Her Greek Doctor's Proposal. Robin Gianna
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pneumonia is unusual.”
“How so?”
“According to what they told me, Tom got what he thought was a cold a couple days before Melanie did. This morning Tom’s respiratory rate was about thirty breaths per minute, Mel’s twenty. Which indicates to me that she may have gotten it from him, which generally doesn’t happen with pneumonia. Both are showing symptoms of the pneumonia worsening.” He paused, hoping she wouldn’t get upset at what he had to warn her about next. “If that continues into the morning, I will recommend they be transported to a fully equipped hospital in a bigger city about an hour away. It has twenty-four-hour skilled care and equipment we don’t have.”
Her lush lips parted in surprise. “You really think that might be necessary? Can’t you just give them a different kind of antibiotic or something?”
“It’s not that simple. I’m hopeful they’ll improve and we can manage it here. I’m just making you aware that’s a possibility. I’d prefer you didn’t mention it to them, though. No need to worry them unnecessarily.”
“All right.” She nodded. “Are they… are they well enough for me to talk to them? If I have to take over leadership of the dig, I need to ask some questions. Find out more about the cave dig, since we were supposed to have our team meeting for the week tomorrow.”
The eyes that met his were full of worry and alarm, and he wanted to reassure her but couldn’t. He hadn’t seen pneumonia with quite this presentation before and figured she might as well talk to the Wagners now in case the situation slid south—which he feared very well might happen.
He stood, and she did too, biting her full lower lip as she looked up at him. Standing so close he could have tipped his head down to kiss her. The instant that thought came to mind, he looked into her eyes, the idea now so appealing, so damned near irresistible, he had to inhale a deep breath and quickly step back. “I’ll take you to see them now. They’re on oxygen but will be able to talk to you. I want you to wear a surgical mask.”
“You think I could make them sicker?”
“No. I think they might make you sick.”
“Make me sick?”
Her eyes widened, and he wanted to make sure she understood the possible risk, because he damned well didn’t want her to end up in the hospital too. “I told you before that it’s unusual they’ve both developed this. We just can’t know if it’s possibly contagious or not.”
He turned and led the way down the hall, again very aware of her walking closely behind as her sweet, citrusy scent wafted around him. He grabbed surgical masks from the supply cupboard outside the hospital wing and handed her one before putting on his own.
The Wagners were the only patients in the six-bed wing, and he was thankful for that. Tom Wagner lay motionless, his eyes still closed as they came to stand between the two beds, but Melanie Wagner opened her eyes and reached out to Laurel. She held Melanie’s hand between both of hers, and Andros realized too late he should have had her put gloves on. Or at least one on her good hand, and warned her not to touch the Wagners otherwise.
He mentally thrashed himself. Until they knew what they were dealing with here, every precaution had to be taken anytime someone came in contact with them.
“I’m so sorry to have to dump all the work on you, Laurel,” Melanie said in a whisper. “Isn’t this crazy?”
“Don’t worry about a thing, Mel,” Laurel said, her voice slightly muffled through the mask. “I’ll handle everything until you’re feeling better. Dr. Drakoulias says he hopes the antibiotics will kick in soon.”
“You won’t have any problems leading the team until we’re better. You’ve impressed me since day one on this dig.” Melanie gave Laurel a glimmer of a smile. “Find anything good today?”
“Mostly more potsherds. But the most exciting thing was a gold ring. I’m pretty sure it’s seventh century BC, but you’ll know that better than I. Can’t wait for you to look at it.”
“Me either. I—”
A coughing fit interrupted her speech, and when she finally stopped, her breathing was obviously more labored. Laurel turned to Andros, her eyes wide.
He glanced at the quietly beeping screen next to the bed and saw that Melanie’s respiratory rate had increased a little more from the last time he’d checked, which was not a good sign.
“Let’s keep this visit brief, Laurel,” he said, leaning close to speak in her ear. “The more they talk, the harder they have to breathe. Did you say you need to speak to Tom? I’ll wake him and you can ask him a couple quick questions before you go.”
He didn’t want her to feel as if he was rushing her out, but didn’t like the look of either of his patients. He adjusted the oxygen flow to both of them before rousing Tom with enough difficulty that it added another layer of worry.
“How are you feeling, Tom?”
The man opened his eyes and stared up at him, his mouth open, obviously having trouble breathing. “Hard to get air.”
“I know. I just gave you a little more oxygen, which will help.” Damn. Might not be waiting until tomorrow to send them to the Elias Sophia hospital, if they both continued to struggle like this. Andros turned to Laurel, but, before he had to say another word, she obviously got his unspoken message, since she quickly turned to Tom.
“I’m going now, so you two can rest and get better. Real quick, though, is there anything important I need to know about the cave dig that the volunteer crew can’t tell me?”
“Just that we found some human bones. Exciting. Planned…” His chest heaved a few times before he continued. “Planned to share at the next meeting. I think they’re older than the artifacts at the mountain site. Probably… Minoan, but… don’t know… for sure yet.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to the crew and have them bring me up to speed. Don’t worry about a thing.” She patted his shoulder, and Andros stepped behind her to wrap his hands around her lower arms. She looked over her shoulder in surprise, but he couldn’t risk her touching her eyes or pulling down her mask before she’d thoroughly washed her hands.
Her soft hair and enticing scent tickled his nose as he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “I want you to wash your hands before you touch anything, especially any part of your body. Okay?”
She stared at him, then nodded slowly, saying a quick goodbye to both patients. Still holding on to the delicate wrist of her unbandaged hand, he led her across the room to the sink, squirted soap and stuck her hand under the faucet to wash it.
“I know how to wash my hands, you know.”
“Except you’re a bit handicapped right now. Can’t wash the way you normally would, with one hand bandaged.” As his fingers moved around and between hers, it struck him what an interesting contrast her hand was, like the woman herself. Slender, delicate, feminine fingers that were also hardworking and strong. “I want to make sure it’s clean. The skin exposed on your other hand too, before I change the bandage.”
“Change it? You just put it on.”
“‘Know Thyself’ is one of the famous inscriptions at the temple.” He kept washing, slowly now, enjoying too much the sensual feel of their hands soapily sliding together as he looked up at her, noticing the interesting flecks of green and gold in her questioning blue eyes. “My yiayia used to call me Kyrie Prosektikos, which means Mr. Careful. I believe in thinking things through and being appropriately cautious.” Which had been true except for one notable aspect of his life he was determined to change. “So, yeah, I’m going to put on a new bandage.”
“I’d say three bandages in an hour is careful, all right. If that doesn’t sterilize it, nothing will.”
He liked her smile. That she didn’t roll her eyes or argue with him told him she