Tamed By Her Army Doc's Touch. Lucy Ryder
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with a few powerful kicks.
The instant they surfaced, her eyes met his in a long silent stare as she raggedly sucked in air. Before he could interpret her look or wonder at the weird flash of familiarity—or was it déjà vu?—she’d moved to support the exhausted girl. Luke was happy to let her go. He would rather take on a village of hostiles than deal with hysterical females.
He adjusted his hold on the boy and ordered, “Try to keep up,” over his shoulder before striking out for the shore a couple of hundred yards away.
They needed to hurry. One glimpse of the kid’s face told him Trent had suffered a head injury and was unresponsive. He only hoped the cold had slowed his vitals and they could revive him without permanent brain damage. The kid had been under at least ten minutes. Maybe longer.
He spotted a rubber dinghy speeding towards them and soon hands were reaching down to pull Trent aboard. Luke was relieved to let them. The faster they began CPR and got the kid warmed up, the better.
He helped the coed aboard before placing both hands beneath the woman’s scantily clad bottom and shoving her upwards. Finally, he hauled himself over the side just as the twin engines rumbled.
By the time they pulled up to the marina wharf a crowd had gathered. Several men rushed forward to lift their patient off the dinghy and Luke moved to help secure the boat.
The woman, looking cold but spectacular in a slinky leopard-print bra and teeny matching boy shorts, pushed past him and scrambled onto the pier, her low, smooth voice saying, “Stand back, I’m a doctor.” She dropped to her knees and put her ear to the boy’s chest before gently prising open his eyelids. Luke moved closer, urging the crowd back.
“Give us some room, folks,” he said. “Anyone call 911?”
“On their way,” someone replied, and shoved his clothing at him.
“Uh, thanks,” Luke said absently, his attention already on the expert way the woman was performing CPR. He knelt down and faced her across the boy’s prone body.
“Can you do mouth-to-mouth?” she asked, counting the compressions she executed.
“Hell no, lady,” he said with a snort, and placed his hands over hers. “I’ll do compressions. You breathe.”
She slid her hands away and sat back, shoving ropes of sopping hair off her face. “Fine,” she snapped, her expression annoyed. “But keep up a steady rhythm and stop when I tell you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his gaze dropping to her wide, lush mouth. “You just give that boy the kiss of life.”
Lilah didn’t know how long they worked on the unconscious student but she was grateful for the huge guy’s assistance. He seemed to know what he was doing, like he’d done it before. She watched him correctly place his big hands and perform the exact number of compressions before pausing so she could inflate the boy’s lungs.
The muscles in her arms and legs burned, quivering from the cold as much as from physical exertion. She was clearly out of shape. What made it worse was that the guy didn’t even look fazed or out of breath. As though he regularly went swimming in freezing water to save drowning victims.
Maybe he did, she mused, absently noting wide, muscular shoulders, zero body fat and the impressive bulge of biceps as he crouched over her patient. But then again, it might have something to do with all that testosterone pumping off his big, hard body like a nuclear reactor. She could literally feel his heat reaching across the boy’s body and wished she could borrow some of it.
He flashed her a concerned look, and Lilah knew what he was thinking. It didn’t look good. She felt for a pulse just beneath their patient’s jaw and thought she felt a tiny flutter. But when she moved her fingers slightly there was nothing.
She frowned and put her ear at his mouth. “I think I felt something,” she murmured, searching for a pulse again.
“Keep breathing,” the big guy ordered sharply, without breaking rhythm. “And don’t stop until his pulse is steady and strong.” Of course Lilah wasn’t about to give up. She hadn’t spent long minutes submerged in a cold, dark nightmare, thinking she was going to join Trent in a watery grave, to give up now.
They again fell into a grim, silent rhythm until she finally felt the tiniest muscle contraction beneath her hand. She reared back just as Trent’s body jerked once, twice and then water began spewing from his lungs in huge spasmodic bursts. Applause and cheering broke the tense silence as she and her companion exchanged a brief glance of shared relief. Trent might not be out of the woods yet, but he was back.
Sucking in a deep breath, Lilah felt her body sag. Thank God, she thought as the boy coughed and wheezed. That breathing—ragged and painful as it appeared—was the most beautiful sound in the world … as was the distant wail of sirens.
Pushing back the kid’s wet hair to check his head wound, Lilah was unaware she was shaking until a large warm hand encased her trembling fingers. Instant heat and electricity shot up her arm, making her skin buzz. Startled, her gaze flew up and she got caught in eyes as deep and green and calm as the lake waters in summer.
Crinkles appeared at the corners and Lilah’s heart gave a slow lazy tumble in her chest that she quickly blamed on the recent crisis.
“You did great,” he said in a rough, dark bedroom voice. His darkened gaze dropped briefly to her mouth before lifting once more to lock with hers. His mouth kicked up at one corner. “It was obviously the kiss that did it. He’s a lucky guy.”
Feeling her face heat, Lilah slid her hand from his and focused her attention on examining the boy. “You just didn’t want people to know you kissed a guy,” she snorted softly and reached for a black T-shirt nearby, pressing it to the bleeding head wound. His deep chuckle vibrated the space between them and made her breath catch in her chest. Or maybe that was just because she was finally coming down off the adrenalin high.
“I can’t imagine him liking it any more than I would.” He was silent a moment before his large hand reached out to squeeze her shoulder. “Seriously, they’re lucky you saw them.”
Lilah stilled beneath his disturbing touch and his words. “Someone else would have helped.” She looked up briefly as he rose. “You did.”
“Couldn’t let you have all the fun,” he said, and something heavy dropped around her shoulders. Lilah was instantly enveloped in the warm, clean smell of virile man.
Without lifting her head, she snuggled into the garment and checked her patient’s pupil reaction. “Do you know where you are?” she asked.
Trent opened his mouth and “Wha-a-at?” emerged on a ragged breath, as though his throat had been scraped raw.
“Stay still a moment,” she said, gently soothing him when he made to sit up. “The paramedics are on their way.”
He frowned and blinked. “Paramedics?” he rasped, his bewildered gaze clinging to hers, as though he was afraid she would vanish if he blinked.
“Do you know where you are?” she asked, just as someone cried, “Trent?” and the next thing the young coed was dropping down beside him. He turned to blink up at her for a couple of beats and Lilah held her breath. He croaked, “Tiff?” and the girl fell against him, laughing and crying.
Lilah exhaled with noisy relief. If he remembered his girlfriend’s name, his head injury wasn’t too serious. She heard someone say the paramedics had arrived and rose to give the lovebirds a few moments of privacy. Within minutes Trent was being hooked up to a portable IV and loaded onto a stretcher.
“Is this really necessary?” he demanded weakly, as Lilah rattled off instructions to the ambulance crew.
“Yes,” she said, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “But it should only be overnight. Depending on that head wound and the results of the CT scan.”
“My head hurts.” He frowned.