I’ll order some Demerol and let ICU know he’s on his way up.”
“All right.”
Chase closed his eyes and blew out a sigh.
“Is there someone I can call for you?” Molly asked. “Someone who’s expecting you at home?”
“No.” He blew out another ragged breath. “Damn, my head…hurts.”
“Dr. Nielson is ordering pain meds. I’ll go and get it for you.”
Ten minutes later, after giving Chase an injection, Molly had managed to fill out the forms and have Mr. Mayfield formally admitted to the hospital—under his middle name, Raymond.
She’d returned to his bedside to tell him, but he’d fallen asleep—his eyes were shut, his breathing even.
Good, she thought. He’d feel better in dreamland.
She reached into the cupboard and took out one of the hospital gowns. Then she proceeded to pull down the sheet to Chase’s waist, noting the broad shoulders, the sprinkle of dark hair across his chest, the well-defined abs, the…
Oh, wow. The whisper of a sexual rush buzzed through her veins, and she did her best to shake it off.
She’d seen countless naked men in her life—professionally speaking, of course—but she’d never had a purely feminine response to a patient.
Until this moment.
Doing her best to ignore the unwelcome physical reaction, she slipped his arms through the gown, then proceeded to lift his shoulder just enough to tie at least one of the strings.
“Ow. What’re you doing?”
Startled, she gently rolled him back on the mattress. “Getting you dressed.”
Did he realize his nakedness had unbalanced her?
Surely not.
“You dozed for a few minutes,” she said, trying to get her mind back on track. “How are you feeling now?”
“Like I…got hit by a…Mack truck.”
“I think you did.” She smiled at his joke, letting down her guard just a little. “A sense of humor should help you recover quickly, so I’m glad your funny bone wasn’t fractured.”
“What do you know? A pretty nurse…and witty, too. I…like that…in a woman.” He managed a faint smile.
She couldn’t help but wonder what one of his smiles would have looked like before his face had been swollen and bruised.
His eyes—well, the one that had actually opened—closed again. She hoped that meant he was really drifting off to la-la land.
She sure hoped so. She really needed to be done with this shift, done with him. She didn’t like the unprofessional turn her thoughts had taken. So she straightened, eager to pass him on to another nurse. One who knew how to keep her feminine side in check.
Before she could pull the curtain aside, Betsy peeked in on them. “How’s he doing?”
“I’d say he’s on the road to mend.”
“Good. If all goes well in ICU tonight, we’ll be sending him to the third floor in the morning.”
So much for being able to pass him off to someone else. That’s where Molly would be tomorrow, and with her luck, she’d probably be assigned to his room for at least part of the time he was in the hospital. Unless, of course, she could figure out a way to talk her way out of it.
“I promised to do what I could to protect his identity from the media,” Betsy said. “So I’m reluctant to let anyone else come in close contact with him.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I’m going to suggest that he be assigned to you for the entire time he’s here. That should be the easiest way to maintain confidentiality.”
Molly tried not to roll her eyes or object. “How long do you expect that to be?”
“A week maybe, unless there are complications.” Betsy’s gaze intensified. “Do you have a problem with this, Molly?”
“No, not at all.” She was a professional. She did her job and took care of whatever patient had been assigned to her.
It’s just that this patient was different. According to the paramedics who’d brought him in, he’d been speeding and had, at least indirectly, caused a young boy to be injured. So Chase and his accident brought back a painful sense of déjà vu.
She could deal with that, she supposed.
As she walked around to the side of the gurney, kicking off the brake, he reached out and clamped a hand on her wrist. The hint of a smile crossed his battered face. “No speeding, okay?”
“I’ll keep it under a hundred,” she said as she maneuvered the gurney out the door and into the hall.
“Be careful,” he said. “I don’t like to ride in the passenger seat.”
Interestingly enough, neither did Molly. She’d been asleep when her family’s minivan had spun out of control and ran off the road, unable to shout out a warning or grab the wheel.
Not a day went by that she didn’t ask herself what would have happened if she’d been the one driving, if she’d been alert instead of asleep. Would she have been able to steer clear of an accident?
Would her family be alive today?
She guessed she would never know for sure, but either way, she didn’t trust anyone behind the wheel except herself.
“Are you married?” he asked.
“No.”
“Got a boyfriend?”
“Not at the moment.” She glanced down at the battered face of her victim, wondering if he was flirting with her or if the concussion and the Demerol were making him chatty.
“Guess that makes it my lucky day,” he said.
“It wasn’t lucky earlier.” She couldn’t help chuckling as she pushed the gurney down the hall.
“How’s the kid?” he asked.
“Which one?”
“Both, I guess.”
From what she understood, a little girl had dashed outside and into the street, chasing after a cat that ran away. And her brother went after her on his bicycle. “You didn’t hit either of them. The girl is fine, and her brother fell off his bike. He may have broken his wrist, but nothing serious.”
As Molly continued pushing the gurney toward the elevator that would take them to ICU, one of the wheels froze then wobbled.
“Watch
