Читать книгу Have Gown, Need Groom - Rita Herron - Страница 11

What the hell?

Jake gritted his jaw in pain when the dreamy looking woman suddenly staggered and reached for the gurney. He twisted sideways to catch her, but the IV limited his movement, and she collapsed beside him on the floor.

“Help! Someone help me! Nurse, hurry, the doctor passed out!”

His gaze zeroed in on her name—Dr. H. Hartwell. He’d thought that’s what she’d said, but he’d been so sleepy he’d figured he’d heard wrong. Hannah Hartwell was Wiley’s daughter. What was she doing in the ER? She was supposed to be at her wedding. “Someone get a doctor!” he yelled again.

Impatience flaring, he climbed awkwardly from the gurney, grappling with the IV pole as he knelt to take her pulse. Thank God she was breathing. A sprig of baby’s breath protruded from her surgical cap, and her eyes looked slightly red and swollen. He pushed off the cap, revealing wispy blond hair. Yep, it was the same woman he’d seen in the wedding gown. So, he hadn’t been delirious.

“Dr. Hartwell, wake up,” he whispered, panic hitting him. Had Wiley heard about the shooting and ordered Hannah from her wedding to take care of him? Was that the reason she’d been upset?

Her cheeks seemed pale, long blond eyelashes lying on her creamy skin like thin layers of cornsilk. And her slender body was way too still for comfort.

Suddenly the nurse appeared, her eyes widening in dismay. “What in the world…?”

“She passed out,” Jake explained. “I’ve been yelling for help.”

A tall, older physician with a scowl on his face stormed into the room. Jake watched helplessly as they settled Hannah Hartwell onto a gurney and wheeled her away.

“I…WHAT happened?”

“You passed out on us, Doc,” Tiffany said. Hannah tried to get up, but Tiffany pressed a gentle but forceful hand on her arm. “Relax. You need to lie still and let us check your vitals again.”

Hannah bit back a moan, mortified. “I’m fine, really, Tiff. I just need something to eat.” And to figure out what’s happening to me today.

The chief of staff frowned. “Dr. Hartwell, I don’t understand what you’re doing here, or why you dragged all these reporters along—”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for them to follow me,” Hannah said weakly.

Dr. Porter pursed his thin lips. “Need I remind you this is a hospital? We’re here to treat patients, not flaunt our personal escapades.”

Hannah opened her mouth to respond, but he silenced her with a lethal look. “We can’t allow anything, especially our personal lives, to affect our work here or to jeopardize the safety and health of our patients. Is that understood, Dr. Hartwell?”

The seriousness of his words brought a wave of shame to her. “Yes, perfectly,” Hannah whispered.

“Then I suggest you go home until you’ve had time to recover, and let this…this circus you’ve created die down.”

Hannah nodded, biting her lip as her superior turned and strode from the room. Tiffany patted her arm sympathetically. “We’ll get you something to eat, Doc. You’re not going anywhere until I know you’re okay.”

Hannah’s heart squeezed at Tiffany’s unusual show of concern. She’d witnessed the woman mothering some of the young nurses but had never been on the receiving end of such treatment. Hannah had always been the caretaker. She didn’t like this vulnerable feeling. “I’m fine, really, Tiffany. I need to see about that patient.” Worry assaulted her. “Please tell me I didn’t pass out on top of him.”

Tiffany laughed. “No, on the floor.”

“Thank God.”

“But Mr. Tippins climbed down and took your pulse while he yelled for help.”

“Great, the patient doctoring the doctor.” Hannah put her hand across her forehead. “I hope he didn’t injure himself further.”

“Mr. Tippins looked like a pretty tough man to me. I think he’ll be all right.” Tiffany checked her watch. “Dr. Hunter should be removing the bullet just about now.”

Hannah accepted the juice Tiffany offered, deciding she’d rest for a few minutes, but only until Jake Tippins made it to recovery. Then she’d visit the man, apologize and beg his forgiveness. And she’d find out if she’d been hallucinating when she’d examined him. He simply couldn’t have a birthmark like the man in her dreams.

Because bizarre things like this didn’t happen to her.

Mimi, maybe.

But not stable, secure, hardworking, levelheaded, mature Hannah.

“WELL, that just about covers it.” Hannah avoided Jake’s hard gaze as she instructed him on activities to avoid during recovery. “Do you understand, Mr. Tippins?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice slightly slurred from the medication.

Tension knotted Hannah’s shoulders. “On behalf of my father, I want to thank you for catching that thief. And I want to apologize for fainting on you.”

“It was no big deal.” Still lying on his stomach, he propped his face on his hand and looked up at her, a goofy grin on his face as if he sensed her awkwardness. Either that or the pain medication had affected his brain.

The chief of staff’s warning rang in her ears. “Well, I truly am sorry.”

“No problem, Doc.”

But she did have problems. Somehow she had to forget that she’d seen this man’s naked backside in her dreams. And that the very reason she’d canceled her wedding and jilted her fiancé at the altar was because of the erotic dream she’d had about him.

Back to business. She had to salvage her reputation. She might have lost Seth and the Broadhurst name, but she couldn’t lose her job. And if she didn’t start acting more professionally, she probably would do just that. “How are you feeling now, Mr. Tippins?”

“Just peachy,” he said in a deep drawl. “How about you?”

Hannah tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers trembling. “I’m fine.” Just coming down with a case of the Hartwell crazies.

“Your color’s looking better.”

Hannah averted her eyes, lifting the bandage slightly to check his incision. “Are you in pain?”

“I was earlier, but you distracted me.”

Hannah resisted the urge to pinch him and wipe that cocky grin off his face. “That wasn’t my intention, I can assure you. It’s been a hectic day, and I hadn’t eaten anything. I’ll definitely be more careful from now on and watch my blood-sugar level.”

He rolled his shoulders in a slight shrug. “Ahh gee, and here I thought I was special.”

The man was incorrigible.

Ignoring him, she said, “Get some rest tonight. We should be able to release you tomorrow.”

He must have been exhausted because he simply nodded and smiled tightly. His only sign of pain—the muscles in his cheeks clenched when she retaped the bandage.

Hannah swallowed, stunned by the sudden hot sensations weaving through her. Maybe her hormones were out of whack. Coupled with nerves, an imbalance could cause hot flashes. She should check her estrogen levels, although she was way too young for—

“Doc?”

She signed off on his chart. “Get some rest now, Mr. Tippins. I need to check my other patients.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on your honeymoon?”

Hannah paused, absentmindedly tapping the chart with her pen. “How did you know I was getting married?”

“Wiley let everyone at the dealership off early to attend your wedding. That’s the reason I was working by myself.”

Right, he worked for her father; how could she forget? Maybe if there’d been someone else working with him he wouldn’t have been shot.

Something else for her to feel guilty about.

His fingers brushed over her knuckles. “Did I say something to upset you?”

Hannah pulled her hand away, her eyes glued to his long tanned fingers. “I…er, I didn’t get married today.”

His dark eyebrows lifted slightly over high cheekbones. “I could have sworn I saw you in a wedding dress. Must have been hallucinating from the pain.”

“No, I was wearing one when I arrived,” Hannah admitted, figuring he’d hear the news from the car-lot grapevine. “I called off the wedding.”

A streak of surprise lit his sleepy, bedroom eyes. “That’s too bad.”

She arched a brow at him. He didn’t sound as if he thought it was bad at all. And he was a stranger; she didn’t owe him an explanation.

“I’m sure my dad will come by to thank you for your heroics,” she said, reverting back to their earlier conversation.

A brooding expression tightened the lines at the corner of his mouth. She’d run out on a good, stable man because she’d dreamt of this stranger?

Forget hormone pills. She should call the men in the little white coats to come and haul her away. Maybe she needed to see a psychiatrist. Except Seth was the best psychiatrist in town and she had a feeling he wouldn’t be sympathetic.

She suddenly felt dizzy again.

“Tell your dad he doesn’t need to come by,” Jake mumbled in a low voice.

“What?”

“I’m no hero, Dr. Hartwell. Catching that guy was a freak thing.”

Hannah frowned, confused by the intensity of his words. She needed to get away from this man, and fast. Something deep and troubled lurked in the depths of his eyes. Something dangerous and dark that called out to her.

Something that scared the life out of her.

“I need to see those other patients now.” Without waiting for a reply, she backed toward the door, fighting the urge to touch the man’s broad shoulders and remind him he was a hero. But the memory of the erotic dream floated around her, the warmth in her belly sending a sliver of uneasiness up her spine. She must have seen Jake before, probably at her father’s dealership. Subconsciously she’d found him physically attractive and conjured him in her dream. Simple.

End of story.

The dream wouldn’t come true. Even though the man was sexy as homemade sin, she’d never ever in a cajillion years become involved with a used-car salesman. Especially one who worked for her lovable but notoriously outlandish father.

JAKE GROANED, his brain foggy from the sedatives the nurses had administered, his thoughts registering the fact that Hannah Hartwell had canceled her wedding. There had to be a story there; one Wiley would probably embellish when he dropped by to visit. Had the woman’s poor fiancé cheated on her or done something equally heinous to make her dump him? If so, Wiley would be ticked.

Like a vision, she glided out the door. Her lithe figure disappeared just as a plan formulated in his mind. Wiley had boasted about Hannah’s intelligence, and Joey DeLito, Wiley’s top salesman, commented that she’d helped him with his books a few times. Perhaps she knew something about her father’s business that could aid his investigation. He’d been searching for a way to embed himself in the Hartwell family. Her sister Mimi was dating Joey, so he couldn’t move in on her. And her youngest sister was too young for him. But Hannah wasn’t married now or engaged; he’d use Hannah to find out more about Wiley.

Exhausted, he closed his eyes, deciding his plan to see her had nothing to do with the fact that lying face-down with a bullet hole in his backside and an IV in his arm he was rock-hard from wanting the woman.

No, it had everything to do with his job. And he’d do anything he could, use anyone he had to, to solve the case and get out of this little sleepy backwards town. He had to get transferred back to the city where he belonged. Where he could get lost in the endless crowds. Where he could simply exist as a number. Where he could live in peace and die the same way, without having to explain himself to anyone. He was a loner. And he always would be.

Hell, he’d learned the hard way about untrustworthy females. And obviously Hannah Hartwell fitted that description well—she’d just jilted her fiancé at the altar. He’d rather take another bullet than get personally involved with a woman like her.