Hot Docs On Call: His Christmas Wish. Susan Carlisle
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at how her own heart was throbbing at the very idea of seeing him with other women. Not that she hadn’t in the past. But in the past she’d never kissed him. Now she had and couldn’t stand the thought of his lips touching anyone else’s. “You can date some other woman,” she continued in spite of her green-flowing blood. “Then we could still be friends.”
He shook his head. “You’re wrong.”
“How am I wrong?”
He bent his head and touched his lips to hers.
McKenzie’s heart pounded so hard in her chest she was surprised her teeth weren’t rattling. But her thoughts from moments before had her kissing him back with a possessiveness she had no right to feel.
She slid her hands up his chest and twined her arms around his neck, threading her fingers into his dark hair. She kissed him until her knees felt so weak she might sag to the floor in an ooey-gooey puddle. Then she kissed him some more because she wanted him to sag to the floor in an ooey-gooey puddle with her.
The thought that he might cut her out of his life completely gave desperation to how she clung to him.
Desperate. Yep, that was her.
When he pulled slightly away he rested his forehead against hers and stared into her eyes. “That’s some mouth-to-mouth, McKenzie.”
She shook her head. “Mouth-to-mouth restores one’s breath. That totally just stole mine.”
Why was she admitting how much he affected her?
He cupped her face in a caress. “I can’t pretend that doesn’t exist between us. I don’t even want to try. I want you, McKenzie. I want to kiss you. Your mouth, your neck, your breasts, all of you. That’s not how I think of my ‘friends.’”
Fighting back visions of him kissing her all over, she sighed. “You don’t play fair.”
His fingers stroking across her cheek, he arched his brow. “You think not? I’m being honest. What’s unfair about that?”
She let out an exasperated sigh, which had him touching his lips to hers in a soft caress.
Which had her insides doing all kinds of crazy somersaults and happy dances. Okay, so maybe she’d wanted to say yes all along, but that didn’t mean everything about him wasn’t a very bad idea. Just as long as she kept things simple and neither of them fell under false illusions or expectations, she’d be fine.
When he lifted his head, she looked directly into his gaze.
“I will go to the hospital with you and get frozen yogurt afterward with you, but on one condition.”
“Name it.”
She should ask for the moon or something just as elaborately impossible. Then again, knowing him, he’d find a way to pluck it right out of the sky and deliver on time.
“No more mouth-to-mouth at work,” she told him, because the knowledge that she’d dropped to her father’s level with making out at work and to her mother’s level of desperation already cut deep.
He whistled softly. “Not that I don’t see your point, McKenzie, but that might be easier said than done.”
She stepped back, which put her flat against the door. With her chin slightly tilted upward, she crossed her arms. “That’s my condition.”
“Okay,” he agreed, but shook his head as if baffled. “But I’m just not sure how you’re going to do it.”
Her momentary triumph at his Okay dissipated. She blinked. “Me?”
Looking as cool as ever, he nodded. “Now that you know how good I am at mouth-to-mouth, how are you going to keep from pulling me behind closed doors every chance you get for a little resuscitation?”
Yeah, there was that.
“I’ll manage to restrain myself.” Somehow. He was very, very good at kissing, but there was that whole self-respect thing that she just as desperately clung to. “Now leave so I can work.”
And beat herself up over how she’d just proved her parents’ blood ran through her veins.
McKenzie looked over Edith’s test results while she waited for Lance to come to her office. Her hemoglobin and hematocrit were both decreased but not urgently so. Her abdominal and pelvic computerized tomography scan didn’t show any evidence of a perforated bowel or a cancerous mass, although certainly there was evidence of Edith’s constipation.
Had the woman really spit up blood? If she had, where had the blood come from? Had she just coughed too hard and had a minor bleed in her bronchus? It wasn’t likely, especially as Edith had said it hadn’t been like throwing up.
McKenzie had ordered the gastroenterology consult. She suspected Edith would be undergoing an endoscopy to evaluate her esophagus and stomach soon. Then again, it was possible the specialist might deem that, due to her age, she wasn’t a good candidate for the procedure.
“You look mind-boggled,” Lance said, knocking on her open office door before coming into the room. “Thinking about how much fun you’re going to have with me tonight?”
“Not that much fun,” she assured him, refusing to pander to his ego any more than she must have done earlier. “I’m trying to figure out what’s going on with a patient.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” At his look of disappointment, she relented. “One of my regulars came in today with a history of abdominal pain, constipation, and spitting up blood that she described as not a real throw-up, but spitting up.”
“Anemic?”
“Slightly, but not enough to indicate a major bleed. She always runs borderline low, but her numbers have definitely dipped a little. I’m rechecking labs in the morning.”
“Have you consulted a gastroenterologist or general surgeon?”
“The first.”
“Any other symptoms?”
“If you named it, Edith would say she had it.”
“Edith Winters?”
Her gaze met his in surprise. “You know her?”
“Sure. I used to see her quite a bit. She’s a sweet lady.”
“She has me a bit worried. It’s probably nothing. Maybe she drank grape juice with breakfast and that’s what she saw when she spat up. I don’t know. I just feel as if I’m missing something.”
“You want me to have a look at her for a second opinion?”
“Would you mind?”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I minded. I’ll be at the hospital with you anyway.”
“Good point.” She got her purse from a desk drawer, then stood. “You ready to go so we can get this over with?”
“‘This’ as in the hospital or the night in general?”
She met his gaze, lifted one shoulder in a semishrug. “We’ll see. Oh, and if you think you’re going to get away with just feeding me frozen yogurt, you’re wrong. I’m not one of those ‘forever dieting and watching her carbs’ chicks you normally date who doesn’t eat. I expect real food before frozen yogurt.”
Lance grinned at the woman sitting next to him in his car. Twice in less than a week she’d been in his car when he’d begun to wonder if she was ever going to admit there was something between them.
He understood her