Читать книгу The Doctor Delivers - Judy Christenberry, Judy Christenberry - Страница 8

“Doctor, you’ll never guess who’s here to see you!”

Liza Colton’s head snapped up. Her glance around the room confirmed that she was still alone in the examination room, waiting for the busy doctor’s attention. Her gaze focused on the door, realizing it wasn’t quite closed.

“Missy, I don’t have time for guessing games.” The deep voice had an interesting, intriguing timbre that fascinated Liza. She wondered if his appearance could possibly match his voice. Not that it mattered, really.

“But it’s the latest diva!” the invisible nurse gushed.

Liza stiffened.

“Diva?”

As if the nurse thought he didn’t understand the word, she said, “You know, that’s what they call Streisand, Céline Dion, Mariah Carey—”

“I know what the word means, Missy,” the male voice asserted. “I’m just surprised, though. What diva would be here in Saratoga Springs?” But there wasn’t an ounce of interest in his voice.

“Liza Colton! I saw her two nights ago. She’s the latest diva. Well, she will be. She’s not quite there yet. But she was fabulous! Why, she got a standing ovation at the end. Everyone just kept on clapping.”

Liza smiled. It had been a gratifying moment. And she hadn’t had too many of those lately.

“The beer sales must’ve been brisk,” he said dryly. “Why is she here?”

“It’s tragic! She can barely speak.”

“After performing two nights ago?”

“And last night, too. And she’s got another performance tonight.” There was a brief pause, and Liza thought maybe they’d moved away. Which suited her just fine. The man obviously didn’t appreciate music or have much regard for her talents.

“Oh, Doctor,” the nurse, who’d shown her into the examining room, pleaded, her overwrought tones making Liza roll her eyes, “you just have to save her!”

“Let’s don’t get carried away, Missy. I’m an ear, nose and throat specialist, not a heart surgeon.”

Well, unlike most doctors, at least he didn’t have an inflated view of himself. Liza decided maybe she could forgive him for his earlier remarks.

Then the door opened.

She was skilled at cloaking her emotions—good thing—but she’d never been bowled over by a man’s looks before.

He was gorgeous. Not picture perfect, like the models or actors who tried to impress her. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but he had…substance. That was the word she was searching for. Gorgeous substance. His dark brown hair was conservatively cut, but rumpled, as if he ran his hands through it…and made her want to do the same. His physique was that of an athlete, strong, muscular. And his blue eyes almost made her swoon. Or was that her illness?

“Ms. Colton?” he asked as he stepped into the room and extended his hand.

She was reluctant to accept that offer of welcome. But she finally shook his warm hand with hers. And shivered.

“Cold? Oh, sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Dr. Hathaway.”

She gave him a slight smile and nodded.

“I understand you’ve been exciting the crowds with your singing. Congratulations.”

She wanted to ask if he paid his nurse a bonus for filling him in on his patients so he could appear so interested. But he wasn’t worth straining her voice any further.

With a nod, she waited for him to get down to business.

“Can you tell me what the problem is?”

She drew a deep breath. Many men had told her how sultry, how sexy, her voice was. But now it was raw, raspy and painful. With care, she said, “I’ve strained my voice.”

When she said nothing else, he pulled out a tongue depressor. “Open up.”

After several minutes of studying her throat and checking her ears, a frown on his well-chiseled face that, incredibly, included a cleft in his chin, he stepped back. “When did you first feel discomfort?”

“Last night,” she whispered.

“After your performance?” She nodded.

“Did it hit you suddenly?”

She shook her head no.

“Have you ever had this problem before?”

She shook her head. Then she said, carefully, “Stress. Antibiotics. Rest.”

Nick Hathaway clamped down on the cynical laughter that rose in his throat. Typical of these spoiled, wealthy young women. She’d never had the problem before, but she’d already diagnosed it and determined the cure.

“And you came to see me so you could demonstrate your brilliant diagnostic skills?” He knew better than to use sarcasm on a patient, but she happened to be the kind of woman he avoided at all costs.

Beside being beautiful, she was wealthy and self-centered. He knew from experience how wealthy women worked. And with beauty added to the mix—

She spoke again in that painful voice. “Antibiotics.”

He raised one eyebrow. “I don’t dispense antibiotics on request, Ms. Colton.” She just stared at him with the most glorious green eyes he’d ever seen. “I’ll need to do a throat culture, run a few other tests.”

She had the nerve to shake her head.

Nick glared at her, but she raised her left wrist and pointed to the watch she wore. A Rolex, of course.

“Theater,” she whispered.

He couldn’t believe her. “You surely don’t think you’re going to perform tonight?” Damn, the woman could barely speak.

She shrugged her shoulders.

“Look, Ms. Colton, if you are under my care, there will be no performance tonight. No performance for at least two weeks, at which time I will reevaluate your situation, but I promise nothing.” He sounded too angry. Drawing a deep breath, he finished in cold tones, “If you find those terms unacceptable, I’ll be glad to refer you to another local doctor. Or you can take yourself to New York City and a considerably more expensive doctor to confirm what I’ve just said.”

Much to his surprise, after staring at him with various emotions changing those brilliant green eyes to a darker color, she gave a vigorous nod of approval. Then she whispered, “Antibiotics.”

He was surprised at the relief that her agreement gave him, but her last word irritated him again. “No antibiotics until after the tests.”

Her eyes rounded in panic, and she vigorously shook her head no.

“Yes,” he insisted. “I insist.”

To his consternation, she slid off the examining table, picked up the purse she’d left in a side chair and started for the door.

He should let her go, he decided. He didn’t need a patient unwilling to listen, intent on getting her way, determined to be in control.

Then she fainted.

Liza didn’t come to until she’d been put in an ambulance. The clanging of the doors brought her around. There was a man beside the stretcher and she reached out to tug on his shirt.

“Just lie quietly, ma’am. We’ll have you to the hospital in a couple of minutes.”

She didn’t need to be told the obvious. She tried again. “Doctor,” she whispered, not seeing the handsome man who’d examined her.

“No, I’m not the doctor. I’m a paramedic.” He grinned at her, no doubt impressed with his boyish charm.

She wasn’t impressed by his intelligence. “Hathaway!” she returned, the strain sending shooting pains down her throat.

“Oh!” the young man exclaimed, as if a lightbulb had gone off over his head. “You mean where is Dr. Hathaway?” After she nodded, he added, “He’s meeting us at the hospital.”

Frowning, Liza thought about what had occurred. The doctor had wanted her to have tests. No doubt if she went to a hospital, he’d expect her to stay. She couldn’t.

Grabbing his shirt again as the paramedic leaned forward to say something to his partner, who was driving the ambulance, she said, “No hospital.”

“Hey, pretty lady, we’ve got a fine hospital. They’ll take good care of you.”

She vigorously shook her head.

Ignoring her response, he said, his voice full of fake cheerfulness, “Here we are.”

When they rolled her into the emergency room, she felt like the center of a whirlwind, not moving as everyone rushed around her.

The paramedic was giving a report to a doctor in abbreviated terms that made no sense to her. She tried to interrupt, but with no voice, it was hard to get their attention.

She used her earlier technique, grabbing the man’s white coat and tugging.

“Hello, Ms. Colton. Don’t worry. We’re going to take care of you. I’ve heard you sing. Let me tell you it’s a pleasure to welcome you to our hospital.”

She shook her head. “No hospital,” she insisted in her raspy whisper, her stress rising.

“Dr. Hathaway will be here any minute. I’m sure he—”

“No!” she protested as loudly as possible. Then she fell back against the pillow, clutching her throat.

For the first time the doctor appeared unsure of himself. “Uh, we’ll just take your vital signs and wait for Dr. Hathaway.” And he backed away from her, giving instructions to a nurse.

Liza closed her eyes. Being unable to use such a vital part of her, her voice, was frustrating. She knew she’d endangered it with her foolish behavior, but eating or sleeping had seemed unimportant the past three days.

If only she hadn’t fainted.

“Ah, Dr. Hathaway, I’m glad you’re here,” she heard the E.R. doctor exclaim.

She shoved herself to a sitting position just as the nurse was trying to take her pulse.

“Here now, dear, just relax. Dr. Hathaway is one of our best physicians. He’ll take good care of you.”

She shook her head, her gaze seeking the handsome doctor. When she found him in the constantly moving crowd, she waved him over.

Before she could make the effort to speak, however, he began barking out orders to the nurse.

“And set up an IV. She’s dehydrated.” He looked at Liza. “When was the last time you ate?”

She shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t want to admit her foolishness. But she’d been so frightened for Emily, it had been impossible to think of such mundane things.

While the nurse set up her IV, the E.R. physician drew Dr. Hathaway to the side and began whispering to him. He sent a sharp look her way, making Liza wonder what the man was telling him.

She had her answer when Dr. Hathaway stepped back to her side. “My cohort here says you’ve refused to be admitted.”

She nodded, relieved that finally someone was listening to her.

“Look, Ms. Colton, I know you don’t want to stay here, but at least let us give you some fluids and check things out. Only for an hour or two.”

As he finished speaking, the nurse returned with a plastic bag of fluid.

“If you’ll at least let us do that, you’ll feel a lot better,” he assured her, that deep voice sounding very soothing.

“Have to—call…cancel tonight,” she muttered, each word paining her.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. What theater are you performing in?”

She managed to get out the name of the prestigious theater.

Even though he listened, he also motioned to the nurse. She placed something in his hand. He came around to the side of the bed where the IV was hung. “Just rest for a little while. I’ll be back shortly,” he assured her.

Liza saw him inject a syringe into a juncture in the tube. She tried to ask what he was giving her, but suddenly even her raspy whisper was impossible. Her tongue wouldn’t move and her eyelids drifted closed. The sleep that had eluded her for so long was making up for lost time.

“I want her admitted,” Nick told his colleague.

“But she said she didn’t want to be here,” the E.R. doctor said cautiously. “We can’t hold her against her will.”

“Do you want to ask her now?”

“Well, no, I mean, you’ve sedated her, but—”

“She agreed to stay a few hours so we could check her out. I suspect she’s either on some radical diet or may even have recently become bulimic. You know how these entertainers are.” He turned to the nurse. “Have her taken upstairs and admitted. Tell the nurse on duty that at the first sign of her waking up, she’s to call me at once.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

With a nod of thanks, he strode out of the emergency room to make the short drive back to his office. He’d left patients waiting while he attended to the mysterious Ms. Colton. The beautiful Ms. Colton.

Not that he was interested, of course, he assured himself. First of all, he never had personal relationships with his patients. And secondly, he’d been married to a beautiful, wealthy woman. He’d never commit such a mistake again.

Not that Liza Colton resembled his ex-wife, Daphne, in any way other than her wealth. Daphne was a neon sign and Liza Colton was moonlight. Daphne was a curvaceous blonde who used every trick in the book to catch a man’s eye. Liza Colton was a slender brunette, almost too slender, her dark hair cut in a pixie that made her green eyes look huge. She had that fragile, graceful appearance of Winona Ryder or, maybe even more, Audrey Hepburn.

He shook off such thoughts. It wasn’t like him to linger on a patient’s appearance. His job was to treat the woman and send her on her way.

The rest of the afternoon he tended to patients, calmly and efficiently. But he couldn’t keep his thoughts away from Liza Colton. He had his nurse call the hospital midway through the afternoon to check with the nurse on duty.

Ms. Colton was still sleeping.

He hadn’t given her that strong a sedative. He’d expected her to awaken after a couple of hours.

As soon as he saw his last patient, he stripped off his lab coat and grabbed his jacket. “I’m going to the hospital, Missy. You can reach me there if anything comes up before you go home.”

“Are you going to see Liza Colton? ‘Cause I’d love her autograph!”

“She’s sick, Missy. I can’t bother her with that kind of request,” he chided, smiling at his young nurse.

Missy’s face fell. “I guess not.”

Nick half smiled. “I’ll see how she’s feeling. Maybe I’ll ask her, but I’m not promising anything.” Missy was a good nurse who worked hard. Surely one autograph wouldn’t be too much to ask from the diva.

He was rewarded by Missy’s brilliant smile and her thanks. With a wave, he hurried to his car.

Once he reached the hospital, he went straight to the second floor where Liza Colton was. “Any change?” he asked the floor nurse.

“On Miss Colton? No, she’s sleeping.”

With a frown, he walked to her room. Just as the nurse had reported, she was sleeping soundly after four hours. Unless she had a bad reaction to the sedative, or she hadn’t slept in a while, she shouldn’t still be asleep.

He lifted her delicate hand and held her wrist. Pulse was normal. He listened to her heart. No problem there.

Reluctantly, he decided to awaken her.

“Ms. Colton? Can you hear me, Ms. Colton?” He patted her hand as he called her name, but she didn’t stir. Finally he took her by her shoulders and gently shook her. “Liza? Liza, open your eyes.”

Very slowly, her dark lashes swept up, and she stared at him blankly.

“Do you remember me? I’m Dr. Hathaway. You came to see me about your throat.”

After staring at him with confusion, she finally nodded, then let her eyelids drift down again.

“Don’t go back to sleep. I need to ask you some questions.”

He grabbed the pillow from the next bed and pulled her forward, to slip the extra pillow behind her. He wasn’t happy to realize he liked holding her in his arms. What was wrong with him suddenly?

He backed away from the bed and went to the foot of it, adjusting the upper part of it a little higher.

“Ms. Colton? Liza? Open your eyes.”

“So tired,” she whispered, even as her eyes flickered.

“Haven’t you been sleeping well?”

“No,” she said, her voice still raspy. “Couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Em—” Before she could finish that word, whatever it might’ve been, she came fully awake and sent a panicked look his way.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked, growing more intrigued by the moment. He went to the side of the bed.

“Have to go,” she muttered, the words paining her if her face was any indication.

“You’re not well, Ms. Colton. When’s the last time you ate?”

With her gaze flickering around the room, as if looking for an escape, she shrugged her shoulders.

“Young lady, I need a better answer than that. If you’re on some ridiculous, totally unnecessary diet, I need to know. It could be affecting your voice.”

She lifted one thin hand to rub her forehead. “No,” she replied, though he wasn’t sure what she was saying.

“You’re not on a diet?”

She shook her head, though not vigorously.

He leaned forward and pushed the call button. “Nurse? I want two dinner trays brought to room 226 ASAP.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

He sat on the edge of the bed. When she stared at him in confusion, he said, “I’m starving. I thought I’d keep you company, even though it’s a little early for dinner.”

He wanted to see her eat. And keep the food down. If she was bulimic, he’d have to stay for several hours. But he hadn’t really seen any signs of bulimia.

“Must go,” she said, her raspy voice holding panic.

“I called the theater and told them you were ill and wouldn’t be performing. They promised to take care of everything, and to keep your location quiet.” He wasn’t sure about that necessity, or even if that’s what she’d want. She probably preferred the notoriety an illness would give her.

That was the way divas were.

The nurse came in at that moment carrying two trays.

“You’re in luck tonight, Doctor. Meat loaf is on the menu, along with apple pie,” the nurse told him, grinning.

He returned her smile. “Sounds good. Doesn’t it, Ms. Colton?”

She looked so lost, he felt a stirring of compassion. If she was truly a diva, how had she lost her way so badly? Was someone pressuring her to lose weight? Was her career not going well? The theater said they’d contact her manager, and Nick had felt compelled to give them Liza’s location to pass on to the man. But now he wondered if he’d made the right decision.

He moved to the foot of her bed to raise the head of it a little more before he put one of the trays on the bed table and rolled it toward her. Then he removed the metal cover.

“Doesn’t that look good?” he asked, looking at Liza.

She didn’t move, her face not reflecting pleasure. Instead, she stared at the meal in distaste.

He ignored his own meal and lifted her fork to cut a piece of the thick meat loaf. “Let’s take a bite of this. I think you’ll really like it.”

Holding it up to her mouth, he waited until she finally opened her lips for him to insert it.

He kept his eyes on her as he instructed, “Chew it up, Liza. You need the calories.”

She swallowed and he started to feed her a bite of corn. Before he could, however, she emitted distressed sounds.

He grabbed the dish they distributed for queasy stomachs just in time.