made her watch. She didn’t want to watch him...only she did want to watch. And to feel. And to...

Cecilia elbowed her, and not with the gentle nudge as before.

“Ouch.” She rubbed her arm and frowned. No way could her friend have read her mind and even if she had, she was pretty sure Cecilia would be high-fiving her and not dishing out reprimands.

“Just wanted to make sure you were seeing what I’m seeing, because he can’t seem to keep his gaze off you.”

“I’m not blind,” she countered, still massaging the sore spot on her arm.

“After seeing the infamous Dr. Spencer I’ve heard you talk about so much and that I know you’ve said no to, I’m beginning to think perhaps you are. How long has it been since you last saw an optometrist?”

“Ha-ha, you’re so funny. There’s more to life than good looks.” Okay, so Lance was hot and she’d admit her body responded to that hotness. Always had. But even if there wasn’t her whole-won’t-date-a-coworker rule, she enjoyed her working relationship with Lance. If they dated, she didn’t fool herself for one second that they wouldn’t end up in bed. Then what? They weren’t going to be having a happily ever after. Work would become awkward. Did she really want to deal with all that just for a few weeks of sexy Lance this Christmas season?

Raking her gaze over him, she could almost convince herself it would be worth it...almost.

“Yeah,” Cecilia agreed. “There’s that voice that I could listen to all night long. Sign me up for a hefty dose of some of that.”

“Just because he has this crowd, and you, eating out of the palm of his hand, it doesn’t mean I should go out with him.”

Cecilia’s face lit with amusement. “What about you? Are you included in those he has eating out of the palm of his hand? Because I’m thinking you should. Literally.”

She didn’t. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

“I was just being a smart aleck,” McKenzie countered.

“Yeah, I know.” Cecilia ran her gaze over where Lance caroled, dressed up in old-fashioned garb and top hat. “But I’m serious. He could be the one.”

Letting out a long breath, McKenzie shook her head. “You know better than that.”

Cecilia had been her best friend since kindergarten. She’d been with McKenzie through all life’s ups and downs. Now McKenzie was a family doctor in a small group of physicians and Cecilia was a hairdresser at Bev’s Beauty Boutique. They’d both grown up to be what they’d always wanted to be. Except Cecilia was still waiting for her Prince Charming to come along and sweep her off her feet and across the threshold. Silly girl.

McKenzie was a big girl and could walk across that threshold all by herself. No Prince Charming needed or wanted.

Her gaze shifted from her friend and back to Lance. He was watching her. She’d swear he’d smiled at her. Maybe it was just the sparkle in his eyes that made her think that. Maybe.

Or maybe it went back to what she’d been thinking moments before about how the man looked at her. He made her want to let him look. It made her feel uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable.

Which was probably part of why she kept telling him no.

Only she was here tonight.

Why?

“I think you should go for it.”

She blinked at Cecilia. “It?”

“Dr. Spencer, aka the guy who has you so distracted.”

“I have to work with the man. Going for ‘it’ would only complicate our work relationship.”

“His asking you out hasn’t already complicated things?”

“Not really, because I haven’t let it.” She hadn’t. She’d made a point to keep their banter light, not act any differently around him.

If she’d had to make a point, did that mean the dynamics between them had already changed?

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I don’t take him seriously.”

“He’s looking at you as if he’s serious.”

There was that look. That heavenly making-her-want-to-squirm-in-her-chair look.

“Maybe.”

“Definitely.”

But then suddenly he wasn’t looking at her.

He’d rushed over to one of the dinner tables and wrapped his arms around a rather rosy-faced gentleman who was grabbing at his throat. Everyone at the man’s table was on their feet, but looking lost as to what to do.

McKenzie’s natural instincts kicked in. She grabbed her purse and phone. Calling 911 as she did so, she rushed over to where Lance gave the man a hearty thrust. Nothing happened. The guy’s eyes bulged out, more from fear than whatever was lodged in his throat. The woman next to him was going into hysterics. The carolers had stopped singing and every eye was on what Lance was doing, trying to figure out what was going on, then gasping in shock when they realized someone was choking.

Over the phone, McKenzie requested an ambulance. Not that there was time to wait for the paramedics. There wasn’t. They had to get out whatever was in the man’s throat.

Lance tried repeatedly and with great force to dislodge whatever was blocking the panicking guy’s airway. McKenzie imagined several ribs had already cracked at the intensity of his chest thrusts.

If the man’s airway wasn’t cleared, and fast, a few broken ribs weren’t going to matter. He had already started turning blue and any moment was going to lose consciousness.

“We’re going to have to open his airway.” Lance said what she’d been thinking. And pray they were able to establish a patent airway.

She glanced down at the table, found the sharpest-appearing knife, and frowned at the serrated edges. She’d have made do if that had been her only option, but in her purse, on her key chain, she had a small Swiss army knife that had been a gift many years before from her grandfather. The blade was razor sharp and much more suitable for making a neat cut into someone’s neck to create an artificial airway than this steak knife. She dumped the contents of her purse onto the table, grabbed her key chain and a ballpoint pen.

As the man lost consciousness, Lance continued to try to dislodge the stuck food. McKenzie disassembled the pen, removed the ink cartridge, and blew into the now empty plastic tube to clear anything that might be in the casing.

Lance eased the man down onto the floor.

“Does he still have a heartbeat?” she asked, kneeling next to where the man now lay.

“Regardless of whether or not he does, I’m going to see if CPR will dislodge the food before we cut.”

Sometimes once a choking victim lost consciousness, their throat muscles relaxed enough that whatever was stuck would loosen and pop out during the force exerted to the chest during CPR. It was worth a try.

Unfortunately, chest compressions didn’t work either. Time was of the essence. Typically, there was a small window of about four minutes to get oxygen inside the man’s body or there would likely be permanent brain damage. If they could revive him at all.

McKenzie tilted the man’s head back. When several seconds of CPR didn’t give the reassuring gasp of air to let them know the food had dislodged, she flashed her crude cricothyroidotomy instruments at Lance.

“Let me do it,” he suggested.

She didn’t waste time responding, just felt for the indentation between the unconscious man’s Adam’s apple and the cricoid cartilage. She made a horizontal half-inch incision that was about the same depth into the dip. Several horrified cries and all out sobbing were going on around her, but she drowned everything out except what she was doing to attempt to save the man’s life.

Once she had her incision, she pinched the flesh, trying to get the tissue to gape open. Unfortunately, the gentleman was a fleshy fellow and she wasn’t satisfied with what she saw. She stuck her finger into the cut she’d made to open the area.

Once she had the opening patent, she stuck the ballpoint-pen tube into the cut to maintain the airway and gave two quick breaths.

“Good job,” Lance praised when the man’s chest rose and fell. “He still has a heartbeat.”

That was good news and meant their odds of reviving him were greatly improved now that he was getting oxygen again. She waited five seconds, then gave another breath, then another until their patient slowly began coming to.

“It’s okay,” Lance reassured him, trying to keep the man calm, while McKenzie gave one last breath before straightening from her patient.

“Dr. Sanders opened your airway,” Lance continued. “Paramedics are on their way. You’re going to be okay.”

Having regained consciousness, the man should resume breathing on his own through the airway she’d created for him. She watched for the reassuring rise and fall of his chest. Relief washed over her at his body’s movement.

Looking panicky, he sat up. Lance held on to him to help steady him and grabbed the man’s hands when he reached for the pen barrel stuck in his throat.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Lance warned. “That’s what’s letting air into your body. Pull it out, and we’ll have to put it back in to keep that airway open.”

“Is he going to be okay?” a well-dressed, well-made-up woman in her mid-to-late fifties asked, kneeling next to McKenzie a little shakily.

“He should be.” She met the scared man’s gaze. “But whatever is stuck in your throat is still there. An ambulance is on the way. They’ll take you to the hospital where a general surgeon will figure out the best way to remove whatever is trapped there.”

The man looked dazed. He touched a steady trickle of blood that was running down his neck.

“Once the surgeon reestablishes your airway, he’ll close you up and that will only leave a tiny scar,” she assured him.

Seeming to calm somewhat the longer he was conscious, the man’s gaze dropped to her bloody finger. Yeah, she should probably wash that off now that the immediate danger had passed.

“Go wash up,” Lance ordered, having apparently read her mind. “I’ll stay with him until the ambulance arrives.”

With one last glance at her patient she nodded, stood, and went in search of a ladies’ room so she could wash the blood off her hands and her Swiss army knife.

Carrying McKenzie’s purse and the contents she’d apparently gathered up, Cecilia fell into step beside her. “Omigosh. I can’t believe that just happened. You were amazing.”

McKenzie glanced at her gushing friend. “Not exactly the festive cheer you want spread at a charity Christmas show.”

“You and Dr. Spencer were wonderful,” Cecilia sighed.

She shrugged. “We just did our job.”

“Y’all weren’t at work.” Cecilia held the bathroom door open for McKenzie.

“Doesn’t mean we’d let someone choke to death right in front of us.”

“I know that, I just meant...” Cecilia paused as they went into the bathroom. She flipped the water faucet on full blast so McKenzie wouldn’t have to touch the knobs with her bloodstained hands.

“It was no big deal. Really.” McKenzie scrubbed the blood from her finger and from where it had smeared onto her hands. Over and over with a generous amount of antibacterial soap she scrubbed her skin and then cleaned her knife. She’d rub alcohol on it later that evening, too. Maybe even run it through the autoclave machine at work for good measure.

Cecilia talked a mile a minute, going on and on about how she’d thought she was going to pass out when McKenzie had cut the man’s throat. “I could never do your job,” she added.

“Yeah, and no one would want me to do yours. They’d look like a two-year-old got hold of them with kitchen shears.”

When she finally felt clean, she and Cecilia returned to the dinner theater to see the paramedics talking to the man who’d choked. Although he couldn’t verbalize, the man nodded or shook his head in response.

As he was doing well since his oxygenation had returned to normal, they had him climb onto the stretcher and they rolled him out of the large room. Lance followed, giving one of the guys a full report of what had happened. McKenzie fell into step with them.

“Dr. Sanders saved his life,” Lance told them.

He would have established an airway just as easily as she had. It wasn’t that big a deal.

The paramedic praised her efforts.

She shook off the compliment. It’s what she’d trained for.

“You’re going to need to go to the hospital, too,” Lance reminded her.

Her gaze cut to his, then she frowned. Yeah, she’d thought of that as she’d been scrubbing the blood from the finger she’d used to open the cut she’d made. Blood exposure was a big deal. A scary big deal.

“I know. I rode here with Cecilia. I’ll have her take me, unless I can hitch a ride with you guys.” She gave the paramedic a hopeful look.

“I’ll take you,” Lance piped up, which was exactly what she hadn’t wanted to happen. The less she was alone with him the better.

She arched a brow at him. “You got blood on you, too?”

He didn’t answer, just turned his attention to the paramedic. “I’ll bring her to the hospital and we’ll draw necessary labs.”

In the heat of the moment she’d have done exactly the same thing and saved the man’s life. After the fact was when one started thinking about possible consequences of blood exposure. In an emergency situation one did what one had to do to preserve another’s life.

She didn’t regret a thing, because she’d done the right thing, but her own life could have just drastically changed forever, pending on the man’s health history.

She didn’t have any cuts or nicks that she could see on her hands, but even the tiniest little micro-tear could be a site for disease to gain entry into her body.

Whether she wanted to or not, she had to have blood tests.

“Cecilia can take me,” she assured Lance. Beyond being alone with him, the last thing she wanted was to have to have him there when she had labs drawn.

McKenzie hated having blood drawn.

Blood didn’t bother her, so long as it was someone else’s blood. Really, it wasn’t her blood that was the problem. It was her irrational fear of needles that bothered her. The thought of a needle coming anywhere near her body did funny things to her mind. Like send her into a full-blown panic attack. How could she be so calm and collected when she was the one wielding the needle and so absolutely terrified when she was going to be the recipient?

She could do without Lance witnessing her belonephobia. He didn’t need to know she was afraid of needles. Uh-uh, no way.

McKenzie gave Cecilia a pleading look, begging for her friend to somehow rescue her, but the grinning hairdresser hugged her goodbye and indicated that she was going to say something to someone she knew, then headed out rather than stay for the remainder of the show. Unfortunately, several of the other attendees seemed to be making the same decision to leave.

“I’m going to the hospital anyway, so it wouldn’t make sense for someone else to bring you.”

“But I...” She realized she was being ridiculous. One of the local doctors going into hysterics over getting a routine phlebotomy check would likely cause a stir of gossip. Lance would end up hearing about her silliness anyway. “Okay, that’s fine, but don’t you have to finish your show?”

He glanced back toward the dinner theater. “Other than thanking everyone for coming to the show, I’ve done my part. While you were washing up, I asked one of the singers to take over. The show can go on without me.” A worried look settled on his handsome face. “The show must go on. It’s for such a great cause and I don’t want what happened to give people a bad view of the event. It’s one of our biggest fund-raisers.”

McKenzie frowned, hating that the incident had happened for many reasons. “It’s not the fault of Celebrate Graduation that the man choked. Surely people understand that.”

“You’d think so,” he agreed, as they exited the building and headed toward the parking lot. “That man was Coopersville’s mayor, you know.”

“The mayor?” No, she hadn’t known. Not that it would have mattered. She’d done what had needed to be done and would have done exactly the same regardless of who the person had been. A life had been on the line.

“Yep, Leo Jones.”

“Is he one of your patients?” she asked, despite knowing he shouldn’t answer. He knew exactly why she was asking. Did she need to worry about the man’s health history? Did Lance know anything that would set her mind at ease?

“You know I wouldn’t tell you even if he was.”

Yes, she knew.

“But I can honestly say I know nothing about any mayor’s health history.” He opened the passenger door to his low-slung sports car that any other time McKenzie would have whistled in appreciation of. Right now her brain was distracted by too many possibilities of the consequences of her actions and that soon a needle would be puncturing her skin.

Was it her imagination or had she just broken a sweat despite the mid-December temperatures?

“Thank you,” she whispered back, knowing her question had put him in an awkward position and that he’d answered as best he could. “I guess I won’t know anything for a few days.”

“Probably not.” He stood at the car door for a few seconds. A guilty look on his face, he raked his fingers through his hair. “I should have cut the airway, rather than let you do it.”

She frowned at him. “Why?”

“Because then you wouldn’t be worrying about any of this.”

She shrugged. “It was my choice to make.”

“I shouldn’t have let you.”

“You think you could have stopped me from saving his life?”

His grip tightening on the car door, he shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant and I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m not some froufrou girl who needs pampering. I knew the risks and I took them.” She stared straight into his eyes, making sure he didn’t misunderstand. “If there are consequences, I’ll face them. I did the right thing.”

“Agreed, except I should have been the one who took the risks.”

“Because you’re a guy?”

He seemed to consider her question a moment, then shook his head. “No, because you’re you and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

His answer rang with so much sincerity that, heart pounding, she found herself staring up at him. “You’d rather it happen to you?”

“Absolutely.”