Читать книгу Intimate Exposure - Simona Taylor - Страница 10

Shani reacted immediately, reaching out to help tilt Bee’s head so that most of the clear fluid spurted onto the ground.

“Elliot, I’m so—”

“It’s all right.”

She fumbled through her bag, cursing the clutter, and pulled out a packet of baby wipes. “At least let me … I’m so sorry!” She dabbed at the wet mark on his shirt, cringing at what he must be thinking. She was a mother, used to dealing with all manner of bodily fluids, but this was a single man. Baby upchuck was probably at the top of his gross-out list.

“Relax. She’s done now.”

She held out her arms, expecting him to hand Bee over as if she was an armload of contraband, but he was walking again. “Better get her inside.”

It was a choice between standing in the cold parking lot and following. She followed. “I’ll get your shirt cleaned,” she promised.

He threw her an amused, patient look over the fluffy blanket-covered bump in his arms. “The shirt’ll wash.” He stepped aside to let her get the door. She brushed past a security guard who was lightly dozing on his feet and heaved against the heavy glass door under a large sign that read EMERGENCY in white on red.

Elliot found them a space in the waiting room and let Shani sit, settling beside her with Bee on his lap. His face was beautiful in its tenderness. His faded shirt and loose jeans were an odd uniform for an angel of mercy, but Shani knew that when angels swooped to Earth, they sometimes left their wings at home. Grounded by their circumstances, they had no choice but to sit back and watch chaos unfurl. It was like a scene from Dante’s Inferno being put on by the local grade school. Children sobbed, babies wailed, worried parents held them close or paced, gulping coffee, guzzling high-caffeine sodas and rooting around in greasy packets of potato chips. Half an hour passed, then half an hour more. Heads lifted whenever a new group of names rang out over the sound system. As each sick child’s name was called, his or her parents left through the swinging doors leading into the guts of the building with a mixture of relief at finally making it inside and guilt at leaving fellow sufferers behind.

She needed to feel the warmth of her daughter against her skin and held out her arms wordlessly. Elliot handed Bee over and then stood to allow the blood to return to his legs. With a smooth movement, he pulled the damp, funky-smelling shirt over his head and tossed it onto the chair. He stroked his chest absently, looking down at himself. “Probably wouldn’t pass dress code around here now,” he commented in amusement.

She opened her mouth again, not even sure what she was going to say, and then shut it as the sight of his sleek, bare chest hit her between the eyes. The body he had on him certainly didn’t belong on an angel; according to her understanding of the heavenly creatures, they wouldn’t know what to do with it. The well-defined lines that accentuated his pecs, the glimpses of rib as he turned and abdominal muscles that plunged downward to the sharp angles of hip bones visible above his low-slung jeans were like the long, sleek lines of a sports car. She tried not to stare, but she lost the battle.

He shrugged the cricks out of his shoulder and snagged the next nurse to pass close enough. She was a fine-boned young Asian woman, probably not more than twenty-three or twenty-four, with straight black hair that escaped her little bonnet willy-nilly. Her large eyes were an unusual shade of deep green. As he stepped out into her path, she gave him a distracted glance—and then that glorious, golden expanse of bare chest stopped her in her tracks.

“Nurse, please. The baby’s very sick, and her mother’s worried. How long do you think it’ll be?”

She swallowed, trying to keep her gaze above his neck. “We’re very busy tonight—”

His voice was low, beguiling, betraying neither anger nor frustration. “I know you’re all doing the best you can.” He smiled disarmingly, one hand on her elbow, the other idly resting over his heart, like someone taking the Pledge of Allegiance—or declaring his affections. “But you look like a kind person. I’m sure you’d be willing to spare me a few seconds of your time.”

Unconsciously, the young nurse lifted her fingers to her full, pink lips. Shani watched in amazement, feeling like Alice in some kind of soft-core Wonderland. She looks as if she’s willing to give a whole lot more time than a few seconds, she thought.

“What I want to know is why is it so busy? This isn’t normal, is it?”

The young woman lifted a stray strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear. She leaned forward, tiptoeing to get her mouth close to his ear, as if revealing an intimate secret. “It’s not normal. Everything’s gone crazy since they cut the budget.”

“That so?”

“Mmm-hmm. They’ve reduced the staff on each shift.”

“Even in the E.R.?”

She nodded. “We’re two doctors and three nurses down tonight.”

Elliot frowned. The hand that was idly playing over his chest fell to his side. “Don’t they know the kind of suffering they’re causing?”

She rolled her gorgeous green eyes and shrugged. “Money talks, I guess. The administrators aren’t the ones here at two in the morning, having to deal with the mess they’ve created.” She paused, mouth parted in anticipation, waiting on him to commend her for being a good girl.

His eyes held hers for several seconds longer than necessary. “Thank you, Nurse. I was right—you are very kind.” “Elena.”

“Pardon?”

“My name. It’s Elena. I’m on the graveyard shift every night until Wednesday. If you need anything …” She trailed off, not needing to draw him a diagram.

He released his light grip on her arm and took her hand instead, squeezing it lightly. “Thank you, Elena. I mean that.”

“If I can slip you guys in a little earlier … well, I’ll see what I can do.” Elena gave her hair one final fluff and backed away, a little self-conscious, giving Shani one hard, curious look before turning and heading in the direction she’d come from.

“Surprised those scrubs didn’t hit the floor,” Shani murmured.

He sat next to her again. “What’s that?”

“Nothing.”

The smile he gave told her he’d heard exactly what she’d said.

But Elliot wasn’t satisfied with waiting on little Miss Flirty-pants to fulfill her promise. He fished his phone from his pocket and scrolled one-handed through the numbers. He hit Dial and waited for the other person to answer, giving her a comforting smile.

Shani watched, amazed. Did he know what time it was?

“David, it’s Elliot Bookman. Right. Junior. I’m guessing you’re still at my father’s party? Now breaking up, huh?” He waited. “How’s my father? Well, he’ll have a hell of a headache, that’s for sure. Glad you and Maggie had a good time.”

He cleared his throat. “Listen, David, I need a favor. I’m over at Immaculate Heart. In the E.R. No, it’s a favor for a friend. We’ve got a three-year-old who needs to be seen, right away. Yes, I heard about the budget cuts. But the place is a mess. Think you could make a few calls? Maybe shift some of your staff over from another department? I’m sure it’s quieter over in Medical tonight.”

Shani tried not to shake her head. Even on the phone, he had a careless charm about him that appealed to both men and women. Did anyone ever tell him no?

He listened again, nodding. “That’d be great. Bless you, man. Have a good night now, and take care on the road.” He clicked off, smiling as though he’d won a game of chess.

She didn’t bother trying to stifle her curiosity. “Who was that?”

“David Carmichael. He’s on the board here. He and my father go way back. Anyhow, he’s going to have a few more staff sent over. The bottleneck will clear up in a while.”

He was right. In less than twenty minutes, Shani heard her name called. She rose with difficulty, Bee still deadweight in her arms, and turned to Elliot, preparing to thank him and wish him good-night. Already, a small shard of sadness pricked at her. All evening, he’d been as solid and reliable as a load-bearing wall. Now it was time to go in and face the thunder. What did you say to a stranger who helped you save the thing that means the most to you?

“Elliot, I … I don’t know how to say thanks. I—”

“Let’s go.” He grabbed her by the elbow and began guiding her past the uneven rows of benches.

“What? Where’re you—”

He gave her a surprised look. “Did you think I’d let you go in there alone?”

She protested. “I’m grateful for all you’ve done, but you really—”

He didn’t stop walking. “Come on. They’re waiting.” He grabbed his shirt and tossed it over his shoulder like a towel.

There was no sense in arguing. As he held open the swinging doors, she took one guilty look at the sad people still waiting, sending up a prayer that their troubles would end soon.

Inside, an older nurse took up most of the entryway. Her expression was standard hospital-issue harassed, hair scraped back into a bun, face like a hatchet. She glanced at the proffered papers and nodded at a gurney. Shani set her burden down carefully, and at once an attendant began to work on Bee.

“You the mother?” The nurse asked.

“Yes.”

“You can stay.”

Shani moved to her daughter’s side. Elliot moved in concert with her, only to be stopped by the nurse’s imperious, uplifted hand. “Who’re you?”

“My name’s Elliot—”

She frowned, noticing for the first time that his chest was bare. Her eyes popped ceilingward in a “you-see-all-types-in-here” gesture, then she clarified. “I mean, what’s your relationship to the patient? Only the parents of a minor are allowed in here.”

“Oh, I—”

“So who’re you?”

Shani found herself desperately wanting Elliot to stay with her in this awful place. “He’s … he’s …” She began and stopped.

The nurse, as intimidating as a mythical beast guarding treasure, folded her arms. What could she say to get this woman to understand? She half wondered if Elliot’s charm could work on her, too. Bizarrely, even though it would mean his eviction and her abandonment, that almost made her feel satisfied. At least it would mean someone was immune to him.

Elliot hardly missed a beat. “I’m her father.”

Shani choked on her own spit.

The nurse glanced at his face for half a second, then at Bee’s damp, sallow one, and dismissed him with disinterest, pointing the way with her pen. The doors swung open behind them, admitting someone else for her to intimidate.

Shani felt Elliot close to her, warm skin occasionally brushing her bare arm as they watched the doctor, an older black woman who reassuringly reminded her of Maya Angelou, fiddle with Bee. The woman gave her the first genuine smile she’d had since she got here.

“Don’t worry, doux-doux. She ees going to be just fine.” She spoke with an accent Shani couldn’t identify. West African? Caribbean? “Just a leetle infection—nothing to make a whole lot of fuss and bother about. We’ll start her on antibiotics right away. And just to be safe, we’ll keep her for a few days, okay?”

Shani felt tears of gratitude and relief prickle at the backs of her eyes. The doctor patted her gently on the cheek. “Chin up, sugarplum. Don’t you worry. She ees in good hands.”

The doctor directed her gaze at Elliot’s bare chest, and she asked humorously, “I know the cooling system needs fixing, but you don’t think you taking thees a leetle too far?”

Elliot surprised Shani by looking abashed. “Sorry, Doctor. I apologize if I’ve offended … we had a little accident.”

“Don’t fret. I’ve seen it all.” But Maya Angelou had the audacity to give him one last, evaluating glance. Elliot’s skin flushed, and Shani hid a grin. It was like discovering your grandma’s prayer-circle buddy was a flirt.

They followed Bee’s gurney out of the E.R. and into a pediatric ward with three other beds. Gently, the attendant settled her onto the bed farthest from the door. With that movement, Bee’s eyes shot open, startled, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. “Mama?”

Shani was immediately soothing, stroking her cheek and listening to the sound of the monitors until she fell back into a heavy sleep. Only then did she look around. There were two armchairs next to each bed, and a little cabinet for personal effects. That was pretty much it. Children in the other beds were sleeping, their monitors a soft, bipping chorus, with the exception of a small, still pile of blankets two beds over, which was surrounded by anxiously whispering staff. A woman, probably the child’s mother, hovered, trying to stand on tiptoe to see what they were doing. Shani sat in one of the chairs and closed her eyes briefly, not able to absorb anyone else’s pain tonight.

She looked outside past lopsided blinds. It was clear and dark out, but she could tell there were only a few hours till dawn. She knew she wouldn’t be sleeping.

“Hey.”

Elliot squatted before her. He reached out and stroked her cheek, jolting her thoughts away from the window and the outside world. “She’s a beautiful little girl,” he said, but he was looking at Shani, not at Bee.

“Yes,” she agreed, but her thoughts were not on Bee, either. Rather, they were focused on fighting the urge to lean her chin into his cupped hand. Where’d that come from?

Knowingly, he turned her face toward his. Look away, she told herself. Look away, or you’ll be turned to stone. She couldn’t, held fast by his dark stare. She heard machines around her whoop and beep, but she couldn’t hear herself breathe. “Hungry?”

“Wh … huh?” The banality of the question on the heels of such an intense connection left her flailing for a response.

To her disappointment, he rose. Easily, fluidly, like a snake uncoiling itself. “Gotta be a cafeteria in here somewhere. If I don’t eat something soon …” He turned to go. “Coffee or tea?”

After having had nothing to eat since lunch, she figured a meal would be worth not having him by her side for a bit. “Coffee, please.”

“Sweet and milky, right?”

How’d he know? She watched him walk confidently away, beautiful chest bare to the world and not giving a damn. Her eyes remained fixed on him until he walked into the lit corridor. The only thing she could do now was try to catch a few moments’ rest … and wait for him to come back.