Читать книгу Taming the Playboy - Marie Ferrarella, Marie Ferrarella - Страница 7

Chapter Three

Georges managed to catch her just before her body hit the floor.

Scooping Vienna up in his arms, he looked around the immediate area for an open bed. He saw the nurse and the bed at the same time.

“Jill,” he called out to a heavyset woman he’d met during his first day at the E.R., “I’m putting this woman into bed number seven.”

Mother of four boys, grandmother of seven more, Jill Foster liked to think of herself as the earth mother of the E.R. night shift. Pulling her eyebrows together, she looked at the unconscious woman he was holding and gave him a penetrating, no-nonsense look.

“Getting a little brazen with our conquests, aren’t we, Dr. Armand?”

They had an easy, good rapport, although he knew the thirty-two-year hospital veteran wouldn’t hesitate to tell him when she thought he was wrong.

“She fainted,” he told her, crossing over to the empty stall.

“Probably not the first time that’s happened to you, I’d wager,” Jill commented dryly.

On her way to answer a call from another patient, she paused to pull aside the white blanket and sheet on the bed for him. When Georges deposited the unconscious woman on the bed, Jill took off her shoes. After putting them into a plastic bag, the nurse placed it beneath the bed, then pulled the blanket up over the young woman.

“Need anything else?” she asked him. “Other than privacy?”

Sometimes, Georges thought, his reputation kept people from taking him seriously. Usually, it didn’t bother him, but he wanted to make sure that the nurse understood this was on the level. “Jill, the woman’s been in an accident.”

Jill raised her hands to stop him before he could go on. “I know, I know, I saw her grandfather being wheeled out of here to X-ray. Orderly almost popped a wheelie moving by me so fast.” Sympathy crinkled along her all-but-unlined face as she looked down at Vienna. And then the next second, she regained her flippant facade. “Well, you know where all the doctor tools are.” She patted his back. “Call if you need me.” As she began to walk out of the stall, Vienna moaned. Jill paused to wink knowingly at him. “Sounds to me like she’s got the sounds down right. You don’t want people talking. I’d leave the curtain open if I were you.”

Jill left to see about her patient.

Moaning again, Vienna stirred and then opened her eyes. The second after she did, she realized that she was in a horizontal position. She would have bolted upright much too fast, but firm hands on her shoulders pushed her back down onto the mattress.

She blinked and looked up at Georges. Breathing a sigh of relief, she shaded her eyes. “Oh God, what happened?”

“You almost had a close encounter with the hospital floor.” Her eyes widened. He found it incredibly appealing. Innocent and vulnerable and somehow sensuous all at the same time. “I caught you just in time.”

Well, at least she hadn’t made a complete fool of herself, Vienna thought. “That’s twice you’ve come to my rescue.”

He did his best to look serious as he nodded. “Third time and you have to grant me a wish.” Again her eyes widened, but this time, he thought he saw a wariness in them. Was she afraid of him? he suddenly wondered. Or had his teasing words triggered a memory she didn’t welcome? “I’m kidding,” he told her.

“I know that.” Digging her knuckles into the mattress on either side of her, Vienna tried to get up for a second time. With the same outcome. He pushed her gently back on the bed. This time, it required a little more force than before.

She was a stubborn one, he thought. “You’re not going anywhere until I check you over,” he told her.

She began to shake her head, then stopped when tiny little devils with pointy hammers popped up to begin wreaking havoc. Pressing her lips together, willing the pain to go away, she looked up at him. “I’m all right,” she insisted.

His eyes swept over her. Georges couldn’t help smiling in appreciation. Now there’s an understatement.

“Be that as it may, I’d like to make sure for myself.” Reaching for an instrument to check her pupils, he turned on the light and aimed the pinprick directly at her right eye. “Look up, please.”

She resisted, drawing back her head. “This really isn’t necessary.”

He pointed up to a spot on the ceiling and tried again. “Humor me.”

Vienna sighed and stared up at the imaginary spot where he pointed. When he switched eyes and pointed to another area, she complied again.

Georges withdrew the instrument, shutting off the light. “Well?” she asked impatiently.

He returned the instrument to its place. “You don’t appear to have a concussion.”

“That’s because I don’t.”

“But you did faint,” he reminded her. And that could be a symptom of a lot of things—or mean nothing at all. He liked erring on the side of caution when it came to patients. “I could order a set of scans done—”

Vienna cut him off at the pass. “Not on me you can’t.” She said the words with a smile, but her tone was firm. She knew her own body and there was nothing wrong. Besides, if she was in the hospital as a patient, she might not be able to be with her grandfather and he was all that mattered. “I just got a little frazzled, that’s all.” Throwing off the covers from her legs, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. As she slid off the bed, she looked down on the floor and her bare feet. There were no shoes in sight. “Now if you could just tell me where my shoes are, I’ll be all set.”

For a moment, he thought of pleading ignorance, but he had a feeling that being barefoot would not be enough to keep her here. Bending down, he retrieved the plastic bag from beneath the bed and handed it to her.

“It wouldn’t hurt for you to stay overnight for observation, either.”

Vienna took out her high heels and, placing them on the floor, stepped into the shoes. It struck Georges that he’d seldom seen anyone move so gracefully.

“Maybe not,” she allowed, “but it would be a waste of time and money. I didn’t even hit my head.”

The hell she didn’t. “Then what’s this?” Georges asked as he moved back wispy blond bangs from her forehead. A nice-sized bump had begun to form above her right eye. He ran his thumb ever so lightly across it.

Vienna tried not to wince in response, but he saw the slight movement that indicated pain.

She feathered her fingers just on the outer edges of the area and shrugged. “Okay, maybe I did hit my head, but not so that I saw stars,” she insisted. “It was my grandfather who got the brunt of the impact.” Even as she said it, she could see the events moving in slow motion in her mind’s eye. It was a struggle not to shiver. Her expression turned somber. When she spoke, her voice was hushed. Fearful. “How is he?”

“You haven’t been out that long,” he told her. “Your grandfather’s not back from X-ray yet.” Pausing, he studied her for a second.

She shifted slightly, trying to stand as straight as she could. She did not want to argue about getting more tests again. “What?”

“Just before you took your unofficial ‘nap,” ’ he said tactfully, “you were about to go to the registration desk to give the administrative assistant your grandfather’s insurance information.”

Now she remembered, Vienna thought. Edging over to the front of the stall, she inadvertently brushed up against the doctor and instantly felt her body tightening.

Reflexes alive and well, she congratulated herself.

Taking a deep breath, she announced, “Okay, let’s go.”

But he didn’t seem all that ready to take her where she needed to go. Instead, he regarded her for another long moment, as if he expected her to faint again. “You’re sure you’re up to it?”

In response, she left the curtained enclosure. He quickly fell into step beside her, indicating that she needed to turn right at the end of the hallway. Vienna noticed several nurses watching them as they passed.

“Do you take such good care of all your patients?” she asked.

He appeared to consider her question, then deadpanned, “Only the ones I rescue from a burning car.”

“Oh.” A smile flickered across her lips, teasing dimples into existence on either cheek. “Lucky thing for me.”

They walked through a set of swinging doors. As he brought her over to the first available space in the registration area, his cell phone began to ring.

“She has insurance information about a patient who was just brought in to the E.R.,” he told the young girl behind the desk, then turned to Vienna as the phone rang again. “I’ve got to take this.”

Vienna nodded. “Of course.”

Taking the cell out of his jacket pocket as he moved away from the desk, Georges glanced down at the number. And winced inwardly.

Diana.

He’d completely forgotten about her. And about his date. He supposed if he hurried, he could still salvage some of the evening.

Georges was considering the option when he saw two policemen entering the E.R., coming from within the hospital rather than via the back entrance the way they had. By their unhurried demeanor, intuition told him the patrolmen were here to see Vienna. Since he’d seen everything that had gone down, that made him a material witness. Which meant that he was going to have to stick around to give his statement, as well.

That made his mind up for him.

Flipping the phone open on the fifth ring, he turned away from the desk. “Diana, hi. I am so sorry. I know I’m late, but I was involved in an accident—”

“An accident?” the voice on the other end repeated breathlessly. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, but the police just got here and I’m going to have to give them my statement. I’ve got no idea how long this is going to take.” He caught himself looking over toward Vienna, wondering if she was going to be up to this. “I’m afraid that I’m going to need a rain check.”

“This is Southern California. It doesn’t rain here this time of year,” Diana reminded him. But she didn’t sound angry, just disappointed.

“We can do our own rain dance,” he promised, lowering his voice.

He heard her laugh and felt a sense of satisfaction. She’d forgiven him. “That I’d like to see. All right, call me, lover, whenever you’re free.”

“Count on it,” he told her. Ending the call, he flipped the phone closed and pocketed it again. Georges turned around just in time to see the two policemen position themselves on both sides of Vienna’s chair. That same protective instinct that had had him throwing his body over hers when the car burst into flames stirred inside his chest.

He quickly crossed back to her, but he was looking at the patrolmen as he approached. “Can I be of any help, officers?” he asked easily.

The younger of the two policeman gave him a once-over before speaking. “That all depends. You have any information about this car accident on PCH that was reported?”

Boy, have I got some information for you, he thought. Out loud, he said, “As a matter of fact, I do. But first, how did you find out about it?” he asked. He’d given Vienna the number to the hospital to summon an ambulance, not 911.

The younger of the two looked reluctant to divulge any information at all. When he remained silent, his partner said, “Paramedics called it in. Someone named Howard. Told us where to find you.” The last statement was directed to Vienna.

Howard. He should have known, Georges thought. The EMT wasn’t kidding when he talked about adhering to the rules.

Georges glanced over toward an alcove. E.R. doctors typically retreated there to write their reports without being disturbed. The area was empty at the moment.

“Why don’t we move over there, out of the way?” he suggested, indicating the alcove. Not waiting for the policemen to agree, he put his hand beneath Vienna’s elbow and helped her up from the chair.

“You a doctor?” the other policeman, older than his partner by at least a decade, asked as he followed behind them.

Taking out the badge that was still in his pocket, Georges hung it about his neck. “Yes.”

“Lucky for the people involved,” the older patrolman commented. As the tallest, he stood on the outer perimeter of the space, allowing his partner and the other two to assemble within a space that normally held no more than two.

The patrolmen left half an hour later, satisfied with the report they’d gotten and armed with the make and model, as well as license plate number, of the hit-and-run driver’s vehicle. The younger patrolman had even cracked a slight smile. The older one promised they would be in touch the moment there was something to report.

Vienna had held up well during the questioning, Georges thought as the two men in blue took their leave, but now she looked drained. Concern returned.

The moment the policeman walked away from the alcove, Vienna turned toward him and put her hand on his arm, securing his attention. He thought she was going to ask if she could lie down again.

Instead, she asked, “Could you go see how my grandfather’s doing?”

“Sure.” Glancing to the side, he saw the administrative assistant they’d initially been talking to standing in the corridor, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Rather than ask the woman if anything was wrong, Georges crossed to her and used his body to block her view of Vienna. And vice versa.

“Something wrong?” he asked, his voice low enough not to carry back to the alcove just in case the assistant had come to say something about Vienna’s grandfather.

The assistant looked uncomfortable being pushy, but her job demanded it. “I still need that insurance information. All I’ve got is the guy’s name and half an address. I need more.”

Relieved that it wasn’t anything more serious, Georges nodded sympathetically. “Sure you do.” But in his opinion, Vienna needed a break. She’d been answering questions steadily for twenty minutes. He’d given his statement to the older of the policemen while she had been grilled by the younger one. “Look, how about I get the insurance information to you in a little while?”

The assistant hesitated, wavering. “Technically, you’re not supposed to start any work on him until I have something for his record.”

“You have something,” he told her smoothly, placing his hand on hers and turning her away from the alcove and back toward her own area. “You have my word.” Covertly, he read the name on her tag and added, “Amanda.”

The personal touch, he’d found time and again, always helped to move things along in the right direction.

Amanda seemed flustered now, as well as uncertain. “You sure you’ll get that information to me?”

Georges nodded. “Just as soon as I can, Amanda,” he promised, then winked as if that made it their little secret.

Amanda was already backing away to return to her desk. “I guess it’s okay.”

He flashed a grin. “You’re a doll.” The blush that rose to the woman’s cheeks told him that he had sealed the bargain.

Going back into the rear of the E.R., it didn’t take him long to find Murphy. The latter was dealing with a screaming infant with colic. The first-time parents both seemed at the end of their collective emotional ropes. Flanking both sides of the raised railings of the baby’s bed, they peppered Murphy with questions, one dovetailing into another.

When he approached Murphy, the physician looked relieved to see him.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he said, extricating himself from the circle of noise. Moving toward the side, Murphy shook his head. “I’m going to have to have my hearing checked after tonight. I think I’ve lost the ability to hear anything at a high frequency.” Blowing out a breath, he glanced up at Georges. “You’re going to ask me about the old man, right?”

Georges saw no point in wasting time, even though he knew Murphy wasn’t anxious to get back to his tiny patient and his overwrought parents. “Are his films back yet?”

Murphy nodded. “Just. I’ve put out a call for an internal surgeon and I want a consult with Dr. Greywolf,” he added, mentioning one of Blair’s top heart surgeons.

“What’s wrong with him?” Georges pressed.

Murphy rattled off the important particulars. “His spleen’s been damaged, his liver was bruised in the accident and several ribs were cracked, not to mention that he did have a minor heart attack. Nice work bringing him around, by the way.”

It never hurt to have one of the chief attendings compliment your work, Georges thought. “Thanks.” But right now, he was more interested in the answer to his next question. “Who’d you call for the surgery?”

“Rob Schulman. He’s on call for the night. I’m trying to get Darren Patterson to act as assistant on the procedures, but so far, Patterson’s not answering his page.”

Georges didn’t even have to think about it. “I can assist,” he volunteered. Murphy eyed him skeptically. All surgical residents were eager to operate whenever possible, but this went beyond wanting to put in time in the O.R. He felt an obligation to the old man to see things through. “I’ve assisted Schulman before. If Patterson doesn’t answer by the time Schulman gets here—”

“You scrub in,” Murphy concluded, agreeing. The night shift was always down on viable personnel, and they worked with what they could get on short notice.

The baby’s screams grew louder again. Murphy gritted his teeth. “Any chance you want to fill in for me until Schulman shows up?”

Georges laughed and shook his head. “Not a chance. I put in my eighteen hours today.”

“Then why aren’t you dead on your feet?”

Georges grinned as he spread his hands innocently. “Clean living.”

“Not from what I hear,” Murphy responded. He turned around to walk back to the shrieking baby’s stall. “Into the Valley of Death rode the six hundred,” he muttered under his breath.

“A doctor who quotes Tennyson. That should look good on your résumé,” Georges commented.

Murphy said something unintelligible as he disappeared into the stall.

Georges made his way back to Vienna.

The second she saw him, she was on her feet, her eyes opened wide like Bambi.

“My grandfather…”

Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t bring herself to complete the question, afraid of being too optimistic. Afraid of the alternative even more. She held her breath, waiting for Georges to answer her.

“Is going to need surgery,” he told her, saying only what they both already knew. “He got a little banged up inside and we’re going to fix that,” he assured Vienna in a calm, soothing voice.

Relief wafted over her. Her grandfather was still alive. There was hope. And then she replayed the doctor’s words in her head.

“We?” she questioned. “Then you’ll be the one operating on him?”

“Dr. Schulman will be performing the surgery. He’s one of the best in the country. I’ll be assisting him if they can’t find anyone else.”

She took hold of his hand, her eyes on his, riveting him in place. “I don’t want anyone else,” she told him with such feeling it all but took his breath away. “I want you. I want you to be there.”

“They’re trying to locate another surgeon to assist, but—”

“No,” she interrupted. “You. I want you.” Her fingers closed over his hand. “You’ll help. I can feel it. It’s important that you be there for him during the operation. Please.”

Georges heard himself saying, “All right,” but, like a ventriloquist, she was the one who was drawing the words from his lips.