Page 8 of Playing Doctor

With a delicate huff, Eve turned to Ian and batted her lashes with exaggerated coyness. She got the beer and a low curse. It amazed Gabe how easily Eve had always managed to irritate Ian, ever since they were kids, and the perverse amount of pleasure she garnered from doing so. It was also interesting that, for all his cursing and grumbling, Ian always came back for more.

“So, who’s the brunette shadowing the kid with the camera?” As he was looking at thirty-six in a few months, Gabe felt justified in tagging the photographer a kid.

Eve took a sip of beer, sighed appreciatively, and handed it back to Ian. “The kid is Drew Roberts, an absolute boy genius with a camera.” She searched the crowd until she spotted him. “He’ll be attending University of Kentucky next year after he graduates to major in photojournalism.”

“Graduates?” Frowning, Gabe took a closer look at the photographer. Eve nodded, waving to someone in the throng of milling guests. Gabe waggled the beer to regain her attention. “What do you mean, graduates?”

Eve ducked back from the bottle swinging in front of her face. “High school. Next year.” She flicked him on the side of the head. “Pay attention.”

He strove for patience. “So…what’s the relationship? Brother? Cousin?”

Her head tipped to the side. “Why do you want to know?”

Gabe’s molars clamped down as he made a choking motion with his hands at Eve’s slender throat. Ian sent him a weary look over her sunny head and said, “It’s like herding cats on crack.”

Eve turned her nose up at Ian and gave Gabe a cheeky grin. “The brunette”—she paused for pure annoyance, he was sure of it—“is his mom.”

It wasn’t often that Gabe found himself rendered speechless—he pretty much had a smart-ass comeback for anything tossed his way, but damned if he had one now.

His mom? Hell, she must have been in puberty when she’d given birth.

The band hammered out the final notes of AC/DC’s You Shook Me All Night Long and announced their break.

The air suddenly filled with the lively wheeze of an accordion.

Women cheered and rushed to the dance floor.

Men groaned and tried to sneak away.

Eve sprang to her feet, threw her arms up and shouted, “Chicken Dance!” Completely ignoring Ian, she grabbed Gabe in a surprisingly strong armlock and dragged him onto the dance floor.

It wasn’t easy to keep his rhythm, make beaks, and flap wings when his attention was focused on searching the crowd for the gorgeous woman. Gabe decided that locating her son, as he was roughly a foot taller than his mom, would be his best bet at finding her. When he spotted him, the kid was digitally immortalizing one of the female dancer’s tail feathers in full swing.

Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!

When he spotted Beth, he thought, damn, and lost his rhythm again. She stood, as he had expected, a few yards away from the kid, in a patch of spring sunlight that caught and brightened a tumble of rich mahogany hair—which she was quickly pulling back into a ponytail.

Beak! Beak! Beak! Beak!

With her movements hurried, Gabe hardly had time to appreciate the way the fabric of her jacket caught under her breasts when she lifted her arms, unhooked a camera strap from one shoulder and dug into the purse hanging off the other. She came out with a pair of blue exam gloves and what appeared to be a—pocket respiratory mask?—and leapt onto the dance floor.

What the hell?

Gabe broke off in mid flap and quickly scanned the dancers. A piercing scream rent the air, followed by the urgent command, “Drew, call 911!”

Oh, shit. He’d been so focused on the brunette he’d totally forgotten about Albert. Gabe shoved his hand in his trouser pocket, fished out his keys, and gave them to Eve. “Tell Ian to get my bag out of the car. Fast.”

Gabe reached Albert in time to see Beth help Albert’s girlfriend lower him to the hardwood dance floor. He dropped to his knees, made a quick assessment and then gave an equally quick introduction. “Gabe North. Got a pulse?” Without waiting for a reply, he ripped open Albert’s shirt, peppering the dance floor with tiny pearl buttons.

There was no response from Albert as Beth checked his carotid artery for a pulse. Albert’s sweat-soaked chest twitched with ineffective, gasping breaths and Gabe gave up silent thanks that he was still alive.

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