money.
‘I was going to be an engineer at uni.’ Reg joined in the conversation. ‘Bored me stupid.’
Isobella could have kissed Reg for stepping into the conversation, sparking others to share their stories. Not that she heard what they were saying. She was conscious only of Alex’s eyes on her. He knew. She could tell. Knew that she had fobbed him off. His Aegean gaze held hers and she was powerless to look away.
Alexander Zaphirides was a man who could see right past her reserve. And, frankly, it scared the hell out of her.
The meal and the conversation flowed around her for the next couple of hours, requiring very little input from her—thankfully. Most of the chat centred around the Cairns Envenomation Symposium, and Alex and Reg’s scheduled visit to the Piccolo Island scientific station. The facility, situated on a small island north of Cairns, sent many box jellyfish specimens their way, and both men were keen to look around.
Isobella added very little, uncaring of the itinerary or any of the other topics. Her colleagues heeded her shuttered demeanour, but Alex felt no such compunction and drew her into the conversation with practised ease at every opportunity. Not even Isobella’s guarded, progressively stilted replies seemed to daunt him. She knew he was doing it deliberately. And she knew he knew she knew.
Isobella finished her dessert and wondered what the time was, and if it was too early to leave. Just listening to his voice was its own brand of erotic torture, and she’d had more than she could take for one evening. Once or twice a week for a couple of minutes at a time was usually more than enough for her sanity. His voice, those eyes, made her want things she couldn’t have.
‘Have you got the time, Reg?’ she asked quietly, turning to face him.
Reg turned his wrist. ‘Nine-thirty.’
Isobella heard the slight puff in his reply and frowned. Reg was sweating and looking a little pale. Sure, it was November, but the restaurant was air-conditioned. ‘You okay?’ she asked.
Reg nodded. ‘Heartburn’s playing up,’ he nodded, rubbing his chest.
Isobella nodded back. Reg wasn’t the healthiest specimen of manhood she’d ever seen. He had a massive beer belly and lived on liquid antacid. He always seemed to be swigging on a bottle. She’d never pried into whether or not he’d ever had it checked out, because she didn’t believe in prying. But he was looking particularly pasty just now. ‘Have you got your antacid with you?’ she asked.
‘Nah. Left it at the lab. Probably time for me to mosey on home anyway. The wife doesn’t like being in the house at night by herself. She’s pretty annoyed about me going up north for the week. I think I’m in the bad books enough.’
Reg stood and made his goodbyes, and Isobella took the opportunity to depart also. ‘Think I’ll call it a night too,’ she said, rising to her feet.
Alex rose, his gaze glittering his disapproval, telling her he knew she was chickening out. Isobella returned his look defiantly. He didn’t own her, and she’d had enough of this charade.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Reg,’ he said, turning his attention away from Isobella, holding out his hand. ‘I’m really looking forward to attending the symposium with you.’
Reg nodded, and Alex frowned as he felt the sweatiness of Reg’s palms. He looked at the man closely. ‘You okay?’ he asked.
Reg nodded briskly. ‘Bloody heartburn.’
Isobella felt a prickle of unease as Reg turned and staggered a little.
‘Reg?’ Alex flicked a glance at Isobella, who was also regarding Reg with obvious concern.
Then Reg clutched his chest and let out a guttural moan, before sinking to his knees on the ground beside his chair.
‘Reg!’ Isobella sank down with him, a hand on his arm, knocking her chair over in the process.
Alex strode around the table and joined her as their work colleagues hovered around. ‘Call an ambulance!’ he barked, straining his voice as he positioned himself behind Reg, easing the man back to support him whilst reaching for Reg’s pulse.
The fast, erratic pace was worrisome, and whilst Alex might not have practised real medicine in quite a few years, he’d never quite forgotten what a heart attack victim looked like. And Reg’s pale, cold, clammy skin was a big red warning flag. The man certainly fitted the description of heart-attack-waiting-to-happen.
The entire restaurant stopped as Alex’s hoarse demand sliced through their evening merriment, and then bedlam ensued as people gasped, some stood and at least one person from every table made an emergency call.
‘Reg, have you ever had angina before?’ Isobella demanded.
Reg groaned, still clutching his chest. ‘No.’
‘The pain? What’s it like? Does it go anywhere?’ she fired again.
‘Down my…my arm,’ Reg huffed. ‘I feel like…like an elephant’s sitting on my chest.’
Isobella glanced up at Alex. She looked away quickly, stunned that even in the midst of this crisis he could take her breath away. Reg cried out again, gripping his chest, and then slumped against Alex. Isobella shook him vigorously and called his name.
‘It’s no use. He’s not responsive,’ Alex said.
Her hand trembled as her fingers sought his carotid pulse.
‘Anything?’ Alex demanded.
Isobella kept her fingers in place, praying for a bound, a flutter, any movement against her fingers to prove that everything was okay. She shook her head and looked at Alex again. ‘Nothing.’
They exchanged a look, both knowing this was a very bad development. If he’d lost his cardiac output so quickly then the heart attack must be significant.
‘Clear some of these tables back.’
His voice might have been low but it was laced with urgent authority. He shifted so he could lie Reg on the ground. It was too cramped to do adequate CPR, and the paramedics were never going to get a trolley in here.
‘I’ll look after the airway,’ Alex said to her. ‘Can you do compressions?’
She nodded, her medical training coming back to her with surprising clarity. ‘Pass me my bag,’ Isobella said to one of her colleagues.
She fished in it and found the small sealed package she was looking for. ‘Here.’ She passed it to Alex.
Alex looked at the protector kit. ‘Thanks,’ he said, ripping it open to reveal a handkerchief-sized square transparent piece of plastic, with a central two-way mouthpiece to prevent the exchange of bodily fluids during expired air resuscitation. He inserted it into Reg’s mouth and delivered his first two rescue breaths.
‘What’s the ETA on the ambulance?’ Alex asked, pausing while Isobella performed the chest compressions.
‘It’ll be here in a few minutes,’ Roland confirmed.
A
