capacity. “If you say so,” she said, dubiously. She lifted a shoulder and gestured to the loose hospital gown and small bag that she’d taken with her to the Gothic Festival. “That is all I have.”
“Fine. The driver is here to collect you.” The doctor’s bloodshot eyes stargazed at the wall beside her head. His mouth no longer pressed in a line, but hung open like he meant to say something else.
She pursed her lips and waved a hand in front of his slack face. “Hello?”
He blinked hard. Then blinked again, and finally, he rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. “Of course. Those were the arrangements. However, the driver is here.”
Obviously the long hours were getting to the good doctor. Red lines road-mapped his eyes. He repeated his words. She could imagine him standing unnaturally still while his eyelids drooped, and he fell asleep on the spot. He yawned and tried to hide the action behind his hand.
“You already said that.” A sudden pang of guilt hit her heart. Why was she making life difficult for a caring professional trying to do his job? She couldn’t wait to get home. Doing so tonight with a hospital worker made no real difference. “Sure, I’ll go now.”
She caught sight of another man behind the doctor and shifted so he filled her vision. It wasn’t the guard she’d seen before at her door. The newcomer was late twenties, tall and lean. Firm muscles bunched across his biceps and forearms.
He leaned back with one black boot planted against the wall and had the look of someone who hadn’t seen a good meal in a while. Hungry. Or maybe it was his eyes that gave her that impression.
She stepped forward, taking in his sandy brown hair; the pale skin stretched across his chiseled jaw and eyes a light shade somewhere between green and grey. His muscled chest pushed out from a tight white t-shirt with no name tag. The blue jeans he wore were faded, ripped and snug over his lean hips and long legs.
He smelled strange, too, like musky cologne—a sharp, different tang that made her wrinkle her nose. Something wasn’t right, she knew that, but was there anything right in the way her body behaved lately? The nurse said Simone healed too fast, slept all day, and woke at night. She couldn’t stand to look at the food yet possessed an unreasonable amount of energy.
“You’re the driver?” she asked, warily.
The man pushed away from the wall and strolled the short distance to her side. “Yes.”
“I must say, he’s a most accommodating fellow coming this late at night,” the doctor said.
“Well, then.” Her stomach growled, loud and deep. “Oh.” She laid a trembling hand on her belly and bent over, riding out the intense, stabbing pain. “Oh…” Sweat broke out across her brow, but the cramp eased, and she glanced up at the doctor, but he’d retraced his footsteps down the corridor. She breathed in and out, taking her time, thankful she didn’t have to explain why she was so hungry. Still, there was something that bothered her. Him. She straightened and turned to the driver. “You have photo ID? Name tag?”
His eyes lit with obvious amusement. “A name tag? Don’t you believe the doctor?”
“I…” She looked carefully at him and silence descended. They stared at each other until he laughed.
“Righto. I left my stuff at the blood bank. Follow me, and I’ll show you.”
She grimaced. “The blood bank?”
“Yeah.” He nodded and grinned. “I need to make another delivery tonight. Lots of people, lots of hospitals. You know the drill.”
“Oh, of course.” Double guilt trip. She was on a roll. Here she was asking him for identification when he needed to drop off blood and save someone’s life. Way to go, Simone. “Sorry.”
He held out a hand. “No problems. I’m Vaughn.”
She smiled and gripped it in a slow, gentle shake. “Simone Woods.”
He nodded. “Heard you’d been through the ringer.” His gaze dropped to the fingers of her right hand,
“Fine. The driver is here to collect you.” The doctor’s bloodshot eyes stargazed at the wall beside her head. His mouth no longer pressed in a line, but hung open like he meant to say something else.
She pursed her lips and waved a hand in front of his slack face. “Hello?”
He blinked hard. Then blinked again, and finally, he rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. “Of course. Those were the arrangements. However, the driver is here.”
Obviously the long hours were getting to the good doctor. Red lines road-mapped his eyes. He repeated his words. She could imagine him standing unnaturally still while his eyelids drooped, and he fell asleep on the spot. He yawned and tried to hide the action behind his hand.
“You already said that.” A sudden pang of guilt hit her heart. Why was she making life difficult for a caring professional trying to do his job? She couldn’t wait to get home. Doing so tonight with a hospital worker made no real difference. “Sure, I’ll go now.”
She caught sight of another man behind the doctor and shifted so he filled her vision. It wasn’t the guard she’d seen before at her door. The newcomer was late twenties, tall and lean. Firm muscles bunched across his biceps and forearms.
He leaned back with one black boot planted against the wall and had the look of someone who hadn’t seen a good meal in a while. Hungry. Or maybe it was his eyes that gave her that impression.
She stepped forward, taking in his sandy brown hair; the pale skin stretched across his chiseled jaw and eyes a light shade somewhere between green and grey. His muscled chest pushed out from a tight white t-shirt with no name tag. The blue jeans he wore were faded, ripped and snug over his lean hips and long legs.
He smelled strange, too, like musky cologne—a sharp, different tang that made her wrinkle her nose. Something wasn’t right, she knew that, but was there anything right in the way her body behaved lately? The nurse said Simone healed too fast, slept all day, and woke at night. She couldn’t stand to look at the food yet possessed an unreasonable amount of energy.
“You’re the driver?” she asked, warily.
The man pushed away from the wall and strolled the short distance to her side. “Yes.”
“I must say, he’s a most accommodating fellow coming this late at night,” the doctor said.
“Well, then.” Her stomach growled, loud and deep. “Oh.” She laid a trembling hand on her belly and bent over, riding out the intense, stabbing pain. “Oh…” Sweat broke out across her brow, but the cramp eased, and she glanced up at the doctor, but he’d retraced his footsteps down the corridor. She breathed in and out, taking her time, thankful she didn’t have to explain why she was so hungry. Still, there was something that bothered her. Him. She straightened and turned to the driver. “You have photo ID? Name tag?”
His eyes lit with obvious amusement. “A name tag? Don’t you believe the doctor?”
“I…” She looked carefully at him and silence descended. They stared at each other until he laughed.
“Righto. I left my stuff at the blood bank. Follow me, and I’ll show you.”
She grimaced. “The blood bank?”
“Yeah.” He nodded and grinned. “I need to make another delivery tonight. Lots of people, lots of hospitals. You know the drill.”
“Oh, of course.” Double guilt trip. She was on a roll. Here she was asking him for identification when he needed to drop off blood and save someone’s life. Way to go, Simone. “Sorry.”
He held out a hand. “No problems. I’m Vaughn.”
She smiled and gripped it in a slow, gentle shake. “Simone Woods.”
He nodded. “Heard you’d been through the ringer.” His gaze dropped to the fingers of her right hand,
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