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PARKER WAS GRITTING HIS teeth to bite back words he had been longing to say for months. Instead of telling Tiffany Atlas to step off, he clenched his fists and listened as she droned on and on about their magical future together—one he wanted no part of.
“Honestly, Parker, darling! Can’t you just see it now? Saturday evenings spent ballroom dancing. Sunday brunch at the country club. All of our dinner and hotel reservations listed under Dr. and Mrs. Parker Sloan. You’ll spend your days at the hospital saving lives, being dashing and heroic. I’ll be the gorgeous, delightful socialite, raising money for our favorite charities. Spending my days seeing and being seen.”
Blowing out an impatient breath of frustration, he said, “Only one problem with your scenario, sweetheart. I’m not a doctor. I’m a paramedic.”
“Pishposh. There is no problem. Your father told mine that you were only a scant six months away from finishing medical school when you dropped out. All you really need to do is take the Medical Board Exam, and voilà! You’ll be a doctor before the ink dries on our marriage license.”
He raked a hand through his unruly, black hair when what he really wanted to do was pull it out by the roots. Tiffany—or Tiff , as her pompous-assed father always called her—had no idea who Parker was or what he wanted out of life. All she could think about was landing herself a doctor, and she had set her sights on him and his potential to become one.
Standing, Parker paced the hallway that ran down the center of the EMT station. It was next to impossible to sit still while talking to Tiffany. “I’ve told you a million times; I have no intention of becoming a doctor. I’ve wasted too many years trying to live up to my dad’s expectations. I love being a paramedic. I get a great deal of satisfaction from my job. I am not interested in being a clone of the great Dr. Nate Sloan. So, drop it, okay?”
Through the phone, he could hear the tapping of her long, lacquered nails against what was certainly an expensive, highly-polished piece of furniture in her parents’ upscale condominium. Her syrupy-sweet voice from just minutes ago turned venomous. “Well! You better get interested because I am not marrying some low-rent underling. Do you understand me, Parker Sloan? Daddy promised me a doctor, and that’s what I shall have.”
The line went dead before he could retaliate. It was just as well; a call was coming in, a Code Bravo 13. There was an unconscious victim at 1137 West Reidville Road, Sparkle City, South Carolina. The address was for the Bon Bon Beauty Parlor, ironically located on the low-rent side of town. It was the polar opposite of the Upper Eastside where the Atlases as well as Parker’s parents resided in the lap of luxury.
Since the call was non-life threatening, he took it alone. He left his partner Chase, who had pulled a double shift the day before, at the station to catch some much-needed zzz’s.
As Parker exited the ambulance, he grabbed his medical bag and a small trauma kit in case the victim had sustained any injuries from fainting.
When he stepped into the beauty parlor, his eyes were immediately drawn to a cluster of women. They were gathered around a gorgeous young woman lying supine on the floor. Her long, luxurious hair was beautifully splayed across the black and white tiles. She was the loveliest woman he had ever seen. A brunette with creamy, caramel-colored skin that made his mouth water. She was full-figured with luscious curves in all the right places.
Parker had to mentally shake himself. He needed to attend to her medical needs first. He could admire her physical attributes later.
Some of the women congregated around her had curlers in their hair. Others had towels wrapped around their heads. Several of the older women were fanning the unconscious beauty with
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