Читать книгу One Night With The Army Doc - Traci Douglass - Страница 9
Оглавление“UNITS RESPOND TO trauma rollover. Motor vehicle accident. Hickel Parkway near Raspberry Road. SUV flipped several times, currently on roof. Three passengers involved—man, woman and young child. Man self-extricated, according to police. Woman and child trapped inside. Fire Rescue responding with Jaws of Life. Over.”
“Copy. Unit A18 en route.”
Dr. Jake Ryder replaced the receiver on the dashboard two-way radio, feeling the familiar buzz of adrenaline that always followed a call to arms pumping through his blood.
“Ready for action, Doc?” EMT Zac Taylor asked from the driver’s seat.
“Always.” Since taking over the Emergency Medicine Department at Anchorage Mercy Jake didn’t get to spend much time out in the field, so this was a special treat. “I’ll get things ready in the back.”
While Zac steered them toward the accident scene Jake unbuckled his seat belt and moved into the rear of the ambulance. He grabbed some extra rolls of gauze and shoved them in his bag, then double-checked the batteries in his flashlight. His chief of staff’s words from earlier that day were still echoing in his head.
“I know how you feel about the media, but this is Bobby’s best chance at recovery...”
His best friend Bobby had saved his life once. Now Jake would return the favor.
There were no other options.
Even if it meant the possibility of revisiting the dreaded invasion of his personal life that had followed his Distinguished Service Cross commendation. That debacle was one of the reasons why he kept to himself these days. Other than Bobby and Zac, and a few other staff at the hospital, he wasn’t really close to anyone. His ex and those reporters had really done a number on Jake back then, and now he had some reality TV doc ready to barge in and take over Bobby’s case.
Exactly what he didn’t need.
They swerved to a stop as Jake tried to picture this media darling doctor who would be waiting for him when he got back to the hospital. He’d never heard of this wunderkind guaranteed to be Bobby’s medical savior. All he knew was what his ER staff had mentioned—that this traveling physician was all about the new and experimental, mainly at the expense of old-fashioned caring and compassion.
Not good. Not good at all.
Zac parked the ambulance, then leaned around the partition separating the front cabin from the treatment area. “Looks like a real zoo at the crash scene, Doc. At least the cops have the perimeter blocked off.”
“Great. Let’s roll.”
Jake zipped up his pack, then pushed out of the rig with the heavy duffle slung over one shoulder. Sirens wailed and red and blue emergency lights blazed from all directions. One of the police officers gave them a rundown while they weaved their way toward the overturned vehicle.
“What happened?” Jake asked.
“From what the father told me, it was a moose,” the officer said. “Ran out into the road and the guy swerved. Those SUVs are top-heavy, so the whole thing rolled under the strain. I asked him how many times, but he couldn’t remember.”
“Wife and kid still inside the car?”
“Yep. Both awake and talking. We’ve got a couple of guys trying to keep them calm.”
“Awesome.”
Jake slipped around the end of a fire rescue truck parked diagonally near the wreck, seeing the snowcapped peaks of the Chugach Mountains rising like sentinels in the distance.
“Any loss of consciousness with the father or the other victims?”
“He says no, but it’s hard to tell.”
The cop kept pace with Jake’s longer strides.
“The kid keeps crying for his toy, poor guy. We’ve searched the area, but haven’t found any stuffed sheep.”
“Got it covered.”
Jake patted the side pocket of his duffle. The thing in his bag wasn’t a lamb, more like a cross between a giraffe and a dinosaur, but any port in a storm.
“Is that the dad?” Jake pointed toward a man huddled beneath a blanket despite the warm September night.
“Yep.” The cop veered off toward the demolished car again. “I’ll let you get to work.”
“Thanks.” Jake turned to Zac. “I’ll check out the father while you assess the wreck.”
“Sounds good.”
Jake walked to the agitated male standing between a police officer and a firefighter. “Evening, sir. I’m Dr. Jake Ryder.” He set his pack on the ground near his feet. “I hear you had a run-in with a moose tonight?”
The guy, who looked about forty, and pale as death, nodded. “We’re here on vacation and were out sightseeing. Next thing I knew this huge animal ran out in the road and everything happened so fast and—”
Recognizing the lingering signs of shock, Jake cocked his head toward the fireman and together they helped maneuver the father until his weight rested against a nearby squad car.
“Sir, help’s here, and we’re going to take care of you.”
“What about my wife and son? Are they going to be all right?”
“The crew’s working to get them out now.” He proceeded to examine the man for any obvious injuries. “What’s your name?”
“Mark. Mark Leonard.”
“Okay, Mr. Leonard.” Jake palpated the guy’s head and neck before moving to his arms. “Tell me if anything hurts or doesn’t feel right.”
“I’m fine. I just want to see my family.”
“Please let me finish this exam first.” He crouched to check out the man’s legs and discovered a nasty gash on Mr. Leonard’s left calf. “Looks like you banged up your leg, Mark.” He unzipped his bag and pulled out supplies. “I’m going to tape this up before we take you to the ER. Hold still. It might sting.”
“Ow!”
The guy jerked away and Jake tightened his grip. The cut wasn’t deep, but it was filled with gravel and debris from the accident. If not cleaned properly, it could cause a bad infection. Jake had seen more than enough of that on the battlefield.
The father scowled, a bit of his color returning. “What the hell was a moose doing around here in the autumn? Don’t they only come out in winter?”
“Rutting season.”
Jake shoved the soiled gauze pads into a portable hazmat container, then unwrapped several fresh ones to cover the laceration before twining a bandage around the man’s leg. Not perfect, but it would hold him until the Anchorage Mercy ER could suture the wound closed properly.
Talk of mate-seeking moose only served to remind Jake of the sad state of his own relationship status—or lack thereof. He wasn’t completely pathetic. He was a healthy, red-blooded male after all. But these days he only engaged with women who knew the score, women who never expected more than a few pleasant hours between the sheets.
The firefighter beside Jake cleared his throat and brought him back to the present. He secured the end of the bandage around Mr. Leonard’s leg with a metal clip, then straightened.
“Are we done?” Mr. Leonard tossed the blanket aside and tentatively put some weight on his injured limb. “Can I see my wife now? What about my son?”
“Stay here with the officers while I check in with the crew. Once they give me the okay, you can see them. All right, Mark?”
“Okay.” The man’s tense shoulders relaxed a tad. “Thanks for helping.”
“That’s my job.” Jake packed up his gear again before joining Zac near the vehicle. “Dad’s doing fine. What’s happening here?”
“Mom says her arm hurts, and the boy is really frightened, but neither seem to have any serious issues. Remarkable, considering the shape of this SUV.”
Jake stepped back and took his first real look at the damage. Shards of shattered glass littered the roadway and the sharp smell of gasoline and burning oil stung his nose. The whole right half of the car closest to him was dented and twisted, making the doors impossible to open.
A small voice called from the busted-out rear window. “Where’s Lamby? I want Lamby.”
The little boy’s plaintive tone pummeled Jake’s heart and took him right back to his last day in the Kandahar desert: to the acrid stench of diesel and melting rubber clogging his throat and choking his lungs, to Bobby pulling him from the blazing village amidst a hail of gunfire. Jake was supposed to have been the one doing the rescuing, but Bobby had done the saving that day.
They’d been best buds since their first day of basic training—a friendship that had only strengthened over the years. Bobby was his rock, his shield, same as Jake was for him. He couldn’t lose his best friend. Not after everything they’d been through.
As the memories crashed in—of other emergencies in far-off warzones—Jake slowly counted down in his head from ten to one, as his counselor had taught him, and the shadows gradually withdrew.
“You okay, man?” Zac thumped him on the shoulder, his expression concerned.
“I’m fine.” Jake focused on the trapped family members. He’d always wanted kids of his own—always figured he’d get around to having them someday. Then time and circumstances and his career had slapped a quick kibosh on those dreams.
Jake battled the knot of regret tightening between his shoulder blades. Didn’t matter. He was better off alone. Alone was safer. Alone was more comfortable. Alone didn’t run off for a life in front of the cameras in glitzy, glamorous Manhattan.
He reached into his bag for the stuffed animal, then knelt beside the mangled car, clicked on his flashlight, and peered inside. Two huge dark eyes stared at him from the shadows. It was the child, still protected in his booster seat.
“Hey, buddy. My name’s Jake. What’s yours?”
The boy’s bottom lip quivered and tears welled anew.
Jake hung his head. Here he was—a former special operations combat medic, trained to think on his feet with a hundred snipers poised to take him out at any second—yet all he wanted was to make this scared little boy smile again.
“Lamby’s busy, but he sent a friend to keep you company. Want to meet him?”
“My son’s name is Noah,” the mother said from the front of the SUV, where she was secured partially upside down by her seatbelt. “He’s four.”
“Noah, my man.” Jake held up the dino-giraffe. “This is Chewy. He’d like to come in and say hello...maybe sit with you until we get you and your mom out. Would that be okay?”
The little boy eyed him warily for several seconds before extending a tiny hand.
“Awesome.” Jake passed him the stuffed animal, then turned his attention to the mother. “I’m Dr. Jake Ryder, ma’am. Are you doing all right?”
“My arm is killing me, and I’ve been pinned in this car for way longer than I ever wanted—but other than that, yeah. I’m fine, thanks.”
The snark in her tone made him chuckle. “Do you recall what happened?”
“My husband swerved off the road to miss a moose, then glass shattered and flew everywhere and we were tumbling...over and over and over.”
“Did you lose consciousness?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What about your son? Has he been awake the whole time?”
“Yes. I’ve been talking to Noah to make sure he stays calm.”
“Excellent.”
Jake shifted to survey the wreckage again. It looked like a bomb had gone off inside the car. He’d seen enough destroyed villages to know. Still, Jake and Bobby had been the lucky ones, coming home in one piece, without too many mental or physical scars from the war. Many others hadn’t been so fortunate.
“Hey, Doc. Fire’s ready with the Jaws of Life,” Zac called from behind him.
“Ma’am, the crew’s here to free you now.” Jake started to retreat from the vehicle. “There’ll be a lot of loud noise and some shaking, but I promise we’ll have you both out soon.”
“Thank you.” The mom sniffled, her voice trembling. “Noah, sweetie? Remember the fireworks in July? All the loud booms?”
The boy nodded.
“It’ll be noisy like that for a short while, but Mommy’s right here with you, okay?”
“Okay.” The little boy looked from his mom to Jake, the new toy clutched to his chest. “Bye, Jake.”
“See you soon, buddy.” Jake thumped his hand on the side of the car, then moved away as the firemen brought in the heavy equipment.
* * *
Moose!
Dr. Molly Flynn slammed on the brakes of her rented burgundy Range Rover and veered to the berm of this oddly deserted stretch of roadway. Well, deserted except for her and the behemoth creature standing twenty feet ahead. She shifted into “Park,” then met the animal’s startled gaze while fiddling with the onboard GPS once more.
Still nothing.
Molly shook her head and snorted.
“Go to Alaska,” her executive producers had said last week. “A high-profile sports case is the best way to raise the ratings.”
Normally she would’ve told them that her soon-to-expire contract clearly stipulated she got final say on all cases portrayed on her reality medical drama, Diagnosis Critical. But, considering she was on thin enough ice with the MedStar cable network, those ratings might be the only thing saving her career. And her career was all she had these days.
Besides, she’d earned this show, darn it. Built it from the ground up without any support from her father or her family. Now she’d do whatever was necessary to save it—even if it meant traveling to Anchorage, Alaska, a place that was a far cry from the hustle and bustle of Chicago.
She took a deep breath and stared at the lush forest around her. Maybe the middle of nowhere wasn’t such a bad place to be after all. It might allow her a chance to escape the spotlight for a while.
Strange as it sounded, for a person who made her living in front of the camera, she’d always seen fame as a necessary evil. Curing the incurable, solving the unsolvable medical puzzles—that was her true love, the real driving force behind why she did what she did. In fact, the thought of being able to melt into the woodwork as she saved her latest patient sounded like pure bliss, if highly unlikely. Her network’s syndication deals ensured that her show reached nearly every corner of the globe.
So much for privacy and anonymity.
Molly frowned at the digital clock on her dashboard. She’d been scheduled to meet with the chief of staff at Anchorage Mercy General Hospital twenty minutes ago, but her late-arriving flight, followed by the rental car’s faulty GPS, seemed to have other ideas.
Add in the fact that the sun was setting over Cook Inlet, which was the opposite of where it had been when she’d left Ted Stevens International Airport at least an hour prior, gave her the sinking feeling she’d been driving in circles.
Overhead, an eagle swooped through the air, its low cries eerily haunting in the autumn evening. Despite her conundrum, Molly had to admit Alaska was lovely. Too bad she wouldn’t have time to appreciate much of the gorgeous scenery, given her tight production schedule and the seriousness of her patient’s case. Work came first, as always.
The male moose huffed and shook his mighty antlers before ambling into the forest on the opposite side of the four-lane road. Molly stared wistfully at the spot where he’d disappeared into the thick foliage, wishing she could find where she belonged so easily. Then her pragmatic instincts kicked back in and she focused on her current mission—find the hospital, locate her crew, save her patient.
Determined, Molly pulled back out onto the road and continued around a slight curve—only to slam on her brakes again. Now she could see why oncoming traffic had been virtually nonexistent. Judging by the array of emergency vehicles blocking all four lanes, there had been an accident.
As a licensed physician, it was her duty to assist when needed. Critics of her show always complained that she had the bedside manner of dry toast, but her real skill was as a diagnostician. And when she was working on a case everything else fell by the wayside—friends, family, romantic relationships. She’d sacrificed everything for her patients, and success was her reward.
A twinge of loneliness pinched her chest before she shoved it aside. The last thing Molly needed was a relationship. Especially since her last one had ended without warning. She parked on the berm, cut the engine, then blinked back the unexpected sting of tears as she walked around to the rear of the SUV.
Yes, maybe she did sometimes wish she had someone to share her life with. But, as her father had always said when she was a child, “Wishes are for fools. People like us seize what they want.”
Trouble was, Molly had never felt like her father’s kind of people. Or her mother’s, for that matter. In fact there wasn’t really a single member of her family, parents or sister, that she truly identified with. So she’d learned early on to live inside herself and bide her time. Now, though, it seemed she’d gotten so good at keeping her emotions bottled up she couldn’t seem to show them at all—not even with the people she should. People like Brian.
She shook off thoughts of her ex and rummaged through the car for her emergency first aid kit. The pungent smell of spruce, mixed with a faint hint of fish and salt from the inlet, snapped her to attention.
Dressed comfortably for the nearly seven-hour flight from Chicago to Alaska, Molly didn’t pay much attention to her appearance—jeans, sneakers and one of her favorite T-shirts that read, “Back Up. I’m going to try Science”—as she approached the nearby officer guarding the perimeter of the scene.
“Dr. Molly Flynn.” She drew herself up to her full five-foot-four-inch height and held out her hand to the middle-aged guy. “Looks like there’s an accident ahead. Do they require assistance?”
The cop looked her up and down, his expression dubious. “What are you, twelve?”
“Twenty-seven, actually, thanks for asking.”
Molly adjusted her bag, undeterred. She’d put up with plenty of crap through the years because of her gifts. She’d graduated medical school at the ripe old age of twenty-four, with dual specialties in Immunology and Internal Medicine, but nothing made a girl feel less welcome and confident than having no friends and no one to sit with at the lunch table.
“Do I have to show my physician’s license or are you going to point me toward the scene, Officer...?”
“Bentz.” He sniffed and looked away. “The EMTs arrived a little while ago. Pretty sure they’ve got it under control.”
“I see.”
The man was dismissing her, but she was used to that too. Her mother had always been present, but aloof, and when her father had been home from performing amazing feats of surgical genius all over the world he’d only wanted to parade Molly around like some prize show pony instead of treating her like his beloved child.
“Molly, solve this impossible equation.”
“Molly, impress my friends with another feat of mental acrobatics.”
“Molly, earn my love by always doing what you’re told, always being perfect, always performing, no matter what.”
Her cell phone buzzed and Molly pulled it from her pocket, hoping for an update from her crew. Instead, all she found was the same dumb message that had been on her screen since before takeoff from O’Hare. The stupid text from her ex glowed brightly, its cheerful white background at direct odds with the dismal words.
I can’t do this anymore.
Not sure you’ll even notice I’m gone.
She resisted the urge to mic-drop the useless device into a nearby mud puddle and instead returned it to her pocket.
Looking back, she should’ve expected the break-up. Brian had always been complaining about her long hours and frequent trips, even though she’d been up-front with him about her demanding schedule from the beginning. And their blazing fights over the past few weeks had only served to resurrect painful memories of her father’s indifference and cruelty when she’d been a child—the day he’d called her weak for crying over the death of her pet cat, the way he’d taunted her because she hadn’t been able to make friends with the popular girls in her class, the night she’d graduated from medical school and overheard her father saying what a hopeless, awkward mess she was and how embarrassed he was to have her for a daughter because she’d been denied the membership of the Ivy League exclusive clubs and cliques her father had deemed necessary to mingle in his lofty social circles.
Even now those words gutted Molly to her core.
Brian, in the end, had pushed those same agonizing buttons, causing Molly to withdraw inside herself until they’d been basically nothing but glorified roommates. Still, she’d thought the year and a half they’d spent together rated more than a two-line text to end it all.
She guessed she’d been wrong about that too.
One more reason relationships were off her radar. Not even one-night stands. She preferred certainties to messy emotions, thank you very much. And, honestly, why bother when people left once you’d opened up and revealed your true, flawed self to them. Luckily, she wasn’t likely to find a man who’d challenge those beliefs out here in Alaska.
Ignoring the lingering sadness in her chest, she concentrated on Officer Not Budging, still blocking her path. Intimidation was out of the question, given the guy had at least a hundred and fifty pounds on her, but maybe a healthy dose of mind-numbing logic would do the trick.
Whenever she felt overstressed or insecure, random facts always popped into Molly’s head and out of her mouth. Blind dates, heated confrontations, heated situations of any sort, really. She’d ramble on and on about useless information until the poor victim’s eyes glazed over and they wandered off in a fog of utter boredom.
Considering she was thousands of miles from home, hopelessly lost, and late for a potentially career-altering meeting, Molly couldn’t get much more stressed. Plus, she’d done some light reading on the flight—facts and figures about Alaska, atlases, safety manuals, wildlife guides. Perfect for boring an unsuspecting cop to tears.
“Officer Bentz, did you know traffic fatalities in this state increased by twenty-six point eight percent from fifty-six in 2010 to seventy-two in 2011? Also, the percentage of statewide traffic fatalities related to alcohol-impaired driving decreased from thirty-four point three percent in 2009 to twenty-eight point six percent in 2010...”
Molly hid a smile. The man was fidgeting, his expression growing more uncomfortable the longer she droned. Soon the poor guy stifled a yawn and gazed skyward.
Chalk up another win for her near-eidetic memory.
“Most interesting of all...”
Officer Bentz looked at Molly again, his eyes as blank as his expression. “Go on ahead. I’m sure you can help with something. In fact, ask for Jake. He’s with the ambulance crew tonight. He owes me one anyway.”
“Thank you very much.”
She turned on her heel and sidled through the maze of squad cars and fire trucks toward what she could now see was an overturned vehicle. During her emergency medicine rotation in Chicago, Molly had treated plenty of accident victims. That had been a while ago, however, and she’d been out of the ER trenches since signing on to do her TV show.
Fresh nerves and adrenaline quickened her steps and her pulse. Amidst the bright floodlights set up around the perimeter of the scene, Molly peered past the end of an ambulance in time to see a huge metal claw rip off a chunk of twisted debris from the SUV’s side.
“Dammit.” A man stalked over, his gray eyes sparkling with fury, his impressive build only adding to his imposing presence. “The cops are supposed to keep any rubberneckers away.”
Molly looked around to see who he was scolding and realized, too late, that it was her.
“Get out.” He stood at least a foot taller than her. And from the top of his dark brown hair to the tips of his black work boots the guy looked every inch the alpha protector. “Before you get hurt.”
“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
She did her best to stand tall and forget about the fact this man was movie-star-handsome. Even with the beard. Molly had never gone for the lumberjack look before, but he made her seriously reconsider her life choices.
“The cop back there said I should ask for Jake.”
His gaze narrowed. “Who told you that?”
“Officer Bentz.” She pointed in the direction of her Range Rover. “I’m a doctor. Perhaps you’ve heard of me? I have a—”
“We’re ready,” said another guy. He was dressed in an EMT uniform, African American, maybe midthirties, and was calling from near the crash site. “Time to quit flirting and start working.”
Her gaze darted from the wreck to the scowling hunk before her.
Flirting? With me?
If glares and glowers were this man’s idea of how to attract women, it was entirely possible she’d finally met someone who was worse than her in social situations.
“Excuse me.”
Molly started to move around him, only to be stopped by his hand on her arm. Never mind the warmth spreading through her bloodstream, or the zing of awareness crackling like fireworks. Verbal sparring was one thing. Unwanted contact was another.
Outrage stormed through her and Molly tried to shake off his grip. “Let go of me.”
“You need to wait over there.”
The first responder pointed toward the area beyond the yellow crime scene tape, his rigid posture and stern expression obviously meant to wither any defiance. He was a man who was used to being obeyed—that much was obvious.
Molly squared her shoulders and glared. “And you need to remove your hand before I remove it for you. Permanently.”
The man’s eyes widened slightly and a hint of admiration ghosted across his features. Before Molly could dwell on it longer, however, he released her, crossing his muscled arms across his broad chest.
“Fine. Stay at your own risk. I have work to do.”
With that, the hunk jogged back to the wreck and joined the other man inside the half-crushed SUV. Soon they’d removed a small boy from the front passenger seat, stabilized his neck with a brace, then slid him onto a waiting body board before repeating the same with a woman.
Reluctantly, Molly’s curiosity about the daring rescuer blossomed. She watched him cuddle the child, coaxing a smile from the little guy, and a fresh pang of loneliness stabbed her—along with a lingering worry about ever finding someone who’d look at her that way.
Considering her relationship with Brian was DOA, Molly had grave doubts. For a woman brilliant in her profession, when it came to her personal life she was one big mess. Not that flirting at an emergency scene was appropriate, but she wasn’t good at it anyway. She’d always been a wallflower—one more check in her Don’t-Date-Much column.
“Gurney coming through.”
Molly barely had time to keep her toes from getting crushed before the EMTs rolled past with the first victim. The two men hoisted the little boy up into the ambulance, then returned for the mother.
After they’d gotten the woman secured alongside her son, another man with a bandaged leg joined them in the back of the rig and the doors were closed. The hunk crouched near Molly’s feet, gathering up scattered gear and shoving it into a medical bag. From her vantage point she couldn’t help noticing how his tight navy blue T-shirt clung to his muscles and sinews and the way his black pants cupped his butt like a second skin.
Throat dry and head swirling, Molly panicked and said the first thing that popped into her mind—more random trivia. “Moose are herbivores and will casually devour seventy-three pounds of plant material a day in the summer. They like an assortment of shrubs, woody plants and aquatic vegetation; in the winter, their diet is more restricted.”
She clamped her lips shut to prevent more useless facts from spilling out. Her father’s voice echoed through her head, calling her pathetic. Worse, her last argument with Brian replayed in her mind like a bad song. The red flags were so easy to see now. She’d asked him to set a wedding date, to take their relationship to the next logical step, but he’d balked.
“Not everything’s about logic. You solve everyone else’s problems, but not your own.”
The handsome first responder straightened and gave Molly a slow once-over. “Your facts are correct—except the bull that caused this accident wasn’t looking for a meal. He was looking for a date.”
Ah, right. She’d read about the mating season starting in late September in one of her pamphlets. Embarrassed heat prickled Molly’s cheeks. Nervous, she smoothed a hand down her blond hair, still secured into two braids. Quickly she removed the bands at the ends of her plaits and ran her fingers through the stick-straight strands that wouldn’t hold a curl to save their life.
The man’s gaze followed the movement, the gray of his irises darkening to gunmetal. A throb of want started low in her belly, spreading like honey through her blood. It had been so long—too long—since a man had looked at her like that, and she found his arousal intoxicating.
“C’mon, Doc,” the other medic said through the open door. “We got patients who need to be transported to Anchorage Mercy.”
“Have a nice evening, ma’am,” the hunk said, his stormy gaze flickering to her lips before returning to her eyes. “Be careful on the roads.”
Molly stepped aside as the rescuer slung the medical kit over his shoulder, then climbed into the passenger side of the rig. The ambulance pulled away, maneuvering out of the tangle of vehicles blocking their path to the open roadway.
Hurrying back to the Range Rover, Molly started her engine, hoping to follow behind the emergency vehicle to her destination, all the while analyzing the new information she’d just gleaned. So he wasn’t an EMT, he was a doctor. At Anchorage Mercy. Where they’d be working in close proximity.
Whoops. No.
Molly doused the sudden flare of excitement sweeping through her like wildfire. The last thing she needed was a rebound fling. Not with her career in the balance and her life in Chicago a shambles. Besides, she’d never chased after a man, never lived dangerously. At least not outside of the medical realm.
In the pursuit of a cure for her patients she’d tackle any challenge, take any risk.
In the pursuit of her own happiness? Not so much.
Still, one of the other reasons she’d chosen to do her TV show was to learn to listen to her gut. And right now her instincts were screaming that following that man and his ambulance represented her best shot at finding the hospital. So, Molly reasoned, this wasn’t about a rebound relationship or a booty call with a hot doctor at all. It was about solving her next case and saving her show. She would worry about the rest later.
Squinting out the windshield through the gathering twilight, Molly realized she couldn’t go through all the jumbled vehicles snarled in gridlock and still catch up to the ambulance, so she went around instead, driving her off-road-capable vehicle into the grassy gulley between lanes and past the still blocked section of roadway, then back onto the asphalt highway.
She might be late to her meeting, but if she was lucky she could still salvage this debacle.
