First Responder On Call. Melinda Di Lorenzo

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СКАЧАТЬ started to turn away, but the nurse’s voice stopped him. “Remo...”

      He braced himself for a comment similar to the one made by the hospital administrator. Something about the kid’s age or size. Instead, Jane met his eyes, bit her lip, and shook her head.

      “Nothing,” she said. “Just glad to see you’re not as friendless as I thought.”

      Remo swallowed. He tried to muster up a joke about Jane getting soft in her old age, but he couldn’t quite manage it. So he just nodded, then finished his turn, and made his way toward room 414.

      * * *

      If Celia hadn’t been stuck in her bed and attached to an IV, she would’ve paced the room a hundred times over. Maybe a thousand. It felt like a millennium since the page for Remo DeLuca had come through the speakers. Where was he? Did he have Xavier with him?

       Please, God, let him have Xavier. Because if he doesn’t...

      The thought trailed off. She closed her eyes. She refused to let her thoughts go to any kind of dark place. The blue-eyed paramedic would have her son. He’d bring him in. And then she’d take him far away from the hospital and whatever unknown danger it was that lurked on the frustratingly dim periphery of her mind.

      “Hurry up, Remo,” she murmured.

      “Don’t want to go too much faster or I might drop him.”

      The unexpected reply—spoken in a slightly dry, slightly familiar masculine tone—made Celia’s eyes fly open. And even though she was expecting him to be standing there, seeing the dark-haired, blue-eyed man in the doorway made her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth. When she’d seen him before, she’d been out of it, and he’d been either crouched down or sitting. Now that she was a little more lucid, and he was on his feet, she couldn’t help but note a few things. One, he was tall. Six-five, probably. Two, he was intimidatingly broad-shouldered. And three, he was breathtakingly handsome. The kind of man who would draw the attention of every woman within a three-mile radius. And his looks were so distracting that it actually took Celia a few heartbeats to clue in that what he’d said actually meant something—the “him” he’d mentioned was her son. Held tightly against his wide chest, his sandy-colored lashes fluttering against his freckled cheeks.

      “Xavier,” she murmured, her voice breaking with the one word.

      The big man stepped into the room, then to the edge of the bed. “You want to wake him?”

      Celia exhaled, then shook her head. She had no idea what time it was, but it was definitely well into the wee hours of the night. Xavier needed his rest. Especially since they were going to have to be on the move again. Soon.

      Swallowing against the ache in her throat, Celia met Remo’s eyes. “Could you maybe put him on the bed?”

      “Sure can,” replied the blue-eyed man.

      With more care than his big frame ought to have allowed, he leaned down and gently settled Xavier into the small space between Celia and the guardrail. She tried to offer him her gratitude, but she was too overwhelmed to speak. Her son’s body was warm and soft, and he gave off just a hint of baby powder scent that she recognized as the fabric softener she used in his laundry. The relief at knowing he was okay made her want to weep. But she knew there was no time for indulging. She gave Xavier a brush of a kiss, then peeled off her blankets and eased sideways.

      A strong hand abruptly took hold of her elbow, stilling her movement. With the contact, a zap of heat slid along her arm. She looked up, startled. The big man was staring down at her with his eyes fixed on her face. She stared back for a moment before her gaze slid to the spot where his palm met her skin. Seeing his large fingers wrapped around her elbow did nothing to change the peculiar little zaps she felt. Warmth continued to radiate from his touch—maybe it even heightened—and Celia couldn’t pretend that it was unpleasant. Then Remo seemed to notice the extra attention she was giving their position, and he quickly dropped his hand back to his side and stepped a little farther from the bed.

      “Hang on there,” he said softly, glancing toward Xavier and dropping his voice even lower. “Are you trying to get out of bed?”

      “He’s a sound sleeper,” she replied in a normal voice. “And I’m not trying. I’m doing.”

      He took a small step forward, his hand coming up again. Celia tensed with the anticipation of another touch, but he stopped just shy of reaching for her, and a strange stab of disappointment pricked at her for a moment.

      There’s no time for this, she told herself. Even if I don’t really know what “this” is.

      She gave her a head a little shake, then pushed the blankets down even more. She put her hand on the guardrail opposite her son and pulled her body down the bed.

      “Okay,” said Remo. “That’s not happening.”

      Celia frowned up at him and continued her shimmy. “What’s not happening?”

      “Are you kidding me? You’re not getting out of bed.”

      “How is it your business?”

      “For starters, I’m a medical professional, and I don’t think you’re well enough to be going anywhere.”

      “Are you my doctor?” She sat up and swung her legs over the bed, pretending that a rush of dizziness didn’t accompany the motion.

      His eyes hung on her bare knees for a moment, and Celia fought a creeping heat in her cheeks. Apparently, finding her pants was the first order of business.

      Remo cleared his throat, his gaze back on her face. “I’m not anyone’s doctor. But I was there immediately after you sustained your injuries, and even if you weren’t hooked up to an IV, I could tell you from what I personally saw out there that you’re not in any shape to be up and moving around.”

      “You said that already.”

      “Because it’s true.”

      “But you’re not a doctor.”

      “No.”

      She took a breath and formulated what she hoped was a believable lie. “Look. I don’t like hospitals, I have terrible insurance, and I feel all right.”

      “Celia.”

      She was surprised to hear genuine worry as his voice wrapped softly around her name. And she responded without thinking. “Do I know you?”

      His dark brow furrowed, making his already oh-so-blue eyes appear that much more vibrant. “You don’t know if you know me?”

      Celia fought a wince. “Of course I know.” And she did. Or she thought she did. Hadn’t she been thinking of him as the blue-eyed stranger? She blew out a breath and muttered, “It doesn’t matter.”

      But apparently it did matter to Remo. His long legs brought him to the end of the bed in less time than it took to inhale again, and he quickly grabbed her chart and began reading it. Celia watched as his tense expression eased, then hardened, then eased again. What did he see? What would make his face change like that?

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