gym each week. The press could get over their craze for too thin.
Thankfully, the hospital CEO grabbed her by her elbow and whisked her toward the ribbon that partitioned the new wing from the rest of the hospital. A big bright red ribbon that perfectly matched her dress. Had Brooke planned that? Probably. Her sister had an eye for detail.
“We’re already a little behind schedule.” The CEO didn’t actually say that it was her fault but she felt the weight of his implication all the same. He was getting his slam in on Dr. Eleanor Aston being late, but wasn’t going to say anything specific to Eleanor Aston, daughter of Senator Cole Aston. “So we’ll get the show on the road.”
Fine. The sooner they got this started, the sooner they’d finish, the sooner she could go home and try to figure out how she was ever going to face her coworkers again.
Wondering if everyone could see how her legs were shaking, Eleanor stood next to the CEO while he droned on and on about the hospital and what a blessing it was in the community.
Then he did something horrible. He turned to Eleanor to give a welcome-and-thank-you speech.
Immediately, the full-blown panic attack she’d been fighting most of the day took over. Her heart picked up pace, doubling in tempo. A hot sweat broke out on her skin, making her palms immediately feel sticky wet. Her tongue attached itself to the roof of her mouth and refused to budge.
She took a deep breath, reminded herself that the rapid pounding of her heart was just anxiety and not that her heart was really going to explode from fear of being in the spotlight.
* * *
Although the blonde at his side felt it necessary to continue to chat softly to him, Ty’s attention was focused solely on the woman standing next to her bosses. His bosses.
In direct opposition to the low-cut-cleavage and long-leg-revealing dress, her ethereal face looked fragile, pale, out of place.
Ty didn’t have to see the pulse jumping at the base of her throat or the tremor of her knees to know she was nervous.
Nervous? More like petrified.
She appeared as delicate as a butterfly’s wing and just as beautiful with those big brown eyes of hers and that full mouth.
A mouth made for kissing.
She’d always kept to herself so much that he’d taken it as a sign that she wasn’t interested.
Was it possible he’d mistaken shyness for disinterest?
She stirred something within him, but he’d just labeled it as curiosity, considering she was the only female he knew who didn’t fall into flirt mode whenever he was near.
He was definitely curious. Beyond curious.
More like intrigued by the plethora of contradictions that defined his colleague.
The CEO waited for Eleanor to speak.
The rest of the crowd waited for her to give her speech.
A too-long pause settled over the crowd.
“H-hello. It—it is...” A few stuttered words began escaping her quivering lips. “An honor...an honor to be here. Today. This evening, I mean.”
“She sure isn’t her sister,” a man next to Ty with a camera in his hands grumbled under his breath.
Surprisingly, Ty’s fingers curled, the man’s comment rubbing him up the wrong way. Why he felt so protective of a woman he wasn’t certain he even liked, he had no clue. But he found himself wanting to speak up, to defend her. How could you defend someone you didn’t really know?
Still, he shot the man a silencing look. “Not everyone is a polished speaker, but Eleanor is a fantastic doctor and woman.”
The man’s bushy brows drew together then he shrugged. “Whatever, pal.” Then he went back to snapping photos.
Not looking anyone in particular in the eye, Eleanor began speaking again, and Ty found himself letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“Th-thanks to everyone for coming to this wonderful occasion where we’re celebrating the opening of a new neonatal wing at the Angel Mendez Children’s Hospital.” She paused, swallowed hard, then smiled what he knew was a forced smile before she continued.
“M-many of you know pediatrician Federico Mendez started this hospital during the depression after the death of his much-loved son, Angel, who suffered from polio. My father, Senator Cole Aston, wishes to continue the tradition started by Federico Mendez.”
Her expression tightened and she cleared her throat, pausing too long yet again.
Come on, Eleanor, he mentally willed her on. Just thank everyone for coming again and be done.
“It is with that same generous and caring spirit that my father donated the funds for this new neonatal wing in the hope that—that...” Between stutters, she thanked everyone for coming to the ribbon-cutting. Then, not seeming to know what else to say, she turned imploring eyes on the CEO.
Imploring eyes because she was begging to be rescued.
How was it possible that a woman who’d had to grow up in the public eye could be so socially backward? Surely Cole Aston would have enrolled her in some prep courses to prepare her for public speaking?
And the stuttering? Was that lifelong or something she just did when she was nervous?
Tyler wished he knew. Wished he knew lots of things about the enigma showcased in a flashy red dress.
Rather than rescuing her, the CEO looked as if he had no clue at how on edge she was. Instead, he made another big hoo-ha, then handed Eleanor a large pair of showy scissors.
Immediately, she almost dropped them but managed to recover in the nick of time. One of the men beside her rolled his eyes. Ty saw red and not just the red of Eleanor’s hot dress and cheeks.
His gaze shot back to hers, saw the fear, saw the shaking of her hands, the sheen of perspiration that glistened on her skin. Something moved inside him.
Literally, something in his chest shifted.
Dear heavens, she was going to pass out.
Ty might be known as a womanizing son of a gun, but he was a chivalrous son of a gun. His momma, God bless her big Southern heart, would have beaten his hind end otherwise, and rightly so.
He might have left his horse in Texas but, hell, no one else was stepping in to save the good doctor.
Despite the fact that he was feeling a little off-kilter himself at just what a knockout body she’d been hiding under her scrubs, at whatever that odd sensation in his chest had been when he’d looked at her just a moment ago, at admitting to himself that he’d been interested in her all along, playing the role of white knight to Eleanor’s damsel in distress came as natural as counting one, two, three.
* * *
Eleanor couldn’t breathe.
