His Baby Bombshell. Jessica Matthews
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watchful eye while Susan had scolded him for spoiling his dinner. Adrian’s portable CD player had usually provided the ambience while Sabrina had acted as the official and unbiased taste tester of Marcy’s culinary concoctions.
She wondered who did the honors now, then jerked herself off that fruitless and painful path. The McReynolds family wasn’t part of her life and never would be. For her own peace of mind, she had to remember that.
“In any case…” She steered the conversation back to the original topic. “If you’re living alone, I’d plan to spend the night in a luxurious private suite on our spacious second floor.”
“If it’s a matter of having a babysitter, you could do the honors,” he said in a clearly hopeful tone.
Coming from anyone else, she would have laughed and countered with a saucy answer, but the offer came from Adrian, which made his suggestion no laughing matter. If he didn’t look so pathetic, she’d tell him exactly what she thought of his idea, using words capable of blistering the walls’ semi-gloss enamel paint.
But he did look rather forlorn and pitiful and she let her opportunity slide. There would be plenty of others when she could fully vent her anger and not feel lower than pond scum for verbally attacking a concussed man. A confrontation was inevitable.
“Sorry, but I don’t do private nursing. And even if I did, I have laundry waiting at home.”
“You wouldn’t have to stay,” he coaxed. “Just long enough so Mosby thinks I’m not alone.”
She eyed him carefully and forced herself not to succumb to his pleading, puppy-dog-in-the-window expression. “I won’t put myself in the position where you can tell the chief of staff I ran out on you halfway through the night.”
“I wouldn’t.”
He must think her to be a complete fool if she’d trust him the minute she’d laid eyes on him, and she was not a fool. “Sorry, but that’s the sort of favor I’d only do for a friend.”
“We were friends once.”
“We were,” she conceded, “but not any more. Considering our past, aren’t you afraid I’ll slip arsenic into your coffee or smother you in your sleep?”
“I’ll take the chance, Bree,” he said dryly, “because we both know I won’t get any rest here. And…” He paused. “I’d hoped we could…talk.”
So Adrian wanted to talk, did he? She’d suffered through too many hurts to think that a simple heart-to-heart at this late date would clear the air and heal old wounds. He’d betrayed her trust and she couldn’t imagine any way he would possibly earn it again.
“You aren’t in any condition to carry on a conversation,” she said calmly, grateful for her ready-made excuse because the thought of discussing anything more serious than a weather forecast released a flock of butterflies in her stomach. The day for an in-depth conversation would come, but only when she was ready.
“Maybe not at this moment, but—”
“I’m not interested in rehashing ancient history,” she warned. “Not now. Not ever.”
“A year isn’t ancient history.”
“It is to me.” That year was a lifetime ago—Jeremy’s lifetime. Events before then weren’t worth the time or energy to dwell upon.
“Sabrina—” he began.
The curtain swooshed and a young man carrying a phlebotomy tray walked in. “Oh, my,” she said in a too-bright tone that hinted at her eagerness for the interruption, “Lab’s here. It’s Dracula time.”
Seizing the opportunity to gain much-needed breathing space, she walked out of the trauma room while the technician drew Adrian’s blood samples. Unfortunately, physical distance didn’t settle her thoughts, as she’d hoped.
Wishing she hadn’t sliced the ball like a novice and landed in her present position, Sabrina idled away the hours while he was poked, prodded, and CT-scanned. From time to time, like any good nurse, she exchanged his magazines from the waiting room’s well-thumbed collection, brought ice chips when he complained about being thirsty, and covered him with a warm blanket when she found him huddled under the sheet, half-asleep. Although she’d like to leave him to his own devices, Dr Mosby would ask Adrian about the care and personal attention he’d received, so she simply gritted her teeth and treated her nemesis as if he truly were a VIP.
Although, she decided with wicked glee, in his case the “I” stood for “irritating” rather than “important.”
Through it all, and somewhat to her surprise because Adrian didn’t accept defeat easily, he dropped the subject and stared impatiently at the clock. His gloomy mood didn’t improve until Dr Beth Iverson returned with his results.
“Do you want me to stay or leave you two alone?” Sabrina asked before the doctor could share anything that Adrian might consider a violation of his privacy.
“You may as well hear the verdict for yourself,” he grudgingly offered. “Go ahead, Doctor. Tell me what I already know—I’m fine. No cracks, no nerve damage, nothing!”
“At the risk of making your head swell more than it has,” Beth said cheerfully, “you’re right. Lab work looks great and no skull fractures or hematomas appeared on the scan. Your cut bled a lot and you can get by without stitches, although I’d like to put in a few to prevent the edges from separating too easily.”
Adrian looked quite smug as he met Sabrina’s gaze. “What did I tell you? I have a hard head.”
In more ways than one, Sabrina silently agreed.
Beth continued. “You’ll probably have a headache and some nausea for awhile—concussions will do that, you know, and as yours is mild, those symptoms shouldn’t last long. Continue with the ice packs and acetaminophen for the pain.”
“Will do. Now, if someone will give me my clothes, I’m going to my home away from home.”
Beth shook her head, her eyes apologetic. “Sorry. John wants to keep you overnight. As a precaution.”
“You don’t need someone as healthy as I am taking up bed space,” he coaxed in the charming manner that allowed him to get his own way more often than not.
Beth smiled. “I have my orders. There’s a bed upstairs with your name on it.”
His smile turned into a frown. “This is so unnecessary,” he groused.
“Take it up with the boss,” the doctor advised. “I’m just the hired help. After I stitch up your head, Sabrina will see you’re settled in your room. If you need anything, call me. I’m on duty until seven.”
She quickly closed the gash with neat sutures. After pronouncing her work finished, she breezed out of the room and left Sabrina to deal with an unhappy Adrian.
“Wheelchair or gurney for the next leg of your trip?” she asked, relieved to know her golf ball hadn’t done lasting damage. She wouldn’t admit it either, but she was privately glad he’d be under close observation for awhile. Problems weren’t always detected immediately and could develop over time. It would be far better for him, and for her peace of mind, to spend his first night in Pinehaven under a nurse’s watchful eye.
“I’ll walk.”
She shook her head. “Not on my watch, buster. Physician or not, you’re a patient, which means I’m in charge for the moment. Nor will I let it be said that I don’t abide by the rules. So what’ll it be? A wheelchair or a gurney?”
He glared. “Wheelchair.”
“Then sit tight and I’ll be right back.”
Transferring him to the medical floor went smoothly and silently, which came as a relief. She wasn’t in the mood for small talk and clearly