Page 11 of Too Hot to Sleep
What a ghastly day. She removed her name badge and her pace quickened at the thought of talking to Rob. After mulling the matter for hours, she'd decided that he couldn't have feigned his responses last night. She knew abandon when she heard it. He'd probably already left her a message at home.
The service door next to the stairs burst open and a tall uniformed police officer emerged carrying a small body wrapped in a blanket. "He ran in front of my car," he said, his chest heaving. "He's bleeding, and I think his leg is broken."
Adrenaline and years of training took over and she bolted into action, waving him toward a triage room and yelling ahead as she jogged beside him. "We have a small victim who was struck by a car! Which room is available?"
"Three," the clerk said, handing her a chart as she passed. People parted and Georgia looked for the attending doctor as she led the way into the empty room. "Somebody get Dr. Story," she called before the door closed, then automatically grabbed a pair of surgical gloves from an overflowing box.
She felt a split second of sympathy for the broad-shouldered police officer who lowered his bundle gently onto the examining table. His shirt was bloodstained and his face was creased with worry that pulled at her heart.Thiswas the basis of E.R. medicine.Thiswas how she could make a difference in the world. She felt an instant bond with the man. He, too, was in the business of saving lives.
"Do you have the victim's name?" she asked, stepping forward.
"No," the officer said, then pulled back the blanket. "He wasn't wearing a collar."
Georgia froze as she surveyed the hairy mass. "It's a dog."
"Yes, ma'am."
His Southern manners aside, exasperation puffed her cheeks as the bond between them vanished with a poof. She stripped off the surgical gloves and strove to keep her voice even. "We treat people here, Officer, not animals."
He frowned. "Can't you make an exception?"
"Absolutely," she said ruefully, "if I wanted to lose my job." She stepped to the door and yelled, "Cancel the call for Dr. Story." Turning back to the dark-haired man, she pulled her most professional face. "We have health codes to maintain. You, of all people, should know that."
His dark eyebrows knitted, and he adopted a wide-legged stance. "Can you at least bandage the cut?"
Her heart went out to the poor dog, and she crossed her arms to keep from following her instincts to heal. She also had instincts to eat, pay rent and not default on school loans, which would be difficult to satisfy if she were fired. Even after a year, she was still considered a greenhorn in emergency medicine. Dr. Story watched her like a hawk. A flagrant violation like this one could be the end of her career at County Hospital, a stain on her record. Georgia swallowed and averted her gaze. "I'm sorry—hospital procedures. The veterinary clinic on Sixteenth Street is the closest facility."
The officer's anger was palpable. But instead of leaving, he turned and scanned the shelves of supplies, his big hands touching everything.
"What are you doing?"
"Whatyoushould be doing," he growled, then yanked a roll of gauze from a box and unrolled several lengths.
She opened her mouth to protest, then realized the futility of arguing with a man twice her size, with three times the determination. Georgia hung back, but as he clumsily wrapped the gauze around the dog's body, something... happened. Unexpected warmth and admiration expanded her chest. The man hadn't a clue what to do but was driven to act. However misguided, she couldn't help but respect his zeal. When he unwound another twenty feet or so of the gauze, she shook her head. Just like a man to overdo.
"That's enough," she said quietly.
He glanced up, his eyes flashing, ready for battle.
"He won't be able to breathe," she added, then donned more gloves and found tape and scissors. With resignation that she'd probably get written up and reprimanded, if not out-and-out fired, Georgia leaned forward and finished the bandaging, then gave the animal a perfunctory examination. The dog and the cop were wide-eyed and silent, but she could feel the man's anger had dissipated. "Officer—?"
"Medlock," he supplied.
"Officer Medlock, my knowledge of a dog's anatomy is limited, but it appears he does indeed have a broken leg. He might have a broken rib or two as well, but his breathing is good, so I don't believe his lungs were punctured. There's no blood in the mouth, nose, or ears, so if he has internal bleeding, it does not seem to be profuse. And that—" she stepped back and peeled off her gloves "—is absolutely all I can do."
He smiled suddenly and her breath caught in appreciation. Officer Medlock was a great-looking man. Pushy, but great-looking. When she realized she was staring, embarrassment swept over her. Her appreciation of his masculinity was stirred only because of her state of... stirredness.
"Thank you. Dr.—?"
"I'm an R.N.," she said. "Nurse Adams."
"Nurse Adams," he repeated. "Thank you for giving me peace of mind, ma'am."
Her pulse kicked higher under his scrutiny. Few, if any, grown men called her "ma'am." It was kind of... pleasurable. "You're welcome. Now please get out of here while I still have a job."
* * *
KEN TRIEDto study the woman's face without appearing to. Her dark blue eyes were heavy-lidded and astonishing, and her mouth... The woman had that fresh-faced, girl-next-door vitality that provoked neighboring boys to buy binoculars. He mentally shook himself, realizing that last night's incognito phone call was behind his heightened awareness. The dog whined, reminding him of his immediate priority. Gently, he rewrapped the animal and lifted the bundle from the table.
