Hotblooded (20 page)

Brooke started the car and pulled out of the parking spot slowly, satisfied that she’d solved the mystery behind her sudden need to confess undying devotion to him.

She looked up and down the street carefully, praying that no one would see her, because, as she’d told Jack, she wasn’t about to share the most special night of her life with the gossips in Honey Creek.

Chapter Seven

It was amazing to Brooke how fast a lot of money could get things done.

The pounding and banging started right at eight a.m. the next day.

She walked into the clinic waiting area and found Carla and Jack at the window. She calmly started restacking the magazines on the coffee table. The noise got Jack’s attention and he turned. She pretended to not notice the way his eyes widened as they traveled over her new attire. She’d expected him to take note.

She hadn’t, however, expected him to take so much time at it.

Her body reacted to his perusal as if his was physically touching her.

Though she kept her eyes on her task, she was very aware of how much leg showed beneath her short floral-print skirt and the strip of stomach that peeked between the waistband of the skirt and the hem of the sleeveless fitted yellow top as she moved.

She’d even taken time to paint her toenails a bright pink so she could wear the white leather sandals she’d retrieved from the shoebox on the top shelf in her closet. Not for Jack, she told herself. Sandals simply required toenail polish.

“I like where this is going so far,” he said.

She smiled and straightened. “Good. This is just an estimate for now,” she said, handing him a piece of paper. “I’ll get you the actual bills when they come in.”

He opened the paper and looked at the estimated costs for the redecorating. It was exorbitant.

She waited for him to comment.

“Looks good,” he said. “But I don’t see the cost of your new clothes here.” His eyes dropped to the expanse of bare leg. “Because I’d gladly pay for that skirt.”

He was impossible. And so was her reaction to him. Because she couldn’t keep showing up in his motel room to scratch the itches he was creating. She also couldn’t take him into her office and straddle him in her chair. At least she shouldn’t do that. Probably.

Hoping her face wasn’t giving away every emotion, she flipped her hair and her skirt as she moved around him. “I already had these clothes.”

“You did?”

His question, and the amazed tone of his voice, stopped her. She turned back.

“These were in my closet.”

He surveyed the outfit again. “I would have never guessed.”

“I’m full of surprises, Dr. Silver.” She really didn’t mean it to sound as flirtatious as it did. At least, she hadn’t done it consciously.

His eyes were back on her face in an instant. “I’m aware.”

And just like that she flashed back to the night before and being on her knees in front of him. She resisted the urge to fan herself.

“Ms. Donovan?” a man called from the front door, interrupting them. “We’re ready to hang the sign.”

Carla looked at her from the front counter. “The sign?”

“The new clinic sign, of course,” Brooke said flippantly.

Carla rolled her eyes again and sighed.

“I think I’ll go help with that,” Jack said.

“You’re going to help hang the sign?” Brooke asked.

“Oh, I’m very supportive of this whole idea. I want to do my part.”

He headed outside and she shook her head. Whatever.

Five minutes later,
whatever
turned into a definite something.

“Brooke! Hey! I need some help out here!”

Brooke and Carla both ran toward Jack’s voice. “What’s going…” Brooke rushed to Jack’s side. He was cradling his forearm against his stomach, the blood already soaking into his shirt. “Jack…”

“Get him,” he said, motioning with his head.

She turned and saw Carla kneeling next to one of the workers. He was lying on the ground next to the ladder, groaning and holding his shoulder.

“What happened?” Brooke asked as she helped Jack to his feet and they both jogged to the other man. The man had already sat up, but was holding his arm in a strange position.

“The sign slipped and grazed my arm, I jerked my end, made his ladder wobble and he fell,” Jack explained quickly.

“Grazed?” Brooke asked, looking pointedly at the huge bloodstain.

“It’s fine. Check him out.”

“I am,” she muttered as she felt around the man’s shoulder. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“Greg.”

“Greg, try to relax a little and let me have your arm here.”

He grimaced and sucked in a sharp breath when she tried to move his arm across his body. She could feel the ball of his joint more forward than it should be and her heartbeat sped up.

“Damn, it’s dislocated.”

“Damn,” Jack agreed. “Okay, get him up.”

“Let me at least look at your arm,” Brooke said as she and Carla assisted the man up from the ground. She looked at her patient sharply when he leaned into her suddenly. He was pale and breathing shallowly.

“He’s likely to go into shock. Don’t worry about me.”

“Get some ice on it at least. Elevate it. Slow the bleeding somehow,” she instructed as they helped Greg into the clinic.

“Okay, Greg, we’re going to help you lie down and Carla’s going to give you something for the pain and a muscle relaxant.”

Once the man was on the table and Carla had gone to get the medications, Brooke looked at Jack. “I have to stitch you up so you can reduce his shoulder,” she said softly. Reducing a dislocation was a painful maneuver.

“I can’t reduce it with stitches. You’ll have to do it.”

She glanced at Greg, who was lying with his eyes shut, moaning softly from time to time. “I’ve never done it before. I don’t know if I can. I might not be strong enough…”

“Brooke,” Jack broke in firmly. “Look at me.”

She did, reluctantly.

“You have to do it. There’s no other option. You’ll be fine.”

That helped. A little. Just trying to reduce the dislocation would be extremely painful and it was possible that the pain would be for nothing if she wasn’t able to pull hard enough or correctly. If she didn’t do it just right, she could injure him further. Butterflies kicked up in her stomach.

“I don’t think he can wait. He’s already faint. Check his pulse.”

She did on both sides to compare and then turned worried eyes to Jack. “It’s diminished on the left. And his fingers are cold.”

“Then you have to do this, now.”

She quickly checked Greg’s sensation by pricking him slightly along the arm and hand with the tip of a paperclip. He reported that his sensation was equal on both sides.

“I should do an X-ray,” she said to Jack.

“Quit stalling. You know what’s wrong with him.”

“Fine,” she said crossly, wrenching a long bedsheet from one of the drawers to use in the maneuver.

Jack instructed them on what would happen. They looped a long bed sheet around Greg’s torso and under his arm and Carla pulled on the ends, putting most of her weight behind it to hold his trunk in place. Brooke grasped his wrist, said a little prayer and slowly started pulling.

“That’s it, easy does it,” Jack coached softly from just behind her right shoulder.

She liked having him there. He steadied her. And she knew that if something went wrong, gaping wound or not, Jack would jump in to save her…and Greg.

“Keep balanced,” Jack told her. “You’ll feel it. You’re doing fine.”

Greg groaned, but the medications were helping and he mostly just gritted his teeth. Carla was doing the same thing.

Finally, after what seemed three lifetimes, Brooke felt the joint shift and slide back into place. Greg gasped, but then quickly drew a deep long breath. As did Brooke. She let off the pressure and then helped Carla take the sheet off.

“Get him ready to X-ray. I want to be sure the joint looks good,” Jack said. He bumped Brooke gently in the back with his elbow. “Good job.”

“Thanks.” She smiled at him, relief making her a little light-headed herself. “You’re a good coach.”

Then their attention was back on Greg. “We’ll put you in a sling and give you some more pain medication for today, but we need to get you to Amarillo to see an orthopedist to make sure there’s no soft tissue damage.”

He nodded his understanding as Brooke once again checked his pulses, sensation and then asked him to move his arm. It moved much easier through the range of motion, though it was still painful, and the pulses in his wrists were equal right to left.

“Now, let’s look at your hand,” she said to Jack and led him into the next treatment room.

He seemed hesitant.

“What’s the matter?” she asked. “You don’t trust me?” She said it with a joking tone, but part of her feared it was true. What if he didn’t want her to stitch his hand? He’d trusted her to reduce Greg’s shoulder. Surely he wouldn’t…

“It’s my forearm, not my hand. And I might need you to look at my shoulder too,” he finally said, a bit sheepishly.

“What happened?”

“I fell off my ladder too.”

She sighed and moved to the cabinets where the supplies she needed were stored. “That’s why you should let the experts hang the signs up, Dr. Silver. What are you going to do without an arm to work with?”

“Let you take over.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “What?”

He shrugged. “You could do it. It would show everyone that you’re more than capable.”

Brooke flushed at the compliment and turned to face him fully. “Was this some kind of plan of yours when you went out there today?”

His eyes widened. “You think I got hurt on purpose?”

She tipped her head to the side. “I don’t know. Did you?”

“Hey, I’m dedicated to helping you out, but come on. This hurts. I could have tendon or nerve damage.”

She walked over, took his middle finger between her thumb and forefinger and squeezed hard.

“Ow!” He jerked his hand back, and then moaned when the pain of the quick motion registered.

“Sensation is intact,” she said calmly.

“I said I
could
have nerve damage,” he said with a frown. “What I meant was that it would have been a risky thing to do just to prove this point to Honey Creek.”

She accepted that without comment. “Let me see it,” she told him, the supplies ready.

He pulled his hand away from his stomach and she began wiping the blood away. The gash went fairly deep into the tissue of his arm, just above the wrist, but the muscle was intact. The edges would be easily approximated with a few stitches and should heal quickly.

“You’re going to be fine.” There was no need for her to take over in the clinic. Thank goodness.

The irony wasn’t missed on her either. She’d spent the last few weeks resenting Jack’s presence and his tendency to take over. Now she was unnerved to think about not having him able to step in.

This was not good.

He wasn’t going to stay forever.

“Put pressure on it,” she instructed, placing a large pad over the injury and pressing down harder than was medically necessary.

It was good that he wasn’t going to stay, she reminded herself. That had been the plan all along.

But it wasn’t good that she was starting to care about the patients, was feeling more confident, and was excited about the new paint.

Dammit. This was all Jack’s fault.

The plan had been to just get through the next several months, not caring about the town, not getting attached to anyone, not doing anything spectacular so that when it was over she could move on with her pride intact and no regrets.

He had certainly never been part of her plan.

How dare he come in here and make her paint, make her like cappuccino, coach her in medical techniques that made her feel confident and show her what this clinic could actually mean to her?

Not to mention the sex. How dare he show her how good that could be too?

“Hey,” he protested as she pressed even harder.

She pulled her hand back and moved quickly to the exam room door and yanked it open. “Carla!” she hollered.

“Yeah?”

“How’s Greg?”

“Dozing.”

“Then come in here and suture Jack’s arm.”

She could not hold Jack’s hand, even if it was to put sutures in.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said breezily. “Carla’s just better at sutures. She does all that cross-stitching and stuff. I can’t even sew on a button.”

It wasn’t very mature or professional of her to turn a patient over because she was falling in love with him, but right then all that mattered was getting some distance between her and Jack.

It was simply the biggest bow she’d ever seen. And it was red. The satin loops were the very definition of red…and big.

The ribbon wrapped around her office door as if it were a gift-box top. The center of the bow was actually wider than the door and stuck out from the surface nearly half a foot.

The note read simply, “I noticed you forgot to redo this room.”

Obviously, Jack had something to do with it. Which made her contemplate opening the door with trepidation. Which was why she had been standing in front of the door, staring at the mammoth piece of satin for almost two full minutes, dumbfounded.

Finally, she reached out, as if reaching for a snake, and twisted the doorknob releasing the latch. She hesitantly pushed the bottom of the door with the toe of her shoe. It swung open and she paused another second before she stepped across the threshold.

And froze.

She felt like Alice must have after falling down the rabbit hole.

It was a different world on the other side of her office door.

The previously white walls were now a soft sea-foam green. Two high-backed wing chairs in deep turquoise and sapphire fabric sat on either side of a small, round glass-topped table. The two large windows were covered with wispy opaque draperies and the thin vertical blinds behind them blocked most of the sunlight, giving the room a calm, shaded look. The flat gray carpet had been replaced by a light, polished wood floor, and the center of the room was covered with a muted aqua-colored rug. The chair behind the new large oak desk was now covered in a peacock-blue fabric and a silver lamp with an opaque shade rested on the corner of the desk. The most astonishing addition to the room, however, was the collection of lush green ferns in heavy ceramic pots that circled the base of a babbling fountain.