Christmas With Her Secret Prince. Nina Singh
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gaze scanned the area where she’d fallen. “No. See, I found one. I didn’t think I would. But I did. And it wasn’t all that pricey.”
Rayhan didn’t need to hear any more. Unless she was addled to begin with, which could very well be a possibility, the lady had clearly suffered a blow to the head. To top it all off, they were blocking traffic and drawing a crowd. Kneeling closer to the woman sprawled in front of him, he lifted her gently into his arms and then stood. “Let’s get you to a hospital.”
“Oh!” she cried out as Rayhan walked back toward the SUV with her embraced against his chest.
Saleh was fast on his heels and opening the passenger door for them. “No, see, it’s all right,” she began to protest. “I don’t need a doctor. Just that gown.”
“We’ll make sure to get you a dress,” Rayhan reassured her, trying to tell her what she clearly needed to hear. Why was she so focused on clothing at a time like this? “Right after a doctor takes a look at you.”
He gently deposited her in the back seat, then sat down next to her. “No, wait,” she argued. “I don’t need a doctor. I just want my dress.”
But Saleh was already driving toward a hospital.
The woman took a panicked look out the window and then winced. The action must have hurt her injuries somehow. She touched a shaky finger to her cheek, which was now a dark purple, surrounded by red splotches.
Even in the messy state she was in, he couldn’t help but notice how striking her features were. Dark, thick waves of black hair escaped the confines of some sort of complicated bun on top of her head. A long slender neck graced her slim shoulders. She was curvy—not quite what one would consider slim. Upon first glance, he would never consider someone like her his “type,” so to speak. But he had to admit, he appreciated her rather unusual beauty.
That choice of words had him uncomfortably shifting in his seat. He stole a glance at her as she explored her facial injuries with shaky fingers.
Now her right eye had begun to swell as an angry, dark circular ring developed around it. Rayhan bit out a sharp curse. Here he was trying to enjoy what could very well be his last trip to the United States as a free man and he’d ended up hurting some poor woman on his first day here.
Perhaps Saleh was right. Maybe this whole trip had been a terrible idea. Maybe he should have just stayed home and accepted his fate.
There was at least one person who would be much better off right now if he had.
SHE WOULD HAVE been much better off if she’d just ignored that blasted invitation and thrown it away as soon as it arrived in her mailbox. She should have never even opened it and she definitely should have never even considered going to that godforsaken party. Her intuition had been right from the beginning. She no longer had any kind of business attending fancy balls and wearing glamorous gowns.
But no, she had to go and indulge two little old ladies, as well as her own silly whim. Look where that had got her—sitting on an exam table in a cold room at Mass General, with a couple of strange men out in the hallway.
Although they had to be the best-looking strangers she’d ever encountered. Particularly the one who had carried her to the car. She studied him now through the small window of her exam room door. He stood leaning against the wall, patiently waiting for the doctor to come examine her.
Even in her stunned shock while she lay sprawled by the side of the road, she hadn’t been able to help but notice the man’s striking good looks. Dark haired, with the barest shadow of a goatee, he looked like he could have stepped out of a cologne advertisement. Though there was no way he was some kind of male fashion model. He carried himself with much too much authority.
His eyes were dark as charcoal, his skin tone just on the darker side of dessert tan. Even before they’d spoken, she’d known he wasn’t local.
His looks had taken her by surprise, or perhaps it had been the blow she’d suffered, but she distinctly remembered thinking he was lovely.
Which was a downright silly thought. A better description would be to say he looked dangerous.
Mel shook off the fanciful thoughts. She had other things to worry about besides the striking good looks of the man who had brought her here. They’d called the diner after she’d been processed. Presumably, either Greta or Frannie was on her way to join her at the hospital now. Mel felt a slight pang of guilt about one of them having to leave in the middle of closing up the diner for the night.
She would have frowned but it hurt too much. Her face had taken the brunt of the collision with the reckless cyclist, who, very rudely, had continued on his way. At least the two gentlemen out there hadn’t left her alone and bleeding by the side of the road. Though now that meant she would be saddled with an ER bill she couldn’t afford. Thinking about that expense, coupled with what she’d paid for the evening dress, had her eyes stinging with regret. In all the confusion and chaos right after the accident, her shopping bag had been left behind. Mel knew she should be grateful that the accident hadn’t been worse, but she couldn’t help but feel sorry for herself. Would she ever catch a break?
A sharp knock on the door was quickly followed by the entrance of a harried-looking doctor. He did a bit of a double take when he saw her face.
“Let’s take a look at you, Miss Osmon.”
The doctor wasted no time with his physical examination, then proceeded to ask her a series of questions—everything from the calendar date to what she’d had for breakfast. His unconcerned expression afterward told her she must have passed.
“I think you’ll be just fine. Though quite sore for the next several weeks. You don’t appear to be concussed. But someone will need to watch you for the next twenty-four hours or so. Just to be on the safe side.” He motioned to the door. “Mind if I let your boyfriend in? He appears to be very concerned about you.”
“Oh, he’s not—they’re just the—”
The doctor raised an eyebrow in question. “I apologize. He took care of the necessary paperwork and already settled the fees. I just assumed.”
He had settled the bill? A nagging sense of discomfort blossomed in her chest. This stranger had paid for her care. She would have to figure out how to pay him back. Not that it would be easy.
The physician continued, “In any case, if he’s the one who’ll be watching you, he’ll need to hear this.”
“He won’t be watching me. I have a friend—”
Before she got the last word out, Greta came barreling through the door, her springy gray hair still wrapped tight in a kitchen hairnet.
“Yowza,” the older woman exclaimed as soon as her gaze landed on Mel’s face. “You look like you went a couple rounds with a prizefighter. Or were ya fighting over a discounted item at The Basement? Their shoppers can be brutal!”
“Hi, Greta. Thanks for coming.”
“Sure thing, kid. I took a cab over as soon as we heard. You doin’ okay?” She’d left the door wide-open behind her. The two strangers hovered uncertainly out in the hallway, both of them giving her concerned looks.
Mel sighed. What the heck? May as well make this a standing room–only crowd. After all, they were nice enough to bring her in and take care of the processing while she was being examined. She motioned for them to come in. The taller, more handsome one stepped inside first. His friend followed close behind.
“The doctor says I’ll be fine,” she told them.
The doctor nodded. “I also said she needs to be monitored overnight. To make sure there are no signs of concussion or other trauma.” He addressed the room in general before turning